The other man stepped out of the shadows. It was George Roberts.
“Hello, Judge. Looks like you’re caught short in the middle again. You really shouldn’t risk at poker. Or other games of chance.”
The Judge tried to look stunned.
“You see, you were actually right, Judge. Carl and I were partners. I provided all the money. He provided the smarts. It was a 50-50 deal. But I’d written it up as a loan. Just in case the technology didn’t work, Carl had to pay me back.
And the technology did work. Far better than anyone expected. But then Carl got greedy. Nothing was on paper about my 50 percent partnership interest. All the paperwork said ‘loan’. So Carl decided he’d just treat me as a lender. Pay me back my money and some chicken shit interest. Screw me out of a half a billion dollars.
That was a big problem. You never want to cross a professional gambler. There was nothing I could do to get my half interest in the technology back. So I sold my information and services to another group willing to pay the same big bucks, but with a different agenda.”
"DFERR" the Judge said, allowing the disgust he felt for organization and the murderous spree it’d funded to play across his face.
"Very good, Judge. Right on the first guess.
You think the powers that be were going let some amateur scientist with a tinker toy set destroy everything? Carl was stubborn and stupid. He wouldn't play ball. Wouldn't sell his technology so they could bury it, sit on it for 20 years, slowly introduce it as refineries paid out and were fully amortized. He wanted to make big waves. Be celebrated as the anti-warming hero of clean air.
DFERR’s offer to me was simple. Kill the technology so it doesn't get out. Kill anyone who knows about it. Make sure the technology is buried forever, or at least for a very long time. At any cost. All traces of the tech had to disappear.”
“And so you’ve been tracking everyone who saw the report or knew about how the technology worked,” said the Judge.
“You’ve got it Judge. And we’ve been looking over your shoulder all the time. In fact everyone’s shoulder. We have monitors watching recorders used by others, taps inside phones, video cameras strategically placed, and bugs inside computers. You didn't fart without us hearing. DFERR’s been generous with their budget. First cabin all the way. And the things these techies’ can do now are amazing.”
“You make it sound like just another job, Roberts. But you’ve killed four people. Just snuffed them out like they were insects to step on. Like their lives were nothing,” said the Judge.
“Actually there were only three, Judge. You kept slipping away.
And I killed no one. I just give the orders. The homie boys killed Carl.”
Roberts gestured behind his shoulder with his hand. Arty and his three homeless friends stepped out of the shadows behind Roberts.
“I always like to have backup,” said Roberts. “It’s all about understanding the risks and playing the odds, Judge. Like I tried to explain.”
“Did you kill my law clerk, Frank?” asked the Judge.
“Like I said, Judge. I just give orders. I’m on the administration side. Saunders here took care of your law clerk and Randall Hicks for me.”
“Let’s get this over with,” said Saunders. “We don’t need to be bragging about what got done, and by who.”
“All for a few lousy bucks,” the Judge said bitterly, ignoring Saunders, glaring at Roberts.
“Oh but it’s not a few bucks, Judge. It’s half a billion dollars I get paid. And it’s fair.
There's billions of dollars in losses were this technology to be commercialized. It wouldn’t only destroy the refinery operators. Huge losses would accrue to the bankers, the investors, the brokers, the land owners, the contractors and subs, the truckers and oil pipeline operators, the unions, and even governments who hold stakes in these refineries. It would make the subprime mortgage meltdown of a few years ago look like child’s play. There would be a dislocation around the globe resulting in economic collapse and worldwide depression for everybody.
Looked at that way, I’m really saving the world.”
Roberts smiled, satisfaction in his eyes.
Cindy was looking scared. No longer tough. A small tear trickled down one cheek. A minute ago she was going to cap the Judge's knees. Now she was staring at a potential shotgun blast to the midriff. The Ferris wheel had moved again. Her bravado had departed, replaced by fear.
