The Devil's Analyst (10 page)

Later, Josh freed him from his morass when he returned to the little town in Wisconsin and made an unexpected offer. In some ways it was more of a demand, but one that Danny desperately wanted to hear. “Move to Los Angeles and live with me. Go to school there. We belong together.” That’s what Josh said. Danny hadn’t experienced any other relationships against which he could judge whether Josh’s offer was worthwhile. But his ESP worked then too. It told him that he would be a fool to pass up this chance, and so he told his father he was leaving Wisconsin, even though it shocked the old man. It was the best thing Danny ever did for himself.

With Josh’s help, he reached another level in his life. Josh convinced Danny to aim for the big leagues and so he applied for college and sought a spot in the USC writing program. As much as he now found Jesus Lopez distasteful, Danny could never deny that the professor and his writing seminars opened his soul to something unexpected. At first, he barely dared to tap into the experiences that molded him but when he did, he knew he had found something extraordinary. He transformed memories and unwanted emotions into some new beast, which might be hard to contain as it snorted and tugged, but it was a beast he loved.

Because Lopez was the midwife to that transformation, Danny knew he should forgive the way Josh was now bringing the man into their business. Given the need to discover creative writers, it made sense to use Lopez’s connections. Besides, whatever demons might reside in Lopez’s psyche, the man clearly had the gift to burnish the gleaming possibilities of others.

Maybe that was another reason Danny admired Josh so much. Like an eagle high in the sky, Josh took in the whole terrain below. Whatever might block the way, he always seemed to know where he wanted to go, and he had always helped Danny move forward.

Josh pleaded, “So make me a promise, Danny. Let go of this worry, fear, premonition, whatever it is . . . let it go.”

For Josh, Danny could do that. He could ignore the pressing black cloud that hovered in the back of his mind, because when Josh asked him to do things, they always proved worth doing.

It had been Josh’s idea to start writing about the restaurant business. He pointed out how Danny had worked in restaurants as a teenager, how to this day he sometimes helped out at the New Loon Town Café, and how their friends Stephen and Wally knew all the right people in town. Put that inside knowledge to work, Josh counseled.

Which is exactly what Danny did, and he was surprised to discover that not only did he enjoy doing it but that lots of people liked reading the results. When he created his small ‘zine and convinced Skylight Books in Los Feliz to stock it, he anticipated selling only a few copies. But the publication caught on; people started subscribing. Young writers even sent him material, because they saw his publication as an entry to a broader world. Sometimes he wondered how people even knew the tidbits they told him, but in the guise of industry gossip, he started repeating them. Wally once joked that he was afraid of the power that his one-time busboy was now wielding.

Josh made all of it possible. He was the one who suggested moving the ‘zine online. Even as he dealt with his portfolio of real estate investments, he still found time to help Danny establish the
InnerEatz
site. He thought up new ways to engage with readers. He sought out AOL America, when he learned they were seeking new media properties to round out their subscriber offerings. He recognized how their deep pockets and almost reckless willingness to buy anything that caught their fancy could make Danny and Josh rich.

But in reality, Danny already felt rich. Once he moved in with Josh, his days of feeling poor were left behind. When they were in the small bungalow in the hills of the nearby Silver Lake neighborhood and now in the expanse of the restored mansion, he knew they could be happy.

Josh was right. He was worrying needlessly. Danny reminded himself that his mother also claimed to have inner warnings. Look where it got her: suicide before she was fifty. It was time to shove that disturbing voice into a soundproof box and lose the key.

“You’re right,” Danny said.

Josh chose to say nothing in reply, but it was clear he recognized the significance of the words.

Danny’s cell phone rang. The ring tone was the University of Wisconsin fight song. It was Cynthia.

“Why is Cynthia calling?” he said out loud as he pressed the speaker button on his cell phone.

“What’s up?” Danny asked.

Cynthia’s voice was thin and uneven. She clearly had been crying and seemed on the edge of desperation.

“It’s Chip,” she said, “He’s missing.”

