by Jan Surasky
As she got behind the wheel of her BMW, she headed for the lake road. Somehow, as she saw the lake on her left, she saw in it the memories of her childhood. The evenings behind the barn in the moonlight, with the spring breezes blowing gently through her chestnut hair. Jake’s arm around her to keep her from the chill of the evening. Their wishes on the moon which they were sure would all come true.
She parked in the gravel driveway of the old, abandoned mill and carefully opened the heavy, creaky door. “Hey,” she called, testily.
“Hey,” came the answer, loud and clear, from the farthest corner of the second story, reached only by an old, narrow flight of wooden stairs, their treads sorely in need of repair.
Jake motioned to the only other chair in the room, an old maple Windsor clearly left over from another era. He sat hunched over a large oak desk, its splinters the only drawback to its once majestic splendor.
“Sit down. That way we can get right to work.” He motioned without looking up to the plate of Danish and the old coffee maker he had plugged in sitting on the floor.
“I’ve got an arrangement with one of my ex-partners. He’ll feed us data and he’s got us hooked into every legal website in the country. He’ll keep backup on his own computer. But, we still have to work fast. If we’re discovered we stand the chance of Andersons’ goons confiscating everything we have.”
Jake turned away from the only modern piece of equipment in the room, a laptop with a very large screen, and turned toward Jenny. He was dressed far differently than when she had seen him in Manhattan, a pair of old jeans replaced the expensive pseudo casual pants he had worn, and an old work shirt the carefully tailored shirt and cashmere cardigan he had used to complete his outfit.
“What I need you for is photography. And, if you can still remember them, your steno skills. The less of a paper trail we leave, the better.”
“Will do. You just bark the orders and I’ll follow.”
“Well, we’ll need to be careful. And, you will have to think things out on the spot. Time is important, but so is safety.”
“Tell me what we need to do first.”
“What you will need to do will be to get inside the Anderson agency and get at their books. If you discover their whereabouts, and can’t get into them, I have a contact who can. He’ll have to be flown from New York, but I’ve used him before. He’s very good. We’ll have to get the books out of wherever they are and get them photographed and put back all before the night is out.”
“Sounds interesting. I know where they kept them before, but I don’t know what they might have done with them in all these years.”
“Let’s hope habit and a false sense of security on the part of those wrongdoers will be on our side.”
“What can I do for you now? I’ve freed up the day.”
“Good. We can start by you taking dictation, if you remember how. There’s volumes of information on these websites. It would take months to distill. If you can take my thoughts down as I pull them from these documents, we can do it in a few days. You can transcribe while I search the town for anyone who will talk.”
“Great, Jake. Let’s get to work.”
The shorthand came back quickly. Though it had been only a tool to get her foot in the door in a town famous for being tough, she mused on its usage now. Perhaps she could believe in fate, though she had always discouraged that thought.
As she looked at Jake, she wondered how much he had really changed. True, he was much more polished. But the same ambition that burned in him as a youth seemed to be fueling him now as he pored over the laws and the precedents that he hoped might save Sammy.
“Good grief, it’s two o’clock. We’ll burn out. How about lunch?”
“Sure. Where?”
“I thought maybe the Seneca Dairy. The Andersons usually eat at the club.”
“You seem to have everything covered for having only been here two days.”
“I’ve been busy. I’ve found one cop who won’t turn against us. Matt Johnson. An old friend of Sammy’s, but he doesn’t want that known. He’ll cover for us here at the mill, but we can’t leak that he’s working with us.”
“Will do. I think I remember him. A kind of shy boy.”
“Well, he was younger than Sammy. His folks had a trailer nearby. Lots of kids. Sammy used to help out occasionally.”
As Jenny looked at Jake over her burger and fries, she had forgotten how good it was to sit out under the pavilion in the back at the Seneca Dairy. Cars whizzed by on Route 54A and people streamed into the restaurant and around front to the ice cream counter. But they seemed not to be there. All she saw was the flyer stuck to one of the pavilion posts announcing an art show and a fiddlers’ festival.