The Judge looked at Saunders again. There was no adrenalin rush in his eyes. He looked at them as a farmer looked at his turnips. This was business. His was the face of a professional killer who'd long ago lost any feeling of identity with humanity.
The Judge looked to be stuck. He’d put his trust in the wrong man. Had badly miscalculated. He’d been let down and this wasn’t looking good.
That’s when the flood lights suddenly went on in a ring around them. Blinding everyone. Lieutenant Kaminisky stepped out in front of one of the lights. His face red. His blue eyes cold.
He said in a low guttural voice that brooked no opposition, “Put the shotgun down Saunders. I've got eight officers with guns pointed at you from all angles. They'd like nothing better than for you to try a shot. But I don’t think that's going to happen, is it?”
Saunders looked around wildly, then grew very still.
"No," he muttered.
He bent over and put the shotgun on the wooden deck of the pier. Then stood and raised his hands high. Two officers stepped forward, took Saunders’ arms behind him, guided him to his knees, and cuffed him.
The gang members behind Saunders were similarly cuffed, then Roberts and Cindy Kwan. Roberts’ face was contorted with rage. The consummate gambler had finally lost his cool. They were hustled down the pier toward cruisers that materialized from nowhere at its entrance.
“We got it all on video, Judge,” said Kaminsky. “It was pretty much like you said. You can come down tomorrow and give a statement. I still don’t like you Judge. But you’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.”
Kaminsky turned and scampered back down the pier to keep up with his catch.
The Judge stood there for a minute, watching a second police crew snap pictures of the scene, scoop up and tag the guns, and begin to dismount and retrieve the spotlights and battery.
He looked up at the Ferris wheel. In a few hours the wheel would come alive again, spinning, all lights, motion and noise. Around and Around. All risk and derring-do as it strove for the top. Surprise, fear, even panic as it suddenly tumbled over. Crashing down the back side. Always in circles. Pinned at the center to some destiny you couldn't escape. Never moving.
But the Judge’s center was moving. Re-centered to a new place he couldn’t quite make out. His life had suddenly expanded to two. Soon it would divide again into three. A change was in the air.
CHAPTER 51
10:00 AM Friday
They sat over breakfast on their patio in Malaga Cove, sipping hot coffee and enjoying omelets. Katy and the Judge. Annie the dog stretched out at the Judge’s feet in case some morsel might be dropped. Hope sprang eternal in the heart of a Golden Retriever.
“So explain it to me, Judge. I am still a little muddled.”
“Old Carl Greene found himself surrounded, like a stubborn old dog, by a pack of wolves. There were three groups.” He held up one finger. “The Russians, who wanted to buy his new technology and were not above bringing emotional pressure to bear.”
“That brat Cindy Kwan, and the ex-wife Yana, and her paramour who was his best friend, Allan Clark,” said Katy.
“Right,” said the Judge. “They used every trick in the book to persuade Carl to monetize the technology, earn Cindy a large broker’s fee, and nail a half share of the money for Yana in the divorce proceeding.”
Katy held up two fingers. “And then there was Dick Harper and the Chinese.”
“Yes, Jeffery Wang.” Said the Judge. “The Chinese wanted to steal the technology. They had no interest in payi
ng for it. They just wanted their hands on that confidential report. It was the key to reproducing the technology in China. They ensnared Randall Hicks in their plot to create a trumped up patent suit so they could use the Federal Rules of Discovery to obtain access to the technology. The confidentiality agreement they were prepared to sign wouldn’t have been worth the paper it was written on.
Then when it looked like I wasn’t going to release the report to them in discovery, they bribed Frankie to steal the report. Which he did. The chance to pay off his student loans and set up his own place with his girlfriend was just too tempting. He made two copies and delivered one to Randal Hicks for a small down payment on the money he was promised. He was going to put the original back. But while he was delivering a copy to Hicks Thursday night, Saunders broke into his condo and got the original. Suddenly Frankie only had his second copy and no original to put back.”
Katy held up three fingers. “And then there was DFERR.”
