Crown's Law

by Wolf Wootan

  “Just don’t push too hard.”

  He would, of course, ignore her advice.

  Chapter 41

  Wednesday, June 20, 2001

  Capistrano Beach, CA

  After dinner on Wednesday the 20th, Becky sprung her news on Sam.

  “Sam, I’ve been scheduled to speak at the National Academy of Sciences in D.C. on Monday. Professor Danforth says it’s a very important time for me. It will be my first public appearance since receiving my doctorates and he thinks I will have more credibility now in most academic circles,” announced Becky. “You know how they are about degrees.”

  “Monday!” exclaimed Sam. “I’m scheduled to cover a concert this weekend! I can’t take you to Washington! How long have you known about this? I could have arranged something!”

  “Don’t get a hernia, Sam! I can travel alone, for God’s sake!”

  Helena interjected, “Rebecca, watch your language, please.”

  “Sorry, Nana, but I can travel by myself. I don’t see what the problem is!” replied Becky.

  “It’s not the traveling, Beck,” said Sam, cooling down a bit. “I don’t want you staying in D.C. alone. Maybe I can get Jane Robertson from the L.A. office to fly back with you. I wish you’d given me more warning!”

  “I have a better idea! I could stay with Bo! She lives in D.C. somewhere,” exclaimed Becky, hoping her plan would succeed.

  “Bo has a job, Beck. I want someone with you when you make your speech, or whatever it is you’re going to do,” argued Sam.

  “Well, just call her and ask her. If she says no, then I’ll go with Jane. Have you even talked to Bo since she left?”

  “No. Been busy. Hate to bother her. If you want, go ahead and call her and see what she says,” grumbled Sam.

  “No, you call her. She would need to know that you approve of this before she would let me stay with her,” countered Becky.

  “OK. Give me the particulars and I’ll call her tomorrow—see what she says,” said Sam.

  Yes! thought Becky. It’s working! I don’t know why they haven’t been talking to each other.

  ***

  When Bo had been assigned to the JTFE, the Bureau had leased a condo for her in Falls Church, Virginia just outside of Washington, D.C. It was cheaper in the long run than putting her up in a hotel, since she was on loan from the Boston FBI office, where she had been for two years. The JTFE expected a life span of at least a year, maybe longer.

  When Bo got home at 6:10 P.M. on Thursday the 21st, she was not in a very good mood. It had been a long, tiring day of useless meetings—and she kept thinking of Sam. When Bo had delivered Katie Carlisle to Washington, Carlisle spilled her guts, giving the FBI names and details about the people at Dynology. The FBI had increased its surveillance on all the appropriate people, slowly building their case against them. It was driving Bo crazy! She wanted to move in and close the case! She was getting full credit for breaking the case—thanks to Becky’s equations and the mystery video tapes, but she still wanted things to move more quickly. They still hadn’t figured out who had killed Winston. It made her grumpy. Sam not calling her made her grumpier. She knew that she should call him, but she was waiting for him to call her.

  She kicked off her shoes, stripped off her light green linen suit and white blouse, hung the suit up in the closet, then went to the kitchen in her underwear and poured herself a large glass of Chardonnay.

  She padded barefoot to her living room and plopped down on the couch. She grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, flipping to the evening news, sound low. She put her wine on the coffee table and lit a cigarette—only her fourth of the day. She couldn’t smoke in the damned meetings! She put her long legs on the coffee table, sank back into the couch pillows, and exhaled a stream of smoke towards the ceiling.

  “Shit!” she exclaimed aloud. “You are one fucked-up lady, Rainbow Freakin’-Special-Agent Trout!”

  She put her cigarette in the ashtray, then reached behind her back and unsnapped her bra, tossed it on the coffee table. She hated wearing bras, but convention and regulations required that she do so. She rubbed her shoulders, then her breasts, massaging them.

  “That’s better,” she murmured.

  Then she thought of Sam again. She wished he was here to do the massaging—and other things he did so well! She took another gulp of her wine and let the alcohol surge through her veins. She smoked and drank and watched the news, her mind wandering.

