Silent Partner (19 page)

“I’ll be going myself,” she said quickly.

“I’d like to speak to you for a moment,” Chuck Reese said, blocking her way to the door as Sam headed out. “This won’t take long. Promise.”

“Bye, Angie.”

Then Sam was gone and she was alone with Chuck Reese. “Mr. Reese, I’m not comfortable—”

“How much will it take, Angela?” he growled, his demeanor turning confrontational.

“Take? How much will
what
take?”

“Let me say this as politely as possible. I’m tired of seeing you. Tired of having to deal with you. I want you out of my family for good. I want you out of Hunter’s life, and I want you out of Sam’s life. I know what was going on here when I walked in. I know my son. God help me, I love Sam, but he has a very hard time controlling himself. He seems to only want what isn’t his. I’m just looking out for him, and for Hunter. It’ll be best for both of them not to see you anymore. It’s best that I take care of them without any influence from you.” Reese drew a long breath. “There will have to be consideration for you. I understand that.”

Angela stared up at Chuck Reese, unable to believe what she had heard. “You are the most despicable—”

“How much, Angela?” he asked again, a determined tone in his voice. “What’s it going to take? Let’s start at five hundred thousand in cash. How about that?”

“You would try to buy me?” she asked incredulously. “To buy out my ability to see my son? I’m his mother, for God’s sake. He needs me.”

“All right a
million
dollars. I can have it to you tomorrow along with a contract that you will sign agreeing to give up all rights to Hunter.”

Angela stared at Chuck Reese, hatred coursing through her body. His face blurring before her. “You are the most disgusting man I’ve ever known,” she hissed, pushing past him. At the doorway she stopped and turned back, pointing a trembling finger at him. “You will never be able to buy me off. Not for a million, not for ten million,” she said, shaking her head. “I hope you burn in hell.”

As she walked quickly along the deck toward the stairway and the underground passage, she could hear him laughing from inside the room. She began to run.

John Tucker nodded to the armed guards posted on the wide porch before the farmhouse’s front door. He had also nodded in the same way to the two men at the end of the farmhouse’s long driveway, and to the two men halfway down the driveway. Colby was taking absolutely no chances with Lawrence’s safety on this trip.

Once inside the house, Tucker moved quickly along the dimly lit hallway toward the basement door. He was thinking back on the fear he’d detected in Angela Day’s eyes a little over an hour ago. The dread that had settled into her expression like a palm print in setting cement.

The hall door creaked when it swung open, as did the second step of the rickety basement stairway under Tucker’s weight. The muffled groans were becoming louder, and he took the last four steps in a single leap, then hustled toward the closed door at one end of the dank basement.

“What the hell’s going on here?” he roared, bursting into the small room.

The man they had apprehended on the lawn across from Angela’s apartment was still hanging from a thick beam, chin on his chest. One of Colby’s men stood close to the prisoner, a lit cigarette in his fingers. Tucker knew that Colby didn’t allow any of his men to smoke or drink. They were in top physical condition, and would have been terminated immediately for violating the rules. The cigarette had another, darker purpose.

“I’m following orders,” said the crew cut young man.

Tucker had been introduced to the detail as a “special assistant” to Jake Lawrence on this trip. But during the briefing in Wyoming, Colby had made certain his men understood that Tucker had no authority over them.

The prisoner was naked from the waist up, and Tucker spotted two burn marks—one on the back of the neck, and one on the left shoulder blade. “That’ll be all, son.”

“I take my orders from Mr. Colby.”

Tucker moved a step closer, confident he could overpower the smaller man if necessary. “That will be all,” he repeated loudly.

“I’m not going any—”

“Leave us,” Colby ordered, striding into the room past Tucker and nodding at the young man. “Now.”

“Yes, sir.” The man quickly exited the room.

“I thought we agreed that this guy had nothing to tell us,” Tucker said when the guard was gone. “What’s the deal here?”

Colby moved close, so that their faces were just inches apart. “Why do you care so much, John?”

“I can’t wait to see this movie, Mom.”

