Purely by Accident

by Jim Beegle

  “This came for you while you were asleep,” she said, handing him a stack of pages she had printed out earlier. It was the document that would serve as the final agreement between Texas Mutual, and IBC. Another set of emails had come from the Federal District Attorney’s office and from the IRS. Mark quickly read through all of them, making notes in the margins with a pencil. When he finished, he asked Marin if she would take them to the front desk and have them faxed back to Winston.

  When she returned, Marin found Mark dressed in some of the clothes that he had purchased in Nassau and working his way through more coffee.

  “You look a whole lot better,” she said, coming into the dining area where Mark was sitting.

  “Thanks. By the way,” he said, putting his cup down, “I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate you coming down here. I know my call must have come out of the blue.”

  “I was thinking more like the planet Ork,” she said, referring to the home planet of Robin Williams in the television series from the 80’s Mork and Mindy. “Suffice it to say that I say I was somewhat bewildered.” She wanted to say something else but managed to stop herself before her words took flight.

  He smiled and appeared as if he also wanted to say something more when the phone rang. She answered it and handed the receiver to him when Winston Lawton asked her if Mark was up yet. This was the beginning of about a dozen back-and-forth conversations that lasted nearly four hours and finally concluded when Mark walked down to the front desk to pick up more faxes. When he returned from his final trip he called the lawyer one last time and finalize all of the documents as they now appeared.

  “It’s done,” he said to Marin, hanging up the phone and stretching. “At least that part of it.”

  “The IRS, Texas Mutual, the DA, and IBC?” she asked.

  “Yep,” he nodded, trying in vain to suppress another yawn.

  “Then what did you mean when you said ‘that part of it’?” she asked as he put away the papers from the last exchange of faxes.

  “I’m hungry,” he called to her from the sitting room. “Can I buy you dinner?”

  They ate in a seafood place on the beach and just down a short way from their hotel. They talked about what she and Mr. Lawton had done after they had arrived in Nassau. Jonus had arranged to pick them up and take them to the Paradise Beach Club and had also served as their pipeline to Mark. Jonus had been concerned that if someone was watching Mark, seeing him in contact with Winston and Marin could potentially have caused complications.

  When they got back to the room Mark was yawning large and regular yawns. He kissed Marin gently on the cheek and said goodnight almost before they were across the threshold into the suite. While she watched him, he trudged off to the bedroom. She was not tired at all and fact she doubted that the question roaming freely in her mind would let her get much sleep at all that night.

  The next morning Marin awoke to the smell of coffee in the suite. She got out of bed, wrapped up in the hotel robe, and made her way into the living area. Mark was sitting at the table wearing a white polo shirt, jeans, and a pair of round wire-rimmed glasses.

  He was dividing his attention between a cup of coffee, his pipe, and the paper. He didn’t even acknowledge Marin until she had poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table.

  “Are we going to do the transfer today?” she asked after morning greetings and a few sips of coffee.

  “Yep,” he said, putting the paper down. “Somewhere around eleven, I think.” Marin considered this piece of news while drinking her coffee. “I was wondering if I could impose on you just a while longer?” Mark asked, focusing all of his attention on her.

  “How’s that?” She spooned sugar into her coffee.

  “I want to call Alan Ketchem and ask him to let you stay here with me for a few more days.” She was caught totally off guard by his request. She had assumed that he would ask her to work with Jonus to facilitate the transfer of funds, but found that, although his request entirely unexpected and unanticipated, her reaction was one of real pleasure.

  “How much longer?” she asked, stirring the sugar into her coffee more than necessary.

  “I’m not really sure. I’m waiting for Winston to take care of few other things for me in Dallas. Once he tells me they are complete, I will go back.” He got up to refill his cup and took hers with him as well. She surmised tell that there was more to his explanation. She also realized that if she was going to find out the rest, she would have to ask. She needed time to think and decided what she wanted to ask in her own head but, before she could do that she heard her own voice speaking.

  “Why?” she heard herself ask. She realized immediately by the look on his face he was both sorry she had asked and relieved that she did. He looked into his cup before lifting his head to respond. When he did, he looked directly into her face before speaking.

  “Because,” he began slowly, ”I want you to stay because I could really use your help with the rest of what I need to do here, and I would enjoy the company.” He stopped and searched her with his eyes.

  “No, that’s not quite right either.” He got up and walked toward her while holding her gaze. “I enjoy your company very much as a matter of fact,” His answer both startled and pleased her. A tingle began to build at the base of her neck and move down her spine.

  “How do you know Mr. Ketchem will let me stay?” she asked him, finally finding her voice again. She had seen Alan Ketchem come out of the sitting room the night before. He looked white as a ghost and said nothing as he left. She still wondered, not for the first time, what that had been about.

  “Oh, let’s just say he owes me a favor. I can swing it. I promise,” Mark said with a sardonic laugh.