  At 6:26 the phone rang, jolting her to full consciousness. She picked up the cordless handset, annoyed. It must be someone from JTFE calling another freakin’ meeting!

  “Hello!” she snapped, intending to tell them to shove it if they called another meeting this time of day!

  “Bo?” said the voice in her ear.

  My God! It’s Sam! Shit! What do I say? What’s my excuse for not calling him?

  “Yes! Sam?” she answered.

  “Yeah, it’s me. You sound like you’re in a bad mood. Did I catch you at a bad time? Or do you have Caller ID?” he laughed, that laugh that made her tingle all over.

  His laugh did put her at ease, but she still grabbed her drink and swallowed a large gulp, nearly emptying the glass.

  “No, I just had a bad day.”

  There was a long pause, then Sam continued, “I hope you don’t mind me calling. I . . .”

  She took a deep breath and interrupted him.

  “Sam! I’m sorry! I was just thinking of calling you! I should have called you before now! I just didn’t know what to say!”

  “Calm down, Bo!” he interrupted. “I should have called you, but I didn’t know what to talk about either. I guess we’re acting like a couple of teenagers. But we’ve got to grow up. In the meantime, I have a problem that maybe you can help me with.”

  Bo took another drag off her cigarette and exhaled smoke into the phone.

  “I guess we have been acting like children. What kind of problem?” she asked finally.

  “It’s about Becky.”

  “Becky? My God! Is she all right?” she gasped.

  “Oh, yes! She’s fine. But she has this big symposium in D.C. on Monday. Something about her new mathematics for post-Einstein crap. They just have to hear from Doctor Crown. Anyway, I usually go with her on these junkets, but I have a bodyguard gig this weekend. Maria Montez and her group are doing a big concert in the Coliseum, and I’m supposed to keep her safe.”

  “Maria Montez? Isn’t she the Mexican bombshell who’s the rage right now?” said Bo, wondering how close Sam would really get to her. Real close, probably!

  “Yeah. I can get out of it, but Maria asked for me personally by name. I did her last concert, and I guess I made an impression on her.”

  Bo thought, with a pang of jealousy, Impression on her body, I assume! My God! I’m actually jealous!

  Sam continued without pause, “It’s real money for the company—not like the penny-ante shit at Mickey’s. It’s what they really hired me to do. Besides, Becky wants me to get Maria’s autograph on one of the Montez T-shirts. I could send someone from the company with Beck, but she won’t hear of it. She suggested that maybe you could meet her plane and . . . sort of look after her.”

  Silence. She was stunned.

  Bo said finally, “Becky suggested that?”

  “Yeah. I told her you were a busy woman and . . .”

  “Nonsense! Of course I’ll do it!” interjected Bo, extremely pleased that Becky had thought of her. “I’ll meet her plane and she can stay with me. I’ll get her to her conference, stay close by, and then back on the plane. It’ll be fun!”

  “There could be trouble. There is a faction of people in the physics world who don’t like Becky’s theories. I wouldn’t want her hassled in any way,” explained Sam. “Not by the press especially.”

  “No problem! I’ll stick to her like glue! Any son-of-a-bitch gets wise with her, he’ll have to face the Rainbow! And you know how bitchy she can get!” she laughed. “Give me
her itinerary and I’ll meet her. Tell her she’ll stay with me in Falls Church. I have plenty of room. I hope she’s coming into Dulles. Less driving from my place, but it doesn’t matter.”

  “OK, thanks, Bo. I appreciate it. I know Becky will just love having you with her. Let’s see, she’s coming into Dulles on Saturday at . . .”

  Bo took down the information, then said, “I miss you, Sam. I wish we were on the beach together right now.”

  “I miss you, too, Bo.”

  “Oh, Sam! I really fucked up! I should have called to say ‘hello’ or something. I want to see you! I miss our little . . .”

  “So do I! What are you wearing?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “We could have some phone sex, since no other kind is possible at this distance.”

  Bo blushed. “Actually, I’m naked!”

  She slipped off her panties so she wouldn’t be lying.

  “You’re kidding!” he said. “You don’t know how to play the game! I’m supposed to undress you!”

