by Stephen Frey
Jesse felt a sudden tap on her shoulder, screamed, and whipped about. Todd had already raced past her and reached the car.
“Come on!” he yelled again. “Let’s get the hell out of here! We don’t have much time!” He was pounding on the car’s roof.
She darted to the car, shoved the key in the door, unlocked it, and jumped in. “Do you have the files?” she yelled as he fell into the passenger seat beside her.
“Right here.” He held them out.
“Beautiful.” She grabbed the folders and thrust them beneath the driver’s seat, then guided the key into the ignition and turned it. The engine revved loudly as she pressed the accelerator to the floor. “Hold on.”
A half hour later, Jesse whipped the car into a spot in her apartment complex, turned off the engine and the lights, reclined against the headrest and closed her eyes. She had been so certain that one of the several police cruisers they had passed on the way home was going to turn around suddenly and give chase. But none had. Now she was glad they had brought her plain rental car instead of Todd’s flashy Corvette.
“You’re a helluva driver.” Todd laughed.
“My brothers taught me.” Todd had really come through for her tonight, she suddenly realized. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help.”
“No sweat.”
Jesse reached up and pulled out the large pin keeping her hair up in a bun. It fell to her shoulders as she shook her head from side to side.
Todd nodded approvingly. “Much better.”
“Thanks.” Suddenly she remembered the gunshots breaking the quiet of the night as she had lain prone on the asphalt about to be handcuffed. “I didn’t know you carry a gun, Todd.”
“All the time.” He reached beneath his shirt and withdrew a snub-nosed .38 caliber revolver. “Say hello to Mary. She’s all out of bullets right now, but she did a nice job tonight.”
Jesse eyed the gun. “Yes, she did.”
Todd replaced the revolver in the shoulder holster, then pulled a paper from his pants pocket. “I almost forgot about this.”
“What is it?”
“Remember we talked about a broker friend of mine who checked out the Coleman Technology initial public offering for me? About how three of the companies that invested in the deal all had the same parent company?”
“Yes.”
“The guy did a little more research.”
“And?”
“Every company that invested in the Coleman Technology IPO is ultimately controlled by Sagamore Investment Management. Can you believe it? Looks like you were exactly right. The Coleman offering was manipulated by a small group of senior brokers at some very out-of-the-way investment banks, on orders from Sagamore.” He rubbed his stomach for a moment. It was still sore from Harry’s fist. “But I can’t tell you why they did it.”
Jesse could. Elbridge Coleman had funded his campaign—and the massive advertising blitz accompanying it—with money from the public offering. With money from Sagamore, it seemed safe to assume now.
“Didn’t you go out to Sagamore the other day, Jess?”
And there was that huge check from Doub Steel to LFA. Signed by David. Her eyesight blurred. And there was a man who had been paid by both Coleman and the LFA. Gordon Smith, if that was his real name. This was getting crazy.
“Jess?”
She glanced at him. For a moment she thought about confiding in him, telling him what she suspected. But then he’d probably go after David immediately. And she didn’t want that. Not yet, anyway. “I’ve got to go, Todd. I’ll walk you to your car.” She turned and pulled the door handle.
“But . . .”
“Come on,” she insisted, shutting the door.
“All right.” Todd jumped from the car.
“Where’s your Corvette?”
“Over there.”
She spotted the white Corvette parked directly beneath one of the large overhead lights and began walking toward it.
“Hey, wait.” But he did not catch up to her until they had reached the Corvette. “What’s your rush?”
“I’ve got to get some sleep. I’m exhausted.” In the light she suddenly noticed the damage to the front and back of the Corvette. “What happened?”
“Vandals got to it the other night while I was food shopping,” he lied. “I guess some people just get jealous when they see a nice car.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. It’ll be as good as new soon.”
An odd expression crossed her face. “When did you start food shopping? I thought you ate out every night.”
“Did I say food shopping? I was picking up beer.”
“Uh huh. Can you drive it like this?”
He nodded. “I replaced the bulbs. It’s fine. I’ll get the body repaired at some point.”
“You and I aren’t having much luck with cars lately.” She smiled.
“That’s the truth.” Suddenly the impulse struck him. “Jess, why don’t you spend the night with me out at the farmhouse?”
“What?” She glanced at him quickly.
“Come with me to the house. It’s nice out there.”
She shook her head.
“You’ll feel safer out there tonight. With me. Besides, I need to tell you some things.”
“Todd, please.” This was something she couldn’t handle right now.
He moved closer and touched her cheek with his fingers. “I’m not kidding.” He hesitated, looked down at the pavement and then back up at her. “I really care about you.”
She touched his hand with hers. “I care about you too, it’s just that . . .”
“Come to the house with me then. I don’t mean we’re going to sleep together, just talk, like we used to.” He took her cheeks gently in his large hands. “Take tomorrow off. God, think about what we’ve been through tonight. You deserve a day off.”
“I’d love to, I really would. It’s just that I’ve got things to do.”
“Is it that guy, David Mitchell?” Todd was suddenly angry. “Are you going to see him now?”
