Shake the Trees (11 page)

“What’s this?”

“You know that I have done my best to stay out of Marc’s way since he assumed control of Rebel - I mean American Senior Security.  And I plan on continuing to do so.  But lately I’ve been having a little trouble sleeping, so I prepared this letter.  I would like it sent to all the policyholders under Marc’s signature should the exigencies so dictate.”

Dr. Bob stared at Judge James Mason’s expressionless face.  “Can I read this?”

“Certainly.  Essentially it is a letter reassuring the policyholders and asking for their continued support.  It also states that Marc is writing them as President of American Senior Security and as a duly licensed Florida attorney, and that he considers each and every one of them to be his client as well as a policyholder.”

“Marc will never agree to this.”

“I fully understand that.  Bobby, have you ever heard of The Florida Bar Client Misappropriation Trust Fund.”

“No, but I’m guessing it pays people who get ripped off by their lawyers.”

“Exactly.  It was instituted in 1967.  An annual mandatory assessment is included with every member’s bar dues.  The monies have been well invested, but little used.  The fund currently has assets in excess of two-hundred million dollars.”

“Figures.  The hotshot lawyers handling the big deals are well insured.  The smuck in the strip mall screws up and who cares.  A claim never gets made for chump change.”

“More or less.”

“Wait a minute.  I get it.  This is sweet!  The Florida Bar pays the price instead of Mrs. Hufstedler.”

“Mrs. Hufstedler?”

“One of the policyholders I heard about recently.”

“Oh, I see.  Yes, essentially you’re correct.  I just don’t want our elderly to pay the price for any lapse of judgment on Marc’s part.  Do you understand?”

“I love it!  Will it work?”

Judge Mason tapped his index finger on the envelope.  “A strong argument could be made that this letter offers a legal opinion for the purpose of inducing the policyholders to forebear from taking action intended to limit their damages.  Consequently, the Bar Fund would become liable if Marc caused monetary harm for which he was unable to make restitution.” 

“Cool.”

“Now, I think we better leave before the neighbors get curious.”

“Speaking of the neighbors, the wireless piggyback ride I took was interesting.  Turns out Mr. Hodges is a big porno freak.  He likes the chat rooms.  A little too kinky for my taste.  But each to his own.”

James’ mouth dropped open.  “Charles Hodges is a charter member of the Christian Coalition.”

“Figures.  Apparently he likes to be spanked.  Mr. Hodges has been a very naughty boy.”

CHAPTER 13

Sam leaned back into the feather pillows propped up against the headboard of the king size bed as sunlight flooded the Alhambra suite.  He had returned from the Keys late the prior night, but had decided to wait to call Sandi until the next morning.  He’d just told Sandi all the details of his time in Florida, and especially his time at the elder resort and his talk with Dora Hufstedler.  He ended with an appeal to her self-interest.

“And the money is fantastic.  Financial security is important.  It’s important for the future.”

“Sam, if this is what you want to do, or what you need to do, I understand.  I’ll help you and back you up any way I can.  The money is great.  But its just money.  We’re doing fine the way things are now.  This is obviously something you have to do for you.  I think it’s important that you recognize that, so that you know when you’ve accomplished whatever it is that you need to accomplish.”    

“You’re right.  I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.  I just don’t want you doing this for the wrong reasons.”

“Sandi, this is temporary.  My heart is in San Luis.  You know that don’t you?”

“I know, Sam.”

“Tell Dustin that I want you guys to come out soon, and we’ll go to Disney World.”

“He’ll love that idea,” Sandi smiled as she replied.  “Oh, Sam, I almost forgot, I need to tell you about Chubbs Mulligan.  Some lawyer from California offered him fifteen million for his ranch.  He wants us to help him with the deal.”

“Really?  That’s a hell of an offer.  That’s really above market value.”  Sam spoke with a tone of incredulity.

“That’s what I thought.  What should I do?”

“Well, there’s no way we can justify taking a commission.  It sounds like it’s in the bag.  But tell Chubbs we’ll help any way we can.  We can give him the names of a couple good real estate attorneys in Sante Fe to handle the details.  And I’m sure there’s more money there if that was the initial offer.”

“Chubbs can negotiate for himself.  That’s for sure.”

“Just tell him to be careful not to get too greedy and run the buyer off.  That’s a hell of a deal.”