  “Well,” she said smiling up at him “seeing as you have so much pull in such high places, how can I refuse you?” She was delighted to see how much her answer pleased him. She wanted to ask more about Alan Ketchem and, why she was feeling the way she did but, her desire to know was not as strong as her apprehension about what Mark might or might not say. She decided to keep her question to herself; at least for the moment.

  Mark and Marin took a taxi to the Commonwealth International Bank about ten-thirty. They were immediately ushered into a conference room and offered something to drink they declined. When the young lady left, Mr. Roddy entered through a side door. Mark immediately walked over to him and the two men greeted each other warmly.

  “You are looking so much more lively and alert than the last time I saw you,” Jonus told him as they all took seats at the table.

  “Thanks in large part to you and Ms. Yates,” Mark smiled.

  Once more, Jonus observed Marin’s react to what Mark was saying, and what he thought he had seen in her eyes the last time once again manifested itself in her face.

  “Are you ready to be a poorer man?” Jonus asked, making a bad joke. Mark’s reply both surprised and pleased.

  “Jon, how could I be a poorer man when I have you and Ms. Yates taking such good care of me?” This time Jonus noticed his friend looking at Marin when he spoke.

  For the first time since coming to the islands Marin felt she was in her own element. She helped Jonus prepare the transfer forms, pulling international routing numbers and codes out of her memory and transferring them to paper.

  The whole process took just under an hour but, it would have taken twice that long without her help, At the end of fifty minutes a sum just over fifty million dollars found it’s way from Nassau to Dallas, back after twenty-five years to where it had all started. While he was on the phone with Alan Ketchem confirming the arrival of the money into IBC’s system, Mark broached the subject of Marin staying. She noticed that he did not ask Mr. Ketchem if she could stay he just told him she was.

  Mark invited Jon to join him and Marin for lunch. The banker gladly accepted and the three of them left in Jonus’ Rolls Royce with Obya firmly in charge of the driving.

&nb
sp; <<<<<<<>>>>>>>

  Alan Ketchem had phoned Winston just before lunch and told him the transfer was complete and that everything had gone off as they had all agreed. The lawyer thanked him for his call and breathed a sigh of relief. At some point that afternoon Texas Mutual would send over a check to cover the reward. While he waited he had something else he needed to do for his client.

  Winston Lawton had come to his senior year at SMU still very unsure of what he wanted to do with his life following his undergraduate schooling. The fact that he would education with post-graduate work had been decided years before, but exactly what area of study was still in question.

  He was torn between studying for the bar or pursuing something in the medical research field. While he loved the law, he also had an almost uncontrollable curiosity. The idea of spending days, weeks, and months looking into a microscope tracking down a virus or germ seemed like the perfect life as far as he was concerned.

  But a cute redhead with a sparkle in her eyes and legs that he could never stop looking at convinced him to pursue the law because she was. He had never once regretted his decision. He discovered as much mystery and satisfaction for his curiosity in the courtrooms and law libraries that he would have found in a medical lab. The cute redhead hadn’t gotten away either. They were married her after they graduation, and she still had legs that captured his attention.

  It was his curiosity, although not necessarily his duty to his client that prompted him to make the drive out to Highland Park. He could have sent a process server or a paralegal from his office. But curiosity was still as much alive in Winston today as it had been thirty-five years ago. He wanted Mrs. Amy Vogel and see her with his own eyes.

  As soon as he had identified himself as Mark’s lawyer, when he called her the day before, she had hung up on him. He had immediately called her back and left a message on her voice mail. He told the recorded Amy Vogel that it would be in her best interest to call him back before he went to the FBI with what he knew.

  He had no such instructions from Mark. He and Ketchem had talked during the flight back to Dallas about what U.S. laws, if any, Amy might have broken. Even if there was something they could accuse her of, the fact that all of her criminal interactions with Mark had taken place outside of the United States made the chances of ever pursuing or having her indicted a long shot. But she didn’t know that, so she had returned Winston’s call, twenty minutes, agreeing to meet him today.

  She answered the front door barefoot, dressed in jeans and a silk blouse. Her eyes betrayed that she not slept much recently, and that she had been crying. He would have paid food money to know if the source of her grief was remorse over her husband or that Hamilton had absconded with the remainder of the two million dollars and left her holding the bag. Based on the opinion he had already formed of her, mostly from what Marin had told him, Winston figured it to be an even money bet.

  He introduced himself, gave her his card, and asked if he might come in. She did not answer but, opened the door wider and walked into the house. He followed her through the living room and into the kitchen, admiring the house way to the kitchen. Amy neither offered him a place to sit or anything to drink. Had Winston been less experienced, have interpreted Amy’s actions as hostility. He dealt with trauma, both personal and corporate, on a weekly basis. No, Amy was simply in shock. He helped himself to a chair at the table

  Momentarily, he found himself feeling sorry for the attractive woman sitting across from him. Then he remembered what Mark had looked like when they first brought him out of the Atlantis. That scene steeled his resolve and reminded him why he was doing here. He also realized he was comparing Amy’s demeanor with the worried look on Marin’s face when they had finally gotten Mark to their hotel.

