never would have figured the woman for a suicide candidate. Wanda
Broome’s history pegged her as a survivor. Frank couldn’t help but feel
sorry for the woman, but also raged at her stupidity. He could’ve gotten
her a deal, a sweetheart deal! Then he reflected on the fact that his
instincts had been right on one count. Wanda Broome had been a very
loyal person. She had been loyal to Christine Sullivan and could not
live with the guilt that she had contributed, however unintentionally,
to her death. An understandable, if regrettable, reaction. But with her
gone, Frank’s best, and perhaps only, opportunity to land the big fish
had just died too.
The memory of Wanda Broome faded into the background as he focused on
how to bring to justice a man who had now caused the death of two women.
“DAMN, TARR, was rr ToDAY?” JAck LooKED AT ins ajENT in the reception
area of Patton, Shaw. The man looked as out of place as a junkyard mutt
at a dog show.
“Ten-thirty. It’s eleven-fifteen now, does that mean I get forty-five
minutes free? By the way, you look like hell.”
Jack looked down at his rumpled suit and put a hand through his unkempt
hair. His internal clock was still on Ukraine time, and a sleepless
night had not helped his appearance.
“Believe me, I look much better than I feel.”
The two men shook hands. Tarr had dressed up for the meeting, which
meant his jeans didn’t have holes in them, and he wore socks with his
tennis shoes. The corduroy jacket was a relic from the early 1970s, and
the hair was its usual tangle of curls and mats.
“Hey, we can do it another day, Jack. Me, I understand hangovers.”
“Not when you got all dressed up. Come on back. All I need is some grub.
I’ll take you to lunch and won’t even bill you for the tab.”
As the men walked down the hallway, Lucinda, prim and proper in keeping
with the firm’s image, breathed a sigh of relief. More than one Patton,
Shaw partner had walked through her turf with absolute horror on their
face at the sight of Tarr Crimson. Memos would fly this week.
“I’m sorry, Taff, I’m running on about twelve cylinders lately.” Jack
tossed his overcoat over a chair and settled down miserably behind a
stack of pink message slips about six inches high on his desk.
“Out of the country, so I heard. Hope it was someplace fun.91
“It wasn’t. How’s business?”
“Booming. Pretty soon, you might be able to call me a legitimate client.
Make your partners’ stomachs feel a lot better when they see me sitting
in the lobby.”
“Screw ’em, Tarr, you pay your bills.”
Better to be a big client and pay some of your bills than a teeny client
who pays all of his.”
Jack smiled. “You got us all figured out, don’t you?”
“Hey, man, you seen one algorithm, you’ve seen ’em all.” Jack opened
Tarr’s file and perused it quickly.
“We’ll have your new S corp set up by tomorrow.
Delaware incorporation with a qualification in the District.
Right?”
Tarr’nodded.
“How’re you planning on capitalizing it?”
Taff pulled out a legal pad. “I’ve got the list of potentials.
Same as the last deal.- Do I get a reduced rate?” Taff smiled.
He liked Jack, but business was business.
“Yeah, this time you won’t pay for the learning, curve of an overpriced
and underinfortned associate.”
Both men smiled.
“I’ll cut the bill to the bone, Taff, just like always. What’s the new
company for, by the way?”
“Got the inside track on some new technology for surveillance work.”
Jack looked up from his notes. “Surveillance? That’s a little off the
mark for you, isn’t it?”
“Hey, you gotta go with the flow. Corporate business is down. But when
one market dries up, being the good entrepreneur that I am, I look
around for other opportunities. Surveillance for the private sector has
always been hot. Now the new twist is big brother in the law enforcement
arena. “That’s ironic for somebody who got thrown in jail in every major
city in the country during the 1960s.”