CHAPTER 12
C HAPTER 12
W hen Rae and Dana emerged from the office building, a midnight-blue Lincoln Navigator was parked by the entrance. A dark-suited woman rose from behind the wheel and called, “Is one of you Ms. Alden?”
Dana asked, “What on earth?”
“Yes, I’m Rae Alden.”
“Ma’am, I’m to tell you that I’ve been booked for the day. Can I take you somewhere?”
“I don’t believe this.” To Dana, “Compliments of my new client.”
Dana motioned to the young attorney who had accompanied them downstairs. “Take my car and meet us at the courthouse.” She slipped into the rear seat beside Rae, settled her case on the middle space, said, “Well, well, well.”
“Curtis offered me a limo if I’d let him drive us up. Give me the chance to take notes. I thought, you know, he meant for the ride home.”
Dana asked the driver to take them to the federal courthouse, then asked Rae, “What exactly do you know about this new client of yours?”
“We grew up together. His father was sheriff before my uncle. Walter Gage was killed in the line of duty. Curtis moved away when he was seventeen. We lost contact. Yesterday was the first time I’ve seen him in twelve years.”
“At the best of times, I don’t like mysteries involving new clients.”
“I agree totally.”
“So here’s what I suggest. We treat this afternoon’s meeting as a formal deposition. I’ll arrange for my PA to tape the proceedings. She is a sworn officer of the court. This will serve as a counterpoint to any questions we might face in the future.”
The band of tension Rae had been wearing since speaking with her uncle continued to ease. “I can’t tell you what it means, hearing you include yourself in this.”
Dana smiled. “You’re handling this very well, I must say. If I had been handed such a situation at your age, I would be in total meltdown.”
“Getting there.”
“Nonsense.”
“About this afternoon. Curtis has said his superiors insist on an extreme level of confidentiality. He’s told me he can’t even divulge who the ultimate owners are.”
“What Curtis and his superiors want and what they get are two very different issues.” When Rae remained silent, Dana pressed, “Remember why we are here. The federal authorities are involved. Any hint of impropriety could cost you your license.”
“I need to sell this estate. Curtis represents a cash buyer.”
Dana glanced at the driver, then asked, “What if he also represents the reason why the Feds are sniffing around?”
“I suppose it’s possible. But the issues surrounding my client’s property have been developing since last year’s hurricane. Curtis arrived yesterday.”
Dana tapped the top of her briefcase, an almost inaudible drumbeat. “So we will be completely up front with our situation and ask him to do the same. Because it is necessary for your own safety. Not to mention clearing the way for a clean transaction.”
“That makes perfect sense.”
Dana did not speak again until their driver halted in the courthouse red zone. She then told the driver, “Step outside and give us a moment, please.”
“Certainly, ma’am.”
When the driver exited the vehicle, Dana said, “The property’s missing current owner.”
“Landon Barrett.”
“What can you tell me about him?”
Rae had suspected this was why she wanted a private moment, and was ready. “As big a mystery as Curtis. Bigger. The questions I had regarding my client only grew with time. I worked for him almost four years, and I never felt like I had a handle on who he really was.”
“Did Barrett ever indicate or even suggest he was involved in illegal activities?”
“No. Never.”
“So describe the man.”
“Tall, so skinny he was almost skeletal. But strong. Very unattractive, and didn’t care. He was always well dressed, but the clothes, I don’t know . . .”
“Tell me.”
“I had the impression he bought what somebody else told him to wear. On him, the clothes were almost clownish.” She closed her eyes and saw the man so clearly, he might have been standing beside the driver. “He’d show up wearing these expensive suits that just hung on him. Big gold Rolex with the diamond face, but it rattled on his wrist. His shirts and ties never matched.”
“Interesting.”
But Rae wasn’t done. “His hands were so big, they belonged to a different man. Mid-fifties. Spoke with a light accent, I always assumed it was Jersey or Bronx, you know, one of the outlying boroughs—but he’d taken elocution lessons to get rid of the worst.”
“You never asked him?”
“Not a chance.” Definite. “With me, Landon Barrett was very soft-spoken. Very polite. Just the same, he scared me. Everything he said or did seemed like he’d measured it out, thought it through carefully.”
“I don’t follow,” Dana said.
“Like he was learning a role. That’s the impression I had, right from our very first meeting. This was Landon Barrett practicing to be a nice guy.”
Rae opened her eyes and realized Dana was watching her now. Nodding. “You suspected he hid a different face.”
“Barrett never gave me any reason to think that. But yes. I always suspected that down deep Landon had a dark side. Dangerous.”
“Deadly,” Dana suggested.
Rae did not respond.
“Anything else?”
“No. Well, one thing.” Rae felt as if the missing owner was watching her expose his hidden depths. “He couldn’t get enough of my tales about pirate treasure and the buccaneers who called the Outer Banks home.”
Dana was unimpressed. “He liked legends. So?”
