Biomedical Self Engineering: Book 3
Author: Jon Svenson
Date: 2021-10-11T18:00:00+00:00
Description: Carl thought he had his life in order until disaster struck. Jenny, a lady he met at the school bond drive has latched on to him, and now he wonders whether he's lost Barbara forever. At the same time, Car has been roped into finding stolen Federal Reserve funds since they can't find it themselves. Biomedical Self Engineering is a LitRPG novel that has no harems, intimate scenes, and limited swearing.
Publisher: Aryeh Publishing

Copyright © 2021 by Jon Svenson and Aryeh Publishing

Cover art licensed from Christopher Doll © 2021.

Editing courtesy of Celestian Rince.

All rights reserved.

ISBN 978-1-66780-071-4

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author or the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. This novel’s story and characters are fictitious. Certain long-standing institutions, places, businesses, and public offices are mentioned, but the characters involved are wholly imaginary and any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

Any mistakes found within this book are solely the responsibility of the author.

Reader’s Note: I have not included any quotes at the beginning of the chapters in this book, and likely won’t for the subsequent books. The problem is that I’ve simply run out of applicable quotes, and if I had tried more than a few would have been repetitive. Apologies to anyone who was looking forward to the quotes.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Interlude 6

Epilogue

Author’s Note

Author Recommendations

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Chapter 1

Carl walked home, avoiding the main streets as he did so. He doubted Jenny and her Lexus were still out looking for him, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

He shook his head in regret. He’d never led Jenny on but showing up as a humble yet attractive thirty-five-year-old male at the school bond get out the vote meeting had been enough. He had no one else to blame but himself.

The walk was useful in that it helped clarify what was important. More money? More businesses? More employees?

He shook his head as he kicked a pebble down the road. No. People were what counted, and he’d lost sight of that during the excitement of buying businesses and finding more gold mines. He’d hurt Barbara too many times to ask her to see him again. To forgive him. He could feel it in his gut, and it made his heart ache.

Not wanting to stay at home in case Jenny looked his address up and knocked on the front door, he got in his car and headed toward the Columbia River. It wasn’t his best idea, but if he was going to be forced into spending three days a week working for the FBI and Fed, he might as well start now.

He opened the window, letting a hint of spring flowers waft into the car.

The drive calmed him down, and he turned on his lost money sense as soon as he crossed the bridge into Washington. The ability had doubled in value from the drone that had broken his back, although he didn’t have it in him to discover the exact numbers. Despite this, he would never think it an equal trade. That drone had done a number on him.

He would find the money, or he wouldn’t. It was as simple as that.

His phone rang but he ignored it, the long stretches of road between Vancouver and the coast stretching out before him. He kept the speedometer under forty miles per hour, pulling over if a car came up behind him so they could pass.

He felt like banging his head on the steering wheel to take out some of his frustration but was old enough to know that kind of behavior wouldn’t get him anywhere.

He stayed on the back roads until the St. Helens bridge, then switched over to the Oregon side of the Columbia River. The traffic was worse on this side, forcing him to pull over time and again as cars came up behind him in their race to get to the beach sooner than everyone else.

At least, that’s what he assumed they were doing. No matter the reason, he kept pulling over, his mind numb and his tear ducts squeezed dry.

He’d almost forgotten the reason he was driving around when he caught the scent. It took him a few moments to realize what he was smelling, and by that time he had already passed it by as the scent quickly faded. Pulling over to the side of the road, he waited until the road was free of cars in both directions before pulling a U-turn back in the opposite direction.

Going back in the other direction, he found a dirt road off to his left. Flicking on his turn signal, he waited again until he could turn.

The dirt road led down to a set of houses along the riverfront, and he drove past those to a small park set next to a sandy bar. Beer bottles and hot dog wrappers littered the ground. Getting out of the car, he sniffed.

He could almost taste the freshly printed money but couldn’t find the location. He walked a circle around the car, not picking up a direction until he came close to the water. Walking up to the edge, he peered into the flowing river. He couldn’t see anything, but he knew it was there. Ten to fifteen feet out and weighted down with something heavy enough to keep it from washing away with the current.

A gunshot flew by over his head, the sound causing a flock of geese to take flight from the marshland over near the houses. He’d thought Mrs. Byrne shooting at him was bad enough, and now it was happening again.

Carl ran for the car, not willing to give up on life yet. His heart hurt, crushed by bad luck and poor decisions. Despite this, he wanted to live.

Putting the car into gear he spun the tires, kicking up sand as he tore away from the campsite. On his way past the houses, he caught sight of a man in dark hoodie holding a rifle. The man was trying to hide behind a wood pile, but Carl’s heightened senses caught him. He had a deep scar down the left cheek that stood out.

Glancing in each direction, he tore across the oncoming lane of traffic and sped down the highway. Taking deep breathes, his heart rate calmed enough that he felt ready to pull over to the side of the road. Putting the car in park, he fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number he had memorized.

“FBI, Portland office. This is Agent Larson.”

Carl struggled to get his thoughts in order. “Yes, this is Carl Thompson. Case 3… um,” He flipped the card he pulled from his wallet to read the case number. “314TL. I found another batch of lost money, and someone shot at me. You better get here quick.”

“Just a moment.” Elevator music came on, and Carl groaned. All he wanted to do was wallow in his misery, but that wasn’t possible. Not yet.

“Mr. Thompson, where are you located?”

Carl spotted the mile marker on the other side of the road, then recounted what had happened down by the river.

“Very good. We’ll have local police out in a few minutes to ensure the site isn’t disturbed.” Agent Larson made it sound like finding millions of dollars was an everyday occurrence.

“I’d like a full accounting of how much was found, since I won’t be able to count it myself.”

Agent Larson hesitated. A good portion of the report he’d been given had been redacted, and there were no instructions to provide an accounting to Mr. Thompson.

“I’m afraid that’s not part of my responsibility. You’ll need to take that up with Mr. Scully.”

Carl slammed his hand on the steering wheel, immediately regretting it. Not that it hurt, but because he was acting like a teenager whose girlfriend had told him it wasn’t going to work out. It didn’t matter how old you were, lost love always hurt.

“Fine. Do you need me to stay?”

“That’s not necessary, Mr. Thompson. I will note that you worked today, and I would appreciate if you called or emailed detailing the time you worked each week.”

Carl had had enough. “No. I’ll tell you what days I’ve worked, but that’s all. The contract doesn’t stipulate that I account for my hours.”

Agent Larson had never seen the contract Mr. Thompson referenced, but his instructions were very clear. “I’m sorry but I must insist, Mr. Thompson.”

Carl hung up. He was on the verge of saying things he would regret and arguing with an agent who hadn’t been part of the original discussion wouldn’t get either of them anywhere.

Police lights flashed in the distance, speeding towards him on the highway. He watched them go by, then pulled up the missed message on his phone.

“Mr. Thompson, it’s Wendy. I’m checked in at the hotel and hoping I can go to work tomorrow. I plan to look for a place to stay over the weekend, so I’ll need to keep my hotel room at least this week. I hope that’s alright. The hotel is… well, it’s fancier than I expected. Not that I’m unhappy. I’m thrilled. Please call me back when you have a moment. Bye.”

He laughed. In his misery he’d forgotten about the young lady he’d recruited from the resort in Ocean Shores. He really needed to get his head straight.

Or maybe crack open a beer or two. Either one would do the trick.

Sighing, Carl dialed Lyon and Hudson.

“This is Amy.”

“Hi, Amy. This is Carl. I left a message with Rebecca about the office that the former partner left behind. I can’t remember his name.” Shaking his head, he made a halfhearted effort to remember. It was useless, so Carl started again. “Anyway, I’d like to put Wendy in it if that’s alright. She’s my new administrative assistant.”

“I’m sorry, Carl, but I haven’t heard anything about that and Rebecca’s out of the office. She’s meeting with Charles about Donnehy and Associates.”

This day just wasn’t working out. He should have expected Rebecca to be putting most of her attention on Donnehy. This was her chance to be a big-time lawyer, in charge of everything. “Fine. Can you tell me if anyone uses that office? If not, I’ll find her someplace else to work, but I think it would be good if she could work with you. That way she could learn the ropes, that kind of thing. I wouldn’t push but she just arrived and would like to start work.”

“Let me check. Just a second, Carl.”

He was put on hold again, and he could have sworn it was the same song that the FBI office had played when he’d been on hold with them. Another set of police cars raced by, and he thought he heard gun shots fired behind him.

“Hi Carl, I’m back. Yes, that should be fine. Give me the rest of the day to clear it up, as I’ve been storing our overflow in it. If I have time, I’ll get her the basics including a laptop, a printer, a new phone, and a few other things. I don’t think Rebecca will mind, and if she does, she’ll charge it to you.” Amy giggled.

“Thank you, Amy. You’ve been a huge help. Let me check on one other thing and then I’ll call Wendy and tell her the good news.”

Carl was just about to hang up when Amy asked, “Carl, if you don’t mind could I ask you something? I know Rebecca hopes to lead Donnehy and Associates, and, well, I don’t… “

He connected the dots. “You don’t want to be left out.”

Amy hiccupped. “Yes. I’ve worked for her for a long time, and I can’t imagine working anywhere else.”

“I don’t think it will be a problem. If we have layoffs, they’ll be on the Donnehy side. Not that you should share that with anyone, as we have a lot of work left before we buy the company. But I hope that helps ease your mind.”

Amy sniffled. “It does, Carl. Thank you so much.”

They said their goodbyes, and Carl felt a tiny bit better.

Chapter 2

Carl’s next call was to Charles, but it went to voicemail. He asked if the upstairs apartments in the building he’d purchased had been renovated yet, and if so, he planned to let Wendy have one. That would put her within walking distance to work, and while it might not be a forever solution it would be easier, and cheaper, than keeping her in a high-end hotel for days on end.

Turning off his phone, Carl kept driving. Going home held no appeal, and while he enjoyed finding the lost money because it was a challenge, he could only hope that no one else would shoot at him.

Fingers crossed.

He reached Astoria without problem, the smell of the sea filling the interior of the car. A sharp, salty wind forced him to roll his window up until only a crack remained.

He pulled over at a coffee shop and ordered a drip coffee, his new car having cup holders while his old Honda had not. Freshly made muffins and scones behind a curved piece of glass called to him, and he ordered two vanilla blueberry scones. One to eat now, one for later.

Crossing over the Astoria bridge provided magnificent views of the Columbia River and Pacific Ocean to his left. His ex-wife had taken him over the bridge for the first time decades ago, a young lad from Ohio unused to bridges this wide or endless oceans filling the horizon. He slowed down to enjoy the view, but a car behind him honked and he sped back up.

As soon as he got to the Washington side, he pulled off on state route 401 heading east along the Columbia. The money he’d sniffed near St. Helens had been fresh, and while he wouldn’t know whether it was the Federal Reserve stolen bills or not until they pulled the money up out of the river, he thought there was a solid chance it was. Which meant the thieves had used the waterways to distribute the money. But to what end?

It was safe to assume the man who’d shot at him was part of the crew, but the money found next to the Willamette had been in the middle of nowhere. What tied these locations together?

He shook his head as he drove on. It didn’t make sense.

Had something gone wrong during the robbery? Neither the Fed nor the Bureau had shared any details of the heist, but if something had gone wrong it could explain a lot of things. Maybe someone got away with more than their share, hiding it from the others until it could be retrieved later.

Carl finished his cup of coffee, the warmth rejuvenating him. He didn’t like speculating about people, and he wouldn’t speculate about the case either. His job was to find the money, plain and simple, and that was what he planned to do.

Route 401 was much windier than the road out to Astoria, and he slowed down to thirty-five miles an hour with the driver’s side window rolled down and his head out the window when no cars were around.

He took small detours down roads leading to the water, but none of them panned out. Glancing at the clock in the car, he saw it was almost 5pm. It was still light out but wouldn’t be for much longer.

Still, he pressed on. The sooner he finished finding all the money, the sooner he could get back to his life.

He only wished he knew what that life would look like.

Chapter 3

Carl pulled his car into the garage a little after 7pm. He was exhausted both mentally and physically and wanted nothing more than to go to the diner and get a bite to eat. The scone had been good, if a tad too sweet for his taste.

Changing into a pair of trousers and a button-down shirt, he did exactly that. Chloe greeted him at the door, and he took a seat at the counter.

“What’re you having today, Carl?”

He gave her a tired smile. “What’s the special?”

“Garlic-infused pot roast with mashed potatoes and gravy. It went fast, but I think we have a few slices left. I can’t promise it will turn your life around, but it’s really tasty.”

He patted her on the hand. “You’re a good woman, Chloe. I’ll take the special.”

Chloe glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. If she didn’t know better, she would say he was depressed. She didn’t like to insert herself into people’s lives unless they asked for her advice, but Carl was a longtime customer whose tips over the years had paid a good part of the cost for their above ground pool. The grandkids piled into it every summer.

She put the order in, then sat down beside him. Most customers ate between 6 and 7:30pm, but today wasn’t working out like that. She had half a dozen customers at the moment, and that was up from earlier in the day.

She sipped from the coffee she’d brought with her. “What’s got you down, Carl? Anything I can help with?”

Carl hung his head low. The drive had been a diversion from facing his problems. He knew better than most that problems don’t go away until you faced them.

His throat choked up as he started speaking. “I messed up. I lost Barbara, and I think this time it’s going to be forever.” He felt the tears from earlier today rushing back, and he wiped them away with a napkin.

Chloe wrapped her arm around him, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m sure it can’t be all that bad.”

He blew his nose. “It is.” He turned to face her. Red-rimmed eyes filled with tears met hers. “A girl I met in Vancouver, not in a romantic way, mind you, found me just as Barb had agreed to see me after being apart for a while.” He hung his head in remorse.

“Why don’t you tell me about it while you eat? Your order is almost up.” She watched her husband slide a plate under the heat lamp, just like she’d seen him do for over thirty years. The diner had paid to put their kids through college, had paid for the renovation and expansion of their starter two-bedroom home, and a whole lot more besides that. She didn’t regret working a single day here despite the long hours and grouchy customers.

Bringing his plate back to the table, she placed it before him before refilling both their coffees.

Carl told her the entire story in-between bites of fall-off-the-bone pot roast. It was delicious, and just what he needed after a stressful day.

Wiping his mouth with the napkin, he gave her a sad smile. The story was over, and Chloe couldn’t help but shake her head. Some men were cruel, some men were kind, and some men were clueless when it came to women. She’d known which category Carl fit into the first time she’d met him. Despite the passage of time, these sorts of things rarely changed.

“I was supposed to meet her tonight for dinner. I know she won’t be there, though.”

Acting before she realized what she was doing, Chloe slapped him across the back of the head, just like she did with her son when he was acting out. It seemed that some men needed a slap to realize how stupid they’re being.

Carl rubbed at the wound. His eyes were spread wide in shock. “Why’d you do that?”

“Because you’re an idiot. How do you know she won’t be there?” Chloe glanced at the clock on the wall, which read 7:37pm.

Carl shrugged. “I assumed she wouldn’t.” He paused, understanding starting to dawn. “Are you saying she’ll be there?”

She gave him a look. “No, Carl, but I’m saying she might. Barbara doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman to break reservations without telling someone. Did she call you and tell you not to come?”

The clock ticked over to 7:38pm.

Carl checked his phone. There were no messages or missed calls from her number. “No.”

“Then you need to get your ass over to that restaurant pronto, you hear me?” She pointed at the door.

Carl scrambled to pull out his wallet, but she shooed him away. “Pay me tomorrow morning. Now go!”

Nodding while thanking her profusely, Carl ran for the car. He knew where the Proof Reader was, now he had to get there in time.

* * *

Carl drove like a madman, and he thanked his lucky stars as the restaurant came into view that he hadn’t been pulled over. It took a trip around the block to find a parking spot, which the new Honda handled easily. It was only as he was grabbing his wallet before he got out that he realized he hadn’t changed his clothes for a proper date.

Even worse, he’d never made a reservation.

Running for the restaurant, he passed couples out for an evening stroll. Pulling the door open, he saw Barbara at the maître d’s podium, asking about reservations under the name Thompson.

The maître d’ shook her head. “I’m very sorry, but I don’t have a reservation under that name.”

Carl adjusted his jacket, wiping the sweat away from his forehead before speaking. “That’s my fault. During the chaos today, I forgot to make one.” He gave Barbara a warm smile before stepping closer to the maître d’. “Is the private dining room available? If so, we’ll take that.” He slipped the same two twenties he’d planned to give to Chloe across to the maître d’, who deftly took and pocketed them quickly.

The maître d’ smiled. Tips were shared with the waitstaff, and she remembered the man in front of her even if she didn’t know his name. He’d left a very nice tip that had covered a few of her textbooks for the next semester at Portland State.

She directed them with her arm. “Right this way.”

Entering the private dining room, Carl held the chair out for Barbara, seating her before seating himself. The maître d’ was about to leave, so he stopped her before she got too far away.

Whispering, he asked, “Could you bring in a few candles and a bottle of your best red wine?” He slipped her his corporate credit card. No, this wasn’t a business expensable item, but he’d let Charles sort that out later.

She took his card, nodding. “Of course, sir. It’ll be no more than a few minutes.”

She grinned as she closed the door behind her. Tonight’s tips might just pay the rest of her tuition that wasn’t covered from scholarships.

Sitting down across from Barbara, he felt flustered. Nervous. “I’m sorry about earlier today. It’s a long story.” He shook his head. “The last few months are a long story.”

Truth be told, Barbara had been reluctant to meet him for dinner. Just because she understood his situation didn’t mean their relationship had been repaired. She wanted to make this work, as she was afraid of what it would mean for her future if it didn’t.

She wasn’t getting any younger, and she had a feeling that the more people she pushed away, the harder it would be the next time she met someone she liked to accept them as they were. Everyone over thirty came with baggage, and she had her own fair share.

Maybe that was normal when you lost your spouse to a violent crime, but it didn’t make her feel any better.

Even worse, she liked Carl. The romantic in her wanted to be swept off her feet, but the realist wouldn’t allow it. Mortgages had to be paid, and retirement wasn’t that far away. Young nurses were cheaper nurses, and she knew her days at Portland General were numbered. Her husband’s police pension would only take her so far, and the fact that Carl was wealthy helped the realist in her relax. A part of her knew he would always take care of her, financially and otherwise.

It was a very appealing package. Although glancing at him, it was also a slightly sweaty package.

She used her best smile. “Why don’t you tell me about it over the wine I heard you order?”

Carl sighed in relief. He laughed a little hysterically before calming down. “I would like that very much.”

This time Carl didn’t restrain himself from ordering the three-meat platter, adding a side of garlic mashed potatoes and green beans tossed with bacon.

Sitting back in his chair, he smiled. “That’s everything. And you should know Jenny is still stalking me.”

Barbara laughed. “You’re quite the catch. I wish I’d seen you when you were thirty-five. I imagine you were quite handsome.”

He held his wine glass up, and they clinked. “I can’t promise you tomorrow will be any better, but I will say that having you here helps me in ways I can’t describe.”

Barbara hesitated. The thought she was about to express was something that had stuck in her mind ever since that painful day of seeing Carl in the hospital after his heart attack and stroke. “What—what would you say if you tried to pass the blue boxes to me?”

Carl took a large sip of wine to hide the shock. He looked at her, studied her features, enamored of her just as much as he’d been when they’d first met in the hospital, under less than ideal circumstances as he recalled. His response was tentative. “Are you sure? I mean, really sure?”

He looked for a sign that she was sure, but only came away with a beautiful face. Nodding, he continued. “It’s been positive for me in a lot of ways, but also caused me a lot of problems. I don’t regret it, but then again, I wasn’t given a choice. You have one.”

She’d spent time thinking on the issue over the past weeks, wondering if that difference made them incompatible. Carl could perform the superhuman, while she was only human. Normal. If she understood him correctly, she would die in the decades to come while he would look almost exactly the same, well past her expiration. It was humbling, and sent her mind careening towards some crazy scenarios the more she thought about it.

She didn’t want to live forever, but to live longer in good health was appealing. Already her knees ached during the second half of her shift, long hours spent on her feet catching up with her.

She took a large drink of wine. “I… I think so. You’ve opened my eyes to new possibilities, and I want that as well. I would use it differently than you have, though. You can focus on money while I focus on ways to cure patients of rare diseases.” She winced. “I’m not sure. Help me.”

Carl set down his utensils, reaching for her hands across the table. Her hands were shaking like the fluttering wings of a small bird as they settled in his. “I want what is best for you. If you think this is for the best, then you have my full support.”

She firmed her resolve. “I do. The reason I say that is because if I don’t take the next logical step, then the difference between us will eventually tear us apart. I don’t want that, and I know you don’t. This way we’d be together, for a long time. Can you live with me that long?”

Carl laughed. The mirth was apparent when he spoke next. “You’ll have a tough time getting rid of me, Barbara.” He released her hands and raised his wine glass. “To us, and all the possibilities the future represents.”

She inclined her head towards him, the decision made. “To us.”

Chapter 4

They finished the bottle of wine before heading to her house. Carl had left a very healthy tip for the maître d’ finding them a place to sit without a reservation. She’d help save their relationship, and that was worth the world to him. The girl had smiled like she’d won the lottery.