Angela and Hunter were hurrying through a crowded indoor mall, trying to make a nine o’clock showing. She was dead tired, but the next two days would be filled with anything and everything Hunter wanted to do. Before they’d even made it down the estate’s driveway, Hunter had told her how his granddad was planning to build a barn at Rosemary for a couple of new ponies.

“Me, too, sweetheart. We’re going to have so much fun this weekend,” she said.

“We always do.”

She smiled down at him as they neared the ticket booth. “Yes, we do.”

The theater had six screens and Angela scanned the listings, then reached into her purse for a twenty when they made it to the front of the line. She was thinking that she needed to call Carter Hill to let him know that Jake Lawrence had contacted her. She had no choice.

“Two tickets for . . . “ Angela’s voice trailed off as she glanced down. Hunter was gone. He’d been right beside her a moment ago. Her eyes snapped up, quickly scanning the theater’s crowded lobby. Another movie had just finished and people were pouring out of the theater into the mall. “Hunter!”

“Hey,” said the man behind her in line, “are you going to buy tickets or what?”

Tucker had warned her about needing to be careful with Hunter because Jake Lawrence had become involved in the situation with her son.

“Come on, lady.”

Angela felt panic setting in. Her heart was thumping in her chest; her brain was beginning to pound. “Hunter!” she yelled, people blurring before her as her eyes flashed around the area. She stepped out of line and staggered ahead, fighting to cross the river of moviegoers passing in front of her. Maybe Hunter had gone to buy candy. He was such an independent child. “Hunter!” She could hear the panic in her own voice, and it unnerved her. “Hunter!” She pushed through a family of five and made it to the food counter, but the little boy was nowhere in sight.

“Are you all right?” asked a woman holding a bag of popcorn.

“It’s my son,” Angela answered, her voice choking up. “He was right here a second ago. Right with me. Then I looked down, and he was gone.”

“Now keep calm,” the woman urged. “Everything will be okay. He’s probably right here.”

Angela shook her head and raced back out toward the mall, looking wildly in both directions, uncertain what to do. Pick one way to run and search every store? But what if that was the wrong way? Or stay right here? But what if he had walked into the mall? Or been taken? She had to do something.

“What does he look like?” The kindly woman had followed Angela. “I’ll go this way,” she said, pointing to the left, “and you go over there. But you have to tell me what he looks like first.”

“He’s about this tall,” she said quickly, putting a hand at her hip. “He’s got medium-length brown hair and blue eyes. He’s wearing a green down jacket,” she said, trying to think clearly as the words spilled out. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” Suddenly Angela felt a hard tug on the bottom of her coat.

“Mom, did you get the tickets?”

She glanced down and her eyes were met by the most beautiful sight she could have imagined. Hunter looking up at her with that wonderful smile. She knelt, tears flowing down her cheeks as relief rushed through her body. “Where were you?”

“I went to the bathroom. I thought you heard me tell you.”

“No, honey. No, I didn’t.” She grabbed him and hugged him tightly. “You have to make sure I hear you, Hunter. Please don’t ever do that again.”

Hunter nodded obediently as Angela pulled back. “Sorry to scare you,” he said, wiping tears from her face.

“It’s okay, Hunter. It’s okay.”

The man standing against a wall outside the movie theater folded the newspaper he had been pretending to read, and moved casually on. What had just happened was bad luck for him. Now it was going to be extremely difficult to get the boy away from her.

Ken Booker took a long puff from a cigar, then, for a second time this evening, read the article in the
Washington Post
about the lawsuit seeking $1.4 trillion. The scary thing about the suit was that someone at the
Post
thought there was enough to it to report on it. “Bastards,” he muttered, feeling his blood begin to boil.

He reached for the Jack Daniels highball and took a long drink. Why was he getting so worked up? The man they were supporting was very connected. And he would see to it that this could never happen.

CHAPTER TEN

The weekend with Hunter had flashed by. The way they always did. Her two days were gone, and he was back at Rosemary. It would be another month before she would see him again, and the loneliness was already setting in. It had hurt so deeply to watch him scamper gleefully back into the mansion after giving her a final hug, undoubtedly looking forward to playing with the magical things that millions could buy.

