Mourning Dove (27 page)

“And what specifically is
Matthew being paid to do, sir?”

Robert stared at Sara for
a long moment without answering.

“Sir, why don’t I make
this easy for you? I know Matthew’s primary job. As part of that task, he’s
being paid to watch and protect me from a danger he won’t discuss. His cover is
liaison for our new communications chip; that much I figured out. Although he’s
a communications expert, it’s not his primary duty at this time.”

Robert nodded without a
hint of surprise. He already knew this, she was sure of it.

“Sir, by that definition
of his duties, he was doing his job.”

“Was he? Or was he
putting you in harm’s way?”

“He was keeping me from
going to the pool alone, and in the process nabbed a punk who thinks he has
carte blanche to do anything illegal because of who his father is.”

Robert looked over her
head. “Mr. Farrell, nice job this morning. Are you up to the keynote as well?”

Matthew took the seat on
Sara’s right. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Are we meeting in your room after my
speech?”

“That’s the plan, young
man.”

“I haven’t been called a
young man in many years, sir.”

“It all has to do with
perspective, son.”

Lorna walked up to the
table and snaked her arm across Matthew’s shoulders. “Is this seat taken?”

Before an objection could
be made she sat on Matthew’s right and reached for a water glass. 

“Robert, have you met
Lorna, our regional sales director?”

“Yes I have, Sara,
several months ago in Boston. How are you doing, my dear?”

“I’m doing fine, Robert.
And Elaina, is she well?”

“She is. Thank you for
asking.”

“I thought maybe she
would be here for your speech?”

“She was detained on
family business.  I expect she’ll arrive tomorrow.  She wants to do some
holiday shopping and catch the new exhibit at the Art Institute.”

Jack Stone pulled out a
seat on Robert’s left. He leaned back as a bowl of salad greens was placed
before him, and asked, “Have you been to the Shedd Aquarium, Mr. Farrell? I
understand there are some very rare species of shark in the salt water tank?
Their tactics are something you may be familiar with.”

“I haven’t had a chance,
Jack,” Matthew answered in a no nonsense voice.

“It might be something to
see before you leave.”

Something in his voice,
told Sara there was more to that statement than a trip to view a tank full of
fish.

Two businessmen in
frameless glasses wearing identical gray suits and gray silk ties approached
the table. One was tall and thin as a telephone pole and the other short and
round. They pulled out a pair of chairs across from Sara, simultaneously
smoothing their ties, and sat.

“Mr. Caruthers, Mr.
Brown, I’m glad you could make the trip on such short notice. I don’t believe
we’ve met officially. I’m Sara Stafford with the Portland office.”

Dan Caruthers, the tall
one with thinning gray hair and a politician’s smile, stood and walked around
the table to shake hands. He slid a business card into Sara’s palm with his
handshake and passed another to Matthew. They both slid them into their jacket
pockets.

“Matthew,” Lorna caressed
his name as she set her glass down. Water dripped from its rim as her voice
dripped with suggestion, “We haven’t had much time together. Will you be going
with us back to Rush Street this evening? You promised me another dance
yesterday and the opportunity slipped away.”

Lunch was turning into a
fiasco of innuendo and hidden agendas. Robert was definitely not pleased; Sara
would be lucky if she still had a job after this. The ‘Mutt and Jeff team’ from
legal and PR were scanning the room like robots. Jack was trying to cover the tension
with inane conversation and getting one word answers for his effort. Pam, who
came in late, was eating like a starved camper with a mountain to climb. She
looked up and blotted her lips with her linen. “I’m sorry to have to do this to
you, but my family is having a little crisis. I have to bow out this
afternoon.  Mr. Starr, ladies and gentlemen, please excuse me.”

“Is it something we can
help with, Mrs. Lawson?” Robert asked as he stood at her move to leave the
table.

“My son is running a
fever and being sent home from school. I need to be there.”

“Do you have your car?”

“I took the train in,
sir.”

Robert turned toward a
burly man at the exit behind him and signaled him.  “Paul, take Mrs. Lawson
wherever she needs to go.”