She put a Roberta Flack CD on the player, then opened a bottle of wine she’d been keeping since the anniversary before her husband’s death. He’d bought it at their tenth wedding anniversary in anticipation of their silver anniversary, and then another bottle for the gold. He wasn’t bold enough or didn’t have enough money to buy a bottle for their diamond anniversary.

She hadn’t cared in the slightest. Those had been some happy years together.

Filling the glasses, it felt right. She would always treasure her time with her husband, but it was time to move on. To live life to the fullest again, one last time.

* * *

Carl woke up a little after 7am. Barbara was nestled into his body, and he didn’t want to disturb her despite his urgent need for the facilities.

Leaning back on the pillow, he smiled. Just when he’d been about to give up hope, Barbara came back to him.

“Morning.”

She leaned up and kissed him. “Morning yourself. Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll make breakfast?”

“Do you have work today?”

She shook her head, pushing her hair behind her ear. “I covered for Melissa when her daughter had an ear infection. Today she’s paying me back. I have to go in at 8pm tonight, but that’s a long way away.”

Carl smiled, his hands exploring. “Good. That means I have you most of the day.”

She rolled over on top of him. Her voice turned husky. “Or is it the other way around?”

* * *

They had breakfast closer to noon, then went for a walk since the weather was so nice. They talked about small things, normal things that most couples discussed.

Then Barbara changed the subject. “I’ll get a phlebotomist kit at the hospital. If you have time tomorrow, we can try. Does that work for you?”

He reached for her hand. “It does. We should try tomorrow afternoon since you’ll need to sleep afterward. We can get dinner after that, although as I recall the first time isn’t painless. You need to be prepared. And it might not work.”

She snorted, even though she didn’t feel that confident inside. “If you could handle it, then I can too. And it will work.”

Carl almost said something, but the trust between them was too new to test right now. Doubts had resurfaced today that two and a half glasses of wine had diminished yesterday. His first doubt was whether it would work or not. And if it did, would it change her life so much that they wouldn’t, or couldn’t, be together any longer?

He knew he wasn’t the same man he’d been before the blue boxes. That man had been weak in mind and body, and in five or ten years would have been ready to give up on his current life so he could start over with a new one. He’d seen it happen to his friends, and it wouldn’t have taken much to get him there too.

Not now.

Now he felt the drive to grow, to help more people, and to bring a small bit of order to the chaos that was life.

Returning home, they spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying each other. Carl’s stamina knew no bounds, and while he wasn’t so crass as to use the enhanced male pheromones or sexual stamina skills, he doubted they would do very much for him now.

She slapped him on the butt. “You need to get going so I can get ready for work. I don’t want to look… well, like this.”

He chuckled, studying her disheveled hair and full, pouty lips after being thoroughly kissed. “Why not? Wouldn’t they be envious?”

Her eyes widened as she laughed. “They might, but that’s not who I am. In public, I mean. Obviously not in private.”

They both laughed as Carl got out of bed and got dressed. “I’ll call around 4pm tomorrow and we’ll go from there. It might end up being a night in depending on how things go.”

She looked over her shoulder at him, the laughter forgotten. “I’m nervous and a little scared, but I’m not changing my mind, Carl. If we’re in this, we’re in it together.”

He paused while putting his shirt back on. “Understood.” He walked around to her side of the bed and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I love you, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Chapter 5

Instead of going home Carl headed for the diner. They’d had a soup and sandwich for lunch but skipped dinner to make time for more amorous activities.

Chloe was taking an order when she caught his eye as he entered the diner. Sitting down at the counter, it only took a few minutes before she was by his side.

She bopped him on the shoulder when she walked up. “So, what happened?”

He grinned. “I can’t thank you enough, Chloe. If you hadn’t pushed me out the door, I might have missed her.” He sighed, remembering the past twenty-four hours fondly. “I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

She wrapped him up in a hug. “Ooh, I’m so happy for you, Carl. I worried after you left whether I was getting your hopes up for nothing, but I’m glad it worked out.” She released him. “Now, what’re you having? The special is marinated pork tenderloin with a honey garlic Dijon glaze.”

Carl didn’t have to be asked twice. “I’ll take the special. And thanks again, Chloe.”

She waved it away like it was nothing. He knew she cared for her customers, but she’d gone above and beyond for him. He tried to think of something to give her while he waited for his food to come out, rejecting one idea after another.

He was halfway through his meal when he knew he had it. He spared a moment to write it down before he forgot, then went back to the food. The pork tenderloin was juicy inside, while the glaze gave the crust a bit of a spicy kick.

It was delicious.

She took his plate away before he knew she was there. “You have enough room for dessert tonight, Carl?”

He came close to saying no. Very close, in fact. “Do you have anything besides pie?”

She grinned. “I made a batch of vanilla tapioca pudding. I know it’s not everyone’s favorite, but I’ve loved it since I was a little girl. I keep a bowl in the fridge for when I need something sweet.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had tapioca pudding. His mother had favored Jell-O and aspic salad when he was growing up, but she had made it a few times over the years. As a kid he’d loved the little balls of gelatin.

“If you’re offering, I’ll take a bowl.”

She nodded, waving to someone entering the diner. “Coming right up.”

Chapter 6

Carl went for a run the next day, the combination of the three-meat meal at the Proof Reader combined with an excess of wine and a large slice of pork tenderloin making him feel a bit thick around the middle.

Getting into his stride, he let his mind drift as the miles passed him by. When he’d got home last night, he’d had another message from Dean, which made three in a row, each of them asking him to come down to Medford yesterday.

Which he couldn’t do. Not for a few days, at least.

On top of that, Wendy was starting work today, and he needed to be there for her when she arrived.

As far as he knew, Gene was still in Medford with Dean setting up security systems, and Charles was putting the final touches on the quarterly financial report.

He stretched in the park on the return loop, then fast walked home.

A quick shower later and he was in his recliner with his laptop open as he checked emails.

Carl, I’m returning your message. The contractors are not yet done renovating the upstairs of the building, but I spoke with the foreman yesterday and he said they would have the first apartment done within the week. He also mentioned that someone named Olivia Barkstrom was living there, which I don’t have any record of for a lease or rent. Perhaps you can let me know her situation when we talk.

I’ve scheduled the quarterly financial meeting for Thursday morning at Lyon and Hudson. It would be good if Dean could join us, so I’ll leave that with you. I’ve asked for updates from Reeves and Reeves but have heard nothing back.

In better news I have received the audited accounts from Donnehy & Associates, along with a full list of their clients. We can discuss an offer at the meeting as I should have the revised earnings numbers by then.

Which brings me to my last point. I apologize for not believing you about the gold mines. Not all the mines have had drilling done on them yet, but if the first three are any indication of what we can look forward to, then we’ll both be very wealthy men.

Regards,

Charles.

PS – I need to talk to you about the European vacation again. I put it off when you were in the hospital, but now that you’re healthy I would like to take three weeks off. I’m thinking late June as the weather should be nice in Italy and Spain by then. Let’s talk.

Closing the message but marking it so he wouldn’t forget about it, he pulled up the next one.

Carl –

I’ve attached the audited accounts that Todd sent to myself and Charles. They’re… not good. The company has been hemorrhaging clients for quite a bit longer than Mack claimed, and they’ve lost some big ones before the partner left. If Charles hasn’t mentioned it to you already, he calculated the value of the company around $750,000.

My concern is that Mack may not accept such a low price, and the partners may protest as well. Usually in these kinds of deals the partners get a portion of the buyout price and splitting three quarters of a million between Mack and a half dozen partners won’t amount to much. Just my two cents before the meeting.

Best,

Becky

He reread the email to make sure he understood Rebecca’s position. Yes, a low price might kibosh the deal, but he didn’t want to overspend for the company. Sighing because he knew a decision wouldn’t be made until Thursday, he closed the email.

The rest of the emails were spam, although two had been from the local community college again. It seemed they didn’t like to let a student go if they could help it.

* * *

After a quick breakfast at the diner, he called Gene. He was afraid to hear how much money his friend had spent, but only a little. It sounded like they would earn those expenses back multiple times if Charles’ comment was correct.

“Carl! I’m glad you called. I have so many things to tell you. It’s bonkers down here.”

Carl smiled on his end of the line. “How’re you doing, Gene?”

The words came out in a stream of consciousness. “You wouldn’t believe it. The newspaper reports on the mines almost every day, and Dean made the nightly news. The town seemed to double in size overnight, but the motel owners promised me they wouldn’t kick me out no matter what. I ordered the electric fence, along with two diesel backup generators to power it. I powered it down like you said, but the security cameras already picked up someone trying to sneak in. They thought thick rubber gloves would save them, but they didn’t.” Gene laughed a little manically. “I’ve pushed the power up just a small amount to make sure they don’t try again. Dean approved it.”

The break-in attempt surprised him, even if he’d been told to expect it. “Are you okay?”

Gene barked out a laugh. “I’m having the time of my life. You have no idea, Carl. I even met a girl at the motel.”

Carl groaned. “Be careful of women down there. They might be after your money and not you.”

Gene stopped laughing. “Don’t take me for an idiot, Carl. I don’t have any money. I get paid salary now instead of by the hour, and while it’s more than I used to make, I’m not rich. She’s a nicer older lady whose husband divorced her a few years ago. We’ve been out a few times and went dancing once. Very lowkey. I’m taking it slow, if you must know.”

“Gene, you are rich. All employees share in the profits we make from mining gold and silver, and that includes you. I can’t tell you how much because we don’t have the numbers from Reeves and Reeves yet. Have you heard anything from them?”

Gene stammered. “I-I-I’m rich? Really rich? Richie Rich?”

Carl grinned. “Really rich. Now, write this down. When you see Dean tell him to get a financial report from the Reeves brothers. Charles needs it. The sooner, the better. And tell him we need monthly updates after that.”

Carl could hear Gene mouthing the words as he wrote it down. “Got it. He told me to get your ass down here as soon as possible. Oh, and Ted spoke to me a few days ago and said that the FDA is almost done cleaning out the upstairs of the bar, and then they can bring the cleaners in. You might call him as well.”

It was Carl’s turn to take some notes. “Will do. And Gene, promise me you’ll be careful with this woman. Please?”

Gene mumbled something that sounded like, ‘fine’, but Carl couldn’t be sure.

“Good. Don’t mention to anyone that you’re wealthy. And make sure you pay your house off first. It’s the same advice I gave to Dean, and it’s what I plan to do too. Not that I owe much, but I’d rather own my house free and clear.”

His last mortgage statement had said that he owed less than thirty thousand dollars on the house. It would have been paid off fifteen years ago except for the second mortgage he took out to repair the electrical and plumbing in the house, which definitely needed it.

He could pay it off now if he wanted, but he didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about it. That amount had seemed insurmountable just a year ago, and now it was a pittance. Okay, a large pittance, but still manageable.

“Alright, I will. I’m just… surprised, is all.” He took a deep breath, slowly releasing it to calm down. “Before you go, I need to tell you that I’ve spent over a hundred grand on security, and that includes hiring a few people as well. They don’t have access to the sites, just external security with a flashlight and a taser. Nothing more.”

Carl blanched. He knew he would make it all back, but still… it was a heck of lot to spend to keep people out. He choked out, “Fine.” A quick drink of water cleared his throat. “How many mines does that money cover?”

Gene laughed. “All of them, unless there are more than three active mines going at one time. All the sites have security, but the active mines have the most. Each plat, including the fake ones, are checked every morning for activity. The security teams have caught a few people on the land, but that’s all. Once one mine closes I’ll move the electric fences, lasers and other devices to the new mine.”

The stress he’d been holding in his shoulders eased at the news. He’d jumped to the conclusion that it would cost him a hundred grand per mine for security, but this was much better.

The two men talked a bit longer, Gene mentioning the Denver UFO conference in July. That was still a full three months out, and despite his experience at the last one, he wasn’t put off by the idea of attending a new one.

“Will they have different speakers?”

Gene snorted. “You bet. The nation’s top Bigfoot researcher will be there, as will a specialist on hidden government funding to private industry for spaceship research based on what they found at Roswell.”

Carl could help but be interested. “Really? That sounds interesting. Who else?”

Gene wracked his memory for the list since he wasn’t in front of his laptop. “There’s a former NASA scientist who has photos of unidentified ships circling the sun. And there’s a lady with details on the alien base on the dark side of the moon.”

Carl could feel his interest waning. He’d heard speakers on all those topics at least twice over in recent years.

“And there’s a guy talking about HAARP and how it’s manipulating people’s minds around the world.”

Carl didn’t hesitate. He’d never heard someone speak cogently on HAARP. “Yeah, I’m in. Let’s talk more when I get down there and we’ll figure out our flights and where we want to stay. Charles will probably be on vacation around that time anyway, so it would work out perfectly.”

Gene pumped a silent fist in the air. He’d always wanted to attend this conference, but a security guard’s salary didn’t allow for many luxuries. If he was going to be as rich as Carl said he was, he planned to attend as many UFO conferences as he could get away with.

Carl heard a click on his phone, which meant another call was coming in. “I got to go, buddy. Keep me updated on the security. Anything happens that you don’t like, let Dean know.”

Gene smiled. He was living the dream. “Absolutely. See ya, Carl.”

Carl hung up, catching the call before it went to the machine. “Carl here.”

“Carl, it’s Dean. I figure since you’re not heading this way for a while still, I should be updating you more than I have been. This a good time?”

“It’s perfect timing, Dean. I just got off the phone with Gene. It sounds like everything is going well.”

Dean hesitated. “Yes and no. The mines are still producing, and the output has been phenomenal. Gene’s security has kept a few people out already, but I imagine he mentioned that.”

Carl’s smile faded. “He did. What’s the problem?”

Dean took a sip of coffee before continuing. He’d bought a new coffee maker with his first paycheck, a fancy one with a European-type name on it, and it was paying dividends. “I’m worried about Reeves and Reeves. Have you heard from them?”

“No, why would I? You’re their main contact.”

Dean cursed under his breath. “Look, I don’t want to worry you, but Chuck has been acting odd lately. I don’t know if he’s got gold fever, or if something else is going on, but I rarely see him anymore. Billy is here, but he doesn’t have the skills that Chuck does.”

Carl didn’t want to change the subject, but he thought it might be relevant to what was happening. “Charles mentioned that he hasn’t seen a report from them since they started drilling. Which I realize was only a week ago, if that, but with the amount they’re pulling out I expected daily updates for accounting purposes.”

This time Dean swore out loud. “Shit. Let me do some digging, and I’ll check in with the smelter. You should be getting gross tonnage reports daily.”

Carl hadn’t even heard of such reports. “Gross tonnage reports? I don’t understand.”

Dean sighed. “All it means is how much material they’ve hauled out. Not all of it will be gold, but it’s a good measure. For a normal mine, the rule of thumb would be anywhere from one to five percent of gross tonnage being gold. For your mines, since you led us right to them, it’ll be higher. Say ten to twenty percent since they didn’t have to do any extra digging to search for a vein. You should also have received purity analysis reports every two to three days, as they’ll test a random load. The drillers are just that: drillers. They drill until the purity analysis, or the ore separator tells them it’s not worth digging anymore.”

Carl felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Do what you planned to do, but I’d like you to line up another driller in case our worst fears come true. I don’t think local will work, so look outside the state if you have to. I want to have a backup plan in case this turns sour.”

“Got it. And if you could spare a day and drive down, I’d appreciate it. If decisions need to be made, it’s better that you’re here to tell them face to face.”

Carl jotted it down in his note pad. “Will do. Let me check my calendar and I’ll let you know. Let’s check in daily from now on, say around this time or earlier. If I miss you, I’ll call you back, and vice versa.”

“Understood. Talk to you later.”

Dean pocketed his phone, hating the situation he was in. If Chuck had done something stupid it wouldn’t be a slap on the wrist and back to business. Medford was a small town, and once news got out that Reeves and Reeves were doing something underhanded, the company would be out of business. For good. No one would trust them ever again.

Hopping in his truck, he headed towards the mining company. If Chuck wasn’t available, maybe he could beat some answers out of Billy.

Chapter 7

Carl knew he owed Ted a call back about the Rustler’s Brand, but he needed to head over to the law offices to welcome Wendy to work.

The drive took less than ten minutes, and he was lucky enough to find parking just a few doors down from the law firm.

Walking back, he waved at Amy through the window.

“Carl, it’s good to see you. Rebecca isn’t in yet as she has a meeting with a client.”

Carl went over to pour himself a cup of coffee. “For once I’m not here to meet with Rebecca. Wendy is starting work today, so I wanted to be here for her first day.”

Amy nodded. “She just called to get directions. She should be here any moment.”

Sitting down in the waiting area, Carl perused the magazines on offer. In theory, he could learn any skill he wanted with the blue boxes, but he didn’t feel the need to do so any longer. If he ever needed or wanted to go mountain biking, snowboarding, surfing or anything else the magazines highlighted he could learn those later.

The door opened, and Wendy poked her head in. She looked unsure until she saw Carl in the waiting room flipping through a magazine.

“Mr. Thompson?”

Carl glanced up, then smiled wide as he stood up to greet his newest employee. “Wendy, I’m so glad you joined us.”

She ran over and hugged him tight, tears in her eyes. “I can’t thank you enough for this job. And the new car, and the bonus. And the hotel is magnificent, the swimming pool is humongous.”

Carl pried the young woman off of him as she wiped tears from her eyes. He didn’t notice Amy’s eyebrows approaching her hairline as she heard all the perks the brand-new employee had received. An employee who didn’t have a lick of experience compared to Amy’s eighteen and a half years.

He took a step back until she was an arm’s length away. “You’re very welcome. I hope the car was a good choice. It’s something I always envied, so I thought you might enjoy it as well.”

She set her backpack down on a chair as she sat down next to it. “It’s perfect. Even the color is right. My dad was angry at first, but then I think he got a little jealous. He said he’d always wanted a Mini Cooper when he was a kid but didn’t have the money for one back then. I think he means the original version, not the modern ones.”

Amy thought her eyes might just pop out of her head. He got her a Mini Cooper?

“And the convertible is perfect for summer.”

Amy cleared her throat as she stood up, motioning to the office she’d setup. She felt sick, and a little angry, but did her best to hold it in. “Wendy, if you like I can show you to your office.”

Wendy looked between Amy and Carl. “Um… sure.” She turned to Carl again. “Are you leaving?”

He smiled. “Not at all. Go see your office, and I’ll be here when you’re done. We have a few things we need to discuss before I leave.”

She nodded, her hair bouncing around. She’d set up a new bank account yesterday since her old bank was a local one without any branches outside of Aberdeen, and she’d gone on a buying spree with her bonus money to get some business clothes. Never again would she wear the ugly yellow and brown uniform of the resort.

* * *

Forty minutes later she emerged from her office. “Carl, you mentioned needing to discuss something. I can do that now if that works.”

Carl set down the canoeing and kayaking magazine he’d been reading. “I’ll be right in.”

Entering the office, he sat down on the other side of her desk. The room was a bit bare, but he was sure she would decorate it in time.

She opened her new laptop and looked up at him. “What do I need to know?”

Carl gave her his cell phone number, and with her help passed her the contacts he had in his phone. He also gave her his email address and promised he would give her access to his emails once he got home. If he couldn’t figure it out, he’d bring his laptop in to the office, and she could do it for him.

“So, what you’re saying is that I’ll be your secretary.”

He shook his head. “Not really. I mean yes, you’ll take calls and answer emails, but you’ll be the hub of the company. The LLC is made up of you, me, and Charles, who heads up finance. That’s all. We also own or partially own this law firm and possibly another one, the coin shop kitty corner down the street, the building the coin shop is in, a courier company called Fastcycle, a bar, and an advertising agency. Oh, and we’re mining for gold down in Medford.”

He paused, wanting to make sure she kept up with him. He’d heard her tippy tapping on her laptop taking notes, but it wasn’t until she met his eyes and nodded for him to continue that he was sure.

He spent the next two hours going over each person he worked with, who they were and what their responsibilities were, along with his plans for the future.

Her eyes were wide as she looked up from her laptop. “Really? I didn’t think people bought banks.”

He shrugged, easing the tension in his shoulder and neck. These straight-backed chairs were a killer. “I hope to, but until the papers are signed nothing’s definite.”

She rested her chin on her hand. “I think I understand. Instead of Dean checking in with you each day, he’ll call me. I’ll ring him later today and let him know. The same goes with Gene, Randy, Sue, Evan and everyone else. If I can’t call you, I’ll send a summary email each afternoon before I head home.”

Carl couldn’t be happier. The biggest issue in his business life was finally being resolved. “That’s correct. I don’t want to give them the impression that they can’t talk to me if they need to, but for everyday items it makes more sense if they talk to you. If you think Charles or Rebecca or anyone else needs to be copied in on something, then do that. Use your best judgment and err on the side of caution.”

She took more notes, pausing when she finished. “And you mentioned the possibility of running one of the businesses eventually? I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but I do want to make sure you know I’m interested in that when I’m ready.”

Carl grinned. “I did say that, and I meant it. Why don’t you make the trip to Seattle with me when we head up to look for courier companies? I don’t think you’ll want to make the trips when I look for gold mines, but Seattle would be a good one for you to learn on. And you’ll probably need to travel to Medford every once in a while, depending on what’s going on.”