“Of course not.” Jesse felt Todd’s grip tighten as she tried to pull away. “Todd!”
“Kiss me, Jess.” He slid his hands down her back and pulled her body to his roughly.
“Todd, what are you doing?” She tried to push him away, but it was useless. He was much too strong.
“Kiss me.” He brought one hand to the back of her head, leaned forward, and pressed his lips to hers.
“Please stop! Please!” Finally she broke free from his grasp and stepped back, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.
Todd stared at her intently for a moment, then slowly lowered his eyes to the pavement and shook his head. “Jess, I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me,” he said softly. “You know I’m not like that.”
“I know.” She went to touch his arm, then held back. The strength he had used to hold her head had shocked her. She had not broken free from him, she now realized, he had chosen to let her go. “I know,” she said again. “Hey, I appreciate what you did for me tonight.”
He nodded dejectedly. “Yeah, sure.”
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
He nodded again, then pulled the keys from his pocket, unlocked the door and slipped behind the wheel. “I’ve got to go.”
“Todd, don’t leave like this.”
But he wasn’t listening. He threw the Corvette into reverse, pulled out of the space and raced away.
As Jesse watched the sleek white car speed through the parking lot, she touched her cheeks. God, that had been strange. He had never acted that way before. So why now? Perhaps Becky would have an explanation.
Jesse checked her watch in the glow from the parking lot light. Almost three o’clock. She turned and hurried back toward her rental car. There was something else she had to do before she could get some sleep.
As always, the stuffed animals lay neatly arranged on the top bunk, smil
ing at her from the pillows. Jesse gazed at them sadly from the doorway. Her mother kept the room exactly as it had been the day she left the house for good. She glanced down at the lower bunk, then at the single bed on the other side of the small room. She and her two sisters had grown up here. One day they had been adolescents arguing about boys, the next they had all gone off to lead their own lives. At least it seemed that way.
“Jesse?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Oh my God, you scared me to death. I’m so glad it’s you.”
Jesse turned away from the room toward the voice. Connie stood in the dark hallway clad in a long cotton robe. “Hi, Mom. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“It’s all right, but it’s almost four in the morning, sweetheart. I love when you visit me, but why now?”
Jesse moved the bag behind her back, then dropped it gently to the floor, hoping her mother wouldn’t notice. The bag contained Neil Robinson’s file from the river house, Gordon Smith’s personnel file and the Doub Steel file from LFA, the broker data from Todd linking Sagamore’s money to Elbridge Coleman’s campaign, and the W-2 information matching Gordon Smith’s Social Security numbers at LFA and the Coleman campaign. It contained everything she had accumulated so far since receiving Neil Robinson’s E-mail from the grave. “I needed to pick something up,” she offered lamely.
“And drop something off, I see.” Connie nodded down at the floor.
“Uh huh.” Jesse offered nothing more. “Mom, go back to bed.”
“Can’t we talk for a while? You know how much I love it when you come by.” Connie hesitated. “You’re the only one that really does.”
“I’ll come out this weekend, I promise.” Jesse took her mother’s hand and led her back to her bedroom. She helped Connie into the bed, then pulled the covers up to her chin. “I love you, Mom.” She sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked her mother’s hair for a moment. “I have something for you,” Jesse whispered.
“What?” Connie asked softly, already drifting back to sleep.
Jesse reached in her pocket and pulled out fifty dollars. “Just something I’m leaving in the night table.” She opened the drawer and dropped the crumpled bills inside. “I’ll call to remind you it’s there.”
But Connie didn’t hear. Her breathing had become regular and she had fallen into a deep sleep.
Jesse smiled, kissed her mother’s forehead, then moved quietly back to her old bedroom. She picked up the bag containing the information, opened the closet door, and placed the bag on the top shelf between stacks of jigsaw puzzles and board games. The information would be safe here.
Chapter 27
Jesse pushed open her apartment door and trudged wearily into the living room. Her eyelids felt so heavy, as if someone were slowly sewing them shut. She had pinched the top of her thigh all the way home from her mother’s, until it was black and blue, to stay awake and had still almost run off the road several times. It was now after six and she had to be awake again by six-thirty at the latest to be at work by eight. She sighed. Maybe Todd was right. Maybe she should just take the day off.
She had almost reached the bedroom when she touched her palm to her head and turned back toward the kitchen. The cat hadn’t been fed since yesterday morning and had to be starving by now.
The shadow outlined by morning light streaming through the living-room window curtains seemed surreal at first. The shape registered in Jesse’s brain, but for a split second she did not allow herself to accept its existence. Only when it moved did her heart rise to her throat and her hands to her neck. She attempted to scream, but no sound escaped her lips but a strange choking noise, as if the form’s fingers were already wrapped tightly about her neck.
Instinctively she turned away from the shadow and bolted toward the bedroom. Suddenly the room was brightly illuminated as the form flipped the light switch.
“Jesse!”
She recognized the voice instantly, caught herself on the corner of the wall with her hand and spun around. “David! What are you doing here? How did you get in?”
David held up a set of keys, then tossed them onto the sofa. “I found them in one of your kitchen drawers the other night when you were back in the bedroom.”