Angela knew now more than ever that there would soon come a day when Hunter wouldn’t want to spend the weekend with her, a Friday when he would trudge to her car and get in because he
had
to, not because he wanted to. This very morning he’d mentioned for the first time she could ever remember that he was bored.

Typically, she and Liv would have had dinner tonight—the Sunday night after her weekend with Hunter. Liv had an amazing ability to comfort her, while at the same time making her realize that she couldn’t feel sorry for herself, that she alone could effect change. The dinner-with-Liv-routine had been interrupted this evening in the name of doing just that.

“Everything all right?”

Angela nodded slowly, gazing through the candlelight at Jake Lawrence.

Tucker had called yesterday morning, asking again if she would consent to dinner with Lawrence. She had turned down the request for last night, Saturday night, because nothing could make her give up so much as a minute of her precious time with Hunter. She had agreed, however, to meet Lawrence late this evening after dropping the boy off at Rosemary.

But she had agreed with a condition. John Tucker would have to be close by at all times, close enough so that if she felt any uneasiness at all, she could get to him right away. And he could get to her.

Angela glanced at the double door of the hotel suite’s tastefully decorated private dining room. Jake Lawrence had agreed to her condition. They were alone in here, but Tucker was on the other side of those doors watching television. She’d already checked twice. William Colby was out there too, along with four of his men, two of whom were carrying weapons—and watching Tucker like a hawk.

“Relax, Angela. Everything is fine,” Lawrence said reassuringly, adjusting his black bow tie. “You know John Tucker is out there, right?”

Angela nodded again. Lawrence smiled and the dimples she’d first noticed in Wyoming appeared.

“I learned my lesson last time.” His smile faded when Angela didn’t respond. “I mean that.”

“Okay,” she agreed, her steely expression starting to fade.

“Hey, I got all dressed up for you. The last time I wore one of these penguin suits, I was having a private dinner with a head of state.” Lawrence held his arms out to show off the sharp black tuxedo. “Give me some credit,” he pleaded.

“You look nice.” Lawrence looked more than nice. He looked like he ought to be on the cover of a magazine. She had to keep reminding herself of what he had done to her.

“And you look fabulous, Angela.”

“Thank you.”

She was wearing the dress she’d bought for the trip to Wyoming, though she hadn’t been as excited about putting it on this time. Tucker had given her the same compliment when he’d picked her up at her apartment in the Fan. It had meant more coming from him because she felt sure he meant it.

“I like your hair up off your shoulders that way too,” Lawrence continued. “It makes you look like a princess.”

Angela glanced down, embarrassed.

Lawrence rolled his eyes. “Jesus, I’ve gone and done it again, haven’t I? I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” she said, cracking a faint smile for the first time. “Don’t try so hard.”

“Right.” He picked up an open bottle off the table. “Do you mind if I have some wine?”

“You don’t need my permission.”

“Somehow I think I do.”

“It’s fine if
you
want some,” she said after a few moments, making her glance at the doors obvious.

“Would you like a little?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Okay.” Lawrence poured himself a glass, motioning toward the doors when he was finished. “You like John, don’t you?”

She shrugged. “I trust him.”

“But you barely know him.”

“That’s true. But I still trust him.”

“How can that be?” Lawrence pushed.

“It’s a feeling.” She wasn’t going to tell Lawrence about Tucker’s advice in the garage, how his warning had seemed heartfelt, delivered because he cared. She wasn’t going to put him in jeopardy that way. “I can’t explain it to you.”

“Shouldn’t you approach something like trust more deliberately? Shouldn’t you give it more time?”

“Why do you care so much?”

A tight-lipped expression came to Lawrence’s face. “You’re right. I don’t. That’s your business.”

“Good.”