Wendy blinked a few times. She’d never travelled outside of Ocean Shores and Aberdeen. She had difficulty imagining what a trip to Seattle would be like. She’d seen pictures of the Space Needle and her father was an avid Seahawks fan, but beyond that she knew nothing about it.

Her voice was shaky when she responded, not from fear but from excitement. “I would like that very much, Mr. Thompson.”

“Please, call me Carl.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m sure I’ve forgotten something, but that will have to do for now.” He paused, remembering something. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten with a perfect memory, but his short-term memory couldn’t hold everything all the time.

He had a sense of relief when he remembered. “Have you found a place to live yet?”

She shook her head. “The rent prices here are a lot higher than back home. I’ll keep looking, but I might not be able to afford anything close to work.”

He nodded, unsurprised. “The building we purchased is having the upstairs apartments renovated. One is occupied, while three others aren’t. I’ll need one for myself, but you’d be welcome to one. It would be within walking distance to work, and there’s a coffee shop downstairs.”

She shook her head while waving with her hands. “You’ve done too much for me as it is.”

Carl laughed. “Nonsense. If you live nearby, you can get more work done and not spend time commuting. And you won’t be getting it for free, just not what the full cost would normally be.”

He chuckled to himself. For some reason he wanted to take this young woman under his wing and raise her to her full potential. Maybe it was because he missed his grandkids, or maybe it was because he was in a position to help.

He could see she wasn’t sold yet. “Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

Wendy could feel the tears coming on again. Ocean Shores and Aberdeen were hardscrabble towns, with most of the population living on the edge. One missed paycheck, one trip to the hospital and they’d lose their homes, or the kids wouldn’t have enough to eat. Sometimes both. She’d seen it happen while going to high school, when a student or two would suddenly disappear.

Unless you knew them, no one asked any questions. The answers were never pleasant ones.

She hardened her gaze. She’d seen her father work two jobs to make ends meet when work was tight, and she wasn’t about to turn an opportunity like this down. It was why she was here, after all. “I will. I promise.”

Chapter 8

He walked from the law offices to the building with the coin shop. He thought about stopping in to see Randy but knew that would take another hour or two that he didn’t want to spend. Charles had approved the additional investment to buy more gold for the shop, and Carl had paid it a few days ago.

Instead, he walked around the building the long way, avoiding the window into the coin shop. Walking up the stairs, he found the door open as the contractors worked.

A contractor with a tool belt around his waist and a hard hat on his head pointed at him. “Hey, you! You can’t be here.”

Carl walked up to the man. “I’m Carl Thompson. I own this building, and thought I’d catch up on how the work is going.”

The contractor wasn’t having it. “Show me your ID.”

Pulling his driver’s license out, he handed it to the man. The man studied it a few seconds too long. After all, there wasn’t a wealth of information on his driver’s license.

The contractor handed it back. “I’m the foreman. George Fischer. Sorry about that, but we’ve had a few bums try to break in overnight. Once the security systems are up and the doors are replaced, that won’t be a problem.”

George held his hand out, and Carl took it. “Not a problem. I appreciate how vigilant you’re being. Do you have a few minutes to show me around?”

The foreman laughed. “You’re paying for the time, so it’s no skin off my back. What do you want to see?”

Carl did a three-sixty of the room in the apartment he planned to keep for himself. The drywall had been pulled down and new wiring was being threaded through the 2x4s. The entire apartment had been gutted.

He didn’t know if he’d ever spend the night here, but as soon as it was done, he would get on the phone and call his sons. He promised himself he wouldn’t take the coward’s way out this time.

Pointing at the wall facing the law offices, he said, “Can we add a window or two to this wall? It’ll be a bit dark otherwise. And I don’t know what you’re planning for the kitchen, but can you put in some high-end equipment? My kids and their grandkids will be staying here, and I imagine their wives would appreciate having nice appliances to work with.”

The contractor noted it down on the pad. High-end kitchen and bathroom equipment would raise the margin, and this building would already pay him a hefty bonus once it was done. He couldn’t write fast enough as Carl listed more changes he wanted to see happen.

“… and a second three-quarters bath, with a shower, sink and john for the kids.”

George paused. “We can do that, but it’s going to take some space from either the second bedroom or the living room.”

Carl walked into the bedroom. It was spacious but not huge. “Take it from the living room. Oh, and can you put an AC in all the units as well?”

George grinned. “We already planned to replace the furnace on the ground floor. The AC will have to go on the roof, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Carl blinked. “Can the residents use the roof?”

The foreman had to pause to think about the question. “The simple answer is no, because the only roof access is a ladder going up through the service access. We’ll need to use a crane to put the AC units up on the roof.”

“And the complicated answer?”

George sighed. “The problem is that there isn’t any way to provide secured access. The ladder won’t work because some people won’t be able to use it, and it’s not exactly safe. What you need are stairs or an elevator, and both are expensive and will take space away from the existing apartments.”

Carl got it. “Ignore that last request then. The residents can get some sun at the park instead of the roof.”

George nodded, checking the time. “Is that all?”

“That’s it. Thanks again, George. You have questions about the layout, give me a ring.” He wrote down his cell phone number on the back of a piece of paper.

George stuffed it into his toolbelt. “Will do.”

Carl left the building, happy at the progress being made. Walking down the stairs, he went the long way around again and stopped at the coffee shop.

Olivia waved at him as soon as she saw him enter.

“Carl, can I get anything for you?”

“I’ll take a short drip. And if you have a moment, I’d like to talk about the café. Have you met with the chef?”

Olivia felt giddy inside. Her apartment had brand-new windows with screens outside that let fresh air in without the bugs, and business was up from all the contractors stopping by for breakfast.

She poured his coffee and handed it to him. “If you wait a minute, I’ll have my daughter cover the front and we can talk.” She winked as she departed.

Sitting himself down at a table where he could watch people walking by, he took a sip. It was hot, rich, and smooth. He wouldn’t call it a perfect cup, but it was darn close.

Olivia sat down across from him. “I meant to call you but, well, I was afraid the offer might not be real. I have a problem trusting people, especially men. No offense.”

While he preferred making direct eye contact, he thought that might be too much for Olivia until they got to know each other better. Glancing out the window, he said, “That’s fine, Olivia. Now, why don’t you tell me about the chef and the menu while I drink your delicious coffee?”

Olivia didn’t need to be asked twice. “Her name is Linda, and she used to run a diner up in Olympia. She moved back to Portland to take care of her father after he broke his hip, and she’s worked odd jobs ever since.” She hesitated. Carl was looking everywhere except at her, and she couldn’t tell whether he liked what he heard or not.

Speaking louder than was absolutely necessary, she said, “You can look at me, Carl. I might not trust men, but that has nothing to do with you. I’m not a leper.”

The background noise in the coffee shop fell silent. Carl turned and met her eyes. “I was only doing so to make it more comfortable for you. Please continue.”

Embarrassed by the outburst but unable to help herself, she nodded shakily. “She’s started on a menu. It’s all homemade, nothing frozen except the base ingredients. We think we need to stay organic in Portland, so the prices might be a bit higher, but the quality will reflect that. She wants to bring in her Polish heritage, so we’ll offer pierogis, cabbage rolls, and other native dishes but toned down so they’re not as heavy. This is a café, not a restaurant, so there will also be a lot of soups and salads to choose from.”

Olivia finished a bit breathless, her face pickled red from the outburst still.

Carl smiled warmly. “That sounds wonderful. Do you have an idea of what your startup costs will be? Both for food and fixtures and anything else you might need?”

She pulled a small tablet from her pocket, ripping a piece of paper off and handing it to him. “We think thirty-five thousand dollars will keep us running for a year. Startup costs are twenty thousand, and an extra fifteen thousand for salaries and incidentals.”

He glanced at the paper, which was handwritten. He wasn’t a math expert, but he could already tell her numbers didn’t add up right.

Putting the paper down, he steepled his hands. “What do you plan to serve to drink?”

Olivia blinked. “Um… water, sodas, tea and coffee.”

Carl tilted his head to the side, his eyes questioning. “What if you served something different? For example, Polish and local wines, and maybe Polish beers. Things that people don’t normally get to taste. Something that differentiates the café from everyone else?”

Olivia was already shaking her head before he finished talking. “We would need a liquor license, and that costs money…” She paused, her eyes meeting his. “Could we?”

He chuckled. “We could, and a lot more. It’s a big space, and while I don’t know what percentage of the Portland population have Polish roots, I don’t think that matters. If the food is unique and delicious, they’ll come. We’ll advertise enough to make sure they do.”

Olivia broke down and cried.

Carl moved his chair to sit beside her, putting an arm around her back. She stiffened before relaxing and leaned into his arm. He didn’t know her story, but it was obvious she’d been hurt in the past. Badly hurt.

He spoke softly. “It’s okay, let it go. Get it all out.”

She shuddered, the pain she’d felt for so long releasing. Not all of it, that would take more work, but enough for now.

Carl pulled his arm away as she leaned back. He handed her the napkin she’d given him with his coffee but hadn’t used.

She dabbed at the tears running down her cheeks. “I can’t thank you enough. For the apartment, for the café, for the—”

Carl cut her off. “Nonsense. I’m not giving you the money, I’m investing. I expect great things from you, Olivia.”

For so long she’d felt on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Harsh words spoken by her parents, her ex-husband and subsequent boyfriends ran in a loop through her mind, telling her she wasn’t worth the air she was breathing.

For the first time in years, she knew that wasn’t true. Not just believed it wasn’t true but knew it in her heart.

“I’ll have a full menu along with more accurate numbers for you next week. Does that work?”

Carl nodded. “It does. If you need anything in the meantime, just call. My assistant will answer and get the message to me.”

They stood up and Olivia gave him a fierce hug before pulling away. “Thank you again, Carl.”

They said their goodbyes, and Carl grabbed his now-lukewarm coffee before departing.

Walking back over to the law offices where his car was parked, he popped in to see if Rebecca was back.

Amy waved him inside while speaking on the phone.

Sitting down, he sipped on his coffee until the cup was dry.

Amy put the phone down. “She’s in. She said if you arrived today to put you in the conference room.”

Carl sighed as he laughed at himself. He was getting predictable.

Heading into the conference room, he tossed his empty cup into the trashcan. He was just about to head back out and fetch a magazine when Rebecca entered.

They hugged, then sat down on opposite sides of the table. “To what do I owe the honor?”

He shrugged. “I just spoke with Olivia at the coffee shop and wanted to tie a few things off. She’s the one squatting in the apartment upstairs illegally, so we need to get her on a lease. Can you pull something together for that?”

Rebecca smiled. Carl thought she looked more alive than he could remember seeing her in the recent past. He would swear her cheeks had a rosy glow to them and her eyes sparkled.

She waved the problem away. “Not a problem. I assume you’ll want something that works for all the apartments, not just hers?”

“Yep. I’ll also need an investment contract. I talked Olivia into taking over the café, and while I won’t own it, I am investing in it. I don’t know the numbers yet, but when I do, I’ll let you know.”

Rebecca smiled while she wrote. “I think we have a few basic investment forms on file. I’ll pull the best and adapt it to your needs. Anything else?”

Carl thought about that for a second, his memory kicking in. “I need a list of state-approved meth lab cleaners. I heard from Gene that the Feds are almost done pulling the chemicals out. We can’t reopen the bar until the upstairs is cleaned.”

She took a quick note on a pad of paper. “I’ll put a Donnehy associate on it. Which you should know is working out great. They do the work and I present it to the client. It’s been a dream come true. Which reminds me…”

She got up and closed the conference room door. “You need to give Mack’s assistant a call. He wants to meet with you before the deal goes through. You can take Charles, but it might be better if it’s just the two of you for the meeting.”

Carl logged it in his memory. “Got it. Oh, and we haven’t received any information from Reeves and Reeves, which has both Dean and I worried. I’d like to take a few days to head down there to sort this out, but I can’t.”

Rebecca took notes while asking, “What were they supposed to deliver? I haven’t paid much attention to the gold mines beyond the mineral rights purchase, although I can tell you Randy wants to talk to you about minting some of your gold.”

Carl blinked as tried to wrap his brain around the concept. “Minting? What, like printing our own money?”

Rebecca blushed, but Carl didn’t seem to notice. She’d revealed a bit too much about their relationship from the last comment. “No, mint it into gold rounds. Not coins, which is illegal. You can talk to him about it.”

Carl jotted it down. He’d caught her blushing and had a good idea where she’d heard him mention it.

Still, it wasn’t a bad idea. If they could mint their own investment coins and bars without buying them, the profit would be substantial. Perhaps beyond substantial.

However, all that assumed that Reeves and Reeves got sorted out first.

He got back on topic. “They were supposed to deliver daily reports on the tonnage they haul away, and report on the purity every few days. If you have those two numbers, you can come close to the amount of gold being pulled out.”

Rebecca looked up at him from her notes. “Really? They haven’t provided anything?”

He nodded. “That’s what Dean said. It has me worried.”

Rebecca shook her head, pausing before responding. “How well do you know Dean? Can you trust him?”

Carl knew himself well enough to know that he tended to trust people, even those that didn’t deserve it. Still, he had a good feeling about Dean. The man was a hard worker and wouldn’t receive any money beyond his salary until Reeves and Reeves had the gold smelted down.

Except… what happened to the smelted gold?

The fact that he didn’t know scared him. “I think I need to go to Medford; the FBI be damned. Oh, and I found another cache of bills yesterday hidden in the Columbia near St. Helens. Some guy shot at me but missed. I don’t think he was trying to hit me, just scaring me away.”

Rebecca set her pen down and leaned forward. “And you’re just mentioning this now? You do realize we’re both on the hook for finding the money, and that won’t happen if you’re dead. You need to get some protective gear. I’ll talk to Randy tonight and get you some recommendations before you start searching again.”

The words spilled out of her mouth, and she didn’t realize the full extent of what she’d revealed until she finished. Covering her face with her hands, she shook her head back and forth.

He heard her words through her hands. “I think our meeting is over.”

Carl laughed, causing her to pull her hands away. “I don’t care about your personal life, Rebecca. Do whatever makes you happy, and if Randy’s that guy, then all the better. Lean into it, not away from it.”

She said in a small voice, “He bought me my own Harley.”

Carl broke into a fit of laughter as he tried to picture that. It didn’t come easily to him. “Do you like it?”

She nodded. “I do. Although I now need to get my motorcycle license.”

He reached across the table to take her hand. “Then what’s the problem?”

She sighed as she pulled her hand away. “Nothing. Everything.” She stood up and started to pace around the room. “I always expected to marry someone in business. That’s what my first marriage was, and it was a disaster. My parents expect… well, someone who isn’t Randy.”

Carl really wished Amy had brought in some cookies. He could use a few right now. “So what? Randy’s a good man, and your parents will come to like him. Or not. It’s your life, not theirs.”

She spun on him, her finger pointing at his chest. “It is, isn’t it. I think that’s what’s been holding me back. The expectation I’ve had my entire life clashes with reality, and my parents wanted me to have what they had, even if what they had wasn’t always great.”

She took a deep breath, the redness on her face fading before clarifying her statement. “My dad owned a realty company and that meant he got to hob nob with the high and mighty on a regular basis. My mom loved it, the parties and fancy dinners and the wardrobe she was able to afford. Until the night she found out that he’d been sleeping with half his staff and more than a few of the female clients whose houses he was selling.”

“Are they still together?”

She nodded. “They are, but they were separated for over ten years. She acts like it doesn’t bother her, but sometimes I see how much he wounded her.”

“And will Randy ever cheat on you?”

It was a lightbulb moment for Rebecca. She spoke with certainty, “No, he won’t. Not ever. Not because he can’t, but because that’s not who he is.” She plopped down in her chair. Her dilemma was resolved.

She had a determined grin on her face when she spoke. “Thank you, Carl. I’m going to go home tonight and tell Randy just what he means to me. And then I’m going to do indescribable things to him.”

Carl was forced to clear his throat. Standing up, he smiled. “Whatever makes you happy, Becky.”

He was halfway out the door when Rebecca shouted, “You used my nickname!”

Chapter 9

Carl parked his car in the garage and went inside. It was almost time to call Barbara.

He couldn’t decide if what she wanted was a good idea or not. The pain he’d been through because of the blue boxes had been enormous, and the recollection of his broken back made him flinch from the memory.

The real question was whether he would deny her request.

He already knew he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. He would give that woman anything and everything she wanted for the rest of their days if she only asked.

Flipping on the TV, he found nothing of interest on so turned it off. Pulling open his laptop, he signed on to the Lyon and Hudson network and gave Wendy access to his email account. He’d be lying if he said he got it right the first time, but eventually—after a number of Google searches—he managed it.

That done, he went for a walk. Portland in the spring could go a couple different ways, but today it was sunny with a soft breeze.

The slight bit of exercise helped, and instead of worrying about the drillers or Barbara, he let his mind drift. What did he want the future to look like? Did he want to continue acquiring wealth, or settle down with Barbara and enjoy life? Or maybe some of each?

He didn’t answer the question, but he felt better for having asked it as he walked home.

After a quick shower he drove over to Barbara’s. He parked out front, knocking on the door with a confident smile on his face while he felt trepidation inside.

Barbara pulled the door open. She had changed out of her scrubs and into a light summer blouse with shorts and sandals.

He kissed her chastely. “You look beautiful.”

She wasn’t as timid, bending his head down to hers and showing him how much she missed him. “You don’t look half bad yourself. Come on in.”

Carl sat down on the sofa, where a tray filled with nibbles had been set out along with a jar of sun tea.

She almost sat down next to him but paused. “Carl, I’m sorry. I was so sure that this was what I wanted, but all I’ve thought about is whether this is a wise decision. What do you think?”

Carl ate a cracker with a small slice of cured ham and a tiny dollop of mustard. It was scrumptious, which wasn’t a word he used very often.

Wiping his mouth with a napkin, he leaned back. “I can’t answer that for you. All I can tell you is that if it works, there’s no turning back. You’ll live longer, much longer if you want to. As long as there are sufficient DNA samples available, we can live a very long time. Depending on the day, I might see it as a good thing or a bad thing. I can’t see myself making the conscious decision to die, as I’d basically be committing suicide.”

He didn’t feel hungry any longer, the morbid statement hanging in the air.

Barbara nodded as she sat down. “I see. So, you’ll outlive your children, and maybe your grandchildren too.”

Carl hung his head, nodding. It was a terrible thing to have your children die before you, yet he knew that was what the future held. “As much as the thought repulses me, that’s how I see it.”

She reached for his hand, the sudden warmth pulling him from the darkness. “Tell me something positive.”

He turned to face Barbara. “It doesn’t matter, Barbara. Yes, there are positives. I have more money than I’ve ever had in my life. You could heal people with your hands if you captured the right DNA. But is either one enough to justify an extended life? I don’t know.”

She rested her hand on his bicep. “What do you mean by capturing the right DNA? You never mentioned that before.”

Carl explained in detail how he’d acquired his first skills. That only prompted more detailed questions that he couldn’t answer with any certainty. How could he find gold under the ground? The skill defied logic, but he could because he had the right combination of DNA swimming around somewhere in his body.

“I see.” She paused for a long moment, and Carl didn’t interrupt her. “All I hear is that you’re going to look the way you do now while I get older and older. Our relationship will only last another ten or twenty years. Thirty years at the outside assuming I live that long.”

She shook her head over and over, trying to deny the truth. She’d planned for her first marriage to last forever. Now she had a second chance, one that could keep her alive until she was two hundred years old. Three hundred. They could explore the world, have kids, be with each other the entire time.

She purposely refused to consider whether a marriage could last two hundred years. She would find out the answer in due course.

Leaning into him, she kissed him with all the passion she had inside of her. She kissed his jaw and up to his ear, where she whispered, “Let’s do it.”

Chapter 10

She tied off the vein above the elbow of his right arm, and he made a fist to make the vein more prominent. Despite the thoughts swirling in her head, her hands were steady.

Carl’s hands were not. His right hand was a fist while his left shook, and he clamped it between his legs like he needed to go to the bathroom.

She swabbed the area with iodopovidone, then pulled a fresh needle out along with a handful of tubes. Neither knew how many samples it would take to have the blue boxes transfer to her.

He turned his head away as the needle approached a prominent vein.

“You’ll feel a pinprick of pain and then it will be over.”

The pain came and went. He glanced back at the tubes. One had already been filled while a second one was almost full. She popped that one out and a new one in, filling all five tubes with his blood.

She handed him a cotton swab with tape. “Put this over the wound as soon as the needle comes out.”

He smiled to lighten the mood. “I’ve done this a few times, you know.”

The needle exited and he slapped the cotton on top, then smoothed over the tape to keep it in place.

“Do you want me to help with the next part?”

She shook her head. “No, I can do it myself. It’s awkward with one hand, but I can do it.”

She cinched off her arm with a piece of flexible rubber, pumping her fist before releasing and tearing open a new needle. She tapped on the vein a few times until it was pronounced, then popped a vial of his blood into the base of the needle. A small plunger in the back would push his blood into her vein.

