The Eighteenth Green

by Webb Hubbell

  Kristine stopped at every table to introduce Sam as “our next Supreme Court Justice.” Sam hadn’t even announced, as far as I knew.

  She was quite the package: well dressed, serious makeup, too much jewelry, and way too many eyelashes for me. I couldn’t picture laid-back Sam falling for her, but he looked pleased as punch. She must have qualities I couldn’t see, I thought, suppressing a grin.

  Sam made the introductions, and we had just sat down again when Kristine popped back up, excusing herself to powder her nose.

  She was gone long enough for the three of us to catch up as old friends. I told him about meeting Helen for lunch at the Town Pump, and he reacted with a rueful sigh—he hadn’t been there for months. Sam had been a regular at the Town Pump for a decade. I wondered…

  Kristine returned with a waiter in tow. She sat down with a flourish, and the waiter handed her a martini and gave Sam a local draft beer.

  Kristine gave him a frown and looked at Maggie. “I’ve told him he needs to drink something more sophisticated. Even bourbon is better for a man in his position.”

  “Oh, and did Sam tell you?” she asked, turning to me. “We can’t stay for dinner—we’re needed at a fundraiser at the Arts Center. I’m sure you understand.” She actually batted her eyelashes. “Sam has told me so much about you, Jack—I really am sorry.”

  Sam looked apologetic, but apparently had no say in the matter.

  “Oh, no—what a shame!” I found a deep Southern accent. “But you need to finish your martini, and I need to talk shop with Sam for a minute.”

  Like magic, the waiter appeared with a little dish of olives and poured the rest of her martini from the shaker.

  “Well…” she began, but this time Sam interrupted, “What’s up?”

  “I need a favor. The FBI has put Ben’s home on twenty-four hour watch. They probably think Rachel gave Ben or Linda information or documents or that someone will use them to get a message to Rachel. The FBI must keep you informed. I’d like to know what you know.”

  “Who is Rachel?” Kristine interrupted.

  “Rachel Goodman,” Sam answered with a trace of irritation.

  “The traitor?” Kristine’s shrill voice turned a few heads.

  Sam took her hand and said, “She hasn’t been formally accused of anything yet, and she is Ben Jennings’ daughter. Ben is a lifelong friend.”

  She took a deep breath, composing herself with effort. “Sam, darling, you must think of your future. I mean, you can’t risk what we’ve planned.”

  She looked at me, “Jack, I’m surprised you’d ask such a favor. I thought you were Sam’s friend.”

  To my surprise, Sam’s voice was stern. “Kristine, Jack isn’t asking me to do anything improper. Peggy Fortson called right before I left the office and told me that Rachel has asked to see Jack, and I am free to tell him whatever I know, which isn’t much.”

  “What?” Our simultaneous reaction broke the tension.

  Sam flashed his well-known grin. “Rachel is asking for a lawyer, and not just any lawyer, but the one and only Jack Patterson. Her father told her long ago that if she ever needed legal help, she should call you. I’ll send Micki the contact at my office who’s handling this first thing in the morning. Peggy said you’d understand why she didn’t call you.”

  “Who is Peggy?” Kristine demanded.

  Boy, the woman didn’t let up. I wondered why she was so insecure.

  “Peggy Fortson is the Deputy Assistant Attorney General for the Criminal Division of the Department of Justice. She was my contact person for the Cole case. She and Jack are very old friends,” Sam smiled.

  I understood why Sam emphasized the word “old,” leaving out the fact that Sam and Peggy had at one point enjoyed more than a professional relationship. In fact, I wasn’t sure that had changed.

  Kristine pouted, but sipped on her martini as we heard her mumble, “We’ll talk about this later.”

  Sam continued, “So far the FBI has no evidence that Ben and Linda are involved. They found no documents on Ben’s computer, no strange deposits into their bank accounts, and no unusual chatter on their phones. The surveillance is to make sure that no one tries to contact Rachel through them.”

  “Thanks, Sam. Any leads on the attack on Clovis?”