God, had he seen the file after all? Was that why he was here? Had he come back for it? Had she interrupted a burglary? The questions spun through her mind. And all the time she kept thinking about his signature on the Doub check she had found in the LFA file cabinet. “What were you doing going through my kitchen?”
“You told me to get a beer. I did. The cap got stuck and wouldn’t twist off, so I was looking for a bottle opener. Was that something I shouldn’t have done?”
“No.” She had told him to get a beer that night. “But you had no right to take the keys.”
“Why the hostility, Jesse?” He took a step toward her.
She moved back, maintaining the distance between them. She could not be certain of his intentions now. Sagamore was somehow entangled in the Elbridge Coleman campaign and LFA. The people there could no longer be trusted, and David Mitchell was one of those people. “I don’t appreciate people taking my keys without my permission. Can you understand that?”
“You should be more careful,” he said ominously.
“What do you mean?”
“Just what I said.”
David was exhausted. She could see it in his eyes. He too had been up all night. “Why are you here?”
He hesitated for a moment. “To help you,” he murmured quietly, his voice suddenly subdued.
“What do you mean?”
It was foolish to play games at this point. “Look, I’m going to be honest with you.”
“That would be nice.”
He ignored her cynical tone. “I saw the file in your kitchen the other night.”
“What file?”
“Don’t play games.”
For the first time Jesse heard a chilling, almost menacing tone in David’s voice. “You mean the file concerning Elbridge Coleman’s campaign.”
“Of course I do,” he shot back.
Jesse quickly analyzed the possibility of fleeing. There was no way to make it to the front door. David would block her escape easily. “So you saw the file. So what? My boss had an active imagination.”
“I told you, Jesse, I’m here to help.” He had seen her gauging the odds of escape. “If you want to leave, go ahead. I’m not going to stop you.” He stepped to the side of the room. “I care about you very much. I’m here to help. You have to believe that. You have to trust me.”
She wanted to believe his words. She wanted to trust him. But there was something strange in his eyes now, a desperation she hadn’t seen before, a desperation that might mean he was actually telling the truth—or that he might be willing to do almost anything to extricate himself from a nasty situation.
“Just give me a minute to explain. If you don’t believe what you hear, then leave. I promise I won’t stop you.”
“All right.”
“Good. Jesse, the truth is that Sagamore Investment Management Group isn’t what it appears to be. We aren’t better than anyone else at investing. We’re playing an insider’s game. That’s how we’ve been able to generate such incredible returns for so long. We play with a stacked deck.”
Her eyes widened.
“I’ve had suspicions for a long time, but I wasn’t able to prove them,” David continued. “Tonight I did, at least to myself. What I have wouldn’t be enough to convict anyone in a court of law, but a ten-year-old would see the patterns in the stock trading and know what the senior people at Sagamore are doing.”
He was offering up his information without requiring anything in return from her. That was a good sign. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“Sagamore plays on the inside with defense stocks. We buy stocks in other industries too, but we focus on defense. There are lots of companies that deal with the Department of Defense in some wa
y, so there is a wide array of stocks we can buy. The DOD budget is almost three hundred billion a year. That’s a lot of money for anyone to spend, so it involves many different firms. We buy the stocks ahead of good news, like the awarding of a huge DOD contract, and sell ahead of bad news.”
“You shouldn’t tell me this. I’m an agent of the federal government,” Jesse said quietly. “I have a responsibility to alert my superiors.”
“You aren’t going to tell anyone and you know it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t have any real proof. If you told your superiors what I’m telling you, they’d start an investigation, which Sagamore would quickly hear about. It would take weeks or even months to get the investigation going. By that time people at Sagamore would have had time to erase any proof that they were trading on the inside.”
He was right. “But how could Sagamore trade that way on a consistent basis? For so long? The firm has posted incredible results for years.”
“Because Sagamore has a contact in the Senate. A very powerful contact. A man who not only alerts our executive committee of impending news regarding defense companies ahead of time but can actually award massive amounts of the DOD budget to specific companies secretly, on his own authority. A man who controls the black budget. I’m sure he’s paid very well by Sagamore for what he does. Probably through numbered offshore accounts.” David shook his head, remembering the shadowy meeting with Senator Webb two and a half years ago. A meeting in which he had naively believed he had bribed the senator, but in which, in fact, they had effectively sucked David into the conspiracy. It all made so much sense now. “Imagine what that means.”
It didn’t take much to imagine. “Give me an example,” she said evenly. “An example of how Sagamore trades on the inside.”
“A plane called the A-100,” he answered. “It’s a new fighter-bomber being developed by General Engineering & Aerospace for the Navy. The plane has been secretly under development for the last two and a half years. Its existence will be announced very soon. The contract will total a hundred and fifty billion dollars over seven years. It will make GEA’s stock price at least five times what it is now. Two and a half years ago, just before the A-100 contract was awarded to GEA, Sagamore purchased a billion dollars’ worth of GEA stock. You can check the SEC filings. The investment is a matter of public record. The timing of the contract and the investment is no coincidence, Jesse. I promise you.”