She pushed the plunger a small amount, his blood spilling across a paper towel. She turned to face him, her face a portrait of fear, hope, and determination.

She pierced the vein after swabbing the area with the same black liquid, then depressed the plunger. When that tube was empty, she replaced it and repeated the process. She kept going until all five tubes had been emptied.

In for a penny, in for a pound. After all, she knew where to get more blood any time she wanted.

Carl put the cotton ball across the needle hole in her arm as soon as she pulled it out. Once that was done, she gathered all the materials in a portable biohazard disposal unit. The tubes went in, then the needles, and last went the needle packaging and the paper towel.

Carl had remained silent during the entire operation. He was waiting for a reaction, but when none came, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

She shook her head before shrugging. “I don’t feel any different. It’s odd, because I expected the blue boxes to take effect almost imm—”

Barbara screamed as she fell off the sofa and on to the floor. She clawed at her arm, and Carl jumped in to restrain her from possible injury. He got a grip, but she pulled free with a strength he hadn’t realized she had. She kept screaming, her head thrashing back and forth as white froth poured from her mouth.

Her eyes rolled back in her head and the house was quiet again.

Carl panicked. Should he call 911? Other than the white foam, there was nothing obviously wrong with her. He placed a finger on her throat, moving it around until he felt a heartbeat.

Tears streamed down his face as he propped her head up with a pillow and put a blanket over her to keep her warm. He sat next to her for an unknown amount of time, the sound of a car going by or dogs barking in the distance the only sounds besides her soft breathing.

He remembered the attack that had resulted in the blue boxes the first time. That animal hadn’t lived, but if it had would it still have the blue boxes, whether it understood them or not?

The boxes reacted to his thought.

DNA acquired: 145

Unallocated points acquired: 1450

Points remaining: 1

You have shared a sample of {restricted} technology with another person.

Outcome:

1. Points acquired by this person will be shared 50/50 with you the next time you touch. You may decline the points if you so wish.

2. Skills acquired by this person will be shared with you the next time you touch. You may decline these skills if you so wish.

3. One (1) skill has transferred to this person as part of the technology sharing process. The skill shared is: access DNA samples without touch within 5 feet. Note: the upgraded version of this skill cannot be shared until a later date.

4. You may at any time kill the individual you have shared the {restricted} technology with by touch and setting your intent. All unallocated points and skills will transfer to you along with a bonus should you choose this option.

5. Touch with this person will not require battle. The {restricted}’s requirement to acquire DNA from the other person has been circumvented by the technology sharing process.

It took a conscious effort to tear his attention away from Barbara to read the blue boxes. His first reaction was shock, then a feeling of relief swept through him when he saw that the skill she had been given had not been the sexual stamina enhancement. He mumbled to himself, “That would have been hard to explain.”

He dabbed Barbara’s forehead with the blanket to remove the sweat that had accumulated there as he kept reading. He frowned at the kill option, knowing that wasn’t something he could consider. The last line helped him understand why the person he had shook hands with at Wal-Mart had died. It seemed they had each been after the other’s DNA, forcing the blue boxes to battle for the winner.

With more effort than he thought was necessary, the blue boxes closed.

Leaning back against the sofa, his heart hammered in his chest for a few minutes until he calmed down. The blue box text had dispelled his worries, but he realized in hindsight that he’d never thought about the possibility of losing the blue boxes if he gave Barbara his blood. The mere thought scared him.

With sickening realization, he knew he couldn’t live without the blue boxes. He couldn’t go back to the aging man who hung out with his friends in the basement listening to conspiracy theories, marking time until death. That man would have soon died from either the cancer in his leg or the high cholesterol in his blood stream, never realizing the joy of new love.

If he’d known he would have to give up the blue boxes, he wouldn’t have given his blood to Barbara. He knew it like he knew the back of his hand.

He’d become too attached to being stronger, healthier and more handsome than his old body.

Looking down at Barbara, he knew it wouldn’t take her long to feel the same way too.

Chapter 11

Carl lifted Barbara from the floor and carefully laid her out on the bed. He made sure she had a large glass of water by her bed, and he used a wet rag to damp down her forehead. She didn’t have a fever, but she was perspiring.

It wasn’t until the wee hours of the morning that she awoke.

“Carl?”

Carl heard her through a thick fog. “Uh huh?”

Barbara leaned up in the bed. It was dark outside, and she knew they’d performed the transfusion just after 4pm the day before. It wasn’t until she looked at the clock on the wall that she realized just how long she’d been out. It was a little after 3am.

She spoke into the darkness of her bedroom. “I’ve been out for eleven hours?”

Carl wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, but hearing her voice pulled him from his dreams. He blinked his eyes to remove the bits of grit that had accumulated in the corners.

Wiping the rest away, he said, “You’re up?”

Barbara didn’t respond, attacking the glass of water as soon as she sighted it. Drops spilled on her blouse, but she didn’t care.

He ran a hand over her back. “How do you feel?”

She looked over at him, stunned by the question. “I don’t know, really. Good? The same? It’s hard to tell.”

He dropped an extra pillow behind her head so she could lean back against the headrest. “Think about your medical status. The things you have wrong with you.”

Barbara gasped. “I have a box in my eye. It’s light blue.” She turned to face him. “Can you see it?”

He was so tired that he chuckled. “No, only you can. You can’t see mine, and I can’t see yours. What does it say?”

“Um…” She squinted her right eye as she read the text. “I have early-stage breast cancer. And I’m about to go through menopause.”

She paused for a couple of seconds before tears began to form. Barbara cried and tears dripped down her face, knowing she would never have children of her own. She’d known it for a long time now, but having it portrayed as hard fact made it real.

“What else?” He didn’t want to tell her that she could fix her ailments, possibly including menopause, until she had listed them all out.

“I have mild astigmatism in my left eye.” She turned to him. “That’s why that eye feels funny. I didn’t want to go into the optometrist’s office for no reason, but now I feel silly for not going.”

She shook her head in regret. “My cholesterol is over 280, and…” She paused, her face turning red in the streetlight-lit room.

“What?”

“My orgasms and sexual arousal are reduced by 37% due to high levels of cholesterol.”

This time Carl laughed in earnest. “I had the exact same thing. Well, no, but… well, you know what I mean. It’s an easy fix.”

She gave him a funny look, but that morphed into understanding as she recalled the discussion she’d had with him when he’d had a heart attack. Well, that wasn’t so much a discussion as a yelling match, but still. “I can, can’t I?”

Carl hopped off the bed to refill her glass of water in the bathroom sink. “You can. Is there anything else?”

“Oh. Yes, I have mild hypothyroidism which affects my energy levels along with my hair and my fingernails.” She took the glass of water from him in disbelief.

She looked over at him. “How does it know all this? Even the best tests we have in the hospital might not catch hypothyroidism, and I’ve never heard of any doctor talking about sexual… you know. Never.”

He rubbed her back, his hands making small circles to ease the tension in her shoulders. “Does it say how many unallocated points you have?”

She leaned back into his hand, the massage taking her mind off the information pouring into her head. “Just a sec. It says the potential problems I have if I don’t do anything in the next year includes metastasized cancer in both breasts and one lung, Hashimoto’s disease in both thyroids, reduced pituitary and adrenal function, hair loss, brittle fingernails, and partial blindness in one eye.”

Carl stopped massaging her back. “You need to find the unallocated points you have. We can fix this. Maybe not all of it, but most of it.”

Barbara heard the urgency in his voice. She searched for the points he had mentioned but couldn’t find it.

“I’m not seeing it anywhere. What do I do?”

It took a moment for Carl to think back to the first time he’d seen the blue boxes. The memory was clear, and he realized with a start that he hadn’t seen any points in his first messages either. That was, not until he tried to fix something.

“You need to try and fix something. Pick anything on the list and try to fix it.”

Barbara could admit she was scared. She didn’t think she ate poorly, despite the vending machine meals at the hospital. If she was lucky someone might have time to go out and bring take-out back, but that was rare. Astigmatism could be fixed, but breast cancer?

She’d seen enough cases come through the hospital to know there were no guarantees. Many women lost one or more breasts in hopes that they had excised the disease along with their womanly globes, but even that didn’t work in some cases. Radiation was a stopgap answer that only sometimes worked, despite what the doctors told their patients.

She focused on the cancer first. Please heal the cancer. Please, I can’t lose part of what makes me a woman.

To her surprise, a blue box popped up.

“The blue box says it can cure the cancer for one hundred and twenty-five unallocated points. I have fifteen hundred points in total.”

“Really? I only had nine hundred and seventy-five points the first time. You have fifteen hundred, you’re sure?”

She could only nod. She knew she’d asked for this, but she felt strung out from the stress of knowing death was less than five years away if she did nothing.

Probably less, she corrected herself. Maybe two or three years at most.

Without asking, she accepted the cost. The points cost her nothing, and she wanted to live. She didn’t think about Carl except in a small, tangential sort of way. No, this was primal and raw. She wanted to live, and she wanted to keep her breasts whole and intact. Maybe it was petty, but her husband had loved them, and Carl gave them a lot of attention as well.

Pain flashed through her chest. She let out a strangled scream, then fell into unconsciousness.

Chapter 12

Carl had been just about to warn her when she screamed and passed out. Knowing there was nothing he could do besides making sure she was in a comfortable position, he laid a blanket over her and went out in the kitchen to get breakfast despite the early hour.

He fried up three eggs and some bacon in a cast iron skillet, then added a few slices of cheese over the eggs before putting the lid on.

Three minutes later he plated the dish, then went into the living room and turned the TV on. There were no movies to be had, not even modern ones, so he watched the news.

He half-watched the news as he ate, not really paying attention until a female newscaster reported the business news for the day.

“…Dow Jones average is down 111.4 points. In local news, Vancouver Life Insurance has called an emergency board meeting. In a press release, the company stated that the previously announced layoffs were insufficient to return the company to profitability. Let’s go to News 11 reporter Anne Boucher in Vancouver.” By the way the sun was out, he knew this was a repeat of last night’s news.

A brunette who couldn’t be older than twenty-two had a camera in her face on the Columbia River waterfront. “Thanks, Brenda. Although the press release was thin on details, I’ve spoken with a source inside the company who mentions that Vancouver Life may be preparing a bankruptcy filing within the week. What this means for the remaining four thousand employees is unknown, and we don’t yet know what type of filing will be made. Regardless, any action will affect the Vancouver economy dramatically, and with a school bond up for the vote in less than six months, Vancouver residents might be in a recession sooner rather than later should the company go bankrupt. The community is worried, and the company isn’t answering questions. Back to you, Brenda.”

The news carried on, but Carl tuned it out. If he’d had his laptop, he would have emailed Charles right away. Then he realized that without liquid cash on hand it was pointless. He needed to sort out the gold mines within the week, or the rest of his plans would have to wait.

He could feel it in his gut that now was the time to buy Vancouver Life. Before the bankruptcy filing, not after.

Carl heard a moan from the bedroom as he continued to think about the future. Turning off the TV, he moved to Barbara’s side.

“How are you feeling?”

She ran a hand along her forehead. “Hungry with a bit of a headache.” She turned to face him, wincing from the movement. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

He took her hand in his. “You didn’t give me time, or I would have. Almost every upgrade will be like this. Not all are painful, but I’ve passed out with every upgrade except for one or two times.”

She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “Shoot. I’ve got to get ready for work.” She squeezed his hand. “Talk to me while I get dressed.”

He nodded. “How does a cup of coffee sound?”

She sighed, kissing him before standing up. “Divine. One teaspoon of sugar and enough milk to make it creamy.”

Carl brought the coffee in while explaining how she would receive new upgrades. She would need to think about what she wanted, and the blue boxes would respond.

“The boxes can read my mind?”

He shrugged, sipping a second cup of coffee. “I don’t think so. It’s more about intent. Once I know I want something, that’s when they respond. And you’ll need two kinds of DNA. One is from people to get more points, and the other is from animals for the upgrades you want to have. I’ve acquired wasp, dog, beagle, and some other types along the way. It only takes a quick touch; you don’t have to hurt or kill them.”

“I suppose that’s good news. I don’t want to go around Portland murdering wild and domestic animals.”

Barbara was showered and dressed in under twenty minutes. They paused by the door as she leaned in and kissed him passionately. Pulling back, she said, “Thank you. I don’t know what I’ll end up doing with this, but I promise I won’t heal anything else until tonight.” She kissed him on the nose. “Will you be around to help me?”

Carl groaned. He knew what kind of help she desired. “As much as I would like to, I need to drive to Medford this morning. I’ll be back tomorrow night for a meeting on Thursday morning.” He wrapped his arms around her, not willing to let her go yet. “I’ll call tonight. Promise.”

Barbara checked her watch, then began extricating herself from Carl’s embrace. “I really need to go, Carl.”

He knew they would have decades together, maybe even centuries, but right now he wanted to spend a leisurely morning eating breakfast and enjoying each other’s company. “Have a good day at work, Barb.”

It wasn’t to be this morning.

She pulled out her keys to lock up, and he moved outside closer to her car. They had one last kiss before they each departed in different directions.

Chapter 13

Carl drove home first to pack, and from there to the diner for a real breakfast. The diner was hopping, so he squeezed in at the end of the counter. It was the worst seat in the house, with his left arm hanging out in the middle of nowhere because the seat was placed too close to the end of the counter.

He ordered along with the guy next to him, watching people eat while keeping the other eye on his watch. Business waited for no one, and he knew he still fell into that group. No, he didn’t have a 9-5 job any longer, but he had responsibilities and things that needed doing regardless of whether it was the work week or the weekend.

Chloe slid a plate in front of him, not recognizing who she was serving as she raced away to run the cash register and clean tables.

He ate in silence, shoveling food in at a regular metronomic cadence, then washing every third or fourth bite down with coffee. It was only on his refill that she saw him.

She looked at him, confusion on her face. “Carl, when did you come in?” She moved to the other side to refill the coffee cup of the guy next to him.

“A half hour ago. You were busy and I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

She waved a hand at his silliness. “I always have time for you, Carl.” She caught a man waving his hand in the air like he was back in middle school.

Topping up his just-refilled coffee, she kissed him on the cheek before saying, “Gotta go. We’ll talk next time.”

Then she was off.

Carl left a nice tip as always, then got back in his car and set the radio to the oldies channel. The drive to Medford was as monotonous as always, a straight shot down I5 through the western half of Oregon. Pastures and towns passed him by, the traffic light once he cleared the Portland metro area.

He pulled into the motel, then reconsidered and pulled out. If the money hungry woman had found him last time, she was sure to find him again this time. Maybe he could bunk with Ted or Dean once he had a chance to talk to them.

Pulling out his flip phone, he called Dean.

“Carl, where the hell have you been?”

Carl chuckled despite himself. “I just got down here. I’m worried about Reeves and Reeves, just like you are. Where are you at and I’ll head over.”

Dean cursed under his breath, loud enough for an older woman walking by to give him an offended look. “I’m just finished up with lunch at the diner. Why don’t you meet me at the drilling office, and we’ll talk there? You’ve managed to stir up a giant pile of shit since you left.”

The call clicked off, and Carl sat and stared at it a moment before starting the car. He drove out to the drilling off from memory, something he couldn’t claim he’d been able to do since his teenage years.

He parked next to Dean’s truck and headed into the offices. A half dozen large dump trucks lined the road heading to the ore separator, and he could hear machinery working behind the office.

Dean greeted him in the lobby. The receptionist recognized him and scrambled away from her desk.

It didn’t give Carl a feeling of welcome.

Dean held out his hand. “I’m glad you made the trip, Carl. The first three mines are still producing, but we’ve had some problems along the way.”

Carl shook, feeling the calluses on the other man’s hand. “How? I’ve only been gone two weeks. Less than that, actually.”

Billy opened the door to the back, sipping on a cup of coffee. The man had dark circles under his eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept the entire time Carl had been away.

“Hi, guys. I know why you’re here, and I can explain some of what’s happened. Why don’t you two follow me in the back. Terri, bring in a pot of coffee for us when you have a fresh one.”

The three men walked into the small room, taking seats around the table. Carl was about to speak his mind when Dean shook his head.

Closing the door behind him, Billy sat opposite Carl and Dean. He shook his head, hating what he was about to say next. “My brother Chuck ran off with a hundred and fifty thousand dollars’ worth of your gold, Carl. The insurance company will pay it out, which will raise our rates sky high, damn my brother all to hell. We’ve been scrambling to clean up the mess, which is why the reports have been late.”

Billy rubbed at his eyes, then poured three creamers and the same number of sugars into his coffee before stirring. “The best we can figure is that he drove a few of the trucks after hours to the smelter, claiming they were from a different job. The mines have been producing so much gold that keeping track of trucks wasn’t a priority, although that’s been changed since then. Four days ago, he left Medford, leaving a message on my phone when he knew I was out working.”

Carl leaned back in his chair. “Have you called the police?”

Billy nodded, not meeting Carl’s eyes. “I did as soon as I heard his message. They’ve been out to investigate me and the company, which Dean can attest to.”

Dean nodded. “Gene hired a private security company and has them monitoring all the trucks and the smelter. They get in the way sometimes, but I don’t blame you for doing it.”

It was Carl’s turn to rub at his eyes. “I had no idea, but I’m glad Gene took the initiative.” He shook his head, his thoughts churning about what he could do about this. He hated the feeling of knowing someone had stolen what was his, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

Dean and Billy watched Carl’s reaction. Billy’s fear was that the company would be fired and sued and finding themselves between a rock and a hard place would go under like so many other mining companies had before.

Carl’s thoughts came into order. He knew what Rebecca would say, so he said the same thing. “I want an audited account of tonnage deliveries every day going back to when you first started drilling. From a national firm, not a local one. I’ll pay for it. I want the reports you promised to start from today, no excuses. You get us the tonnage delivered and purity reports or I’ll find another mining company.”

Then he knew what Rebecca would say next. He leaned forward, meeting Billy’s tired eyes. “You know where your brother is, don’t you? Or you have a good idea. He didn’t leave the state. No, he’s around here somewhere.”

Billy choked on his coffee as it went down the wrong tube. He coughed and sputtered until a sip of water cleared it. He was about to speak when Dean cut him off.

He’d been silent the entire meeting, but Carl’s accusation made sense. They were a family company and were sure to have property nearby where Chuck could lay low with the gold until the police gave up the search. Something off the books or under another person’s name.

It also raised another issue. He turned to look Billy dead on. “Did the two of you plan this together?”

Billy wished he could teleport out of this room like he had seen on Star Trek as a kid growing up. “We didn’t, I promise. It was all Chuck; the entire plan was his.”

Carl could see where Dean was going. “But you were aware of what he was planning. One big score, although in hindsight a stupid idea.” It all came together in his mind. “You would have made far more money mining every one of my plats. But you didn’t, you stole from me. You didn’t believe one person could be so lucky, so it was better to get out while the mine was producing.”

Dean felt sick. “How many other miners have you done this to? The ones who were so gold blind they weren’t paying attention to what you were doing behind their backs?”

Carl nodded along with Dean. It made a hell of a lot of sense.

Billy crumbled in on himself like an imploding star. Tears streamed down his face as he groveled. “It was Dad’s idea. The company wasn’t doing well back then, and some low life got lucky. He took half their gold.” He shook his head at the memory. “They had no idea because Dad falsified the reports. He shouldn’t have bothered. They were so happy to have struck gold that they couldn’t think about anything else. Gramps had a good idea of what he’d done but couldn’t prove it before he passed.”

He sobbed. “I begged Chuck not to do it, but he said you wouldn’t notice with so much gold coming out. I was supposed to falsify the reports, but I couldn’t. I’m not made out to be a thief.”

Billy leaned over and banged his head on the table. “Chuck is at the family cabin near the Rogue. I’ll get you the address.”

Carl turned to Dean. He couldn’t believe he’d trusted these guys. “Call the police and tell them to get out here. Then head out to the mines to shut the crews down. Tell them they’re still on the payroll so they don’t run off to a new job. I’ll stay to make sure they don’t shred anything. I expect it will be a long afternoon, but let’s meet at the diner for dinner. Bring Gene if he’s available. We need to find a new driller.”

Dean patted him on the back, the look in his eyes reflecting shock and disbelief. What a shit show. “I’ll see you later, boss.”

* * *

Billy was taken away in handcuffs after confessing to his part in the theft, and Chuck was brought in a few hours later. The gold was discovered in a Visqueen-lined pit dug behind the old outhouse on some land they’d inherited from their father, loose dirt covering the hole and the backhoe engine still warm.

Carl stayed behind to ensure the company records weren’t tampered with, and he expected Reeves and Reeves’ insurance company to pay out quite a number of claims once the truth came to light.

He briefly wondered if Vancouver Life would be the one paying the claims, both his and any others? He had no idea if they provided insurance cover for something like this or not.

There was no time to think about that. With the mining delayed, he wouldn’t have the cash to purchase a majority share in VLI. If Chuck had stolen one hundred and fifty thousand dollars’ worth of gold—which he only had Billy’s word to go on—then there wouldn’t be enough gold to make it work.

He pulled into the dinner at eight-thirty, too late to make the movie at the theater. He didn’t mind because he wasn’t sure which movies were showing, but it would have been a nice change of pace from the chaos and stress he was currently wading through.