Lawrence took a sip of wine. “By now, I assume, you are aware that the custody war for your son is back on.” His manner turned businesslike. “Your attorney, Ms. Charboneau, will meet tomorrow with one of the men who accused you of having sex with him while you were married to Sam Reese. A Mr. Ford, I believe. The one who is still alive,” Lawrence added quietly. “And Ms. Charboneau will be talking further with a woman who had an affair with your ex-husband, the woman you caught Sam Reese in bed with.” Lawrence put the glass back down on the linen tablecloth. “I’ve also made arrangements for my people to speak with the judge in the case. He doesn’t have to reopen it, but I believe he will.”

“How did you convince these people to change their minds?” Angela asked. “How did you convince Danny Ford?”

“Several of my associates had a chance encounter with Mr. Ford in a parking lot late one evening last week. They reasoned with him.”

“You mean they threatened him, don’t you? Or did they actually hurt him?”

“In the end, Angela, the slime of our world must pay for their actions,” he said coldly. “There must be retribution for acts of evil. Otherwise decent people are left unprotected, and chaos reigns.”

“I see,” she said quietly.

“Would you rather Mr. Ford be allowed to go through life without ever paying for what he did to you? For helping to take Hunter from you?”

Angela stared at Lawrence through the flickering candlelight. “No.”

“Then we’re in agree—”

“Why are you doing this for me?” she cut in. “Why are you going to such great lengths to help me?”

“You’ve agreed to do a favor for me, so I’ll do the same for you. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. That’s the way the world works.”

“What you have asked of me is simply my job. The financing of an acquisition. Just business.”

“But I don’t think you fully understood the consequences of my request. I don’t believe you understood how strongly Bob Dudley would react to your involvement with me.”

Angela ran her finger around the base of her empty wineglass. “No, I suppose I didn’t.”

Lawrence rose from his seat, bottle in hand, and moved to Angela’s side of the small table. “Have a little,” he urged gently.

She looked up into his dark, dead eyes, reminding herself that Tucker was in the next room. “Half a glass. That’s all.”

Wine poured, Lawrence returned to his seat.

“Dudley and Hill have ordered me to keep them informed of any contact I have with you,” she said. “I’m required to call them as soon as I talk to you or your people. If I don’t, and they find out, I face the possibility of being fired on the spot. I left a message for Carter Hill this evening before Tucker picked me up to let him know about this dinner.”

“That’s fine,” he acknowledged. “But they didn’t forbid you from seeing me, did they?”

“No. In fact, just the opposite. When I told them about our meeting in Wyoming, and that I never wanted to meet with you again,” she said, watching Lawrence’s reaction, “Dudley didn’t bat an eye. He made it clear to me that he didn’t care about me one bit, that our relationship was all about him, that I was to be enthusiastic about working with you if you called again.”

“Always keep your enemies as close as possible,” Lawrence said quietly.

“Excuse me? I didn’t hear you.”

“Bob Dudley believes that I’m out to steal his beloved Sumter Bank from him. Because my resources are so much greater than his, he figures his best, perhaps only, chance of stopping me is to anticipate my every move. So he’s trying to stay as close to me as he can through you. He doesn’t understand that I have no interest in acquiring the damn bank.”

“Then why have you increased your ownership stake from 8 to 10 percent?” she asked.

Lawrence peered intently at Angela from across the table but said nothing.

“I checked the 13-d filings again on Friday afternoon,” she explained. “You spent another $110 million for an additional 2 percent of the bank’s shares. If you have no interest in acquiring Sumter, why do you keep buying more shares?”

“I told you,” Lawrence replied evenly. “I believe it’s a good long-term investment.”

“No chance it’s really the other way around here? That I’m the one keeping Bob Dudley close to you?” she pressed.

“No chance at all,” he said firmly.

“Then describe this company you are so interested in acquiring.”

“Certainly. That
was
why I wanted to meet with you tonight.”

Angela eased back into her chair, slightly surprised at his amiable reaction. She’d expected him to stall once more. She was certain that there wasn’t any acquisition transaction—other than the acquisition of Sumter—and that tonight’s dinner would turn out to be nothing more than a debriefing session, with Lawrence trying to determine Dudley’s level of resolve for a fight to keep Sumter out of Lawrence’s hands. And Lawrence giving her instructions for her next meeting with Dudley and Hill, which, she assumed, would occur first thing tomorrow morning.