“Pamela, Paul is at your
service for whatever you need this afternoon.”

“Mr. Starr, that’s not…”
she looked down at her wrist for the time and nodded, “Thank you, sir.”

“Well, what was that all
about?” Lorna asked as she blotted an imaginary spot from her lips.

 “Her son has severe allergies,”
Jack said. “With all her family needs she still manages an incredible work
load. Your assistance means a lot to her, Robert. Thank you.” Jack stood and
excused himself to introduce the keynote speech.

Once again, Matthew got a
standing ovation. “Ladies and gentlemen, with your continued support, I keep
thinking I’m some kind of celebrity. But alas, I’m just a humble government
servant.”

From the back of the room
a man called out, “Any man who can put the mayor’s kid behind bars has all our
support and admiration.”

The room burst into
another round of applause and Matthew bowed his head in embarrassment. He was
so cute when he tried to look humble. After a moment he leaned into the mike
and asked for quiet. “Thank you all, now if you’ll allow me I’m going to try
not to bore you too much with my talk about the history of communications. I
have a set of note cards here somewhere.” He patted his pockets sheepishly.

“Ah yes, here we are.” He
fit a pair of glasses into place and pulled out a stack of index cards. Reading
from the top card, he began, “There once was a lady from London, Who stopped at
a chemist for... Oh, wrong card.  Sorry ‘bout that.” He shuffled the card to
the back of his deck with that adorable look of confusion and the room filled
with laughter. He definitely had a gift.

“There once was a fellow
from York,” he began again, “who wanted to talk to chap in Cork. He pilfered
two cans and some string to give his dear friend a ring, and said, ‘meet me at
Devonshire Fork’.”

The room settled down
after a modest round of chuckles. He continued, “I liked the first joke better,
myself, but it has very little to do with communications. The point being made
that we have come a long way from the tins and string of our youth.
Communications industries are leaping forward…”

Sara watched him work the
audience getting his meaning across. She seemed to be living and breathing
Matthew Farrell. He had become like the air to her. How had this happened so
quickly?

***

Later that afternoon,
from his position leaning against the window sill in Robert’s suite, Matthew
Farrell watched the posturing of the supposed legal team. The tall one,
Caruthers, standing by the round table in the dining area was pretending to be
busy, rifling through his briefcase. A pair of glasses dangled from his mouth.
It was obvious that he wanted to sit but didn’t dare until Robert Starr sat.
The short round half of the gray suit team stood with his back to the door like
a bouncer at a crowded bar.

Across the room, Sara
worked her palm pilot. She looked as if the weight of the world was on her
shoulders. He wondered if he could convince her to spend a couple extra days
with him playing tourist before they both returned to the chase. She’d probably
like Chicago’s museums. He’d like more quality time with her body, maybe a
couple hours in the Art Institute, and a couple days in bed.

The flushing sound told
him the show was about to begin. A knock at the door had short round pivoting
to peek through the security hole just as Robert Starr emerged from the
sandbox.

“Who is it, Joe?” Robert
asked as he loosened his tie.

“Jack Stone, sir.”

“Let him in.”

“Glad you could join us,
Jack.” Robert welcomed the divisional manager in. “I think we can all be more
comfortable in the sitting room.”

After a moment’s
hesitation, they moved toward a sofa and two recliners. “Mr. Brown, are you
joining us or guarding the door,” Robert Starr asked.

“I’m fine near the door,
sir.”

“As you wish.”

Sara walked over to the
recliner in the corner of the sitting area and folded into the chair. Caruthers
placed his briefcase on the coffee table and sat at one end of the sofa. Jack
took the opposite side of the sofa leaving the second recliner vacant. “Robert,
take the recliner, I’ll get the desk chair from under the coats.” Matthew
offered.

Robert turned toward the
door. “Joe, hang these coats up. It’s beginning to look like a cloak room in
here.”

With a face devoid of
emotion, short round walked over to the desk, scooped up the coats and turned
to open the closet. When he tossed them in a bulge showed in the back of his
suit jacket.  Part of the legal team was packing.

