Run into Trouble (8 page)

Relief flooded through Drake. He had been
more worried about her than he had allowed himself to believe. Mona
Jefferson had befriended Drake when he had been stationed in
England. She had cooked scrumptious meals for him. Melody had
complained that he liked Mona more than he liked her. Drake copied
down the information about where she was.

“I appreciate you doing that.”

“I know you do, you bastard, but I did it
for Melody, not you. I did, however, out of the goodness of my evil
heart, make a minimal effort to find out some information about
Giganticorp.”

“Shoot.”

“Big G, as it’s called in government
circles, develops and manufactures a variety of electronic
equipment and other stuff for the military. They have a sweet deal
going. Some of their contracts weren’t put out for bidding. They’re
privately owned, and I haven’t seen the figures, but a contact at
the IRS told me that they are immensely profitable.”

“Ike’s military-industrial complex in
action.”

“Looks like it. Casey Messinger, the CEO, is
rolling in it. He owns several houses, including one on the
Riviera. He’s married to his second wife, a former Miss Galaxy, or
something like that.”

“It’s funny that I haven’t heard much about
Giganticorp.”

“Nobody has. They keep a low profile. When
you’ve got it as good as they do, you don’t want to spoil it by
having people ask too many questions. Some generals and admirals
own part of it. It’s true that your Casey has filed for the U.S.
Senate, but there hasn’t been a lot of publicity about that yet.
He’s made his money, so now he wants to become a do-gooder and bask
in the love from the proletariat that he deserves.”

“The universe save us from do-gooders. All
that is very interesting, but did you find out anything about
betting on Running California.”

“Ah, the race. An attempt by the humble
Casey to publicize the great state of California—but also himself.
He’s been quoted about it in every major newspaper in the country,
including the
New York Times
,
Washington Post
, et
cetera. I even saw Oliver Drake, the military hero, mentioned. It
brought tears to my eyes, and I found myself humming ‘God Bless
America.’”

“Save it. What about betting?”

“
Nada
. Zilch. The boys in Vegas
couldn’t care less.”

“What about an international syndicate?”

“This is small potatoes for them. Nobody
cares, Drake. Except me. I’ve always cared about you. Look how many
times I’ve gotten your ass out of a jam—”

“I’ll remember you in my will. Do you have
any other information for me?”

“You don’t care about me; you only care
about what I can do for you.”

“I’ll call you again in a few days to see if
you’ve learned anything more.”

“I’ll wait here—all alone by the
telephone—pining for your call.”

Drake hung up. Good news about Melody’s
mother. Bad news about the threatening note. It must be some sort
of inside job. But inside what? And why?

CHAPTER 9

Today’s run goes through some of the
richer areas of Orange County. It starts out on the beach at San
Clemente State Beach. Stay on the beach past the private homes that
are built on the sand. It will be low tide, and you should have no
trouble getting by them. At San Juan Creek in Doheny State Beach
get on Route 1 and follow it for the rest of the run. You will pass
Dana Point, commemorating Richard Henry Dana who wrote “Two Years
Before the Mast,”
and Laguna Beach, the home of many artsy
people and the annual “Pageant of the Masters.” After passing
through Corona Del Mar you will enter Newport Beach. The run ends
at MacArthur Boulevard (Route 73). Please observe all traffic laws
when you’re running on Route 1.

***

“Maybe I should feel thankful to the person
who wrote that note. Without it, I probably wouldn’t have stayed in
the race.”

Drake and Melody were running through Laguna
Beach on Route 1, past art galleries and other touristy buildings.
A horde of shorts-clad tourists competed with them for sidewalk
space, often slowing them down.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, but don’t
push it. The note said we had to finish the race. My mum was rather
shocked when I called her, by the way. She wanted to know how I
found out where she was.”

“She always struck me as being very
independent.”

“Too independent. I’m trying to talk her
into coming to the U.S. and living close to me so I can keep an eye
on her, but she won’t hear of it. She says she would miss her
friends too much.”

Drake looked behind him. “I wonder how Aki
and Mike are doing. I haven’t seen them since we got off the
beach.”