INTERLUDE

Session Five

What do you mean
you want to know what I’ve been doing? What does that matter to you? Shouldn’t you focus on what I think and what goes on in my mind? What I do or don’t do in the world outside this room shouldn’t matter. It’s my mental health I’m here to discuss. Not your morbid curiosity. And aren’t you here to make me better?

Besides I don’t want to tell you too much. If I said the wrong thing, your professional ethics might make you think you had to report me to the police.

I’m just kidding, doc. I’d never do or plan anything against the law. At times, I might stretch the rules, but believe me it’s always for a good cause.

Like when I drove into the Valley wearing that stupid hat. I wanted to know what Chip was up to. I can’t deny that he’s always been a straight shooter and that his loyalties lie with Danny.

Just like mine. The thing is that Chip doesn’t know what Danny really needs. He might just stumble into something where his nose doesn’t belong. I can’t let that happen.

Know what I mean?

PART TWO

CLOUDS AHEAD

CHAPTER FIVE

Missing

Josh recognized
reality. Things were spinning out of control. Still he saw no alternative but to continue skidding toward his destination. There was no time to worry about what was in the way. Without a counterweight, everything would spin off into its own orbit, and the thought of such an embarrassing end was unbearable.

Among the financial press, some analysts saw nothing of concern since tech stocks were still rising in the marketplace. Josh on the other hand feared that the Dow Jones had peaked. Rumors abounded that the major online medical company Healtheon was about to delay its public offering. Everyone knew that Jim Clark—the genius behind Silicon Graphics and Netscape—headed Healtheon. If a man like that was spooked, a real horror show likely lay ahead. Even the appearance of calm waters might only mask a maelstrom ahead.

An assistant knocked on the conference room door, which immediately annoyed Josh. He had provided his staff with strict instructions to not disturb Orleans and him. The two of them needed to concentrate on what was ahead. Another rap, Josh bristled, and his assistant quickly ducked into the room to say that Danny was outside and wanted to talk. Josh glared and the assistant backed out.

Calming Danny was the last thing Josh needed. After receiving Cynthia’s call about Chip, Danny behaved as though the sky was falling. Ironically, Josh had the details to understand that the sky might actually be descending, but he knew the looming calamity had nothing to do with a missing friend. As Orleans finished the financial update, he assessed the outlook as far bleaker than anticipated. The firm was hemorrhaging money with no end in sight. He had to cure this problem. Danny’s fears were only a distraction.

Being annoyed wasn’t fair to Danny. He knew that. They were supposed to be partners in life and in business, so Danny deserved to know the true outlook for Premios. On the other hand, Danny had always left it to Josh to be the money manager, and now those patterns boxed them in. If Josh was guilty of insulating Danny from the realities of business, then Danny was responsible for wanting that. How could he give the guy a basic understanding of the real world when they were heading into a crash? Better to let him fret over a missing friend than to focus on an economic problem over which he certainly had no influence.

Josh wasn’t going to worry about Chip. Over the many years of their friendship, the man consistently proved to be at the top of the game. Josh was certain that if he had time to think about it he could determine some logical explanation for the man’s absence. In the meantime, Chip’s disappearance made Josh happy. It provided breathing room. He didn’t need some entrepreneur from Wisconsin digging into the Premios story. Convincing Chip last year to make a half-million-dollar investment in the company was going to cost him more than Josh ever expected.

A year ago, it seemed a good idea to enlist an old friend as an initial investor. Chip carried a certain reputation among the financial community, and not just those in the Midwest, because he also held clout with the Wall Street gang. After all, there weren’t many Native American entrepreneurs with his kind of resume—Wall Street credibility and a thriving tribal investment fund. It never hurt to have the right people on your side.

But Chip, fabled as he was, had his negatives. Over the past few days his presence clearly illuminated that. Chip could joke with Barbara Linsky with all that stupid talk about how valuing Internet investments was like dead cats, but it just proved he didn’t get the modern world. Companies like Premios would change the universe. Fortunes were going to be made. No way would Josh let a little cash flow problem stop him from being one of the winners.

Josh forced himself
to focus on Orleans, who had ignored the aide’s interruption and continued talking, “I recommend we cancel the investor tour.”