The trees in the neighbor’s yard seemed like caricatures, rooted in centuries. Their thick, solid trunks held branches with leaves that barely moved, despite the winds of a threatening rain storm. Trucks lined the driveway.
“You look like a teenager, Jen. Being out of The City must agree with you.”
“I could use the break.”
“Well, this break comes with a little bit of stress. We’ll have to hit the Andersons’ books on Thursday evening, their night to be out-of-town entertaining prospects. It’ll be an all-nighter for them, but we get only about two hours. Matt will cover for us, but he can only ditch his partner for about that length of time.”
“Okay. I’ve got a special camera, small but speedy. That should work.”
“Great. So, how did Josh take this?”
“He did fine. He wants Sammy to be freed, so he was all for my leaving so we could do this. He’s a good student, so I know he’ll pay attention to the books. He desperately wants to be a TV reporter so he can make a change in the world. He so detests the evils that wrack our planet.”
“He sounds like a great kid, Jenny. I’d like to meet him sometime.”
Jenny sensed there was more that Jake wasn’t saying, but she sensed the rapport was over.
Jake picked up his empty paper plate and his plastic utensils. “Time to get back to work. Lose a minute, lose an opportunity on this project.”
“Got it. Ready to roll.”
Jake opened the door of the second-hand truck he had just purchased. Despite his wealth, he was never comfortable with the high-priced toys his law firm colleagues bought on a regular basis.
They drove in silence, memories crowding their thoughts as they watched the soft mist rise from the rain-filled lake. As they reached the mill, Jake pulled out the key to let them in. They climbed the stairs still silent, their thoughts lost on the pressing matters at hand.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Jenny sat in a rented car directly across from the Anderson agency. It was 3 a.m. With her was a man named Tango. Jake had described him as the best safecracker this side of the Mississippi. He was silent, his mind turning gears almost palpably.
“Around the back.”
Jenny followed his instructions. He had cased the agency earlier in the day and Matt Johnson had turned the alarm off on one of his regular rounds about an hour ago. Jenny knew they had only about one hour. She drove around the back and parked the car among the trade-ins.
As they left the car, they closed the doors without shutting them completely, lest they arouse an insomniac neighbor. They crept toward the back door which Matt had left unlocked.
They spoke only in gestures and whispers. No sense feeding into a tape system the Andersons might have secretly installed to trip up their workers when they were not around.
Jenny led Tango to Leland Anderson’s private office. Luckily, the door was unlocked. The safe was still behind a wall of Leland Anderson’s favorite liquors which Whit had flown over regularly from his Hawaii headquarters at a very fancy price.
Jenny didn’t even try the combination she thought she remembered. She motioned for Tango to begin his work. His slender fingers took over with a great deal of skill. It took less than ten minutes to open what they needed
. Jenny reached for the books.
She was horrified to find much more in the safe. Travel itineraries on a regular basis for Grand Cayman with receipts from posh hotels and restaurants on the island. Clearly, the Andersons were laundering their take.
“Work as fast as you can,” Tango whispered. “I’ll hold the books and the flashlight while you shoot the pages. Then, you can shoot the rest of the stuff while I keep it in the same order we found it.”
Jenny nodded. She pulled her camera from her bag and shot a test photo. She pushed the button that brought it up in the small window on the back of the tiny camera. It was legible!
Thanks to Tango’s skill, they were finished in less than an hour. Jenny breathed a sigh of relief only when they reached the outskirts of the village and were headed for the mill.
“I couldn’t have done this without you, Tango.”
“No problem. I’m paid big bucks and I’d rather do it for a guy like Sammy than for a bunch of crooks.”
Despite what she thought of Tango, he seemed to have a conscience, though it had been misplaced for a number of decades according to Jake while Tango spent most of his youth in and out of a number of hardscrabble jails.