Dean and Gene waved him over from a booth. Gene scooted over to make room on his side.

Carl plopped himself down, the smell of food causing his mouth to salivate. The waitress recognized him—heck, the whole town recognized him these days—and she was quick with a cup of coffee and a menu.

“What’re you having? The special tonight is bacon-wrapped shrimp and risotto.”

Carl nodded. “I’ll take that. Plus, a piece of pie afterwards.”

Dean popped the last bacon-wrapped shrimp in his mouth. These things were like meat candy.

He talked with his mouth full. “How’d it go today over at Reeves and Reeves?”

Carl sighed, weary after providing multiple statements to local and state police. “As well as you would expect. They caught Chuck, but I haven’t seen the gold. The police packed up all the records, which is what I was worried about.”

Gene had heard the story when Dean showed up at the mines to shut the operation down. “What are you going to do with all the trucks full of ore?”

He shrugged, looking at Dean. “Have it smelted down I suppose. Do we have an accounting from them? I didn’t think to ask whether they might be involved in this.”

Dean shook his head. “Not a chance. Ironco Smelting is a national company based out of Ohio, and they play it straight or they’d be out of business just as fast as Reeves is now.”

Carl felt a tiny bit of relief. “So, the big question is, who do we use to mine?”

Dean smiled, and Carl felt a little more relief. He didn’t get headaches any longer, but he felt stress like everyone else did. That tension in his back and neck that told him not all was right with the world.

“The way I see it there are two options. Option one is we find another company, probably out of California or Idaho and have them move their gear here. It will be complicated because ore separation will be more difficult and harder to keep track of, but it’s not impossible.”

Gene spoke up. He always felt like the third wheel in these conversations, and it didn’t matter whether there were an odd or even number of people talking. “And the second option?”

Dean grinned as he leaned forward, a conspiratorial look in his eyes. “We do it ourselves. Reeves is going under, no doubt of that. Which means their equipment will be going up for auction sooner or later, and if we act fast, we might even buy it from them first before the lawyers get involved. The crews and foremen still want to work, and if we purchase the trucks, drilling equipment and the ore separator, we can do it all ourselves.”

He caught the dumbfounded looks from across the table. Dean wasn’t willing to give up on this idea until Carl told him to let it go. “Maybe it would help if you thought about it this way. What did Chuck and Billy do when it came to mining? I never saw them out at the sites, and other than the paperwork I don’t think they did anything at the office.”

Gene and Carl looked at each other. It wasn’t a half bad idea.

Dean leaned back in his seat, taking a sip of still warm coffee as his boots tapped on the ground. It had started in middle school, and he still did it today when he got excited about something. “You give me a good accountant and a finance guy, and I can work with the crew. Gene can handle security at both the mining sites and the company site, and that means we’re secured at all but the smelter.” He raised an eyebrow.

A plate was set before Carl, and his thoughts screeched to a halt. He bit into the succulent shrimp, the taste of pork mingling with the seafood. He pointed with his fork. “You two keep talking. I’ll listen for a while.”

Dean wished he could order a beer, but the diner didn’t serve alcohol. Beer helped him get his thoughts in order, something he was in need of right now. “If we do this ourselves, we can’t wait for the Reeves equipment to come up for auction. I recommend we rent the equipment we need from one of the national mining companies and have them come out and set it up. I’ll talk to the crew tomorrow. They’re sure to be rattled from the news.”

Gene slid his fork in a skyscraper-sized slice of banana cream pie that the waitress had just set before him. He swallowed before speaking. “Once you’ve got the location set up, I’ll ensure security is put into place. The same thing as we have around the mines, except the power will be turned up higher and I’ll set up checkpoints for trucks entering and leaving. It bothered me Reeves wasn’t doing that, although now it makes sense why.”

The two men talked further of how the operation might work without Reeves and Reeves. Carl thought it sounded reasonable, but did he want to invest assets into equipment that he had no interest in using for the long term. Then again, if he used and expanded his skills there was a lot more gold and silver in the ground to be mined in the future. Maybe this wasn’t a one-time thing, but an ongoing operation.

Setting his fork down, more than half of the bacon-wrapped shrimps demolished, he asked that question.

Dean scratched at his chin. “I see what you mean. And it’s your money, so I get it. But let me remind you that you were paying them seven, six and five percent respectively of everything that came out of the first three mines. The fact that they stole doesn’t matter here. I’d have to run the numbers to be sure, but even if you doubled the miners’ salaries you would come out ahead doing it yourself.”

The waitress came around to refill everyone’s coffee. Carl took a sip, still hungry but sated enough to take a break and talk this through.

He turned to Dean. “Run the numbers tomorrow. Find out what it would cost to rent or buy equipment to pull gold and silver out and have it smelted. Gene, you run the numbers on setting up security for a piece of land roughly the size of Reeves & Reeves’ place.” Something else tickled his mind until he remembered it. “Oh, and what happened to all the refined gold from the smelter? Do they have it or is it somewhere else.”

Dean grinned. “Ironco have it in their underground vault. You have to sign it out before they’ll release it, which is why Chuck had to pretend the gold he took was from a different mine. They shouldn’t have fallen for it without documentation, and I’m sure they’ll be beefing security up on their end to ensure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Let’s check on that just to be sure. I’d rather not assume people are going to do the right thing just because that’s how we approach things.”

Dean took a note on his phone. It was a fair request.

Carl nibbled at his risotto. To be honest, it wasn’t his favorite dish. He much preferred the bacon-wrapped shrimp that had been set on top. “Good. Gene, can you look into setting up a mint for the gold based on what Randy thinks will sell the best. We won’t have the cachet of a Krugerrand, but I’d like to explore all the options. If we can sell it for retail prices instead of bulk commercial, then all the better.”

Gene took notes on a napkin, then stuffed it in his pocket. They talked a bit longer, but everyone was tired, and Carl didn’t yet have a place to lay his head.

He turned to Gene. “Where are you staying tonight?”

“Me? At the motel you told me about. Why, you want to crash with me?”

Carl paused without confirming. “You have two singles or a queen?”

Gene grinned as his fork slid under the last bite of pie. “Two singles. You’re welcome to stay. Maybe we can get a few beers on the way back and watch some TV? I’ve been bored every night I’ve been down here, so some company would be appreciated.”

Carl gave his friend an honest smile. “Thanks. I’ll take you up on that offer. Also, you both should know that a woman hit on me at 6am by the motel when the news came out about buying the Rustler’s Brand.”

Dean laughed. “Was she hot?”

Carl sighed, shaking his head at the memory. “She was, but that’s not the point. She was half my age, if that, and the only reason she was there was for my money.”

Dean shrugged like it was no big deal, while Gene looked a bit envious. The group wrapped things up and Carl paid the bill, getting a piece of banoffee pie to go.

They stayed up a few hours watching A Shot in the Dark until Carl passed out from the combination of a single beer and a stressful day. Between transferring Barbara the blue boxes last night and the four-hour drive down to sort out a mess of epic proportions, he was beat.

Chapter 14

The group met at the diner for breakfast, even if they hadn’t planned for it. Carl had gone for a run after waking up before 5am and was thankful that there weren’t any women trying to hit on him when he got back.

Carl shoveled in a bite of Greek omelet and hash browns, washing it down with coffee. “You two are on your own today. I need to talk to Ted about the bar so we can get it cleaned up and running again.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “I forgot about that. Did they really have a meth lab upstairs?”

Carl kept his voice down so the neighboring booths wouldn’t overhear. “No, just the chemicals. Those are gone now, but the entire bar needs to be cleaned by a state-approved company. I have no idea how long cleaning it up is going to take, but I’m sure it will be expensive.”

As far as he knew that meth case hadn’t yet gone to court as the original case against Mrs. Byrne was still ongoing. The former bar manager would be charged separately, adding years to what Carl imagined would be a long sentence.

Dean was disgusted. “What the hell was he hoping to do? Sell drugs out of the bar on the side?”

Carl laughed, even though it wasn’t very funny. “Yeah, he probably was. And it wouldn’t have been a half bad cover.” That comment got Carl thinking. “Do you think he sold drugs before that, but decided to pull in more money by making them himself?”

Neither Gene nor Dean had an answer. Carl couldn’t get inside the bar yet, but he’d bring it up with Ted when he saw him.

The group dispersed, with Carl again covering the bill. He didn’t mind, and with Wendy on board up in Portland now, he knew the bills would get paid on time now. He’d had an uncomfortable call with the credit card company a few months ago when he forgot to pay the minimum amount in the prescribed timeframe.

He called Ted from his car.

“This is Ted.”

“Ted, it’s Carl. I’m in Medford until 2pm and then I need to head back. You have time to meet?”

Ted snorted. “I’m not doing much else with the bar shut down. Yeah, come on over and we’ll talk.” Ted passed him his address, and after punching it into his car’s GPS it looked like he would be there in fifteen minutes or so.

“See you soon.” Closing his flip phone, he followed the highlighted roads. Heading west out of Medford, he passed more ranches until he came to low hills sparsely populated with pine trees and the odd Douglas fir. The two-lane road wound around the hill, and a few miles later he pulled into a dirt driveway with a ranch house set on the top of a hillock.

Ted walked out to greet him. “I’ve got the coffee on if you’re interested.”

The two men shook. Carl took in the area, which were stunningly beautiful. “Lead the way.”

Entering Ted’s home, the entire house was made of wood. There wasn’t a single sheet of drywall to be seen. “You’ve got a beautiful place here, Ted.”

Ted shrugged. “Inherited it from my grandma after she passed. It was in bad shape, and I spent the next ten years working on it in my spare time and bringing it back to what it once was.” He pointed out the living room windows, a wide expanse of ranch land falling away with Medford in the hazy distance. “I never get tired of that view.”

Handing a cup of coffee to him, Carl stood transfixed by the view. It reminded him of the frontier, of hand-hewn log homes built by hardy pioneers with their own two hands. There was something romantic about it that couldn’t be replicated in the city.

Carl nodded. “I see why you like it so much.”

The two men sat down on the patio, the day just warming up. The crisp air was refreshing. “Why don’t you bring me up to date on where we’re at with the bar?”

Ted leaned back in his chair, the steam of his coffee curling up into the air. “It’s a real mess. The state got all the chemicals out of there, so next you’ll need to write a large check to get a company in there to clean anything left over. After that’s done, you’ll need to write another large check to renovate the bar and build out the upstairs if you still want to live there when you’re down here. Best I can figure it, we’re looking at two months from today assuming everything goes to plan. Probably longer.”

Carl kept his eyes on the view. “I’m assuming the state-approved companies will pretty much all be the same, so go ahead and pick one. Same for a contractor. The only requirement I have for the upstairs is to have two bathrooms just in case I have company.” He felt his face redden, but Ted didn’t seem to notice.

“I can do that.” He almost said something, a small sound slipping out, but held back at the last moment.

Carl’s eyes wandered as he took in the view again. “Ask what you were going to ask.”

Ted nodded. “I heard about the gold mines. Hell, everyone from Salem to Ashland has heard about them. I’m wondering if the problem with Reeves and Reeves will hold anything up for me?”

Carl shook his head, downing the last of his cup. “It’s not what I expected, but no, it won’t hold anything up with the bar. I had a few other projects I planned to get started on with money from the gold, but those will have to wait until Dean gets things sorted out.”

Ted ran a hand down his beard. “You mind sharing? Not that I’m prying, but we don’t know each other very well. The bar auction was sudden and surprised a lot of people, including me, and the meth lab upstairs added to that. I’d like to get a sense of the kind of businessman you are, that’s all.”

Carl thought it was a reasonable request. “Sure, I don’t mind sharing if you can keep it between the two of us.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. When I’m not at the bar, which is rarely these days, I’m out here puttering around.”

Carl took a sip of coffee to wet his whistle. “Bear in mind that what I’m about to share are just ideas. Doing them will be a lot harder.”

Ted sipped on his coffee, saying nothing.

Carl took that as his cue. “To begin, I was looking at buying Vancouver Life Insurance with the profits from the mines. The company is in financial trouble and is going into bankruptcy. It’s a good time to attempt a buyout, but… well, it will have to wait. The other was a credit union in eastern Oregon that’s failing. It too will have to wait.”

Ted swatted a fly away. “You think bigger than most men, I’ll say that. Thank you for sharing. And before you ask, I haven’t found any bars worth buying. It’s a thin line between the bars doing well who aren’t worth buying because you’d have to overpay, and the bars on the edge of failing that no one should invest in. Finding that sweet spot will be difficult.”

Ted’s comment got Carl thinking. He’d never gone looking for bars, finding the Rustler’s Brand by accident. But what if he did, using Ted to manage them all and get them whipped back into shape? It was the same model as buying Donnehy & Associates and having Rebecca run it, just on a smaller scale. Although in his mind’s eye he could see it becoming much larger.

Which reminded him that he owed Mack Donnehy a call to set up a meeting this Friday.

“If I find a bar that’s worth buying, would you be willing to take a look at it? Give me some honest feedback on whether it’s a worthwhile investment?”

Ted should have seen the question coming, but he still had trouble thinking that far ahead. Instead of answering right away, making promises he might not be able to keep, he thought on it for a few minutes. The two sat in companionable silence, enjoying the view as the sun warmed up the land until he answered.

He turned his chair to face Carl. “I think the best answer is, maybe. You find something in Salem or Eugene, I think that’d be fine. Bend might work, but I wouldn’t visit them as often.” He shook his head, the wind ruffling the white tufts of hair left on his head. “I won’t drive up to Portland. I never took to the place, and I don’t plan to start now.”

Carl shouldn’t have been surprised. Ted loved the country, just like his own father had. He’d visit Des Moines when forced to but scampered back to the country as soon as possible afterward.

Standing up, he shook Ted’s hand. “I appreciate the honesty. I’m not promising anything will happen, but it’s better to get it sorted out now than later. Let me know when you need those big checks and I’ll get them to you.”

Ted walked him out to his car. “Thanks for stopping by Carl. I know you’ve got a mess on your hands with the mines, and now that we’ve worked things out, I’ll stay out of your hair. When we get close to reopening, I’ll give you a call.”

A gust of wind kicked up, which Carl took as a good omen. “Deal.”

Carl thought about heading back to help Dean and Gene with the mines, but there was little he could add. As soon as he was in Medford, he pulled over to the side of the road and called Donnehy & Associates.

“Mack Donnehy’s office. This is Julie.”

“Hi, Julie. This is Carl Thompson. I understand Mack would like to meet with me, and I’d like that as well. Does Friday work?”

Julie bit her lip. She didn’t want to overhear Mack talking, but that man’s voice was so loud sometimes that she couldn’t help it.

Which meant she knew exactly who the man on the other end of the line was. He was the man who was going to put them all out of work.

“Let me have a look at his calendar, Mr. Thompson.” She didn’t have to look long, as Mack kept most of his schedule open for golfing, meeting with clients, or leaving early. It hadn’t always been like this, but in the last seven or eight months something had changed.

“How would 10am on Friday morning work?”

“That would be fine, Julie. Will we be meeting in his office?”

“Yes, that’s fine. Do you have any dietary restrictions?”

Carl didn’t understand why the question was relevant but answered anyway. “None at all. Tell him I’ll see him on Friday.”

Hanging up, Carl drove up I5 until he came to Roseburg, then pulled off the freeway and turned his failing business sense on, just for fun and to break up the long drive back to Portland. He had the time, so he might as well see if there were any failing bars available in the area.

He stuck to the downtown area, driving up and down a few streets and picking up the scent for a failing accountancy, a failing hardware store and the ubiquitous failing laundromat, but nothing else.

Getting back on the freeway, he continued north until Eugene. It took the best part of an hour to cover the downtown area of the college town, and while he picked up a few faint scents, mostly restaurants, he didn’t consider them worth pursuing and didn’t bother to write them down.

His next stop was Albany and then Corvallis a while later. This was another college town, but despite the plethora of bars, taverns, watering holes and the like, nothing stood out. One stank badly further away from the school, with paint peeling off the siding and the roof patched too many times to count.

He didn’t write it down. The place to his eye was a lost cause.

His last stop was Salem, the state capital, and he pulled over at the first exit to poke around. The downtown core was filled with state administration buildings, and while he smelled a number of failing businesses, he only caught the scent of one bar. It was a cocktail bar at the end of a dreary street that had seen better days. The street was busy with car traffic, but it smelled like the bar was just hanging on to life.

Seeing the closed sign, he noted its location before getting back on I5 and driving back to Portland. He couldn’t say that the results were worth the time spent, but it was something different during the monotonous road trip home. He was sure there was value in breaking the journey up into more digestible pieces.

Instead of heading to the diner, he went home, parking his car in the garage. He made himself a ham and cheese sandwich grilled on the stove until the bread was a toasty brown color.

Pulling open his laptop, he was surprised to see only one message waiting for him. Even the junk mail was nowhere to be seen, and the message waiting to be read was from Wendy.

Mr. Thompson-

Below is the summary of messages and reminders you have for the past two days. I would have sent one yesterday, but I didn’t have time to check in with everyone until today.

Dean says that he has a ‘line’ on the mining equipment you two talked about. He’ll call you when he has more details. He’s expecting the cost to be around $150,000 to $250,000 to rent the equipment for three months, and by that time you should be able to buy either the Reeves and Reeves equipment or find it somewhere else.

Randy says “Hi”. Business is booming and while he doesn’t think he’ll need a cash infusion for five or six months, he wanted you to be prepared for it just in case. He’s also very excited about the idea of minting the gold coming out of the mines and might know a guy who knows how to mint gold rounds. Give him a call or stop by when you can.

Charles wants to remind you of the meeting tomorrow morning at the law offices at 9am. He also has a personal matter to discuss with you tomorrow before or after the meeting.

Rebecca has a draft of lease documentation for Olivia (?? No last name mentioned) ready for you to review. The investment agreement will take a few days since she has a Donnehy associate working on it.

Evan wanted to know when you would like to head up to Seattle. He doesn’t know if he can go with you since Fastcycle is growing and he’s bringing on new riders, but he’ll try.

No messages from Sue. She said business is good and she has fresh donuts on hand whenever you feel like stopping by.

Kelly from a leasing company in Vancouver, WA called you asking about the purchase or lease of a few buildings over there. I didn’t know anything about it, but they emphasized that the price is flexible.

Ted asked for a corporate credit card so he could hire the cleaners (?) and the contractors. I should have one ready for him on Friday and I’ll overnight it down to his home address. BTW, I paid the bill today and it was substantial. Just so you know.

Agent Larson called Rebecca after he couldn’t get in touch with you. She called me and asked me to tell you to call him back ASAP.

Reminder: You have a meeting with Mack Donnehy at 10am at his office Friday. Rebecca wants to talk to you about the price before you finalize anything with him.

If you don’t like the format of the email, let me know. If you could forward your cell phone to my phone when it’s turned off or you don’t want to answer, that would be great. See you tomorrow.

Wendy

Overall, he was impressed. She had saved him multiple hours checking in on everyone and wrapped it all up in a tidy package. Carl picked up the receiver and called the local FBI agent.

“Agent Larson here.”

“Agent, this is Carl. My assistant mentioned that you wanted to talk?”

“Yes, Mr. Thompson. I would appreciate it if you kept your cell phone on at all times in the future.”

Carl ran a weary hand through his head. He didn’t want to argue, but he didn’t like having new requirements added to the contract he had signed with the agency.

“I’ll follow the contract I signed with Mr. Scully. No more and no less. Now, why did you call?”

From the silence on the other end, he could feel the frustration from Agent Larson through the phone line.

“I was told to confirm the details of what you found near the town of St. Helens with you. The divers pulled up eighteen million dollars exactly.”

That was a very interesting tidbit of news and added another nine million to his coffers. Assuming he could find the rest. Which reminded him of something. “I still haven’t received payment for the earlier finds. I trust you’ll resolve this quickly so as not to be in breach of the contract?”

Mr. Larson’s response was firm and immediate. “Payment of stolen Federal Reserve funds relates to the contract you have with the Fed, not with the FBI. You’ll need to take it up with them.”

“So, these were part of the stolen Fed shipment?” He needed confirmation to know whether he could count on his half of the money or not.

“That’s correct.”

Carl smiled. “And what about the two other caches of money I directed Mr. Scully to? What happened to them?”

“I—I’m not at liberty to discuss either find at this time.”

At this moment, Carl wanted nothing more than to make another sandwich and sit down in his recliner to watch TV. It wasn’t to be.

“Fine. I’ll call Mr. Scully in the morning. Goodbye.”

Carl was sure he heard words unbecoming of a Federal agent on the other end of the line. “Please don’t hang up. One find did relate to the stolen Fed money, in the amount of ten million dollars. It was deep within the sewer system and took hours to find. The other find was not related to the Fed money and isn’t something I can discuss. It is part of an active case, and any rewards will be paid once the case is resolved.”

Carl rubbed at his eyes. Long drives still got to him, despite the help of the blue boxes. “Thank you, Agent Larson. I appreciate you being so forthright. Is there anything else, or can I get back to my dinner?”

Agent Larson almost asked about the number of hours he’d worked searching for the stolen Fed money but held back. As long as Mr. Thompson cooperated with him, he would do his best to meet the man halfway.