  “Well, I really am naked, but I’ll play along. What should I take off?”

  He talked her through the imaginary acts of taking her clothes off, then said, “Now, put your left hand . . .”

  “Oh, my!” she exclaimed as she followed his instructions.

  She had never enjoyed a game as much as she did this one, especially when it was her turn to undress him and tell him what to do. The tension was all gone and they seemed to be friends again when the game was over, but she wished more than ever that she was actually with him.

  What are we going to do about this situation, Sam? she mused.

  Chapter 42

  Saturday, June 23, 2001

  Washington, D.C.

  Bo was on Cloud Nine when she met Becky coming off the plane at Dulles Saturday afternoon. Becky was dressed in a chic blue linen suit with a white blouse and blue pumps with short heels. She knew the press would be there and wanted to look as mature as possible. They hugged and kissed and went to pick up Becky’s luggage. That was when the press made their move—including a couple of guys with shoulder-held TV cameras.

  Bo asked Becky, “Do you want me to run interference? I can get rid of them.”

  Becky smiled and said, “No. It comes with the territory. And I could use some favorable press. I have some enemies on this issue and I’m trying to win them over. I’ll give them a couple of minutes.”

  Bo was astounded as she listened to Becky! No swear words, no slang. As she stood at Becky’s side and watched her answer questions yelled by the various reporters, she was proud that she knew this phenomenal child! She didn’t even understand some of the big words Becky was spouting, and none of the technical stuff.

  When someone pushed forward and snarled, “So, Miss Prissy, you think you’re smarter than Einstein? Go play with your dolls! You’re just a little . . .”

  Bo did not like his attitude or aggressiveness. She quickly stepped forward and flashed her ID in his face and whispered in his ear, “Get lost, asshole, or I’ll arrest you for assault! I’ll take you downtown and interrogate you for a week!”

  He turned white and backed into the crowd and disappeared.

  Bo announced, “That’s enough, folks. Dr. Crown will be available again Monday during the conference. Move aside, please!”

  Bo picked up Becky’s suitcase, and using it as a battering ram, pushed through the crowd—pulling Becky along with her. Bo’s car was parked in a Loading Zone with an airport cop watching it for her. They piled in and sped away from the growing crowd.

  “I didn’t realize you were such a celebrity!” gasped Bo as she wound her way out of the airport.

  “Only in certain circles. The common man has never heard of me—yet. But they will. Rebecca’s Folly will eventually affect them all in one way or another, whether they like it or not.”

  “I heard some of the reporters yelling ‘Rebecca’s Folly.’ What is it?” asked Bo as she lit a cigarette.

  “That’s what my detractors call my new theory. There are some who believe that anyone who proposes that Einstein made a mistake is a heretic. What I will show them on Monday may change their minds! The mathematics are unbelievably awesome! I’ve simplified my equations so they can grasp things more easily.”

  “Wow! I knew you were smart, but this is Star Wars stuff! Where’s the Becky I know?” laughed Bo as she cracked a window to let the smoke out.

  “Shit, Bo! I’m right here! It’s cool that I’m gonna stay with you! Is this your car, or a real FBI undercover car?”

  They chatted amiably all the way to Bo’s condo in Falls Church.

  After Bo got Becky settled into her spare bedroom, they plopped down on the couch in the living room.

  Bo lit a cigarette and said, “Something to drink? I’m gonna have some wine. I don’t know if I’m supposed to offer you some or not. I know Sam does sometimes.”

  “Don’t get so uptight, Bo! This is your house, your rules. Sam’s philosophy is that kids my age get in trouble because they want to try forbidden things—find out why they’re forbidden. If they’re introduced to the mystery in a supervised way, the allure goes away,” laughed Becky. “I’ll just have a soda. Relax!”

  Bo got up and poured herself a glass of Chardonnay and gave Becky a can of Sprite with a glass of ice.

  “Thanks, Bo. I’m glad you agreed to pick me up. Are you and Sam talking on the phone again?” she said with a wicked grin.

  Suddenly it hit Bo! This whole thing was planned by Becky to force Sam to call her!