“Okay.”  Sandi paused and then spoke again after a comfortable silence.  “What should I tell people around here?  I mean about why you’re gone and what you’re doing, or exactly when you’re coming back.”

“Tell them the truth.”

“I’ll tell them you’ve taken a temporary consulting job, and that you may be out-of-pocket for a few months.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Sandi?”

“Yes, Sam?”

“I miss you.”

Sandi paused.  New ground was being broken in their relationship, and she didn’t take it lightly.

“I miss you too, Sam.”

Sam nodded at Dr. Bob’s half-eaten side order of black beans and white rice.  “Moros y Cristiani?  Moors and Christians?  How come the Moors got top billing?”

“The beans got top billing, Dawg.  You like this place?”  Dr. Bob asked Sam as they sat outside a small café in the old Latin section of Tampa. 

Both had finished an order of ropa vieja and fried plantains, and were waiting for flan and cups of café con leche.  Sam looked around at several elderly men of Spanish and Cuban descent.  Dr. Bob had been late picking Sam up at the Alhambra, and most of these men had finished their lunch and were enjoying an early afternoon cigar.

“It seems authentic.  What’s this area called?”

“Ybor City.  It’s not as authentic as it used to be.  The area became trendy in the nineties, but if you get off of Seventh Avenue there are still a few good spots left.  And this place has pretty fast wireless service.”

Sam looked around again and noticed several of the old men pecking on laptops as their cigars smoldered.

“The internet has truly become ubiquitous.  The first time I logged on at the University of Nebraska it was called the ARPANET, and the Department of Defense was still running things.”

“DARPA was running things.  Still are.”

Sam looked at Dr. Bob with surprise. 

“I haven’t heard that word since college.  I can’t remember what those initials stand for.”

“The Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency.  Explorers of the “far side”, as they call it.  Stealth.  Biodynotics - robots inspired by nature.  Cool stuff.  Anyway, you probably logged on with one of those big honking IBM mainframes.”

“How do you know this stuff? Or why?  You’re way too young.”

“I wrote most of the Wikipedia stuff on the history of the internet.  It’s sort of a hobby.  So do you remember the first time you logged on?”

“It’s weird, but I do.  Like it was yesterday. And it was on a big honking mainframe.  I thought the internet was the future.”

Dr. Bob smiled.  ”You had it right.”

“Yeah.  I had it all figured out for a while.”

Dr. Bob knew all about Sam’s past, and he knew that he was talking about San Diego.

“Yeah, well, so did Galileo, and all it got him was grief.  House arrest by the Church until he died.  That whole earth around the sun, sun around the earth thing.  Sometimes it’s better to be wrong than ahead of your time.”

“I guess.”

“So did you know all that early ARPANET stuff was put on mag tape and eventually backed up on hard drive?”

“Really?  All of it?”

“Absolutely.  I’ve hacked some of it.”

“You’ve hacked into Department of Defense files?”

“Yeah.  They’re not too worried about that old stuff.  It was pretty easy.  I was bored.”

“I guess there wasn’t much privacy back then.”

“There still isn’t, Dawg.  Why do you think the U.S. blew off the United Nations and has maintained sole control over the internet?  It’s all run through a lot of high tech filters on huge Cray supercomputers due to volume, but make no mistake, Big Brother is watching.  All the time.”

“So there’s no privacy on the internet?”

“There can be, but you got to encrypt, and you got to use the right encryption programs.  Don’t you remember when the Justice Department tried to ban certain encryption programs after 9/11?  They tried to ban the ones that work.  The ones that can’t be hacked.  Ultimately they recognized that they couldn’t put that genie back in the bottle.  Never mind that the whole plan was unconstitutional as hell.  You encrypt, don’t you?”

“I have nothing to hide.”

“Everybody has something to hide.  Or will.  I’ll get you the software.”

The deserts and café con leche arrived, and both men focused on their flan, ignoring the white elephant in the café.  The purpose of the luncheon.  Finally, Sam broke the silence.

“How soon do you think Marc wants me to start?”

Dr. Bob broke into a huge grin and slapped Sam on the back, nearly causing him to pour Cuban coffee down the front of his shirt. 

“I knew it.  That’s great, Dawg.  Marc is going to be ecstatic.  We’re going to do great things, man.  We’ll take it to the next level.”