“Enjoy your meal, Mr. Thompson. I would appreciate if you could give me a ring on Friday or Monday, just to update me on your progress.”

“I can do that, Agent Larson. Good night.”

Chapter 15

The next morning Carl went for a long run, stretching out his muscles in the pre-dawn light. A few runners passing him by waved at him, which he reciprocated, while others ignored him.

Showering up before heading into the diner, he ordered two eggs over easy with bacon and a short stack of pancakes. He’d loved pancakes as a kid, but as he got older, he tended to stick to his old standbys. Today he felt like switching it up a little.

Chloe was incredulous. “Really? Pancakes?” She gave him a look he couldn’t decipher before nodding. “Fine. You want blueberry pancakes or plain?”

Carl didn’t have to mull the question over for very long. “I’ll take blueberry with maple syrup.”

Someone had been kind enough to leave this morning’s Oregonian on the seat next to him, so he flipped through it while sipping on his first cup of coffee.

The front-page news was depressing. Disasters of all kinds, death, and political and business corruption lined the first section of the paper. He read the comics, not finding them funny but chuckling at the one called Dilbert.

He put the news and lifestyle sections on the chair, the man two seats away picking them up with a grin. Carl turned to the financials.

The first page was covered with stock market news, how the Dow, NASDAQ and S&P 500 were doing along with a few stock tips for local investors.

He found what he was looking for three pages in.

Vancouver Life Board approves Bankruptcy Filing

‘The Board of Directors of the troubled insurer approved a bankruptcy filing in a meeting late last night. According to the press release, further layoffs will be announced upon the finalization of an imminent bankruptcy filing, and assets may be liquidated, including the modern office building Vancouver Life commissioned just twelve years ago.

According to a press statement, CEO and Chairman Neils Thomas was quoted saying, “The Board and I are in agreement that a bankruptcy filing is the only way forward for Vancouver Life. The disability insurance pricing issue we discovered twelve years ago has severely impacted our reserves, and poor financial returns over the past year have forced us to take action. It is with a heavy heart that we do this in the hope that it will result in a brighter future for the company, the employees and their families, and our shareholders in the years to come.”

Vancouver Life is expected to finalize their bankruptcy filing no later than the end of July.’

Carl felt sick. The smarmy statement by the CEO didn’t help, but it was the layoffs that got to him. He’d never been laid off before, thankfully, but he’d known others who had been. Some moved to other parts of the country where jobs were more plentiful, while others stuck around hoping they would be the one to find another job.

Carl did a quick count in his head of what he needed to buy out the company. First and foremost, he needed cash, which the gold mines would provide. After that he needed to talk to the majority shareholder in Battle Ground, Washington, who also happened to have a minor stake in the advertising company he owned.

And assuming all those items could be ticked off, he would then need a CEO. There wasn’t a chance in hell that he would keep Neils Thomas—or the board—on after he purchased the company.

Chloe slid his breakfast in front of him, then raced off to seat new customers and take more orders. He set the paper down and started eating, all the while thinking of some way he could make it work.

Leaving three twenties and a ten under his plate to pay for breakfast and the dinner he had before leaving to meet Barbara, he got up and went out to his car. It was a little after 7am, and he didn’t need to be at the law offices until 9am. There was no need to check emails as Wendy would be on top of it, and it was the same story for messages.

With two hours to kill, he drove down to Swan Island for the first time in ages. The robbers had a penchant for hiding the stolen Fed money by the water, or in abandoned industrial areas.

He drove the route from muscle memory, not having to think about where he was going. As he came down the hill and onto the flats, he turned on his lost money sense and rolled the electric driver’s side window down.

He drove down North Channel Road, then to North Going Street, pulling over when trucks or cars were on his tail. He drove along the west side twice to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, then switched to the east side.

He scented the money immediately, the smell of freshly printed paper filling his nostrils. It wasn’t a pleasant scent, smelling more of chemicals than old books, but it was what he was after.

That was the easy part. The harder part was pinpointing where the money was located between the warren of industrial buildings. He drove through the area three times trying to find a way closer to the water with no luck until he spotted a narrow, overgrown lane through the high-fenced industrial areas by accident. Despite his many trips down here for work, he’d never noticed it before.

Pulling his car over, he got out and started pushing through the weeds. He was careful when he came across a patch of nettles, not wanting to get stung and be itching for the entire day afterwards.

As he approached the water after passing through a patch of devil’s club, he knew where the money was located. He almost pulled out his phone right then and there, belatedly remembering the last find where someone had shot at him. He had little doubt that the robbers wouldn’t fire on him if they saw him approaching their money again.

He fast walked back to his car, the back of his hand touching the bottom of a nettle leaf and stinging him. He rubbed at it absently as he got in the driver’s side and locked the door.

Flipping open his phone, he dialed the first number on the list of recent calls.

“Carl? Why are you calling me so early? I haven’t even had my first cup of coffee yet.”

Carl glanced at the clock in his car. It read 7:47am. It seemed FBI agents weren’t early risers.

Carl tried not to sound like too much of an ass. “So, you’re saying I should call back later when it’s more convenient? That’s fine, I’m sure the money will still be there after you’ve had your breakfast.” He wasn’t entirely sure he pulled it off.

Agent Larson sputtered, then cursed under his breath. “Wait! No, tell me about it now and I’ll get the Portland PD down there to secure the scene.” The agent poured himself a second cup of coffee. It wasn’t great, but it was better than the stuff they served in the agency.

Carl shared his location and where he’d found the money. Already in the background he could hear police sirens approaching through the closed car windows.

Agent Larson asked, “How did you know it would be there?”

Instead of turning the screws, Carl toned down his response. He didn’t like antagonizing people, even if they sometimes deserved it. “Sorry, Agent, but that’s not part of the deal. I find the money and I tell you. If you want to know how I do it, then you should contact Mr. Scully.”

Agent Larson pulled the two toaster pastries out and onto a paper towel to cool down. He’d planned to have a bowl of oatmeal this morning with some fresh fruit, but there wasn’t time. “I understand. If… well, if you’d like me to help you the next time you go searching, let me know. I think we got off on the wrong foot. I admit that this case has thrown me a bit, and I’m still catching up.”

Carl took the offer seriously as he scratched at the back of his hand. Little red bumps had appeared with seconds after brushing against the nettles. “I have an idea where another stash might be. I won’t be able to check it out until this afternoon as I have a meeting I need to get to, but I’ll call you when I get there. That’s not a promise I’ll find anything, just so you know.”

Larson swallowed his first bite of toaster pastry. “I appreciate that, Carl. And you can call me Doug. I have a feeling we’re going to be working together for a while still, so there’s no reason to stand on formality.”

The police surrounded Carl’s car, an officer knocking on his window. “I need to get going, but before I do can you tell the police that just arrived that I’m not a suspect?”

Doug laughed, little pieces of toaster pastry spraying on to his kitchen floor. “Will do, Carl.”

Doug was as good as his word, and just minutes after the Portland PD had him out of his car and in the back seat of one of theirs, they released him. There were no apologies given or received, and Carl had a feeling that a few of them still thought he was guilty. Of what, they didn’t know, but they still thought it.

Chapter 16

Carl didn’t have time to stop home and change clothes, the mud spatter from his morning adventure apparent on his khakis and shoes. He parked closer to the bank than the law offices and walked back toward Lyon and Hudson, the cloudless sky promising a warm day.

Amy greeted him as soon as he opened the door. “Hi, Carl. They’re waiting for you in the conference room.”

He blinked. He thought he’d gotten here in time. “Really?”

She nodded. “I’ll bring in a fresh pot of coffee in a moment.”

Carl walked into the conference room, taking a seat at the far end of the table. Rebecca was nowhere to be seen and Charles was diligently typing on his laptop. He paused to glance over at Carl, his eyes widening as he took in Carl’s disheveled appearance.

“What in the world happened to you?”

Carl shrugged. “I had some work to do outdoors and didn’t have time to change.” He brushed down the front of his shirt, a few brambles falling to the floor.

Taking a breath to relieve the stress from this morning, he put a smile on his face as he looked at his finance officer. “What was the private matter you need to talk to me about?”

Charles got up and closed the conference room door. “My wife is pushing hard for the European vacation I mentioned. I put it off when you were in the hospital, but now that you’re better I wanted to talk about it. And before you agree, I’ll be away for three or four weeks.” He sighed. “Four weeks. I doubt I can get her to agree to just three.”

Carl looked around for the coffee but found none. “When?”

Charles fidgeted in his seat, uncomfortable asking his boss of three months for a month of vacation. As an accountant it wouldn’t have been possible, and thus never came up. Instead, they’d take a long weekend in Bend or maybe fly to Key West or one of the resorts in Mexico for an extended weekend. “We’d be leaving in late June or early July and be back four weeks later.”

Carl could tell Charles was uncomfortable asking, but as far as he was concerned the man had earned it. “Go. Take your family on vacation and make it one they won’t ever forget. Once we get the mines up and going again, you’re going to be a very wealthy man. I might have you advise the rest of us on how to invest our money wisely.”

Charles rubbed his neck. “Are you sure? It’s a long time away from what is basically a startup company.”

He looked at the man across from him. Carl got the feeling that even if he told his partner to go a hundred times over, he would still want to make sure. No, Charles needed confirmation that he was needed. Only then would he go.

“How about this? Make sure you take your laptop with you and if we have questions that only you can answer then you can work while you’re on vacation.”

Charles nodded at the request. That he was relieved was evident as his shoulders relaxed.

Carl continued. “But to be clear, those questions might not come. Enjoy your holiday slash honeymoon and spend time with your family. If you need to work, do it in the morning or late at night. And we’ll only contact you if we absolutely need you. Okay?”

“Okay. And thank you, Carl. My wife is going to be thrilled. Maybe when we get back, we can host a summer party for everyone as a thank you. What do you think?”

Carl tried to remember the last time he’d attended a summer party. Or a 4th of July party, or any kind of party for that matter. He couldn’t remember a single one since his wife left him.

He smiled, forcing it more than a little. “That sounds wonderful. I’m sure everyone would appreciate it.”

Rebecca opened the door, only catching the end of his sentence. “Appreciate what?”

Carl waved it away. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll talk about it when the time comes. Which reminds me. Charles is taking his family on vacation during July. You need to take some vacation too, Rebecca.”

Rebecca sat down. As her own boss, she’d never had someone call her out to take vacation. If she wanted to work every day of the year, she could, and not a single person would complain. Especially her clients.

She stammered as she tried to collect her thoughts. “Well, you have to remember Donnehy might be merging with us by then. It wouldn’t be possible for me to get away when that happens.”

Her protest was as transparent to Charles as it was to Carl.

Carl scratched at the back of his hand again. “Then I guess we’ll have to delay the acquisition until you do. Won’t we, Charles?” He wasn’t above ganging up on the lawyer when the need arose.

Charles nodded. “I think you’re right. It’s going to take time to sort the financials out anyway, and I won’t be back until August. We might as well make the acquisition date the first of September, to give us time to get through everything.”

Rebecca was fuming. She liked working, always had and always would. She might not go on vacation, but she had a lovely house that all the extra work she’d done over the years had paid for.

She glared at each of them. “You guys suck.”

Charles and Carl started laughing but stopped when they saw how furious she was.

Carl spoke before unpleasant words were said. “Sorry, Rebecca, I only meant that you should take some time to yourself before we make the deal. Do you think you’ll get any vacation time as the CEO of Donnehy & Associates during the first few years? Because I don’t. Why not take it now and get your thoughts straight for when you do have that position?”

Rebecca’s posture softened. “Sorry. And you’re right. I hadn’t thought it through all the way. Would a week in Mexico suffice? I read about some of those fancy resorts down there, and they sounded nice.”

“That’s up to you, although I will say it sounds like a nice place to get away.” He paused as Wendy entered the room with two carafes of coffee and cups, one high test and the other decaf. She returned with two platters of cookies, along with a bottle of spring water before closing the door behind her.

Helping himself, Carl poured a cup of coffee before asking if the others wanted anything. Charles took decaf while Rebecca took water.

Charles cleared his throat. “With all the vacation talk out of the way, I wanted to go over the financials for the past quarter. I would have had them done last week, but I needed to check on the gold mines to estimate the value. Dean gave me some valuable insight, and they’re included in the report under assets.”

He handed out reports to Rebecca and Carl, then turned to page three. Page one was the table of contents, and page two had a list of financial assumptions used in the report.

“I’ve broken the report into multiple parts. This is the aggregate report, while further on I’ve broken down each business into its own report. For the last quarter we turned a net profit of 17.83%. That is after deducting depreciation, amortization, taxes, and the like. Total earnings were $4.96 million during the quarter.”

Charles went through the aggregate numbers, then launched into the individual reports. Overall, the results were astounding to Carl, and Rebecca seemed to be surprised as well.

He glanced at the amount of money Randy’s coin shop had made last quarter. “Did Randy’s shop bring in the most money last quarter?”

Charles nodded. “By a large margin. That will slow down as he keeps buying new stock. Bulk gold is cheaper, but only a little. The mark up for retail is nominal as most buyers know the price for gold. It’s listed in nearly every newspaper in the country, after all.”

Carl tapped his finger on the table. “He mentioned using the gold we mine to mint new coins.” He paused. “Sorry, not coins but rounds. Would that change the margins?”

Charles choked on the decaf coffee he’d just swallowed. He took a second sip to clear it up. “I haven’t heard this before, but yes, it would. Enormously. You’d be taking smelted, refined gold and minting it. Assuming the cost of minting it is roughly ten percent or less of the cost, you’d be making…” He input the numbers into his laptop.

“Close to a thousand dollars a coin. That’s an estimate, as I would have to run the numbers for what it costs to mine the gold.”

Carl shook his head. “It costs nothing. I mean, it does, but if we drill the gold ourselves it will pay for the equipment, people and security. Anything left over, we mint and sell through Randy.”

Rebecca asked, “How many coins worth of gold did he sell during the last quarter?”

Charles shook his head. “I don’t have those numbers, only the total. But let’s assume the number is in the thousands. You invested another hundred thousand so he could buy more gold coins, and that’s…” More typing into his laptop. “Just over eighty one-ounce coins. Assuming he sold two or three times that from his own stock, that’s three hundred thousand in profit.”

“No, that’s not right. I’ve seen his safe, and he had a lot more gold than that in there. I think he’s been reinvesting his profits for a long time. We’ll check with him after the meeting.”

Rebecca had been taking notes but stopped at Carl’s last comment. “Carl’s right. He’s taken a nominal salary, reinvesting everything into buying more gold. If you turn the gold from the mines into coins and have them certified, he’ll make you millions more. He’s that driven.”

Carl tipped his head to Rebecca, and to his surprise she didn’t blush. Nor had she blushed when discussing Randy’s actions. It seemed she was no longer embarrassed about being with him. That could only be a good thing, he thought.

They ended the financial report with the advertising company, which had returned a small profit. To his mind, it was nice that they made a profit but not the most important thing. As long as their advertising was as good as it had been so far for his other businesses, he would be thrilled.

Carl raised his coffee cup. “Thank you, Charles. Well done.”

Carl poured himself a second cup as the group took a bio break. A few minutes later, they were back together.

Rebecca spoke first. “I think we have a number of items to still discuss. The first is Donnehy, but we also need to go over the gold mines and the bar, along with the courier company expansion and whether we attempt to buy Vancouver Life and the credit union.” She glanced at Carl.

Carl nodded. “I agree. I have a meeting with Mack Donnehy tomorrow morning at his office. I assume we’ll talk price, but I won’t agree to anything until I discuss it with both of you. As far as I’m concerned, this is a meet and greet, that’s all.”

He sipped from his coffee. “The gold mines are a bit of a mess. I think everyone knows what happened, but if you haven’t then let me summarize it by saying—”

Charles interjected. “I haven’t heard this yet.”

Carl grabbed a cookie and took a bite. He recounted what Reeves and Reeves had done, along with the plan to do the mining themselves.

“Are we suing Reeves and Reeves?”

Carl looked to Rebecca. She shook her head. “There’s nothing of value to go after. The company is bankrupt, and all we would be is a creditor at the end of the line. A long line. The company has been stealing from its clients for over twenty years, although it seems this is the first time they got caught. There was a report in the Medford Mail Tribune that two miners were found dead near one of the drilling sites twelve years ago, their legs broken, and their heads cracked open. It was dismissed as a mining accident back then, but I suspect that case will be reopened now. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg.”

Charles tapped out a few notes as he turned to look at Carl. “And where are you planning to get the drilling equipment?”

He pushed the cookie plate away from him. He’d had more than his share already. “At first we’ll be leasing them. When the Reeves equipment is auctioned off, we’re hoping to buy them out. We might even try to make a deal before the auction to help pay their legal bills. Dean assures me we can hire the miners back. He’ll run the operation, and the smelter will continue to melt down the ore.”

Rebecca pointed at him. “He’ll need a new contract then, as he won’t just be an employee but the head of our biggest money-making enterprise.”

Carl bit into his second cookie, the itching not as bad on the back of his hand. “I also think we should set aside five to ten percent of the money we make from the gold as a bonus paid to all employees. I’m worried that if the five of us become rich, the others might have problems with that. If everyone gets a share, even a smaller share, we could avoid that.”

Charles asked, “Five? I only count the four of us. Are you including Randy?”

Rebecca answered. “He promised Dean 1% of all the gold from the mine.”

Charles hung his head. “Why?”

Carl didn’t regret his decision in the least. “Let me put this in perspective. We have twenty-plus mines in Medford. Only three have had drilling done on them, and the mines aren’t empty yet.” He turned to Rebecca. “How much did Chuck Reeves steal?”

She checked her notes. “Close to eight hundred thousand dollars’ worth of refined gold bars. The police have found more buried gold as well, although that’s not yours as far as they can tell.”

Carl leaned back in his chair to stretch out his back. “And that was only a small portion of what’s been mined. Again, how would Dean feel if we paid him a salary?” He shook his head, not answering the rhetorical question. “I might even up it to 2%. After all, if you deduct the 10% I’m proposing to share with all the employees and 2% for Dean, that leaves 88% percent of the profit for the four of us.”

Carl let that sink in for a moment.

“Holy crap that’s a lot of money.” Rebecca’s mouth hung open, a bit of drool on her lips. Maybe she should take two weeks’ vacation instead of one.

Carl grinned. “It is, but I think we should reinvest a portion of it into expansion. Otherwise, I’m using my funds to buy Vancouver Life and the credit union. You can invest or not invest. The choice will be up to you.”

Charles didn’t hesitate. “Count me in for the credit union. There’s a reason banks sponsor most of the sports stadiums in the country.”

Rebecca scrunched up her face. “Really? A credit union can make us a lot of money?”

Carl was about to explain, but Charles beat him to it. “They create their own money, within limits. It’s amazing this one is failing, but that’s good for us.”

She nodded as she took it in. “And what about the insurance company? Who would run that if we bought it?”

Carl met Rebecca’s eyes, then nodded just a tiny bit to his left where Charles sat.

She nodded back to him.

Charles spun his pen around his thumb, oblivious as he stared at the report in front of him. “Who do you have in mind, Carl?”

Turning to face Charles, he said softly but firmly, “You. I think you should be the CEO and lead them back into the black.”

Charles was shocked, then dazed by the news. “You’ve got to be kidding. I’m not cut out to be a CEO. Running board meetings and fixing mistakes while trying to turn the ship around isn’t for me.”

Carl nodded at Rebecca. She gave him a half smile in return.

“Who do you recommend, then? It has to be someone all three of us trust with such a big company. Someone who will do the right thing instead of focusing entirely on profits. Someone who will ensure the company lasts into the next century. Who else can do all that?”

Carl softened his tone. “Look, Charles, no one is going to force this on you. It’s not a done deal, and it might not ever happen. But if it does, I know you can do it. You’ve got the skills to see it through.” He chuckled. “After all, we’ll be on the board to ensure you have some friends when you need them.”

The glazed look in Charles’ eyes softened, and he looked at Rebecca and then Carl. He’d become an accountant because accounting was safe. It was the kind of job where the rules were known, and while there was some creativity needed, most of the time he just needed to get the right numbers in the correct column.

Becoming a CEO was entirely different. First off, he’d never managed people before beyond a few interns, and a CEO could have up to a dozen direct reports to carry out his orders in different parts of the company. It was the kind of job too big for someone like him to consider. He was a follower, not a leader.

Beyond that, it scared him. Failure scared him, which was something he’d never feared as an accountant. He knew accounting inside and out. Dealing with clients could be stressful, but it was something he’d learned to manage over time.

He felt his bowels loosen the longer he thought about it. “I don’t know, Carl. I’m grateful that you thought of me, but I think I’m best suited to handling the finances.” Charles spoke with a tone of finality. He’d made his decision, and that was that.

Carl leaned forward, his elbows on the conference room table. “No, Charles. This isn’t a negotiation. If you can’t run it, then I won’t buy it, no matter how much money it will make us.”

Charles started to protest, but Carl held his hand up. “Think about it while you’re in Europe. Consider it homework if that makes you feel better. Start with what you would have done differently at the accounting firm I hired you away from if you were the CEO there. What would you change, and what would you leave the same? I think it might help.”