“Yes. The International Association for the Development and Funding of Environmentally Responsible Refineries. They desperately needed to squash the technology. They systematically went about eliminating anybody who might have seen the technology and understood its principles. They wanted to make sure no one would be able to reproduce it.”
“Because of the money they’d lose.”
“Right. Billions and billions of dollars. Every oil refinery in the world would be obsolete overnight. The twenty plants on the drawing boards right now would be canceled. The ten plants under construction abandoned. Practically every one of their members would have been broke within a short period of years.”
“And they turned to George Roberts?”
“Yes. Carl’s silent partner. Roberts had invested the development cash as a 50 50 partner with Carl, but had hedged his bets by documenting his investment as a loan. So if the technology failed to work, he could collect his money out of Carl’s hide. Perhaps by foreclosing on Carl’s other patented technology.”
“But Carl double crossed him.”
“Yes. When Carl realized how valuable his technology was, he unilaterally decided he’d rather pay Carl back his loan with interest, and keep the technology for himself. Roberts was incensed. But there was no way he could get his interest in the technology back. He’d been too clever and it came around to bite him.
So when Roberts was approached by DFERR to smother the technology so it never saw the light of day, and offered a huge check if he succeeded, he jumped at the opportunity. It suited him perfectly. It gave him a good reason to squash Carl, who’d cheated him. And it allowed him to maximize his rightful interest in the technology by selling out to the highest bidder. The one who had the most to lose and wanted the technology to go away.”
“And Roberts hired Officer Saunders?”
“Yes. And Saunders hired the street gang.”
“How’d you know Saunders was involved?”
“Something had been bothering me from that night on the sand when I came out of the water. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Then when I called Saunders to come snare the gang members, and they almost snared me, it became clear.”
“What was it, Judge?”
“Saunders was a Los Angeles Sheriff’s officer. Why was a Los Angeles Sheriff’s officer on the beach in Santa Monica with his black and white, way outside his jurisdiction, the night I fished myself out of the sea? It should have been a Santa Monica Police officer there, but it wasn’t. At least not at first.
And why was Saunders so insistent I come with him that night in his cruiser? Not take the ambulance which fortunately showed up quickly.
And then when I found Frankie. Why was the first cop to arrive a Los Angeles Sheriff’s Officer, when Playa Vista is part of the City of Los Angeles? It should have been LAPD.
And of course in Marina del Rey, when we were almost gassed, it was L.A. County Sheriff’s territory. But still, there was Saunders again. Mr. First on the scene.
It was all just too much of a coincidence.”
“Was the street gang going to kill you on the beach that night, Judge?”
“I think there were going to knife me, tie me up, transport me to that alley with Carl, and try to make it look like a mutual knife fight. It was a stupid idea. Old men like me and Carl wouldn’t fight with knives. In fact we wouldn’t fight at all.
“When I got away from them on the beach, they called Saunders. That’s why he hightailed it to Santa Monica. Turned up at the pier and wanted to give me a ride to the hospital. A ride I doubt I’d have survived. You know I really wanted to ride in an ambulance for the thrill of it. I’d never done that before as a patient. Only with you when you got your nose smashed on The Hill.”
“So the street gang killed Carl?”
“Yes. And they did such a botched job of it that Saunders took over after that.”
“He killed Frankie?”
“Yes.”
“And Randall Hicks?”
“Yes.”
“But why Randall? I thought he was just a pawn. He never saw the report.”
“So he said. But he wasn’t quite truthful about that. When he talked to Frankie on the phone, Hicks accepted Frankie’s offer. He met Frankie that night in Playa Vista. He didn’t have a 500,000 dollar cashier’s check. But he gave Frankie 20,000 in cash and a promise to pay the balance as soon as he verified the report. Frankie reluctantly took the offer.”
“And that sealed Randall’s fate?”
“I’m afraid it did.”
“And it was Saunders who tried to gas us, Judge?”
“Yes.”
“And tried to stop your investigation by threatening to kidnap me?”