Sam smiled appreciatively at Dr. Bob’s enthusiasm.  “There are some things I need to take care of in San Luis.”

“Dawg, we need you now!”

“Now as in a month, or now as in two weeks?”

“Now.  As in right freaking now.”

CHAPTER 14

Marc Mason had a Blue Tooth headset clipped to his ear as he slowly paced along the floor to ceiling windows of his corner office and watched a powerboat make a graceful arc across the waters of Tampa Bay.  His secretary was getting Elizabeth on the line.

“Marc?”

“Hey, baby.”

“Why the hell did you have your secretary place this call?  No tracks.  Remember?”

“Jesus.  Chill out.  You’re just my father’s secretary.  So maybe I wanted to leave a message for the big shot federal magistrate.  After all, he’s way too busy to be bothered by a personal call from his only son.  Don’t be so freaking paranoid.”

“It pays to be paranoid.  Paranoid will keep your ass out of a federal prison.”

“Jesus, I need to start keeping track of your bitchy days on my BlackBerry.  I obviously called during the wrong time of the month.  Hold on.  Okay.  When did you start?”

“What do you want, Marc?”

“I told you it was as good as done, didn’t I.”

“He took the job?”

“Of course he took the job.  I told you it was a done deal.  This guy is a babe in the woods.  I can’t believe he has a computer engineering degree and an MBA from Wharton.  The air must be awfully thin in Hootersville, because this guy took the bait hook, line and sinker.”

“That’s great, Marc.  Really great.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Thank you, Marc.  I know I don’t always give you the credit you deserve.  I just get so wrapped up in the details.”

“I’ll think of a way for you to make it up to me, babe.”

“Sorry.  Wrong time of the month.  When does he start?”

“He’s started.”

“Really?”

“I told him we need him right now.  I leased him a condo by the causeway for six months.  In two weeks I’ll have him believing that he’s indispensable.”

“You’re amazing.”

“So I’ve been told.  I’m still pissed about my fifty grand.”

“She came through for us, didn’t she?”

“It just pisses me off.  Cash.  That’s my money, you know.”

“Big picture, Marc.  Big picture.”

“Yeah.  Yeah.  Big picture.” 

“What’s your timetable?”  Elizabeth asked.

“I’m guessing that in two or three months Simple Sam will think he’s capable of replacing yours truly.  No, in two or three months I’ll have him thinking he can do a far better job than yours truly.  I guarantee it.”

“I’m sure he will.”

“In the meantime, I told the Director of Finance and Investments that I anticipate settling our dispute with the Department of Insurance, and instructed him to liquidate all of our high risk assets within three months.  I told him to put the proceeds in the money market accounts, and we will redeploy the cash after the final terms of the settlement agreement are in place.”

“Every time I begin to doubt you, you surprise me, Marc.”

“I keep telling you, I have it all under control.  Don’t worry about a thing on this end, babe.  Have you done your research on the wire transfer thing?”

“I know what I’m doing.”  Elizabeth responded coolly.

“What the hell is a Myanmar?  It sounds like some sort of candy bar.”

“That’s a Mallomar.  Myanmar used to be Burma.”

“What’s wrong with a good old fashioned Swiss numbered account?  That’s what they do in the movies.”

“Do you want to spend the rest of your life in a good old fashioned federal prison?”

“Quit talking about god-damned prison.  It makes me nervous.”

“Good, I feel better when you’re nervous.”

“Good for you.  Do you know what would make me feel better?”

“We have to be really careful now, Marc.”

“You expect me to be careful for three fucking months?  There is no way.  My balls are like rocks.  And I always seem to confide in the women I sleep with.  My therapist says it’s because my mother never showed me any affection.  Isn’t that screwed up?”

“I’ll try to work something out.”

“We’ll work something out all right.  I gotta go.  I’ve got a company to run, you know.”

Dr. Bob often drank at the Green Parrot.  A blue-collar dive near his apartment.  And he always drank there alone.  It was where he went to think.  He thought as he walked there.  He thought the whole time he sat on the bar stool with the torn vinyl in the corner.  And he thought on the walk home.  If he hadn’t always ordered the same thing - a tequila rocks - he wouldn’t have remembered what sat in front of him.  And he certainly wouldn’t have remembered who sat next to him.  But this night would be different.  As he started to leave, the man next to him offered to pay.