Charles nodded, the motion jerky and uncomfortable.

The rest of the meeting took another hour. Carl mentioned that he planned to take Wendy up to Seattle to look for new courier companies they could buy, and that he’d ordered more maps for southern Oregon if the time came to look for more gold mines.

The last topic was the credit union.

Rebecca started writing on her note pad, pages of notes from this meeting preceding it. “Let me reach out to the owner. You’ll have the money soon, and we can all agree it’s a good move. I can find out if he’s amenable and go from there.”

Neither Carl nor Rebecca enlightened Charles on the money being referred to, hoping he would assume it was from the gold mines. As it stood, he was looking at seventeen million dollars from the Federal Reserve stolen money that he’d found so far. Even after taxes, it was a tidy sum of money.

“Lastly, I’ve got the lease agreement ready for your review. This is for the apartments when someone moves in, along with Olivia.” She slid the papers over to him.

“Next is the agreement between you and Olivia for investing in the café. Make sure you read it over, as I made a few assumptions you might not agree with. The first is that this is a onetime investment, and if the café fails, that’s it. The second is the repayment period, which I set at ten years. If you want it shorter or longer, let me know.”

Charles looked up from his laptop at the comment, his voice incredulous. “You’re investing in a café?”

Carl shrugged. “It won’t cost much and will fill out the space. It depends on the menu and tasting a few items, and it’s more of a favor than anything.”

Charles wasn’t dissuaded. “How much are you investing?”

“Somewhere between twenty-five and fifty thousand. It includes a wine and beer liquor license, which will be pricy, plus the furniture and advertising.” He knew he might be underestimating the cost, but what was the benefit of having money if he couldn’t help people with it? Of the people he knew, Olivia needed some kindness in her life. He could afford to help her.

Charles grunted, not happy but willing to leave the matter alone.

Carl made to stand up, but Rebecca reached over and grabbed his elbow before pulling him down. “We’re not done yet, mister. Let’s go over the action items and who they’re allocated to. Carl, you’ve got the lease agreements, the café agreement, helping Dean with the mining equipment, and the meeting with Mack tomorrow. When do you think you can get everything done?”

Carl grabbed another cookie and a napkin. It seemed he hadn’t pushed the platter far enough away that he couldn’t reach it. “The café agreement and Mack are easy. The lease agreement depends on when the contractors are done with the building renovation. The mining equipment depends on how quickly Dean can get it set up, as I have no idea where to find something like that or what it will cost to move it out to Medford. Let me call Dean tonight and find out where we stand.”

Rebecca jotted it all down, then went over hers and Charles’ lists the same way.

Calling an end to their first quarterly meeting, Carl stood and stretched his arms above his head. He cracked his neck as well, a small smile coming to his face in relief.

Before he left to go see Olivia, he stopped in to check on Wendy.

He knocked on the partially open door. “Hello? Are you free for a few minutes?”

She stood up a little too fast, wobbling on her feet for a moment. “Oh, Carl. Please come in. You don’t have to knock.”

Carl entered the room, which was decorated with a few pictures of the ocean and one of a beautiful sunset that looked like it had been taken in the south Pacific. He sat down across from her.

He nodded towards the pictures. “Do you miss it?”

She smiled. “I do, and I don’t. I miss the raw beauty and my family. I try to forget the unpleasant things.”

Carl didn’t pry. “I understand. I grew up in Ohio before moving out here. It was hard at first, but it got better with time.”

Her eyes glanced down at her desk, unwilling to be as forthcoming with her boss. That might change once she got to know him better. “You have a few messages that I emailed to you. Mack has changed the meeting from his office to the hotel. He’s worried the troops will see you and get spooked. His words, not mine.”

Carl yawned despite his coffee intake. “Where’s it at now?”

“Oh, sorry. The same hotel as last time. I don’t know where that is, but he was sure you would.”

Carl did, even though he hadn’t attended that meeting. It would be a hassle getting out to the airport that early in the morning, fighting traffic the entire way. I84 through Portland had a tendency to get backed up regardless of the time of day.

“Anything else?”

“Um, Dean called. He wants you to call him. Same with Gene. Neither left a message. I got a call from a mapmaker down in Medford. He has your maps ready. And Kelly from the commercial real estate company called. She’d like you to call her back.”

Carl didn’t hide his surprise. He rarely received so many calls. “Wow. Okay, I’ll call them back. And how are you doing with apartments?”

She smiled, the blush of youth on her face. “Amy said she’d take me out to look on Saturday. I’m still interested in the apartment you mentioned, but I’ll look just in case. And it will be good to get out. The hotel is boring. After all, I worked at a resort before coming here. I appreciate it, but I can’t wait to move into something that is all mine.”

“Good. And I’ll call Evan as soon as I get back. You two can arrange a time to have him show you around Portland.”

She waved it away. “I already spoke with him, and he said it wouldn’t be a problem. I’m seeing him Friday night.”

Carl had already acted as a matchmaker between Rebecca and Randy. Did he really want to do that with two more employees?

Then he realized there was little he could do to stop it. “I hope you have a great time.”

Chapter 17

Carl’s stomach rumbled as he walked out into the midday heat. He was hungry, but he would wait until he crossed a few items off his to-do list.

Entering the coffee shop, he waved at Olivia who was making iced lattes while her daughter ran the front. She gave him a quick wave, motioning for him to take a table.

Not feeling like coffee after multiple cups at the diner and then more during the business meeting, he took a chair and people watched. Just as Olivia had claimed, the smatterings of conversation he overheard were related to gold.

“…it’s happening soon. I built out a bunker under—” The middle-aged man looked back and forth, leaning forward and whispering when he noticed Carl looking at them.

He turned to listen in on a couple other guys. “Yeah, I’ve got a cabin up in Coeur d’Alene. I’ve got solar panels and a well dug. I need to change the kitchen stove from electric to wood and then I’ll be fully off grid.”

The man sitting opposite cabin guy seemed more than a little envious.

Conversations like the ones he’d overheard were going on all around him, people stopping in before or after visiting Randy to get a cup of coffee and compare notes before heading home.

He’d had his own doubts about Olivia’s café, but those were beginning to fade into the background. If Randy continued to pull in these many customers, the café would be a success from the start. He didn’t need his skills to know it was true.

Olivia walked over to join him as the lunch crowd died down a little. Carl stood up to greet her.

“Carl, what a nice surprise.”

He shook her hand warmly. “Business is booming, and you look much happier now.”

She blushed. “It is, and I can’t apologize enough for my behavior during our past meetings. Linda has helped me through a few personal issues. It’s changed my perspective. And she’s a fantastic chef.”

“I’m very happy for you. And I come bearing gifts.” He pulled out the two documents, the first for the apartment lease and the second for the café. “I need you to read these over thoroughly and come back to me with your comments. I left the monthly lease amount open, as I didn’t know what you could afford.”

Olivia stiffened at the mention of a lease but relaxed a moment later. “And what’s the second one?”

“It’s the investment agreement between the two of us for the café. Again, this is just a draft and can be modified if we both agree.” He slid both across to her. “Have you thought of what amount you need to get the café going?”

Olivia took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I have. Linda and I have been working at night to build the menu and price out everything. I’ll email your lawyer the full list, but right now we’re looking at just over thirty-five thousand dollars.” She winced. In her world, thirty-five thousand might as well be a million. They were both unobtainable, after all.

Carl kept a steady smile. “That’s fine. Can I hear what you two have planned?”

She nodded, blinking away a few tears. “We’re going with your suggestion to make it a Polish food café, with a wine and beer license. We’re thinking breakfast and lunch to start, and maybe dinner on the weekends. I’d like to add a counter to make it a diner, but Linda thinks that’s a mistake. She wants to keep it a bit upscale to charge more.”

Carl couldn’t deny the appeal of a diner, but he kept his thoughts to himself. “Do you want Linda to be part of the contract?”

Olivia stilled, resting her hands in her lap. “I would need to check in with her. Maybe.”

Carl nodded, trying to play the kind old grandfather. Not that he had any experience with that, but at least he looked the part. “And what about the menu? I don’t need to taste the food as part of the investment, but I’d be lying if I said didn’t want to. I don’t believe I’ve ever had authentic Polish food. I might have had a kielbasa here and there, but that’s it.”

Olivia became more animated when she was talking about something she knew. “Linda is working with a local butcher to create her own versions of Polish sausage. There will be a mild and a hotter one. She’s planning on making her own sauerkraut, and she already has a source for fresh vegetables year-round. The hardest part will be the alcohol license, but once we have that she knows where to get imported Polish beers.”

Carl’s mouth watered at the mention of homemade sausages. “And will there be latkes? With applesauce?”

Olivia giggled. “You might just be our best customer. Yes, there will be latkes. Lots and lots of latkes.”

He’d had latkes once at a company picnic decades ago, and they had been delicious. Different, sort of like hash browns, but also not.

Olivia leaned forward. “She’s talking about adding bacon into the latkes to make them more American.”

Carl groaned, causing Olivia to laugh out loud.

“That sounds delicious. I better get going before I pass out from imagining all the food you’ll be cooking.”

Carl stood, and Olivia did as well. She held out her hand. “Thank you, Carl. You know I have… trouble dealing with men.” She emphasized the word ‘trouble’. “Today helped quite a bit, just knowing that you’re on my side.”

Carl took her hand. “Of course, I am. I want you and Linda to succeed. I don’t want to get too far ahead of things, but there’s a possibility I’ll be buying other businesses and buildings. If that happens, I’ll need a cafeteria in them.” He canted his head to the side. “Just something to think about for the future.”

Olivia shivered in excitement as they parted ways. Then she reminded herself to take things one step at a time. Let’s get the café up and running, and then we’ll tackle the rest.

Carl walked around the corner, but the line to get into the coin shop was a half dozen people deep. There was no need to check in with Randy right now anyway, so he got back in his car and drove to the diner.

He planned to have breakfast for lunch. Right now, he couldn’t think of anything else that would be as satisfying.

Chapter 18

When he got home, he checked his laptop, but his inbox was empty. No junk mail and no real mail.

Closing his laptop, he pulled out his flip phone and called Dean.

Dean barked out a laugh. “Carl, you read my mind. I was just about to call you.”

Carl turned on the TV, quickly muting it as he flipped through the stations looking for an old movie. “What’s up?”

“A couple things. First, I have a line on the equipment we need. It’s in Nevada and will need to be moved up to Medford, but it will be ours. If you give me the go ahead, I’ll fly down tonight to check it out. It will require that we buy some land down here, somewhere between five to ten acres should do it. Just for full disclosure.”

“What about Reeves and Reeves? Is their equipment going up for auction?”

Dean sighed. “I contacted Billy, but he doesn’t know. If you didn’t know this already, he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Chuck’s been moved to the county pen since he couldn’t meet bail, and as far as I can tell they don’t have a lawyer yet.”

That gave Carl an idea. He pulled open his laptop and started an email to Wendy but didn’t finish it. “Got it. What else?”

“Gene caught a few idiots trying to dig up nuggets with a pickaxe. He contacted the police for trespassing, but they’ll only get a fine.”

“I thought all the plats had security now?”

“They do, but this was a plat that you bought to throw the crowd off your trail. I mentioned to Gene that it might be a good idea to have security around them as well, but he wants to talk to you about it first.”

Carl stopped flipping through channels. “Why would we want security around worthless plats?”

Dean chuckled. “Because otherwise you’re basically telling the world where the gold is and where it isn’t. It’s better to keep them guessing. Yeah, it will cost you a few bucks, but I think it’s worth it. Anyway, give him a call when you can. I get the feeling he’s bored, and he doesn’t really fit in with the Medford locals. They see him with dollars in their eyes, and I’d guess a few have tried to grease his palms to get access to the gold.”

Carl couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of this before. Gene was a great friend who loved gadgets, UFOs, Bigfoot and all its cousins, but he tended to crumple in the face of someone bigger or badder than he was.

“I’ll call him next. He should probably have a security detail with him to avoid that. He’ll hate it, but he’ll also appreciate it.”

“Thanks. You think I should go down to look at the equipment?”

Carl could hear the eagerness in his voice. “Yeah, go ahead. You know what they’re asking?”

“Eight hundred and fifty thousand. That includes two drills, a separator, and a half dozen trucks. It doesn’t include the diggers to get the ore from the ground to the trucks. From the pictures the drills look fine, and the separator is beat but still operating, but the trucks should be replaced. Let me have a look and I’ll give you a full report.”

“Thanks, Dean. You talked to Ted recently?”

“Sorry, Carl, but our paths rarely cross. When the bar reopens that will change, but until then you’ll need to call him to get updates.”

“I understand. You get going and give me a call from Nevada if you have a chance. We need those mines producing for a few other things to happen.”

Dean didn’t ask. Unless it involved mining, there was no reason for him to know. “Will do, Carl. Talk to you later.”

Carl hung up, then drafted an email to Rebecca asking about who might be representing the Reeves brothers. If he could find that out, he might be able to cut a deal with them before everything went to auction.

Despite his thoughts after the last auction he’d attended in Medford, he knew he would go again if needs required that he did. He despised the way they operated, but maybe he could change the outcome if he gave it a little thought.

The email done, he called Ted, only to get his voicemail. He left a message asking about how things were going and an update on the final cleaning of the bar.

That done, he called Gene. It was better that Carl tell him than Dean.

“Hey, Carl. What’s up?”

“Hi, Gene. I just got off the phone with Dean, and I wanted to check in. How are things going?”

“Did he tell you about the trespassers? The lasers caught them, as did the infrared sensors. They tripped the lasers first, but the infrared was only a few seconds behind them.” He sounded proud, like his equipment were toddlers learning to walk.

Carl tuned out the details, not caring about infrared sensors or lasers. “I’m concerned about a few things Dean mentioned. One is that the extra plats I bought don’t have security. Dean thinks that anyone paying attention will realize there’s no gold there and ignore them for the ones that have security.”

Gene smiled. “You want me to put in more security and fences for those plats? I can do that, Carl. I’m so bored down here now that the mining has stopped. The girl I met broke up with me, and the motel managers are getting on my nerves. I liked it at first, but it’s getting old fast.”

“Why don’t you come back, then? Do you have people you trust to continue making security sweeps?”

Gene brightened considerably. “I do. Josh is the best, and he knows his stuff. And I can set the equipment to be monitored remotely.” He laughed a little hysterically. “It would be so nice to be back in Portland, even for a little while.”

“Good. Check in with Dean so he knows what you’re doing before he heads to Nevada, but otherwise it’s fine by me. Medford is only four hours away, so if you need to go down for the day you can still get back at night. It’ll be a long day, but it can be done.”

Unseen by Carl, Gene wiped the dampness from his eyes. He’d always envied people with jobs that took them around the country or around the world, but he now knew he wasn’t cut out for it. Maybe for a week or two, but after that he wanted to go home.

“Thanks, Carl. You still want to go to the UFO conference in Denver this summer?”

Carl smiled. He hoped his best friend never changed. “Let’s talk about it when you get back, Gene.”

The two friends talked a while longer about this and that until Carl mentioned the last item on his list.

Gene spoke in a disbelieving voice. “You want me to have a security detail?”

“I do, for your own safety. What if someone tries to bully you into letting them into the open mines? Remember, these won’t be the only mines we drill in. There will be others, and as we get bigger your role will be more important. You’ll need the security guys more than I will.” Carl knew there was no better way to get Gene to agree to something than to build up his ego. It worked on most men, but especially on Gene.

Gene’s eyes went wide. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of it that way. Maybe you’re right. If I’m holding the keys to all the mines, someone might try.” He paused as he thought things through. “Can I have female security guards? Like MMA fighters?”

Carl groaned, covering the phone with his hand. “That might be possible, but it depends on who’s available. And they’re there to guard you, not so you can flirt with them.”

Gene gasped, offended. “I wouldn’t flirt with them, Carl. But you have to admit they’ll be better-looking than those guys in dark suits and sunglasses. These women have muscles.” His voice was pleading.

“Fine. Get home and we’ll meet at the diner to talk about it. There might not even be ex-MMA women fighters out there for you to ogle anyway.”

Gene didn’t hear a word of what he said. “They’re out there, Carl, and they’re amazing.”

The two men said goodbye, Gene promising to come home in the next day or two once the security systems were set up the way he wanted them.

He dialed one more number, the call going to voicemail. “Hi Barb, just checking in on how you’re doing. I’m back from Medford and would love to see you this weekend if you’re not working.” He thought about mentioning the blue boxes but didn’t want to leave a message like that on her phone. He ended the call with a quick, ‘Love you’ before hanging up.

Turning up the volume on the TV, he watched the last half hour of Out of the Past. He’d never been a big film noir buff, but when there was nothing else on it would do.

He half watched and half flipped through listings for used mining equipment. New equipment was obscenely expensive for the ore capacity they needed, and used equipment wasn’t cheap either. Most of it was in the eastern US, with a few pieces scattered here and there in the western states and Canada. He couldn’t find the listing Dean had mentioned in Nevada, but that was fine.

Opening a new tab, he looked for commercial real estate, finding a few listings for the acreage they needed. Just as Dean had said, it wasn’t expensive, but it also wasn’t developed like the Reeves brothers’ property had been. That would take more time and money to fix.

Checking the clock on his laptop, he saw it was just after 4pm. He wasn’t hungry after a late lunch, but he also didn’t want to sit at home doing nothing. He sent a quick email to Wendy to ask Charles about how the contractors were doing, and when they would be done.

His hands shook as he contemplated what he would need to do next. He’d put off calling his sons long enough and promised that he would do so as soon as the contractors were finished. He knew it was an artificial line in the sand, but it helped to set a date a little further in the future.

He still held himself to that promise.

He locked up the house and drove over the St. Johns bridge to northwest Portland, which had been industrialized just like Swan Island. He was basing his hunch on his last two finds, and he might as well spend a few hours looking since he had nothing else to do.

The traffic wasn’t bad despite it being close to rush hour, and soon he was on the other side of the Willamette. He thought about stopping in to see Sue but decided against it, the thought of fresh donuts not as appealing right now. He would if the Donnehy deal went through as they would need help with advertising all the changes, but not until then.

Heading down to the riverfront, he rolled down his window and sniffed. The traffic was light down here, so he rarely had to pull over to let others pass.

The waterfront was squished between the train yard behind him and the mishmash of docks, rusted steel, and squalor from better days gone by. He had little glimpses of the river between the buildings, but otherwise he might as well be miles away from the river.

He passed a closed gas station with chain-link fence all around it, turning off Front Street to head closer to the water. He tried to keep an eye on his surroundings in case someone wanted to shoot at him again, but it was difficult to focus on two things at once.

Do you wish to split your visual focus?

To split your visual focus, one of the following DNA samples is required:

* Horse (Equus)

* Rabbit (Leporidae)

* Any monocular-vision prey animal (Goat, cow, deer, elk, most fish and birds, etc.)

Carl had to pull over to read the text.

His first thought was an energetic yes. He needed this skill. It would allow him to see more and keep an eye on things while doing something else.

Then he reconsidered. Did he really need to be able to look at two things at once? After all, he still wouldn’t be able to see what was behind him, and more practically, he didn’t know where to find a horse.

Filing it away for future consideration, he kept sniffing. Thoughts jumbled through his mind, the most prominent being why the thieves hadn’t moved the stashes of money after he’d found the first one. He doubted they weren’t keeping watch of the hidden money, so why weren’t they moving it once they knew someone was on to them?

One answer was that they were all dead, perhaps in a modern-day shootout. One guy wanted more than his share, and they ended up killing each other. The last guy knew where his money was, but not where everyone else had stashed theirs.

It was possible, but Carl didn’t think that was correct. What seemed more likely was that the thieves were allowing the Fed—through Carl—to find some of the money to give them time to escape with the rest.

Who needed a hundred and twenty-four million dollars, anyway? It would put a big target on their back and running away with twenty million was both easier and faster.

It also bothered him that the amounts were so different. No matter the number of thieves, it made more sense to divide it evenly. Four people would get roughly thirty million each. So why had he found eighteen million in one place, ten in another, and three and change during his first find?

Pushing the unanswered questions away, he focused on his nose. Seagulls squawked overhead, and every once in a while, he caught sight of water lapping at the shore.

He drove past the buildings and further down Front Street until the buildings fell away and nature returned. He passed what looked like a Superfund site, the buildings and railroad tracks scraped away until only broken asphalt remained.

That was where he caught the scent.

Instead of rushing in to pinpoint the location, he kept driving past the scent until it disappeared completely. Pulling out his phone, he called Agent Larson.

Carl explained where he was at and that he’d found another cache of money. Or least, he thought so.

The agent’s voice was hard. “What do you mean you don’t know exactly where the money is at?”

Carl did his best to keep from reacting. “Last time I got shot at for trying to find the exact location. This time I’m waiting until you arrive, and then I’ll do it.”

Larson fumed on the other end of the phone. He was getting pressure from Mr. Scully for results. Yes, they’d found almost a third of the money, but to Scully’s mind that wasn’t fast enough.

“Fine. Wait where you are, and I’ll be there in twenty minutes. You still driving your new Honda?”

Carl shouldn’t have been surprised that the agent knew, but it still appalled him. What had happened to personal privacy in this country? “Yes, I am. Now hurry up. I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to.”