“They’ll be okay. Aki said the doctor didn’t
think the cut was too bad. He just told him to stay off his feet
for a few days.”

“Which of course he isn’t going to do.”

“When did runners ever pay attention to what
doctors say?”

“At least we’re not in last place today.
There’s someone in worse shape than I am. I’ll be happy when we’re
not in last place overall.”

“As I said, don’t rush it.” Melody put a
hand on his shoulder. “I feel your competitive fire returning,
which isn’t a bad thing. I’m glad to see the old Drake. However,
you’ve got to last a few hundred more miles. There’ll be
opportunities. In a race this long, things are bound to
happen.”

“Like stepping on rocks. And getting
rear-ended.”

“I keep seeing signs about the Festival of
Arts and “Pageant of the Masters.” What’s that about?”

“The Festival of Arts is an art festival.
Ouch.”

Drake recoiled as Melody punched him in the
shoulder.

“Well, what did you want me to say? If
you’re going to hit me, I won’t tell you about the ‘Pageant of the
Masters.’”

“This sounds like something out of Queen
Elizabeth’s time. The
first
Queen Elizabeth. Prithee, kind
sir, tell me about the ‘Pageant of the Masters.’”

“I went once. The folks who live here dress
up like the people in paintings and sculptures and assume the same
poses. They build sets for the backgrounds, and when you add the
people and light it properly, you get a tableau that looks like the
real thing. The models become the people in the paintings. It’s
amazing how they do it, and they’ve been doing it forever.”

“That’s brilliant. I’d love to see it.”

“Well, since it’s going on right now, maybe
we can talk Freddy into taking us.”

“Or steal the car and go ourselves. We have
tomorrow off, so we don’t have to worry about going to bed
early.”

“If it isn’t sold out. It’s very
popular.”

“Do they depict nude paintings like ‘The
Naked Maja’?”

“Sometimes, although if there are any men in
them, they wear loincloths.”

“That’s all right. I’ve seen enough naked
men on the beach. What about the women?”

Drake’s smile told her all she needed to
know.

***

“May I say how beautiful you look
tonight?”

“Thank you.” Melody smiled at Fred.

“You know, it was my idea to invite you to
participate in Running California. I’m certainly glad I did. You’ve
been a breath of fresh air.”

Drake reflected that this was the first time
Melody had worn a skirt since Running California had started and
wondered whether that had prompted Fred’s attention to her. It was
a short skirt—Mary Quant had introduced her minis into the States a
couple of years back—but more of Melody’s legs had been visible
below the shorts she had been wearing every day. Somehow the skirt
made her look more appealing, more feminine. In addition, she was
wearing her sandy hair down without the ponytail. He began to rue
the agreement between Melody and himself that they would sit on
either side of the round and rolly Fred.

Melody, who was expert at manipulating men,
made it sound to Fred as if they were trying to get to know him
better. Which was certainly true, as far as it went. Fred had
surprised the runners by producing a ticket to the “Pageant of the
Masters” for each of them. Peaches drove them back to Laguna Beach
from Newport Beach on the bus.

The Irvine Bowl was an outdoor amphitheater
with tiers of seats rising gracefully in an arc from in front of
the stage. It reminded Drake of a Roman theater he had seen on the
island of Cyprus. It also bore similarities to a Greek Odeon, such
as those at the Acropolis of Athens. Like the ancient theaters,
there wasn’t a bad seat in the place. Not everything of value had
been invented in the last hundred years.

The show couldn’t start until dark—about
8:30. It gave them a chance to talk to Fred. Drake decided it was
time to change the direction of the conversation from how good
Melody looked.

“How long have you been with
Giganticorp?”

“Fifteen years. I joined right out of
college.”

Melody said, “The Company must have been
small then. I’m trying to remember when I first heard of it.”

“It was started in the late forties by a
group of retired military officers and scientists who wanted to
make sure that the U.S. stayed on the leading age of weapons and
war technology. In some ways we got caught flat-footed by World War
Two.”