“Yes.”
“And he killed Gerald Jenkins, Carl’s old patent lawyer who helped draft the report?”
“No. Roberts didn’t know about Gerald Jenkins, and so neither did Saunders. That was a sad case. Jenkins was old, 85. He had stage four brain cancer. He was facing a miserable end. He was thinking about suicide when we spoke. If I’d listened more closely I’d of caught the hints. After I left he decided to step off his balcony.”
“What about Carl’s gay lover, Judge? Did you ever find out who it was?”
“Yes. That was quite a coincidence.”
“Well go on then. Who was it?”
“Guess?”
“I don’t know.”
“He told me himself at the end. He was very angry Carl had been killed. He still had deep feelings he said. Anyway, he apologized. Said he’d let his emotions get ahead of him. Didn’t act as professional as he should have.”
“Who, Judge? Who?”
“Kaminsky.”
Katy sat back in her chair. Shocked. Digesting it. Then she turned back to the Judge again.
“Okay, Judge. I’ve mostly got it. Except how did Saunders kill Frankie inside a locked bathroom?”
The Judge’s eyes got distant. “Frankie was so far over his head, Katy. I wish he’d talked to me. He was a nice guy in a lot of ways. Just pressed against the wall economically, like so many in this miserable recession.
As to the bathroom, it’s the classic case of death in a locked room, isn't it? Like a detective novel. There’ve been many solutions to that conundrum. Secret compartments, slow acting poison, darts through a heating vent, delayed killing, psychological pieces where the victim was tricked into pulling the trigger, either because he thought the gun wasn't loaded, or to save another life."
"How did it happen with Frank, Judge?" She asked softly now, reaching over to put her hand on his arm, sensing his pain.
"I'm afraid it was much less complicated for poor Frank. I checked the bathroom door. Self-locking from the inside, but an older door knob. When you close the door, the lock didn’t automatically unlock."
"And?"
"Saunders hit Frankie on the side of the head. Dragged him into his bathroom and into the tub. Coldly shot Frankie in the head with Frankie’s own gun. As though Frank were nothing more tha
n a sack of potatoes. He set the stage to look like a self-inflicted wound. Saunders pushed the lock button on the inside of the bathroom door to lock it. Then stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door. The bathroom door remained locked."
“Of course. It makes sense. I’m so sorry about Frankie, Judge.”
“It’s one of those things I guess, Katy. Perhaps I should have been more perceptive about Frankie, tried to get close, become a real friend. Practicing law is so stressful. There’s rarely time for comradery inside a law office during the work day. And of course outside the office I’ve been focused on you.”
“And so you should, Judge. What’s this rumor Carl left his estate to you? What was that all about?’
“Carl was surrounded as I said, and he knew it. There was his ex-wife, Yana, and his ex-friend, Allan Clark. There was Randal Hicks and his lawyer. And there was even his ex-partner, George Roberts. Carl had no surviving family. Once he was gone, he wanted and needed someone he could trust to carry out a special charge. But he didn’t know who to turn to. Who he could trust. I’d only met Carl three times in the arbitration. But I guess he decided he could trust me.”
“What was the special charge, Judge?”
“Carl had been homeless and on the street for a time. He’d had mental issues. He pulled himself back together with the help of Yana and his doctors. But he never forgot what it was like to be out there. On the streets. Alone. Broke. No shelter. No one to turn to. Destitute. He gave money every year to the Los Angeles Homeless Coalition. Helped where he could. He wanted his estate to go to help the homeless.”
“And it’s going to be a big estate, Judge? What with his new technology and all?”
“Yes. At least a billion dollars.”
“Wow.”
“So he created a Trust that would accumulate all this money with specific instructions on how to use the Estate funds to help the homeless.”
“And how are you involved, Judge?”
“He made me the initial Trustee.”
“Oh my God. You.… Of course. So is the Trust going to build a lot of housing and take the L.A. homeless off the streets?”
Silicon Beach Page 31