  “Yes, we are, Beck. You are a little sneak, aren’t you?”

  “Well, both of you were acting like children. Neither one of you had the guts to call the other. I just forced the issue,” laughed Becky as she drank out of the can of soda, ignoring the glass. “Sam was too mopey. I could hardly stand him.”

  “You’re still reading those psychology books, aren’t you? He was mopey?”

  “Sure. You know he likes you—misses you. I know I do. I wish we didn’t live so far apart!”

  “Thanks, Becky. I like you, too. And miss you! I’m sure glad you let me get involved in this, regardless of your sneaky reasons. We have the entire weekend to kick back and talk. This is nothing like your beach, but this place has a pool. We can go splash around. Cool off. Get to know each other even better!”

  ***

  On Sunday the 24th, Bo drove Becky around Washington for a couple of hours, showing her the sights. After a nice lunch, they headed back to Bo’s condo and hit the pool. It was hot and humid and the water felt refreshing. The two bonded further as Becky led the conversation around to mother-daughter type subjects—things she couldn’t discuss with Sam. Bo did her best to answer her questions and soothe her insecurities.

  ***

  On Monday, at the conference, Bo never left Becky’s side. Bo showed her FBI ID and got meeting credentials to hang around her neck. The reporters found out that she was an FBI agent, and the headlines over the articles covering the event in the evening editions all made note of the fact that Dr. Rebecca Crown, renowned child genius, was being protected by the FBI. No one knew why.

  ***

  The Associated Press version of the story hit the morning edition of the L.A. Times on Tuesday. Bobby D’Orr spotted it only because of the picture that accompanied the story: It was a picture of that girl—Rebecca Rogers—and the woman who was with Sam Crown on the ill-fated boat trip.

  “What the hell is going on here?” he muttered to himself. “That woman is a 16-year-old kid? With a PhD! Why would she be taking that damned test? And her name is Crown, not Rogers! FBI protection! This confirms it! She did plant those bugs for the FBI! I’d better call the boss! We’re in trouble!”

  ***

  Becky got back to Orange County on Wednesday the 27th bubbling with enthusiasm. She had gained more support from the academic world. Her detractors were diminishing in numbers. They had no good arguments that refuted her math. And she couldn’t sto
p talking about Bo, either.

  ***

  On Thursday, June 28th, Sam was in the Investigations International L.A. office for a series of meetings. At 3:00 P.M. he got a call from Bo on his cell phone. She was especially elated.

  “Sam! Talk to me! I want to hear your voice!” she bubbled.

  After discussing her time with Becky, and how much she had enjoyed it, Bo finally said, “I’ve got some good news and some bad news. I have a long-standing request for vacation during the 4th of July week. The good news is that my boss didn’t cancel it—not completely at least. The status of the . . . case is such that he can spare me for a few days. The bad news is—if I take this vacation—I’ll have to go spend some time with my parents. There’s always a big 4th of July celebration in Durango and I’ve always been there with the family. It’s like a ritual. However, I’d rather spend the time with you!”

  “I appreciate the sentiment, Bo, but you shouldn’t disappoint your family,” replied Sam. “Being selfish, I’d rather you spend the time with me, though.”

  “Well . . . I thought that maybe you could come to Durango and meet me. Then—also being selfish—I could have it both ways!” she blurted. “You could meet my parents—I’ve met yours, after all. Bring Becky . . . if she’d like to come. Lots of things to do there for her.”

  “Becky’s leaving town with my parents on Sunday. They’re going to Spain to see the running of the bulls, and other such touristy stuff. It’s been planned for quite awhile. A present for her for getting her advanced degrees,” replied Sam.

  “Well, some other time for her then. She likes spending time with them. How about you? I want you there!” she begged.

  “Meeting the parents, eh? Are you setting me up for a shotgun wedding, or what?” he laughed.

  “No! I’m not that devious! That’s more your style. And maybe Becky’s!” she chuckled. “Even though we hardly know each other, I would appreciate it if you would pretend to be my boyfriend—so I could show you off. Just while we’re there. No commitment required. My parents haven’t seen me with one since high school! I think they believe I’m a closet lesbian!”