She was resigned to the role of pawn, tonight’s dinner being just another move on the board. It wasn’t a game she was proud to participate in, but, with Lawrence’s help, there seemed to be the very real possibility of winning Hunter back. Or at least seeing him a great deal more. For that possibility, she was willing to be put in play.

“The firm I want to buy is an IT group based in Reston, Virginia, which is about twenty miles west of Washington, D.C.”

“You mean, information technology?” she asked.

“Yes. The firm helps large, multinational companies install and integrate state-of-the-art software systems into their existing legacy networks. Their engineers design and build custom software systems in certain situations, as well.”

“IT is a tough business right now, isn’t it?” Angela asked. “I don’t have much experience with companies like that, but I’ve read that those professional-service models are difficult to scale. And that corporate America isn’t spending as much on those kinds of services as they were a while ago. Lots of IT companies have seen their stock prices hit the skids lately, haven’t they?”

“Which makes it an excellent time to buy. A year ago the firm I’m looking at had a stock market value of almost a billion dollars. Now, with the share price trading in single digits, the total value of the firm is down to around two hundred million.”

“What’s the name of the company?”

“Proxmire Consulting.”

Angela didn’t recognize the name. “What’s so special about Proxmire? As I understand it, there are lots of IT companies that do what you’ve described. Why are you so hot on these guys?”

Lawrence smiled approvingly. “Very good, Angela.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lawrence, but—”

“Jake,” he interrupted quickly. “I’ve asked you to call me Jake several times. I don’t want to ask again.”

“Sorry.” She hesitated. “Jake.”

“So why these guys? An excellent question.” He nodded at her glass. “You haven’t touched your wine. It really is delicious. Don’t waste it.”

“Why Proxmire?” she repeated firmly.

Lawrence nodded, resigned to her cautiousness. “Two years ago Proxmire acquired a company named ESP Technologies in a stock swap. ESP designs and develops cutting-edge predictive software systems.”

“Predictive software? You mean the kind of application where a user inputs historical data and the software provides most likely outcomes.”

“Yes.”

“Forgive me for being so blunt, but that isn’t cutting edge. There are lots of other companies doing that.”

“Believe me, these people are light-years ahead of the competition. Their proprietary logarithms are incredible. With only a few variables their predictions are more dependable than the competition’s by a factor of ten. Maybe more. And this firm has huge data banks to cross the incoming historical data with, which further refines the predicted outcomes.”

“How do you know?”

“One of my portfolio companies licensed ESP’s software six months ago and the results have been spectacular.”

“I’m listening,” she said, picking up her wineglass for the first time.

Lawrence watched as she drank. “I own a chain of convenience stores in the South.”

“Really? Which one?”

“Cubbies.”

“You’re kidding. You own Cubbies?”

“Yes, I bought it three years ago from the founder. It was a private transaction. We kept the deal extremely quiet.”

“There was a Cubbies near the trailer park I grew up in. They used to have this great Italian Ice machine at the back of the store.”

“They still do. Thanks to the ESP technology, we’ve moved those machines closer to the potato chips at most of our two hundred locations. Same-store sales increased 14 percent last quarter without any increase in advertising dollars.”

“Because of ESP?”

“Absolutely. They researched the demographics for each store, then analyzed specific historical item volumes, pricing, and merchandising across the chain, and developed a new store setup profile for every location. One of the software’s recommendations was to relocate that machine at a lot of sites. The results have been immediate and measurable. No question ESP has had a profound effect on the business. Cash flow has doubled.”

“So you’re impressed enough to buy the entire company just to get to ESP?”

“I believe ESP could ultimately be worth billions by itself. The problem is that Proxmire, the parent company, hasn’t had the marketing dollars to spend on rolling out ESP’s software through the appropriate distribution channels. As you mentioned earlier, they’ve had their own cash flow challenges over the last twelve months, and they seem focused on simply keeping themselves afloat.”