That thought broke through Josh’s reverie. “What the hell? Just take a gun and shoot me. We have to go public now, or everything is gone.”

“Then you need to cancel the East Coast expansion plans. It’s one or the other.”

“No, not that either. We need those added cities. Without them we don’t demonstrate the rapid growth that makes the numbers work.”

“The numbers don’t work either way. Period.” Orleans glowered with a look that dared Josh to defy her. She sat across the table and said nothing more.

“That’s your fucking job . . . to make the numbers work. What’s the purpose of Excel and PowerPoint except to tell the story the way it needs to be told? Our concept is golden. A little time and a little more money and it’ll work.”

The door to the conference room opened again. Josh snapped, “I told you we’re not to be disturbed. Tell Danny to go home, and I’ll talk to him then.”

Orleans’ shocked face prompted Josh to turn around. Danny was standing in the door, not the assistant. Danny looked so ashen that Josh immediately calmed. “Hey, I’m really sorry, but Orleans and I are in the middle of some pretty heavy stuff. We have to stay focused. I can’t take the time to talk about anything else.”

Even though it was the truth, he doubted that would mollify Danny. The kid looked so upset. Now he had an additional problem he couldn’t avoid, but he couldn’t let Danny open up another can of worms.

“I just want to know if you heard anything from Chip. Cynthia says she can’t stay cooped up in Wisconsin any longer and wants to fly here.”

Josh suddenly felt wearier than was logical. Nothing was going his way. If Cynthia flew west then Danny would insist she stay with them, and he didn’t want that, just like he didn’t want Chip digging into their books and seeking explanations for details that were hard to explain. Above all, he didn’t want to upset Danny.

Chip wasn’t their problem. Maybe he could say the guy had a mistress, maybe that would explain what was taking up his time. To Josh, Chip always appeared a lady’s man and he often wondered how loyal the guy really was to his wife. For a moment, he wanted to fling the idea out toward Cynthia, but he feared that such an allegation would only ensure Cynthia flying into town.

“I don’t know why the two of you are so convinced something is wrong. It’s only been two days since he went quiet.”

“Josh, what are you talking about? There’s email . . . and cell phones. He wouldn’t just drop out of sight.”

Josh didn’t consider the current timeline to be an impossibility. People did that sort of thing all the time. “So has she filed a missing persons report with the police?”

“Of course, and they took her complaint seriously. They opened a case.”

Josh accepted Danny’s word for that, but his experience with the police suggested they wouldn’t actively pursue such a situation. In his opinion, rich men often vanished for a few days, only to eventually show up, act a bit contrite, and bluster that there was never a reason to worry. They often had their reasons or affairs.

But there was no sense arguing with Danny’s concern. “All right. But let’s wait until tonight to help her decide. Tell Cynthia we’ll call her this evening. For now Orleans and I really need to work on these finances. Can you let us get back to it?”

For a second, Danny seemed poised to argue, but with a slight nod of acquiescence he retreated. Through the wavy glass, Josh watched him walk over to Kenosha. Josh suspected she was about to get an earful about what a horrible person her boss was. He couldn’t worry about that.

“Josh, do you know what happened to Chip?” Orleans asked quietly.

Josh was quite surprised. “Of course not. Why would I know anything?”

“I don’t trust the guy,” she said. ”He almost knew too much about our business the other day. He’s tenacious and sneaky. He could be testing us.”

“Testing us for what?”

“You know him better than me,” she replied in a way that suggested the subject was closed, but then she reopened it. “In a way I wish he were here. I’d ask him to invest another million dollars in Premios. That would improve the balance sheets and get us through the summer. It would place less pressure on the IPO.”

That’s what Josh liked about Orleans. She was always thinking, and he had already reached the same conclusion. They needed an additional infusion of cash—and soon. The trouble was that they couldn’t go to the banks for it. Such an act would seem desperate. It needed to come from the original investors. Unfortunately added investment at this stage would dilute his holdings more than he wanted. But so what? Better to have a few million less when they went public than to be left holding an empty bag.

“I don’t understand why you won’t just increase your personal investment,” Orleans added. “That would be the easiest approach. And the fastest.”

