Ginger snaps, p.31
Ginger Snaps, page 31
the wrong thing.
“Micki, maybe you should get some rest. let Debbie help you to
your room.”
The words were barely spoken before Maggie spoke sharply, “Be
quiet, Jack. Micki is an adult who can take care of herself. Remember,
she’s lead counsel. So treat her as such.”
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I didn’t pretend to be bothered by Maggie’s scolding.
“I’m sorry, Micki. But if you get tired, let somebody know.”
She didn’t give an inch. “You do the same. If you need to go to bed,
you know where it is.”
Touché.
Debbie looked confused. She hadn’t seen us banter like this before.
“Does anybody need coffee, tea, or something stronger? I made
blueberry muffins,” she chirped, trying to find the right note. The
mood lightened, and Maggie went with her to the kitchen to brew a
pot of tea.
“I’m sorry. You know it’s in my nature to protect.” I gave Micki a
rueful smile.
“Yes, I’ve heard you say that before. Don’t worry—I know my limits.
While they’re in the kitchen, tell me about your meeting with Novak.
Clovis called to let me know you all were safe, but that’s all I know.”
I gave her a quick rundown including my impression of Novak.
Maggie and Debbie returned as she gave a low laugh and said, “Dub’s
dirty? I’d love to believe that, but it seems pretty far-fetched.”
Debbie handed Micki a glass of ice water.
“By the way, Debbie, were you spotted at Dub’s press conferences?”
I asked, accepting a cup of tea from Maggie.
“The first time we sat in the second row. Dub clearly recognized me
because afterwards, a deputy asked me why I was there. I grinned and
said ‘I’m a huge fan of Mr. Blanchard.’ I saw Dub watching me, but
when I caught his eye he rushed out the door.”
I laughed, relishing Dub’s reaction.
“He’s held two other press conferences this week. You should’ve
seen his face when he recognized me the next time: he actually stopped
in mid-sentence and had a hard time finding his place. Today, Paul
thought he might try to keep me out. So while we were waiting to go
in, I flirted with the Democrat’s reporter, and when the doors opened
we slipped past the deputy at the door. The look on Dub’s face was
pretty funny—he knew if he made a stink, the reporter would wonder
why. I sat right in the front row with my Democrat friend. Dub was all
nervous and sweaty. He ended up reading the press release the press
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already had and wouldn’t take any questions. The deputy cornered
Paul and me on our way out and asked for my press credentials. I told
him I didn’t have any, but I was a big fan of Mr. Blanchard. He told
me not to come back.”
I laughed. “Micki, do you have a friend who can get Debbie some
press credentials?”
Debbie piped up eagerly. “My new reporter friend already gave me
two and promised to save me a seat. He’s hot.”
“Be careful,” I reminded her.
She pouted a bit. “Paul won’t let me out of his sight.”
“Good,” I emphasized. “This isn’t a game.”
She rounded up empty glasses and returned to the kitchen. We
turned our attention to the to-do list I had given everyone.
I remained silent, waiting for direction from Micki.
“Why don’t you let me call Bill Maroney and work on the auction’s
logistics and details? Dub’s people will think it’s beneath them to
actually handle the logistics. They may let Bill’s people handle all the
administrative arrangements and details.”
“I’ll leave it in your hands, but make sure we know if the letter of
credit has to be posted before we bid, or if we just need to have it on
hand in case someone questions our financial responsibility. And let
me know whether it’s public information,” I responded.
“We’ll know all that in plenty of time.”
“Try to make sure they auction the Healy before the research,” I
added.
“What does it matter?” Maggie asked.
“I’ve made a big deal about the Healy with Dub and Bullock. I want
to ride that pony as far as I can.”
“When will you meet with Sam?” Maggie asked.
“That’s a tough call. I want to give him plenty of time to get on
board. At the same time I want to have as much evidence as I can. He
wasn’t buying the first time I pitched.”
“Do you want me to call him, suggest he come out for a social visit?”
Micki asked.
“No, besides, you and I have a tougher call to make.”
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“We do?”
“You told me last year that Rodney Fitzhugh’s as honest as the day
is long.”
“Absolutely.”
“Well, I need somebody from Justice, and Peggy Fortson told me to
back off in no uncertain terms. I’m not sure how receptive she’d be
to my call.”
“That depends on why you’re calling her,” Maggie put in archly.
Micki raised an eyebrow. “I’d trust Rodney with my life, but let’s
wait. He’ll be there if I ask. No sense getting him curious and asking
questions before we are ready.”