  “Nice place you have here,” Winston said, trying to find some way to start the dialog.

  “I’m sure, Mr. Lawton, that you are not here to admire the house. What can I do for you?” She was abrupt.

  Winston sighed and opened his briefcase. He took out a folded set of papers and handed them to Mrs. Vogel. She picked them up from the table but did not open them.

  “What’s this?” she asked, waving the papers in the air.

  “That, Mrs. Vogel, is a petition for divorce. My client Mr. Mark Vogel, formally of this address, is seeking dissolution of his marriage.”

  Winston had done this more times than he cared to count, but this was the one he would remember for the remainder of his life.

  Amy looked like she had been hit in the face with a two-by-four. After all that she had done and tried to do to Mark the thought that he would divorce her had never crossed her mind. Not once in the entire process. Winston was simply astonished.

  “Divorce?” she finally managed to spit out.

  “Not only a divorce, but an uncontested divorce.” Amy just sat motionless, looking at the still folded papers. Winston knew it would be days before she’d figured out what was going on so he decided to get this over with and be on his way.

  “My client seeks none of the joint assets of the union, will not and does not seek support from you, will not and does not seek any of your future earnings or compensations, and does not care to file claim to any of the jointly held assets including the primary real estate you shared with him.” He said this as much from memory as from the documents in front of him. “He will retain sole ownership of the dwelling located in proximity to Runaway Bay, Texas, and wishes to have some of the smaller items from this house that he considered personal and sentimental in value. A listing of said items is attached.” He indicated the papers she held in her hands.

  Amy sat without moving. Eventually, she dropped the papers on the table and got up from her seat. She walked to the island in the middle of the floor before turning and looking back at Winston.

  “I won’t do it,” she said to him, almost yelling. “I’ll get a lawyer and fight it. I will not let him just walk out and leave me with nothing.”

  Winston was not surprised by her reaction. It was not the fact of the divorce that bothered her. She was realizing something Winston had figured out earlier: Mark was not just divorcing Amy, he was on a quest to set right every aspect of his life, not just the fallout from his friendship with Cecil, and now Amy knew just how far he was willing to go in his quest.

  “Mrs. Vogel, I’m going to do something that isn’t strictly ethical. But, I can see that you need some help and I am going to offer you some free advice.” He got up from his chair and walked to within a foot or two of Amy.

  “I was in Nassau before you left. I know what you and Mr. Hunte did and tried to do. Frankly, with all due respect ma’am, I sincerely hope you do try to fight this. Because if you do, not only will I see that you give my client the divorce that he seeks, I’ll see that you go to prison for a very long time.” Winston took a pen from his shirt pocket and handed it to her.

  “Sign the papers Mrs. Vogel, then go upstairs, get on your knees and thank whatever God you pray to that you’re married to a man, for the time being anyway, who’s willing to let you get of this so easily.”

  Amy took the pen, uncapped it, and signed all the places that Winston indicated. He showed himself out of the house without bothering to say goodbye.

  <<<<<<<>>>>>>>

  They had enjoyed their lunch with Jon. It had lasted for several hours and through several bottles of good French wine. On the way back, Obya had dropped Marin and Mark off at the same open-air market that Mark had visited on Monday. With her extended stay in Nassau assured, she had mentioned that she would need a few more clothes.

  They wandered the stalls buying this and that, trying on hats and sunglasses until their feet hurt from walking. Marin had been somewhat surprised when she waded into one of the shops in search of undergarments.

  Mark had stopped at the aisle of the shop as if it had a plague notice tacked on the door. He gave her money and told her to meet him by the fountain in thirty minutes. When she fina
lly rejoined him there she noticed that he too had been shopping. He was holding a suit bag along with the things he had been carrying for her.

  They took a cab back to the hotel. When they got back Mark excused himself to his part of the suite. He said he needed to make some phone calls but, wondered if after that, she might be in the mood for dinner. She assured him that she would love too and asked him which of her new outfits she should wear. He blushed and told her, as he walked into the other room, that he was sure she would make any of them look great.

  They didn’t have dinner right away. Instead, when he finally emerged from his room, Mark asked Marin if she would like to take a walk along the beach. At first they walked quietly without saying much beyond simple questions or comments about what they had seen on their walk through the market that afternoon. But, as the sun went down on the other side of the world, Mark asked Marin about her life and her plans for the near and distant future. She told him things that, until then had only been pipe dreams and unconnected hopes.

  When they were several miles from the hotel they stopped at a bar on the beach and ate crab sandwiches, drank beer, and fed an unending stream of quarters into a jukebox filled with the latest hits. When they left the bar they headed back in the direction of their hotel. More a reflex than a plan, Mark took Marin’s hand as they strolled along the beach now void of its water as the tide coaxed it away from the island.

  As they walked back Marin broached the subject of how Mark had come to control the money. Mark related details of the story about Cecil, the money, and how they had both ended up at this place at this time. He told her about of finding the wiretaps and how he had ditched his car.