Jake was waiting for them as they pulled into the grassy parking lot at the mill. He had doused the lights for safety.
Jenny handed him the camera.
“Good work! If we have enough, Tango, I’ll have you on your way in no time.”
“Thanks, Jake. No hurry.”
As Jake downloaded the photos Jenny had taken, he stared at the computer. “They’ve been laundering for years! This ought to clear Sammy if we can find an honest judge.”
Jake stopped. “Tango, I’ve got you leaving from Rochester. No sense taking the chance of running into the Andersons or their goons in Syracuse. You’ve got just enough time to return the rental and hop the plane. Everything’s in this envelope, including your last payment.”
“Thanks, Jake. And, thanks for talking to the guys at City Motors. They’ve been good to me. I work full time now and me and my woman are getting hitched next month.”
“No problem, Tango. They said you’ve been reliable. Good luck on the wedding.”
“We’re just going to City Hall. But, it’s special for her. Her sister’s coming in from Kansas.”
“Okay. Now, get out of here. Matt can only cover for us for one more hour.”
As the two shook hands, Jenny saw a part of Jake she hadn’t seen in Manhattan. But, she knew the moment was private between the two men. She stared out of the window at the stars she knew would soon fade as the dawn with its reds and oranges of sunrise rose across the skies of Jerusalem.
“Let’s get some sleep. You did great, Jen.”
“Thanks, Jake. Do you think you have enough to clear Sammy?”
“We’ll know when I get the stuff back from New York. But, let’s hope this will be enough to make a deal with the D.A. to get a change of venue.”
As they left the makeshift office, Jenny noticed a change in Jake. He seemed more assured, more like his old self, though his demeanor seemed touched with a tinge of sadness. They turned out the lights and headed for sleep, Jake’s truck rumbling ever so slightly as it made tracks for the Martin homestead.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Jake stood at the front of the Steuben county courtroom addressing his opening remarks in the trial of Anderson Motors, Inc. vs. Samuel Walker to a very attentive jury. He had had no problem getting a change of venue. Old Judge Wilson, the grizzled tough pol bought and paid for by the Andersons for eight consecutive terms in Penn Yan, had squirmed in his plush office chair as Jake had presented his evidence of Cayman trips and laundering.
The trial promised to be a fair one. The members of the jury had never heard of the Andersons, much less ever visited a Corvette dealership. The judge, Alexander Marinetti, who had a law practice in town, was known to be fair.
Although no juror in Steuben had ever seen a case more threatening than petty theft, the jury was intent upon delivering justice. They sat transfixed as Jake promised to prove to them the extent of the false accusations the Andersons had trumped up against Sammy, and to show where the money actually went.
The courtroom was filled. Sammy’s relatives sat in the back with Annie up front hunkered down between Sparky and Jenny, a pillow behind her for comfort. The Andersons were missing, intent in the belief that the lies their team of lawyers had fed Bill McKay, the first-term D.A., would swiftly ace the case. Aunt Gert was home with the flu but had sent a white orchid for luck with Jenny to give to Annie.
McKay’s opening remarks were sparse, calculated to give the jury an indication that only evidence gathered by himself and his assistants would be admissible. So far, all he had to go on were the papers the Andersons had pushed on him, but he promised to be thorough in cross-examination.
As he sat, the judge called the first witness. Burt Carlson, a ten-year veteran of Andersons, obviously ill at ease, came forward to take the oath. The court reporter sat erect in his seat, his fingers poised over the contraption he used to document as accurately as he could the entire court proceedings. As Burt was sworn in, he was reminded by the judge that he had been called as a hostile witness, the only way Jake had been able to get any of Andersons’ workers to testify. He replied that he understood.
Burt huddled in the witness chair, sweat pouring down his forehead, fear visible in every wrinkle of his leathery, well-worn face, his grey hair smoothed back with hair gel, his suit an obvious discomfort.
“Mr. Carlson, can you tell us what your job is at Anderson Motors?”