Maggie asked, “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? We have a lot
of work to do before you start calling Sam or Peggy.”
“You’re right. What do you think, Jack?” Micki asked.
“I think you’re both right. You should work on the logistical details
of the auction. Maggie will make sure we have all our ducks in a row
financially. Me, I’d like to meet with your computer whiz. It would
help if she could tell us who’s been hacking our computers.”
“Stella’s really good,” Clovis said, walking in on our conversation.
“I’ll ask her to come out tomorrow morning. Debbie and I are headed
to the grocery store. Anybody need anything? I suggest the three of
you give it a rest and relax for a while.”
Debbie emerged from the kitchen with warm cheese puffs and a
chilled bottle of wine. The cheese puffs were just that, golden puffs of
cheese and pastry. Micki had gotten the recipe from her friend Marty,
but cooking wasn’t one of Micki’s talents. We had many reasons to be
thankful for Debbie.
“I’m cooking tonight, but these ought to tide you over until we
get back.”
I saw her glance at Micki and then back to me. “Jack, can you help
me reach something in the kitchen?”
“Sure thing,” I said, following her. We were alone, but she still
spoke quietly.
“Jack, Novak called a few minutes ago. He wants you to call him as
soon as possible.”
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Her reticence in front of Micki was understandable. “Use my phone.
He’ll answer. Just punch ‘call.’”
I punched, put the phone to my ear, and heard a heavy accent.
“Novak here.”
“Jack Patterson.”
“Jack, you’re a very sneaky man. Remember your promise to pro-
tect Debbie? I’m holding you to it. let me tell you what happened.”
I listened for the next ten minutes, never said a word. Debbie
waited anxiously for my reaction, practically hopping from one foot
to the other. I tried not to give her one, returning her phone with a
mere “thank you.”
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D
Almost in tears, Debbie blurted out, “Please don’t tell Micki!”
“All right, Debbie, all right, but just this one time. It’s time for
you to trust Micki and explain your relationship with Novak. We are
dealing with complicated issues here, and I need Micki’s help. That
means no secrets. But I owe you and Novak a lot, so I’m going to
let you tell her in your own way. But be quick about it. Remember,
everyone still believes it was Novak behind her kidnapping. We have
no real proof to the contrary.”
“I promise,” she said.
“By the way, I know I told Novak I wouldn’t tell a soul about my
source, but Micki has to know.”
“oh, he knew you’d tell Micki, Maggie, and Clovis. Besides, I’m the
one who told you most of the story. He just doesn’t want any of his
customers to think he might rat them out. Bad for business.”
eric came straight from the hospital. He clearly wasn’t too keen
about my staying at the ranch, but Micki had set him straight. I’d
overheard her on the phone earlier. “eric, Jack and I are law partners.
You won’t let me go to the office, so he’s come to me. It’s ridiculous
for Maggie and Jack to drive back to the Armitage when I have plenty
of room. So get over it.”
He pouted for a while, but Debbie’s stroganoff soon revived his
good humor. Tomorrow we’d hit the ground running, but tonight
we relaxed around the fire and told stories. eric was soon bored and
insisted that Micki needed her rest. Debbie excused herself as well,
and Clovis and Paul left to make a tour of the grounds. Maggie and
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I lingered by the fire to enjoy a glass of wine and reminisce about
Angie.
It sounds corny, but I fell in love with Angie the moment I saw her
after a class at Stafford State. She graduated at the top of her George-
town Medical class, but immediately gravitated toward research. Medi-
cine wasn’t about money for her, and her passion for cancer research
found a home at NIH. She used to come home exhausted from a long
week of work, collapse, and say, “I know it’s there, it’s right in front of
our faces. And when we discover it we’re going to say, ‘How could we
have missed it all this time?’”
We both worked hard and preferred to spend our free time with
each other. We enjoyed the company of close friends, but avoided the
DC social circuit like the plague. She loved the real DC, the city itself:
the pollution, traffic, even the sultry weather were only minor irrita-
tions for her. She scoured The Post for new ethnic restaurants, open-
ings at the Smithsonian, or a reading at the Folger. Redskin games
were a concession to me, although we could rarely get tickets. After
Beth was born, a weekend trip with friends to the virginia countryside
or a week on one of the Carolina beaches was our favorite retreat.