“They’re not legends. And that’s what appealed to Barrett.” Rae stared at the empty front seat. “He’d invite me to these cookouts. A dozen or so guys with accents and attitudes to match, you know? Ladies with big hair and a lot of makeup. Sooner or later, Barrett would draw me over to his bar, shoo everybody out to the patio and the grill, and have me retell some of the stories about pirates and Fortunate Harbor. The last Christmas before he vanished, I gave him a framed print of a treasure map showing what local experts considered to be the pirates who most likely used Crystal Coast as their safe haven. I treated it as a sort of joke, you know? He hung it behind his bar.”
“All right, I’ve heard enough.” She reached for the door, then said, “Everything you want to know about Curtis Gage, this is your chance. Your job today is to design our inquiry. Set out all the unresolved legal issues as a series of questions that I will ask on your behalf.”
“Understood.”
But the older attorney wasn’t finished. “Which means we are both billing this gentleman for our time, correct?”
“I suppose . . . yes.”
“Nothing is off the table. Remember, you’re preparing for a worst-case scenario. Your erstwhile client will be speaking on the record. If the Feds invade our space and come hunting for your scalp, this will serve as your one-and-only get-out-of-jail card.”
* * *
Curtis waited until the limo pulled away, then crossed the adjoining parking lots on foot and entered the indoor-outdoor North Hills Mall. The upscale central avenue was filling with early shoppers and business people from neighboring structures over on break. He bought a coffee, then found an empty trio of benches partially sheltered by potted palms. As he settled, his phone rang with an incoming number he did not recognize.
“This is Curtis.”
“Mr. Gage, it’s Holly? The driver? My boss said something about you wanting to know what the ladies talked about?”
He had asked the limo service for a report, but had not held out much hope. “Hundred-dollar tip, did they tell you that as well?”
“You bet.”
“So let’s hear it.”
She did a fairly decent job of repeating the discussion between Rae and the Raleigh lawyer. Curtis knew the driver missed some items and didn’t care. The core issues were clear enough.
The coming interview was not about him.
They were covering bases. Because the Feds were involved. When the driver finished, Curtis asked, “Did they mention which agency was investigating them?”
“Not that I heard. But like I said, the Feds aren’t after those two ladies. It’s the property. A missing guy. Or something like that.”
“Thanks, Holly. This is most helpful.”
“One thing more. They can’t figure out who you are. It was kinda vague, but the one lady you used to know talked about you leaving one guy and coming back somebody else.”
Curtis nodded. They had that right. “I’m texting the agency now, telling them to add the hundred to my bill.”
He cut the connection, sat staring at the nearest plant, readjusting his day. While he was still deliberating, his phone rang again. Joel Blanchard, the private investigator, said in greeting, “I need more time.”
“Give me what you have,” Curtis replied. “I’m facing a crucial decision and going in nearly blind.”
The former agent did not protest further. “So we’ll take the lady first.”
“Rae Alden.”
“She checks out. Top of her class at Wake Forest Law, Law Review, interned with a federal judge, which is an indication of a lady on the rise. Was recruited by two big-time firms, but returned to her hometown and set up her private office. Handles mostly small issues, typical of a local lawyer. Has a solid rep, by all accounts. She represented the group opposing your hotel, but when she realized you guys were totally legit, she alerted her clients and backed away. Even the local cops like her.”
“Her uncle is county sheriff.”
“Yeah, I got that, too. That guy, Colton Knox, is a straight shooter by all accounts. Back to the lady. I’ve run several investigations in small towns. There’s a real chance these questions I’ve been asking will get back to the target.”
“Understood.”
“You’re okay with that?”
“I’d prefer it not to happen. But it’s a risk we need to take.”
“Okay, then. This is where we enter the swamp.”
Curtis nodded to the palms. “The property.”
“Not the place. The current owner.” Blanchard’s tone hardened. “Because of the time issue, I went straight to my agency contacts. I’m concerned I might have burned bridges.”
“Do what you can to repair things. Add it to our bill.”
Blanchard eased off a notch. “There’s not a lot I can say for certain at this point.”
“Anything you can supply is helpful.”
“Then we’ll start with the lady lawyer. Landon Barrett probably hired her because she’s local and has a solid rep. The property in question had been split up between various relatives, all of whom were feuding. Rae Alden managed what apparently was considered an impossible feat. Brought them together, sealed the deal, and kept them happy in the process.”
Curtis heard it in Blanchard’s voice. “You like her.”
“Hard to admit when it comes to any attorney. And that’s not what I’m being paid for here. But my gut tells me the lady is a keeper.”
Curtis listened to the surrounding noise, the commercial cavern filled with an almost musical echo. His mind flashed on an image from long ago, Rae seated in the bow of an old fishing trawler, watching for dolphins as he motored out through the Bogue Inlet. Back when they thought such days were theirs forever. He found somber satisfaction in knowing the lady had stayed true to the nature he had both admired and loved. Another breath, and he returned to the present with, “Which takes us back to the current owner.”
“About him, I have very little concrete info. He’s been missing for some time. How long is vague, somewhere around four years. All I can say for certain is, the man’s file is flagged.”
“By whom?”
“Not the FBI. Which means I can’t access. Might be Homeland. But I doubt it.”
“Who do you think?”