“I’m a senior mechanic.”
“And, how long have you worked for Anderson Motors?”
“Ten years.”
“How long have you known the defendant, Samuel Walker?”
“I’ve worked with Sammy about ten years.”
“What kind of a person would you say the defendant was?”
“Sammy? Sammy usually kept to himself. Quiet. But, if there was extra work to be done, he was always there. No foolin’ or horsin’ around like a lotta guys.”
“So you would say he was a good worker?”
“Yeh.”
“Would you say he was liked by the staff in general?”
“Oh, yeh. Everybody liked Sammy. Always willin’ to do you a favor. Generous about his knowledge. If somebody was stuck, he would always help out. A guy needed a ride home, he was always there.”
“In your opinion, do you think Sammy is the type to embezzle thousands of dollars from Anderson Motors?”
“Objection. Counsel is leading the witness.”
“Objection sustained. Mr. Martin, please rephrase your question.”
“Mr. Carlson, did Sammy have a key to Anderson Motors that you knew of?”
“Nah. The Andersons didn’t give out keys to the mechanics. If anyone had to stay late there was always someone from the office there.”
“Thank you, Mr. Carlson.”
“Mr. McKay, you may now cross examine the witness.”
“Thank you, your honor.”
McKay stepped up, pausing as he assessed the witness. Burt squirmed in his chair, sensing a hostility he hadn’t known in his job as boss to a squad of qualified mechanics.
“Mr. Carlson, how long have you been a senior mechanic?”
“Eight years.”
“Didn’t you think it was strange that you were promoted when the defendant Samuel Walker had been an employee of Andersons far longer than you and had never been promoted?”
“I didn’t think about it. I thought that was the Andersons’ business.”
“Didn’t you think that might create some jealousy with the defendant?”
“Sammy wasn’t the jealous type.”
“Please just answer the question, Mr. Carlson.”
“Yeah, but I had a family to feed.”
“Thank you. That’s all, Mr. Carlson.”
“You may step down, Mr. Carlson.”
As Burt made his way to the back of the courtroom, Judge Marinetti cautioned him to remain for the rest of the proceedings in case he was needed. He then called a recess for lunch, advising the jury, which had been sequestered for the trial to keep them from Andersons’ henchmen, to wait for his assistant to take them to their makeshift lunchroom.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“I’m with you.”
Both Jenny and Sparky helped Annie up out of her chair at the very same time. Jake shuffled papers as he spoke to Sammy.
“Jake said to meet him at Jimbo’s, the diner down the street. He’ll bring Sammy with him.”
“Let’s go. We’ll get Annie to eat. She’s got to feed that baby. I’ll call Cliff when we get there.”
Jenny piled them into her BMW, parked at the back of the lot. They made tracks for Jimbo’s, a popular spot, to beat the lunch crowd. They arrived in time to snag the back booth.
As they sat, Jake came in with Sammy.
“Hi, Babe, how you holdin’ up?”
“I’m fine Sammy. How about you?”
“Okay, I guess. We’ve got Jake and Jenny and Sparky. We should be okay, Annie. We’ve got to be able to take care of this baby.”
“We will, Sammy. I’m fine. Just hang in there.”
Jake turned to Sammy. “I appreciate the faith, Sammy, but McKay’s a good D.A. He’ll give us a hard time. You’ve got to hang strong. If we let down now, McKay will slaughter us.”
“I understand. I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will, Sammy.”
Jenny looked at Jake and Sammy. Sammy was hardly different from the third-grader who had taken pity on Jake and helped him out on the playground. Jake was an outsider almost, just as he had been then, but not for the same reasons. He had been too long in the courts of Manhattan, where he had gotten used to the hardball they had played. Backwater justice was new to him, but he was determined to beat it.
“We’ve got one thing in our favor. The judge agreed to sequester the jury. That way they won’t be out there for Andersons’ goons to bribe or threaten.