  “Nothing yet. I promise I’ll call if something turns up.”

  Sam looked at Kristine, who threw down the remains of her martini. We all rose to say goodbye, and Sam gave Maggie both a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  Kristine said to Maggie, “So nice to meet you …er…”

  “Margaret Matthews.” Maggie’s tone was icy.

  “Margaret. Right.” Kristine smiled. I gave her upturned cheek an air kiss, and she flounced away, Sam in tow.

  Maggie voiced her frustration, almost before they were out of sight. “I might as well have been a sack of potatoes. What on earth does he see in her?”

  I laughed, hoping there was more to it than the obvious answer.

  “Well, here’s one good thing,” I pointed out. “You and I don’t have to spend the rest of the evening with her. The two of us can enjoy the view, a good dinner, and share a bottle of wine.”

  Maggie rose, still flustered. “Well, I need to wash my hands first. What an obnoxious woman. While I’m gone, order me their best single malt—neat, a double.”

  TUESDAY

  26

  I SLEPT LIKE A LOG—must have been the chocolate crème brûlée. I wondered how Maggie would feel after several single malts, but she joined me at breakfast none the worse for wear.

  “I’d hoped we might go to St Louis on our way home, but I don’t see how we can. I want to meet with Rachel as soon as possible before she or the government change their mind.”

  “Do you still need all the documents from Ben and Linda?” Maggie asked.

  “Better be safe than sorry; let’s assemble what we have. Depending on what the contact at Justice has to say, we still need to hand out assignments to Paul’s people, update Micki and Clovis, and who knows what else.”

  Maggie responded as I hoped she would. “Why don’t you put me in charge of the scheduling and logistics. You’ll have plenty of time to get everything done. Let’s finish our breakfast, and go to Micki’s. She and I have a little planning to do.”

  *****

  Micki’s office was already bustling when we arrived. Micki’s interns, Matt and Lauren, were cleaning up the conference room after spending most of the night on research. Debbie was busy in the kitchen baking cheese biscuits and muffins; the aroma was irresistible. Micki was in court, and Mongo suggested I use her office.

  I punched in the number Sam’s office had given Micki, and a deep female voice answered, “Joan Laing.”

  “This is Jack Patterson. Sam Pagano gave me this number to call about Rachel Goodman.”

  “Yes, Mr. Patterson, I’ve been expecting your call.”

  “I understand that Rachel has asked to see me,” I said. “That’s correct. Maybe it would be helpful for me to explain who I am and a little bit about the process.”

  “Yes, please,” I agreed.

  “I am Joan Laing, and I am Deputy U.S. Attorney in the Northern District of Virginia. Yesterday morning Rachel Goodman requested access to an attorney and specifically asked to speak with you. If you agree to represent her, we can move forward with accommodating her request.” Her tone was cool and professional.

  “But, and please forgive me, I believe espionage is outside of your area of expertise. So if a lawyer’s visit is just a way for her to communicate with her parents, I’m afraid that won’t happen. There will be plenty of time for her to speak to her family,” she said.

  “Let me understand, Ms. Laing. Rachel has asked to speak to a lawyer, me in particular, but you won’t let me speak to her unless I intend to represent her? That sounds like putting the cart before the horse and that you’re denying her access to counsel. Please explain how that’s not the case.”

  Sh
e wasn’t at all intimidated. “Mr. Patterson, procedures must be followed in cases such as this. One of those is that her attorney must have a current security clearance.”

  “I already have code word clearance. I expect you know that.”

  “Yes, I’m familiar with that issue coming up in the Stewart case, but in this case, the interests of national security require us to follow certain procedures. Even with your level of clearance, the paperwork necessary to bring your clearance up to date will take a few days to complete. I don’t want to start that process unless there is a legitimate likelihood you’ll represent her.”

  She had a point, but so did I.

  “How can I know if I want to represent her, or that she’ll want me to, unless she and I discuss it?” I asked.

  “Your point is valid, but there are some unusual circumstances in this case.” I heard a little sigh, and she seemed to relax a bit.