Orleans would discover it soon enough, but he felt no need to tell her quite yet. Already the accounts of both Danny and himself were heavily overleveraged. The house, the camp, and the original seed money for Premios, to say nothing of his other interests—all of it was locked up. Money only went so far.

The single way out as he saw it was to tap the original investors. If Chip wasn’t around to help, that left Endicott-Meyers. But there was one problem. He wasn’t about to take more money from them until he knew two things: exactly whom he was dealing with and what they wanted from Premios.

Cynthia was angry.
No one cared that Chip hadn’t talked to her in days, and she couldn’t understand why. He wasn’t the kind of person simply to disappear or stop communicating. She longed to scream the obvious: he was in trouble; he had never done this before; and there must be a reason it was happening now. But another part of her rejected any possibility that he might in danger. A person as strong as Chip could not simply vanish.

She found herself in Chip’s office. Her need to escape the house was so great and there were so few other places to go. Sitting in his office chair proved a tremendous comfort. An element of his scent clung to the leather; it was all she could do to keep herself from pushing her face into the back of that chair as though she could inhale him into her presence. She replayed his last phone call in her head. She had asked him to come home, and he promised that he would be back soon. What stopped him?

Josh and Danny were both a disappointment. Police had their procedures. It made sense that they insisted on waiting before even accepting her missing person’s report. The world was bursting with runaway husbands and deadbeat dads, so why should they believe that Chip was different. They didn’t know him as she did.

Chip’s sister once told her a Lattigo legend about a long-ago chief named Frozen Bear. As a child Chip had adopted that same name and used it through his twenties. According to the folklore, back in the earliest days, a trickster cast a spell that froze Frozen Bear in time and separated him from his true love. But the wily Frozen Bear employed all of the creatures of the earth and water to break through the trickster’s every barrier until, in triumph, Frozen Bear reached his love. He stretched out to meet her lips, kissed her, and restored time.

Surely, Chip could do the same. He was as strong as any myth. In a moment, he too might come through that door, having vanquished his foes, and their lips would meet. They would laugh together about how he overcame whatever obstacles had blocked his return. Happiness would flow again and her current despair would flow away as quickly as the melting snow in spring.

She wanted to believe such fairy tales, but she hated herself for trying to evade the obvious. Even in the myth the original Frozen Bear achieved what he did only because the Great Spirit aided him. That’s why Cynthia was praying to her own god that he could make the old story come true.

She was so angry that Josh and Danny didn’t share her fears. Perhaps she was unfair, but in her heart, she blamed the two of them. Chip only flew to Los Angeles to investigate their problem. They should care more about his current state, because, knowing Chip as long as they had, they also knew that he wasn’t a man who could simply walk away.

How she hated the police and their questions: Was their marriage all right? Was the business doing well? What challenges were bothering Chip? There was no way she could tell them about the computer hack. She didn’t know the details and she suspected Josh would deny that a problem even existed.

At the Lattigo offices everyone seemed equally unconcerned. Perhaps that was a reflection of Chip himself; he had trained them to do their job and not get distracted. With or without him, the staff continued to ensure warm water flowed in the pipes of the water park, the lights stayed bright in the casinos, and the computer servers stayed cool in the data center. The staff knew what kind of person their boss was, and so they preferred to believe he was on some deep mission—as though he were a James Bond character plotting a financial coup from afar.

She held onto the slender hope that such an explanation would appear. After all, once Chip had disappeared for a few days only to return in triumph. It was back in 1987 when he engineered the takeover of the American Seasons resort. Recently his staff reminded her of that. They were proud his victory and it had become a tribal legend.

But the situations weren’t at all similar. In 1987, the two were only dating, and yet Chip had warned her of his impending absence. Now they were husband and wife; they were planning a family. No, she was certain that something terrible had happened in Los Angeles.

Only Gertie, Chip’s executive assistant, understood Cynthia’s anguish. Gertie, Chip’s secretary since the beginning, was as much a part of Chip’s life as Cynthia. They just shared alternating blocks of each day’s time, and they both knew Chip was not hiding somewhere.