When I couldn’t join her, she turned to Maggie, dragging Beth
with them until she was old enough to protest. over the years she
and Maggie became the best of friends, so much so that Maggie knew
about Beth’s diagnosis before I did. Her death hit us all hard. To this
day she is the only one I can really talk to about Angie.
I said, “Can you imagine how excited she’d be if Doug really has
made a breakthrough?”
“oh, Jack, she would be bloody thrilled. Do you think it’s possible?”
she asked.
“Well, if it were anyone other than Doug, I’d think it was a ploy to
disguise the sale and use of marijuana. But the Doug Angie talked
about isn’t some nutty professor type who’s invented Flubber. Nei-
ther is the one liz is in love with. Marijuana isn’t opium or cocaine,
despite what the government says. In fact, it’s less destructive than
tobacco or alcohol. And more to the point, for the last ten or so years
its medicinal qualities have been pretty well-documented, despite the
government’s attempts to eliminate its production and use. Grass has
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certainly done a lot more good than harm. The government’s only
real argument against legalization is that it’s a ‘gateway drug,’ but
that’s a lot of hooey. It doesn’t rise to the level of alcohol as a ‘gateway
drug,’ and it brings on passive, not violent behavior. If it has medicinal
qualities when you smoke it, there’s no telling what a chemist like
Doug could do with the whole plant. Sorry—I didn’t mean to make a
lecture of it.”
Maggie smiled. I knew enough about my right arm to know she had
probably experimented in her younger days, just like most every other
British kid. I was one of the few in my group who hadn’t. My stepfa-
ther was a heavy smoker, and I didn’t want to be part of anything he
enjoyed, including smoking. I missed out on a teenage rite of passage
but, on the other hand, I never smoked a legal cigarette either. Good
thing I didn’t know anyone in college who made special cookies, like
liz—I’d probably still be enjoying them today.
“Apology accepted. You know, I can just about believe in your
premise,” Maggie said as she poured herself a little more wine.
“Maggie, I feel it in my bones. Who has the money and power to
initiate and then co-opt a Federal investigation, one that’s top secret,
to boot? We know it’s there, we just don’t know who, and I’ll admit
the ‘why’ is a little iffy as well.” I topped off my wine. “I need a break.”
“What exactly do we have?” Maggie asked.
“Surprise, I hope, and what should be more important—the truth.”
I raised my glass. “oh, and the best team in the business.”
“Thank you, but that usually doesn’t win out against money, power,
and time.”
“okay, maybe not, but it’s worth the effort. lost causes are still
worth fighting for, and sometimes the good guys still win.”
“even if you get yourself killed?” She didn’t smile this time. Maggie
had every right to be concerned.
“even if I get myself killed. For a while it was just fun being in the
game again. Doug wasn’t our usual client, but he was a client, just like
at Banks & Tuohey. Now it’s different.”
Maggie came back. “except you never lost at B&T, and no one tried
to kill you.”
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“I never lost because I always settled the cases I couldn’t win. But
you’re right: I never experienced an element of personal danger.
At some point this past week I came to two conclusions. First, Doug
Stewart may have actually made a breakthrough in the treatment of
cancer. Second, someone, or maybe it’s a ‘they,’ wants to make abso-
lutely sure Doug’s research never reaches the light of day until they’re
in a position to control production, access, and profits. They’re ready
to throw both Doug and liz to the wolves. The rest of us are just col-
lateral damage. Stopping that kind of conduct is worth a little risk,
don’t you think?”
“How could anyone be so cold-hearted? So selfish?” Maggie asked.
“For money, and by employing a million rationalizations: the
research is illegal, any product that’s untested could have terrible
side effects, it needs to be controlled and regulated, its premature
release could have a disastrous effect on our economy—the list goes
on and on. Why try to think logically and unselfishly when you’ve got
a perfectly good rationalization? Few people can go a day without at
least two or three juicy rationalizations.” I smiled, remembering my
favorite line from The Big Chill. “Plus, Doug made it easy. He meant
well, but his letter transformed his research into low-hanging fruit.”
“So what’s next?” Maggie asked.
“We get a good night’s sleep and wake up ready to put our plan into
action. The letter is evidence that the government has known about
Doug’s research for at least three years and has always been ready to
shut it down before he made it public. What we don’t know is the
extent of the government’s involvement or who else is involved. We
need to gather hard evidence to supplement what we’ve found, and if
that falls through, pray for a break or two, and roll the dice.”
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SAtuRdAy MoRNING
May 3, 2014
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