“Please put his bill on my tab.”

Bob looked over at the man who appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties.  He was dressed in black.  He was neither large in stature nor heft, but was well sculpted and muscular.  The man carried a confident air.  Like he knew something you didn’t.

“I’m straight, dude.”

“I know that, Dr. Bob.”

“How do you know my name?”

“It’s my job to know things.”

“Okay.  I’ll bite.  What’s your job?”

“I’m a recruiter.  I recruit people.”

“Like a headhunter.”

“I guess you could say that.  I prefer recruiter.”

“Whom do you recruit for?”  Dr. Bob asked with an exaggerated British accent.

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“That must make the recruiting thing quite difficult indeed.”  Dr. Bob continued with the patrician inflections of English nobility.

“It’s complicated, but the people I recruit are exceptionally bright.  Like yourself.  I’ve seen your work.  It’s remarkable.  I know people who could benefit greatly from your skills, and would compensate you accordingly.  And the work is fascinating.  Quite unlike your present position.”

“What kind of work?”

“Programming.  Very advanced algorithms.  Have you ever heard of biodynotics?”

“Have you ever heard of the far side?”

“Perhaps.”

“Man, you guys were all pissed when I hacked those old DOD files.  You threatened to prosecute and put me in prison for five to ten.”

“Not my doing.  Small minds.  I specialize in big minds.  Big, beautiful, inquisitive minds.”

“Listen, dude, I’m not into war.  I’m a peace-loving kind of guy.”

“What has been the goal of every war this nation has fought?”

“I know.  Peace.”

“And why do we prepare for war?’

“I know Latin.  You don’t need to dumb it down.  Parabellum.  If you seek peace, prepare for war.  Look.  I’ve heard these arguments before.  I’m sorry, dude, but I’m really not interested.”

“I don’t believe in high pressure salesmanship, Dr. Bob.  I’ve found that it is counterproductive in my line of work.  And I’m usually at a severe disadvantage if I attempt to debate my potential recruits.  Please accept my card.  Should you ever need anything, anything at all, please contact me.  Our capabilities are truly unlimited in scope.”

Dr. Bob looked down at the card.  It was unlike any card he’d ever seen.  It was printed on thick, high quality stock and laminated, but contained only a telephone number and an e-mail address.  As Dr. Bob looked up, he found that the man had already left.

Sandi had arisen before dawn to bring five springing heifers into the maternity ward.  The fall “springers” and their calves would soon be moved to leased pastures in southern New Mexico.  The calves would be wild but ready to graze and grow when they returned to the new green grass of the high country the following spring.  After taking Dustin down to the bus and grabbing a quick shower, she stopped by the ranch house and strode purposefully in the door with a huge plastic to go cup in her hand.

“I guess that mobile caffeine delivery system means you don’t have time to sit down,” Rodger Rimes commented as she entered the door.

“Sorry, Dad.  I’m running late.  There are five new heifers in the maternity ward.  Can you check on them later?”

“Sure, honey.  What’s the big rush?”

“Stuff at work,” Sandi replied as she filled the big mug.

“Sam took the job?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You okay with that?”

“Guess so,” Sandi answered tersely as she headed for the door.

“Don’t you want something to eat?  Breakfast is almost ready.”  Betty Rimes shouted after her.

The front door was wide open, and only the screen door was closed to keep out the black flies that descended on the valley before winter.  Sandi stepped onto the porch and let the screen door noisily slap shut behind her.  Then brought her nose up to the tiny metal squares.  Her mouth began to water as the wonderful smells of warm tortillas and chorizo wafted past.  She thought about Busta, her dad’s lab retriever, and the way he drooled each morning as he waited for his bowl of food.  After a moment’s hesitation, she turned and yelled over her shoulder. “Thanks anyway, Mom.  Gotta go.” 

The smell of the spicy sausage was still in her nostrils a few minutes later as her truck left the bumpy ranch road, and the mud grip tires began their high speed whine on the highway.  As coffee sloshed around her empty stomach and country music blared on the radio, Sandi began to regret her decision to skip breakfast.  As she brought the truck to a stop at the lone traffic light in San Luis, her mental grumblings moved lower and became quite vocal.