  “Listen, Mr. Patterson, I know you have no reason to trust me, but I am trying to speed up the process, not slow it down. Your friends at main justice assure me you’re a man of your word despite your reputation for using unorthodox tactics. Tell you what—if you can assure me that you will agree to represent her unless something unforeseen happens, you’ll be able to meet with her as early as Friday morning.”

  Her offer sounded too good to be true. I knew the barriers a hard-ass prosecutor could throw up.

  “Okay, thanks. But you’re right—I’m not an expert in defending espionage cases. I owe it to Rachel to explain the downsides to my representation. But if Rachel doesn’t have second thoughts, I will represent her.”

  “That’s all I need. Why don’t you come by my office Thursday afternoon? We can discuss the representation meeting, and you can sign the necessary documents so it can happen.”

  “May I see what you want me to sign beforehand?” I asked, knowing the contents of those documents could be a problem.

  “They will be delivered to your office by Thursday morning. I want to remind you that these documents are covered by the Secrets Act.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll make sure all the proper procedures are followed. I look forward to working with you.”

  I heard nothing but silence, and was about to hang up, when she finally responded.

  “Please don’t consider my willingness to be cooperative as anything more than a wish to get this case moving. My office has been hampered by Rachel’s unwillingness to seek counsel. I must also warn you that although we’ve been able to keep her request for counsel out of the press, that won’t last forever. There are jailers, marshals, and lay people involved. Sooner or later one of them will talk to the press.”

  “The press already knows I’m in Little Rock visiting the family. But let me be clear, you’ll never see me quoted either on or off the record about this case. I will honor any agreement that I sign and any gag order a court issues. I have plenty of experience dancing the Texas two-step with the press.”

  “I hope so, Mr. Patterson; it will make working with you a lot easier.”

  We agreed to meet at two o’clock Thursday afternoon and ended the conversation. Ms. Laing wasn’t one for small talk.

  Our conversation had been awkward. I sensed she wasn’t comfortable with me, and I’ve never been comfortable with prosecutors even when I was one. But there was something else—I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe Peggy Fortson had warned her to be careful. One thing was certain: traveling to St. Louis was off. I had to finish things up here and get back to DC. I also wasn’t about to miss my evening with Carol.

  As I walked toward the conference room, I felt a little twinge of unease.

  27

  I HAD SENT MATT AND LAUREN home for a break, so Maggie was alone in the conference room. I brought her up to date and suggested she ask Ben and Linda to come in after lunch.

  She agreed, adding, “Jack, why can’t we drop in on Beth? We can wrap up matters here this afternoon and be in St. Louis in time for dinner. We can spend the night there and fly to DC tomorrow.”

  “You think we have time?” I asked.

  “We do. I’ll handle the logistics; you go see Clovis. I’m sure Stella needs a break.”

  I left Micki’s, but not before downing two of Debbie’s cheese biscuits and deciding that Clovis needed a few to help in recovery. I found Clovis sitting in a rocking chair that was much too small for him. He was on the phone, so I handed him the biscuits and walked into the kitchen to make a call of my own.

  “Hey, Larry, it’s Jack. I’ve got a favor to ask.”

  “Jack…um, Jack Patterson?”

  I waited in silence.

  “Well, sure, how can I help?”

  “I’m watching Clovis try to get comfortable in a rocking chair that’s way too small. Do you know where I might find a comfortable rocker for a man his size?”

  I could hear the relief in his voice when he responded. I wondered what he’d expected.

  “I know just what he needs. I’ll have one delivered this afternoon.”

  “Thanks, I was sure you’d have a solution. Let me know what I owe you.”

  I returned to the den to find Clovis munching on Debbie’s biscuits. I filled him in on the events of the day and told him that Maggie and I would leave for St. Louis late this afternoon.

  “I’ll give my contact a heads-up—they’ll take good care of you. And Martin knows what to do in DC. Give Beth a hug for me; I couldn’t right now if she were standing right here.” He smiled and then turned serious.