“All right, people. Let’s
get down to the task at hand,” Robert started. “Dan, read the statement you’ve
prepared for the press.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Sara
interrupted. “I thought the whole reason for this meeting was to create the
statement from the facts. With all due respect, how can Dan Caruthers write the
statement when he wasn’t here during the incident?”

“Patience little lady,
listen to the statement first. Then we’ll flush it out and correct any
misconceptions.”

“Would it not be more
advantageous and expedient to hear the detail of what really occurred from Mr.
Farrell and me first before jumping off the deep end of the pool?”

“It always comes back to
that pool, Sara. I’m beginning to doubt my decision to put a swimming pool at
your disposal. However, if you feel a need to share the details of last night,
be my guest.”

She began by describing
the young man who showed up at the pool with a pile of clean towels on Monday.
As she recounted all the other times he made himself visible to her presence on
all three shifts, Matthew smiled at her methodical description. He was
impressed again.

“Now obviously we don’t
want to tell the press everything,” Sara said. “Help us make our statement
accurate and succinct, plausible and heroic, with no sexual innuendo.”

“Mr. Farrell?” Robert
Starr asked. “Do you have anything further to add?”

“As a federal officer, I
noticed my associate’s obvious concern and went with her to report the
suspicious behavior to hotel security. In cooperation with their limited night
security staff I set up an additional monitoring camera in the men’s locker
room. I did this only after ascertaining that no other hotel guests were
present. Then I followed Ms. Stafford to the pool area and waited for the young
man to enter. Within twenty minutes he entered the pool area wearing the
uniform of the hotel fitness club personnel. As pre-arranged with Ms. Stafford
we acted like a couple of newlyweds to cover our reason for the late night swim
when the kid entered the pool area. He proceeded to the locker room and the
additional monitor picked up his movements replacing a large white envelope
with several plastic packets of white powder. I alerted security using a cell
phone I had hidden in my gym bag and ordered Ms. Stafford to stay hidden at the
far end of the pool. The young man re-entered the pool area where I held up an
identical packet to the one he had tucked into the waistband of his pants. When
I challenged him, he pulled a knife. My intention was to stall him until
security could arrive. I was forced to subdue him and in the process he nicked
my arm.”

“The police report talks
about a gun. Whose gun is it and how did it end up in the bottom of the pool?”
Caruthers asked as he continued to input their comments.

“The gun is mine. I left
it in my gym bag by the edge of the pool. I didn’t want to leave Ms. Stafford
defenseless. When the kid pulled a knife, Sara pulled the gun and ordered the
kid to put the knife down. She also informed him that hotel security was on the
way. I told him to give it up and he lunged at me. I slipped on the wet floor
as the gun fired.”

“Robert, when Matthew
slipped I saw blood spray up and I tried to shoot the gun as a warning. The gun
fired when I attempted to switch the safety off. I’m not the cloak and dagger
sort, sir. In the panic of the moment, I dropped the gun into the pool.”

“Dan, read your
statement.”

“I would like to rewrite
it first, sir. In light of Ms. Stafford’s and Mr. Farrell’s recounting of the
events that led up to last night’s arrest, I want to paint a different light on
the statement.”

“Jack, do you have any
input to this event?”

“I feel like I’ve just
been entertained by an action movie, Robert. I had no idea this was going on.
We need to show a united front though or the press will have a field day.”

“They already are,” Sara
said. “Robert’s right. We need to contain this and turn the direction of the
media attack.”

“Well, okay then. Dan,
why don’t you take your notes to your room and get back to us in say,” he
looked at his watch, “thirty minutes. I’ll expect a revised statement by then.
Sara, Matthew, I want to have a private word with you both.”

Matthew stared out the
window at the Chicago skyline with his hands in his pockets. The room filled
with silence; he sensed Robert was a volcano ready to erupt.

“Sara, how did you know
what was in Dan Caruthers statement?” Matthew asked.

“I put myself in Robert’s
place. He had no choice but to fire me to protect the company based on what he
knew from hearsay and media splash. His reprimand at lunch validated that
point.”