“Gun to my head, I’d say it’s DEA. There’s a certain razor edge to their secrecy. Like they don’t trust the other agencies even when the law says they must.”
Curtis nodded understanding. “You’re concerned they’re going to track you down.”
“If it’s DEA,” Blanchard replied, “it’s only a matter of time.”
“Tell them everything. Sooner or later, we’re going to need to clear this anyway. Might as well be now.”
“So you’re going ahead, despite all this?”
As if in response, his phone chimed with an incoming call. Curtis checked the screen, saw it was Gloria, and told the investigator, “I’ll have to get back to you on that.” Curtis ended the call, connected to Gloria and said, “Give me one minute.”
“I can call later.”
“No, it needs to be now.” Curtis shot a text to Amiya, requesting a quick phone chat soon as she could manage. Then he clasped the phone with both hands and leaned back. He had known any number of such moments recently, coming into a difficult situation and finding himself abruptly confronted by the totally unexpected. The bigger picture that included a massive risk. A make-or-break decision that impacted not just the project, but his own future.
The thrill was indescribable.
It was as close to a full-on high as he came these days. Riding the wave of risk, charting a course on meager data. Trusting his gut.
Since recovering from the months of booze and antidepressants and whatever illegal drug he could find, Curtis rarely even took aspirin. More than a glass or so of wine risked dredging up the memories. What he once had. The pain of loss. The grim intent he’d known, searching for an empty grave.
He was secretly proud of himself and the way he’d found a way forward. Even though he’d lost the ability to taste life’s delicate flavors.
Moments like this felt like a reward for the struggle.
Curtis lifted the phone. “Sorry, Gloria.”
“It’s just fine.” Her voice held the breathless quality of an excited teen. “I have the property assessment.”
“Go ahead.”
“It’s probably not what you were hoping for. But the gentleman I use, he’s considered the best on the Crystal Coast.” A delicate pause. “I’m afraid he’s rather expensive. He had to drop other work to do this first thing.”
“I’m scheduled to make a formal offer at two this afternoon.” That is, if they decided to go ahead. Despite everything. “Speed is crucial.”
“Well.” Another breath scented by the prospect of a major sale. “Barry thinks—that’s his name, Barry Welker. He’s fairly certain this would be the last remaining property of its size along the southern Outer Banks. And because of its history as a commercial fishing center, it carries the deeded right for multiple use. Plus, it’s situated adjacent to your resort—”
She was cut off by his phone ringing. Curtis had assigned a special tone to calls or texts from his bosses. It sounded like a giant gong.
“What was that ?”
“A text from my home office. Hang on.” He checked, saw Amiya was available for the next few minutes. He told Gloria, “Skip the windup and go straight to the meat.”
“Base line, three and a half. This market, as high as four point seven-five.”
“Thank you, Gloria. This is most helpful.”
Her voice lifted a full octave. “So, are we proceeding?”
“I need to speak with my superiors. In the meantime, a further question.”
“Go ahead.”
He carefully tested the words. “I’m catching hints of illegality associated with the property. I have no idea what the reality is, or whether a purchase might taint us or the resort.”
She lost her excitement. Whoosh. Gone. “You want me to check this out?”
“Only if you can do so without alerting the market to our interest. You understand?”
“Perfectly.”
“A few well-placed questions, only to people you can trust. I’m slated to meet with people this afternoon who can hopefully shed light on this issue. Why don’t we plan to meet tomorrow morning and compare notes.”
He hit speed dial for Amiya, who answered with, “I’m seated in the back of a very uncomfortable limo, and my youngish driver is dancing on the curb outside my door.”
Curtis jumped straight in. “There’s a bad smell attached to the property we want to acquire.”
“In what way?”
“No idea. Something related to the current owner.”
“Who is missing, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“So walk away.”
“We could. But this represents a one-of-a-kind opportunity.”
“For this goodwill mission of yours.”
“That’s actually a sidebar. An important one. But the more I think about this, the more I feel like we can do something much bigger with this land.”
“Yes? Go on. I can watch this staffer do his New York polka for another minute.”
Curtis needed two for the telling. Soon as he was done, that very instant, she said, “I like this very much.”
“There’s a downside.”
Amiya chuckled. “You mean, besides the unknown bad odor.”
“Because of that. If we go ahead, I’m probably going to be forced to reveal who we are.”
She responded with a minute pause, then said, “I am not yet refusing you point blank.”
He did his best to explain in briefest detail what he suspected would happen. Just the same, it took another four minutes.
Amiya observed, “My father will probably say this is very not good.”
He wanted to press. Tell her how important this move might be. But he knew and liked and respected this woman and her father. If she needed time, Curtis resisted the temptation to push, and waited.
Amiya asked, “When are you scheduled to meet with them again?”
“Around two this afternoon.”
She sighed. “And now you are going to wreck my afternoon.”
“Amiya—”
“Stop. I understand. You were right to call.” Another silence pared down to New York timing; then, “If you’re correct in your assessment, if this is indeed what transpires, I need to observe.”
“Does this mean—”
“It means I will observe. You will call and put me on speaker and I will assess. Then, and only then, will I decide.” There was the sound of a door opening. “And I really must go now.”