It had grown rapidly and become very large,
all in twenty years.

Drake had a question. “Since it started
small, as most companies do, how did it get its name?”

“That was a joke. You know how military men
are with their big egos. They decided that if they were going to
start a corporation, it was going to be a big one. In reality, it
started in an old warehouse not much larger than a garage. It was
just Casey and half a dozen scientists.”

“How did Casey get involved?”

“His father was a lieutenant general in the
army and on the original board of directors of Giganticorp. He died
a few years ago. Casey was a senior at Stanford, majoring in
business. They were working on a shoestring and needed somebody
they could get cheap to head it. They pulled Casey out of school
and made him president. I suspect they were planning to bring
somebody in over him if they were successful.”

Melody spoke above the murmur of the voices
of hundreds of theater-goers, chatting as they drifted toward their
seats. “It sounds like Casey was so successful they never replaced
him.”

“That’s it in a nutshell. He proved to be
good at getting military contracts—although, of course, the
connections of the stockholders helped. The corporation grew faster
than any of the founders had dreamed.”

“I take it you’ve grown with the corporation
over the years.” Melody kept a straight face, not looking at Fred’s
waistline. “What’s your position?”

“My official title is Vice President of
Marketing Operations.” Fred pulled two business cards out of a
pocket of his sport coat and handed one to each of them. “I get
involved with a lot of special projects.”

“Like Running California.”

“Precisely. Although I have to admit that
was Casey’s idea. He runs almost every day. I’m not a runner, but I
admire people who can do that sort of thing.”

Fred was smiling at Melody as he said
this.

“Are you going to help Casey with his Senate
race?” Drake asked.

“He hasn’t asked me. I was as surprised as
anybody when he made the announcement. He doesn’t have an
organization yet.”

The sun had set, and the show would start
soon. Drake still had a couple of additional questions. He watched
Fred’s face closely. “Are you aware of anybody betting on the
outcome of Running California?”

Fred looked genuinely shocked. “Betting? You
mean betting on who will win?”

“Or who will finish and who will drop
out?”

Fred shook his head so vigorously that the
flab on his cheeks shook.

“No. This is a clean race. It’s strictly on
the up and up. If you introduce betting, you have all sorts of
possibilities—such as runners being tainted by the offer of money
to do certain things. Why? Have you been approached?”

“No.” At least not in the sense Fred meant.
“Just curious. Of course, the prize for the winning team is so much
that it might be difficult to tempt anybody to throw the race who
was in the running to win.”

Fred laughed. “That was Casey’s idea, too.
There’s nothing like giving away a million dollars to get people’s
attention.”

“But Giganticorp can afford it.”

“Yes, Giganticorp can afford it.”

The lights went out, and the audience
hushed.

Melody spoke, her voice sounding unnaturally
loud in the sudden silence. “One more question. Are you
married?”

“Yes. Since we have a day off tomorrow, I’m
flying to San Jose to see my wife and three children. I have two
girls and a boy.”

The orchestra started playing. Drake looked
up at a million stars twinkling above them and hoped that the rest
of the race would be as peaceful as it was here tonight.

***

While the players were depicting a painting
that Melody was sure she had seen in the Louvre in Paris, Fred put
his hand on her bare knee. A friendly gesture. From a man who had a
wife and three children. Why did men like Fred think they were
irresistible to women?

When the hand started to move up her thigh,
Melody could almost hear his thought process: “Women are docile;
she won’t make a scene in a stadium packed with people.”

She gave him a chance to reconsider his
folly. When he started to go under her skirt, it was time for
action. She laid her hand on top of his fat one. A friendly gesture
on her part showing that she was enjoying his attention. She felt
for his chubby little finger, giving him some sensory pleasure. She
got a firm grip on it.

Slowly she started to bend his finger back.
For the first few inches he might have seen it as an enjoyable form
of sadomasochism. But she kept going. He tolerated it longer than
she thought he would. Did she have to break his finger? Suddenly he
snatched his hand away and rotated his body toward Drake. He didn’t
look at her during the rest of the show.