  “I don’t envy you, friend. This one isn’t going to be easy. Rachel is already a household name, synonymous with traitor, and it won’t be long before the whole world knows you’re her lawyer. Martin and I will do our best the to keep you alive—it’s not like we haven’t gone through this drill before. But I worry this case might not end well.”

  “Thanks for the reassurance, pal. But you could be right, and I’m worried, too. Something tells me another shoe is about to drop. But right now the only thing I know for sure is that Ben’s daughter needs a lawyer—nothing else matters.”

  “Except for women, your instincts are always good. How is Carol anyway?”

  I told him about playing golf instead of spending the weekend with her and missing her email about Rachel.

  “She’s libel to blow a gasket when you tell her you’ve agreed to represent Rachel.”

  “We have a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy. I don’t ask her about her business, and she doesn’t ask about mine. It’s worked pretty well so far. The truth is it’ll probably come out in the press before I have the chance to tell her.”

  He raised a skeptical eyebrow, and I knew what he was thinking—never worked for the military, why would it work for me? We both gave a start as the back door closed with a bang. Stella sailed in, kicked off her boots and gave Clovis a kiss. “How you doing, sweetie? Jack, all of Micki’s systems are still secure. I’ll recheck Ben’s computer this afternoon, and when Maggie gets back to DC, we can check your systems remotely. How else can I help?”

  “I’ll know better by the end of the week. I’m scheduled to meet with the U.S. Attorney Thursday afternoon and with Rachel on Friday. I don’t want the two of you to come to DC until the docs give Clovis the okay. That’s an order.”

  Stella smiled. “You’ll get no argument from me. Say, what’s the deal with Micki? She and Maggie are totally wigged out by some woman named Kristine.”

  “Kristine is Sam’s new girlfriend,” I replied. “Micki doesn’t think much of her.”

  “For good reason,” I heard Clovis mutter.

  “So I gathered,” she said. “Why don’t you stay for lunch, Jack? I’ve got half a ham in the fridge, not to mention three kinds of macaroni and cheese. And my friend Marty brought two loaves of sourdough bread from Boulevard Bakery.”

  I wasn’t in that big of a hurry, so I agreed, and we all enjoyed ham sandwiches and the South’s favorite rendition of pasta.

  28

  T
HE COMINGS AND GOINGS of Micki’s office appeared to reflect chaos, but no K Street office in DC was more organized, or nearly as much fun. Ben and Linda sat quietly in the corner of the reception area until Debbie appeared with coffee and cookies and shepherded them into the conference room. I waited for Micki, who greeted me with a smile and a murmured “thank you.”

  Confused, I asked, “Uh, for what?”

  “For calling Larry. He was surprised, but appreciated you going to him and not asking me. It means a great deal to both of us.”

  I pretended to understand and mumbled, “You’re welcome. I hope he can find the right chair. Clovis looks ridiculous in the one he has.”

  “He wants to design and build a rocking chair for Clovis. But he’s found one that will work for the time being—it’s being delivered this afternoon. When he worked near Sugarbush, Vermont, he came across an artisan who made the most magnificent rocking chairs. Your request inspired him to try his hand at his own. Clovis will be his guinea pig.”

  “I know Clovis will appreciate it.” It was getting harder and harder not to like Larry.

  We took our places at the conference table, and I began, “I’m glad you’re here. I have some good news.” Linda gave me a nervous smile; Ben sat still.

  “Rochelle has asked to see a lawyer and according to the government she followed her father’s advice and asked for me.”

  “Oh, thank heavens,” Linda said, sighing. I could see Ben’s shoulders relax and his face broke into a smile. It was a nice moment.

  “What’s the catch?” Micki brought us back to reality.

  “I hope there isn’t one. I meet with Deputy U.S. Attorney Thursday afternoon. My security clearance has to pass muster, and I’ll have to sign a confidentiality agreement, but I might see Rochelle as early as Friday. The devil is in the details, but so far so good.”