Hanging up the phone, Carl repositioned his car so he could see the road in both directions. He wouldn’t be caught off guard a second time.

* * *

Agent Larson arrived in a black GMC Yukon with government plates. He pulled in next to Carl, rolling down his window. “I’ll follow you to the location. The police will be here in a few minutes to secure the site.”

Carl nodded, starting his car. He rolled his window down again, picking up the scent within minutes and pulling over next to the Superfund site. The money was out in the river near the broken piers poking out of the water.

The two men walked to the river, Larson keeping his focus on Carl. He didn’t know how the man found money, but he couldn’t deny the results.

Carl sniffled a few times, not wanting to give his secrets away. He sped up to keep Agent Larson behind him, walking straight to the location of the money.

“It’s out there near the last pier. Fifteen or twenty feet down, probably lashed to the last pier to keep it from moving.”

Larson called it in, and Carl heard the police sirens in the background.

He turned to Larson as an idea struck him. “If you have access to a boat, then we could take it up and down the Willamette to search areas I can’t reach with my car. There are small islands in the river that you can only reach by boat, and more of the money might be there.”

Larson nodded, noting it down. “The Bureau has a boat. Let me see if it’s available.”

“Look, I’m not the expert here but taking an FBI boat up and down the river will stand out like a sore thumb. I would think that if we rented something innocuous that it wouldn’t be noticed. We don’t want these guys moving the money around, and they just might if they see FBI branded in big letters on the side of your boat.”

Doug huffed. “It’s not printed in big letters on the side.” He said in a smaller voice, “It’s printed on top of the bow for aerial visuals.”

Carl raised an eyebrow.

Doug sighed. “Fine, I’ll rent a boat. One that doesn’t stand out. You fish?”

Carl smiled. “I haven’t been in a while. You suggesting we go fishing?”

Doug nodded. “I rarely get out even on the weekends these days. Let me get the equipment and we’ll go fishing. I’ll take care of the licenses as well.”

Carl reached out to shake. “It’s a deal. I’m looking forward to it now.”

The two men laughed as the police arrived, a few cars driving right up to the waterline. Doug transformed back into Agent Larson, barking out orders. “I want divers here in twenty minutes. Secure the perimeter and be on watch for shooters. And get a boat out there to keep other boats away.”

The police officers stood transfixed.

Agent Larson barked, “Now!”

Chapter 19

Carl drove home, picking up some sandwich fixings along the way at a small mom and pop grocery near his house. He bought pastrami, a delicacy he rarely enjoyed along with some fancy French mustard, garden greens, and thick slices of Swiss cheese.

Putting everything away for when he got home, he made his own version of a Dagwood, piling the pastrami high and then adding cheese and mustard on top. He added the greens on the side, not really planning to eat them unless he was still hungry.

Turning the TV on, he found Two Rode Together was just about to start. Turning up the volume, he relaxed into his recliner. The pastrami was divine, and Jimmy Stewart was in fine form as well.

His open laptop pinged that a new email had arrived halfway through the movie. He’d eaten the entire sandwich, then had a half sandwich with the rest of the ingredients. The greens sat on his plate, untouched.

The only thing that would make it better was a glass of Cave Junction porter. He would have to wait until he returned to Medford for that, though.

The email was from Wendy, listing out all the calls and reminders for today. He was surprised to be receiving it after nine o’clock in the evening and emailed her back asking why.

Sorry, Carl, but we had IT troubles. The office network had to be fixed by a technician which took all day. Amy had the same problem. I’m at the hotel now, and I don’t mind working late. Sorry for not sending it earlier, but I stopped to get a bite to eat after work.

Carl responded with his thanks, then turned to the first email. It was shorter than the last one she’d sent, but still full of good information.

Carl, here are your messages and reminders for today.

1. Charles told me that the building renovation will be completed next week. The other apartments will be painted a neutral color, but if you want something different, you need to let him know in the next day or two.

2. Ted responded to your message. He hired the cleaners, and they’ll need two weeks to finish everything up. After that the contractors come in to renovate the upstairs and downstairs. He’s thinking the bar will reopen in three to four weeks and would like to have a celebration for the reopening. He asked if you could make it, and I tentatively marked it down on your calendar.

3. Barbara responded as well. She’s free Saturday night and said she has a lot of questions. She wants to go back to the same restaurant (? I don’t know what that is, but if you let me know I’ll make reservations) around 7pm.

4. Gene called and said he might know how to hire ex-MMA female fighters as personal bodyguards. I didn’t know how to respond, so I said you’d get back to him.

5. Kelly at the commercial real estate company in Vancouver called again. She was very insistent that you call her back. This woman is not going to give up.

6. Evan wants to know when you’re going to Seattle to look for more courier businesses. Would next week work? Just as a reminder, I would still like to go to learn about the business.

7. Rebecca reached out to the credit union. She said she got the runaround but did leave a message with the president of the company. She said she wasn’t impressed by the low level of professionalism she received.

8. Just a reminder you have a meeting with Mack tomorrow at the airport hotel at 9am.

9. Following up on item 6, I’ve scheduled the trip to Seattle for Monday morning. That can change, but I thought it might help to put something on the calendar. Do you want to drive up or fly up? Or take the train?

That’s all for today. Wendy.

Carl sent an email back while the movie was on commercial break. He gave her the name of the restaurant and said that Monday was fine as far as he was concerned.

He also said he was fine driving up, and if she could do some research on the top couriers, he would appreciate it. He ignored the message about the female ex-MMA fighters.

Closing his laptop, he leaned back in his recliner and enjoyed the movie. He wasn’t sure if he’d seen this one before, but to his mind any old movie had a better chance of being a good movie than the modern ones were.

Chapter 20

A low fog hung over the city as he cut a path through it, not really thinking about anything as he did his usual lap. He wasn’t sure how many miles it was, but at his modified age he didn’t really care. Any exercise was good exercise.

He kept going at a comfortable pace, not trying to prove anything to anybody. He almost slipped on a puddle that appeared out of nowhere, catching himself just in time.

Jogging home from the park after stretching, he noticed his neighbor on the porch with a blanket over her legs.

Carl stopped just before entering his house. “Martha, what are you doing up at this hour?”

She blinked a few times, turning her head in the direction of the sound. “Good morning, Carl. I got a bad feeling in the house, so I came outside until it passes.”

Carl jogged over to her yard and up the stairs. Martha was still in her nightgown, her body shivering every few seconds. The blanket she’d brought with her hung loosely over her legs.

Without asking for permission, he gathered his frail neighbor up in his arms, taking her into the house. He set her on the sofa, then pulled a second blanket off the back of a chair and wrapped that around her like a shawl.

“Can I get you some tea? Something to warm you up?”

She shook her head. “I know it’s my time, Carl. I’ve known it was coming for a while now. Leave me be. Let me die in peace.”

Carl ignored her, heading into the kitchen to put on the kettle. He couldn’t decide whether he should call 911 or not. Just because she said she was about to die didn’t mean she would, nor did it mean there was anything wrong with her beyond catching a chill.

Deciding to wait and see how she responded to tea, he waited a few tedious minutes for the water to boil. Leaning his head out of the kitchen, he saw that she had fallen asleep, a soft snore telling him she was still breathing.

Comfortable that she was still alive, he made her a cup of black tea, adding a spoonful of honey and a small amount of milk to it.

Setting it on the end table with a magazine under it so it didn’t stain the wood table, he shook her awake. “Martha, wake up. I need you to drink this tea. Just a few sips, then you can sleep.”

Her eyes opened a fraction, a blissful smile on her face. “I’ve waited so long to pass from this life. It’s been twenty years since my husband died, and it felt like a hundred.” She reached her hand up to touch his face, her voice a whisper. “Make sure you keep hold of your loved ones. Life passes so quickly.”

Her eyes closed, and his first thought was that she had fallen asleep. Except her chest wasn’t moving any longer, and after checking for a heartbeat, he couldn’t find one.

He held her hand until dawn started to peek over the horizon, her flesh becoming clammy and then cold. He said a silent prayer goodbye, then picked up her phone and called 911.

The EMTs arrived less than fifteen minutes later, the pre-morning traffic making it easier for them. They pronounced her dead shortly after checking her out.

Carl stayed to answer questions, but once those were resolved he left. He and Martha were acquaintances, nothing more, yet he still felt a palpable sense of loss. He remembered her words like they’d been etched into his mind and resolved to act upon them.

Heading into his house, he showered and ate a bowl of cereal. He didn’t have time to go to the diner.

It took a bit of searching through his personal phone book until he found the right number. It was a 215-area code.

“Hello?”

“Ryan, is that you?”

“Dad?”

“Yeah. It’s me. How’re you doing?”

Carl heard a sigh of disbelief on the other end. “How am I doing? I think I should be asking you that question. You disappeared from our lives for years on end, not answering our calls. We were worried sick, but did you take time to call? Or even send a card or an email? Not once.”

Carl nodded without realizing it. “I’m sorry, Ryan. I don’t have an explanation other than I was hurting.”

“Fuck you, Dad. I don’t want to hear it, and I doubt Jim does either. It’s been too long and too little. Goodbye.”

Carl let the receiver fall to the floor, tears streaming down his face. He collapsed into his recliner, curling in on himself to ease the pain. His heart hurt far more than he remembered it had after Marjorie told him their marriage was over.

He thought about calling Jim, or Marjorie, or perhaps his sons’ wives, although he couldn’t remember their names off the top of his head. He thought one was Heather, but it had been too long to know for sure.

He lay in his recliner for an hour or so, only getting up to get some blood flow back into his limbs. He shouldn’t have been surprised by Ryan’s reaction. It was part of the reason why he hadn’t called in so long. Once a certain amount of time passes, it becomes near impossible to repair damage done from the past. His call with Ryan had proved the theory.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, he saw that it was a little after 7:30am. He took a shower and dressed, going through the motions for the meeting with Mack. It was ironic, he thought, that he was attending a meeting with a man he didn’t like while the people he loved, even if they didn’t know it, wouldn’t talk to him.

* * *

Mack stood up as Carl entered the reserved room. Coffee, tea and water were set out on a sideboard, along with a few breakfast pastries and small yogurt packs.

They shook, Mack’s handshake firm. He imagined that when the man was younger, he would have shaken hard enough to intimidate others, but he didn’t have the muscles to do that now.

Mack snorted, his face contorting into a half sneer. “So, you’re the man behind the money.”

Carl poured himself a cup of coffee, needing one badly. He didn’t bother to ask Mack what he wanted as he sat down on the other side of the table.

Carl nodded, not rising to the bait. “I suppose.”

Mack laughed. “You suppose? If you’re not the right one, then I want to talk to who it really is. I don’t have time to play games.”

Carl twisted his neck, relieving some of the tension from earlier. “Actually, you do. You have plenty of time. Your firm is failing, and if we don’t buy you out, then it’s over.”

Mack bristled. He spoke down to others, not the other way around.

Carl waited for Mack to say something, but when he didn’t, he stood up to go.

Mack shouted, unused to not having people wait on his whims and desires. “Where in the hell do you think you’re going?”

Carl shrugged. “I thought you wanted to meet, maybe ask a few questions. If you’re not going to do that, then I have better things to do.”

Mack uncrossed one leg and crossed the other leg. “Fine. You’re a right bastard, you know that. Sit down and we’ll talk. I do have some questions.”

Carl obliged, not out of any sympathy for Mack but because he knew Rebecca and Charles needed him to do this. He would do almost anything for either of them.

“Let’s hear them.”

Mack nodded, his brusque demeanor softening. “I want to know how you came into so much money so quickly.”

Carl shook his head. “Nope. Would you tell your competitors that?”

Mack thought about it for a moment before agreeing. “Alright. What do you have planned for my company?”

Carl could answer this question. “I plan to turn it around. Make it profitable again. Start a solid advertising campaign, weed out the underperformers, and then expand further.”

Mack tapped the table. “That’s right. You own an advertising company too, don’t you?”

Carl nodded, sipping his coffee. “What else?”

Mack looked agitated for a moment before he calmed down. “What I don’t understand is why you have so many disparate businesses. A bar in Medford? A courier company? Why bother with them when you can build a world-class law firm?”

Carl relaxed as the caffeine hit his system. His mind kept replaying the phone call with his son, but now wasn’t the time to deal with that tangle of emotions. “Because they make money, and it’s more fun that way. The bar will make us a ton of money, and the courier company will earn back its investment in less than two years.”

Mack didn’t believe him. “Not possible.”

Carl shrugged. He had nothing to prove to this man.

“Fine. I planned to drag this out further, but let’s talk sales price. What are you offering?”

Carl studied the man before him, only now noticing the sweat on Mack’s brow and the small twitch in his pinky finger. The man was nervous but doing a hell of a good job covering it up. He needed this deal more than Carl did.

Setting his coffee cup down, he met Mack eye to eye. “One million. No negotiation. We both know the price I’m offering is higher than the business is worth. You stay as a non-voting board member for one year, advising the new CEO on a one hundred and ten thousand dollar a year salary. The partners and staff will sign new contracts or they’re out. Transfer date is the first of August.”

Mack couldn’t deny he’d hoped for a higher price, but he’d seen the numbers. If Carl wanted to push, he could probably get him down to six hundred thousand, maybe even a half a mill. One million was more than reasonable given the circumstances.

To his surprise, a sense of relief came over him knowing that the firm would no longer be his responsibility. He half smiled when he asked, “Why so late?”

Carl drained the last of his coffee, setting the cup down. “We both need time to get ready. We can make it first of July, but it would be a rush job. I’d rather take our time and do it right. Let our people work with yours, get to understand the clients and their needs, and maybe meet a few of the big ones. It will give us time to evaluate your staff, too.”

Mack leaned back in his chair. He’d been a lawyer for most of his life, and now it was coming to an end.

Or maybe not.

“I agree to the deal, although I want to read through the contract.” He steeped his fingers in front of him. “Since I only be an advisor going forward, could I invest in your company?”

Carl was surprised by the question, taking a few moments to formulate his response. “That would have to be discussed with the LLC members. I won’t say no, but you should know you face some opposition.”

Mack grinned, feeling the energy of his younger self. He had a knack for good deals, and his gut told him this would be one of them. “Let me know. I won’t interfere, but I would like to be part of the quarterly meetings.” He pointed a stubby finger at Carl. “I have a feeling you’re going places.”

Chapter 21

Carl drove home, taking the back roads and driving like his actual age so as not to get into an accident. He felt empty inside, as if everything he’d done didn’t matter any longer.

His normal reaction was to stay indoors and ride out the pain until it subsided. He couldn’t do that anymore, and it hadn’t worked very well for him the first time around, anyway. He could admit that in hindsight.

He drove to the law offices, waving to Amy and Wendy as he walked into the conference room. He knew Rebecca was expecting him, even if she hadn’t said anything.

She walked in with her laptop under her arm. “Well? How’d it go?”

He smiled. “Sit down and I’ll tell you everything.”

* * *

Rebecca was dumbfounded. “He wants to invest in the LLC? How much?”

Carl sipped on the coffee Wendy had brought in. “I don’t know. I’d guess a million, maybe more. I have the feeling that he still wants to be part of something instead of spending his final years golfing and drinking.”

She got to the heart of the question. “Do we need him to invest?”

Carl shook his head. “For a million? No, I don’t think that will materially change any of our plans. For five or ten million? Yes, it would. I doubt the credit union will cost five million, and Vancouver Life will probably be less than ten million now that they’ve approved the bankruptcy. It would speed up our plans, but it wouldn’t change them. The gold mines will get going again at some point, and then we’ll have the funds to make the investments.”

Rebecca blanched at the high dollar figures but understood that was how Carl thought now. “I’ll leave it to your discretion. You know my feelings about the man, and it wouldn’t be the same dynamic if he was a silent partner.”

She turned to focus on the work she needed to get done, but Carl didn’t get up to leave. “What?”

“You need to vote. We can wait until the three of us are together again, but at some point, you need to vote. I won’t make the decision for you.”

She huffed. “You really can be a stubborn old man sometimes, can’t you?”

Carl laughed. “I suppose so. Mack said the same thing, although he used harsher words. If everything goes to plan, you’ll be running his company in two months. You need to get used to making the hard decisions.”

Rebecca knew this in an intellectual way, but the truth slammed home at his statement. She blanched. “I will, won’t I?”

He waved it away. “You’ll be fine. You’re a good lawyer, and you’ll make an excellent CEO. Don’t start doubting yourself now.”

Her nod was shaky. Lawyering was a man’s world in Portland, although that was slowly changing. She knew the announcement of her new position would make waves through the local community of lawyers, some pulling for her and even more against her. She didn’t want to pander to their fears, and the only way to do that was to be the best CEO she knew how to be. She’d already learned from Mack on how not to do things, and she would only get better from there.

She reached across the table to touch his hands. “Thank you, Carl. I won’t.”

Carl grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Why don’t you transfer the rest of your clients to Donnehy this month? You’re not going to have time to work on them very soon.”

She leaned back in her chair, closing her laptop. “What else?”

Carl scanned his memory, hitting upon an item she’d brought up a while ago. “Have you spoken to Robert yet about what this will mean for him?”

She smiled. “I did. He’ll become a full partner, and I think he’s excited about it. When we started this company, we thought a lot alike, both wanting high-profile clients while being our own boss. Donnehy will be a different experience but also the same. He’ll report to me, but I don’t think that bothers him as much as if it were Mack.”

“And what about this building? I’d like to keep it, so Wendy can work here. Maybe give Gene an office, although I’m not sure I want to subject her to his ramblings.” He laughed, already picturing the train wreck as she tried to back away from his friend and his incessant talk about Bigfoot and UFOs.

She shrugged. “That’s fine. I might want to visit from time to time to keep myself humble. The lease is for two more years, and then we can talk about whether you want to buy it or keep leasing.” She looked over at him, warmth in her heart for all he had done for her. “Can we wait a year or so for the next acquisition?”

“That’s not really in my control. And don’t forget there’s another company in Portland that’s failing. Are you really telling me that if they approached us for a merger or buyout that you would turn them down?”

She giggled. “No, I suppose I wouldn’t.” She checked her watch. “Thanks for the update, but I’ve got to get back to work. Our clients aren’t going to transfer themselves to Donnehy all on their own.”

Carl stood up, heading towards the door. She gave him a half hug, too emotional to do any more without breaking down in happy tears.

“Thanks, Carl.”

“You’re very welcome, Rebecca.”

His work done for the day, he drove home, feeling better about life. Pulling into his garage, he went inside to return a few calls.

“Yes, may I speak with Kelly?” The agent from the commercial leasing company had called him twice now, each message more urgent than the last.

“Just a moment.”

A young woman’s voice came on the line. “This is Kelly.”

“Hi, Kelly. Carl Thompson returning your calls. Sorry I didn’t get back to you earlier, but I’ve been busy.”

“Carl! Thank goodness you called back. I have a message from the owner of the buildings you’ve been considering in Vancouver, and he would like to meet with you.”

“Meet with me? Why?”

“I don’t know, but that’s what he said. He gave me the address of a restaurant in Battle Ground and wants to meet you tomorrow morning for breakfast. Can you make it?”

Why was the expat from London reaching out to him now? Even worse, he didn’t have the money to buy the assets from him at the moment. That might change if the Fed paid him, but so far, they hadn’t.

He checked his calendar, seeing Saturday morning open. He would miss his normal schedule of heading into the diner for breakfast, but maybe the restaurant in Washington state would be just as good.

“Sure, I can make it. What time?” He knew Battle Ground was only a half hour away up I205, having passed it by on his trip to the recent UFO conference.

Kelly asked, “Does 8am work?”

“It does. Tell him I’ll see him then.”

Carl hung up after saying goodbye, then marked it down on his calendar. An 8am meeting meant he needed to be dressed and ready to go by 7:15am, as it wouldn’t do to be late.

Putting the pen down, he realized he didn’t have anything left to do. Oh, he could head into the diner for an early lunch, but he wasn’t hungry. He could call Dean or Ted, but they would call when they needed him.

Wendy had made his life too easy.

Getting into his car, he drove across I205 to the Washington side of the Columbia. He might as well see what he could find for the FBI, and by extension, himself.

He pulled off at the Camas exit, leaving the highway to move down closer to the water. Rolling down his window, he enjoyed the fresh breeze coming off the river.

He kept off the Lewis and Clark Highway for as long as possible, only rejoining when the back roads merged. He was able to leave the highway once he reached Camas and then Washougal, slowing down to twenty-five miles an hour with his nose stuck out of the window.

The next two hours passed quickly, the natural beauty of the area dulling the need to drive around because of a contract he signed.

When he came to White Salmon, he debated whether to continue east or switch over to the south side and head home. Something in his gut told him to keep driving, so he did. At the very least, a long drive would distract him from rehashing the call with his son again.

He exited the Gifford Pinchot National Forest just before he hit Maryhill. He thought about visiting the Stonehenge replica monument there but decided against it. Maybe he could take Barbara there if she hadn’t seen it already.

It became considerably warmer in his car on the eastern side of the Cascades, forcing him to turn on the air conditioning. He was above the Bonneville Dam, which made him wonder whether the thieves would have stashed any of the money this far up the river. Except for the storm drain find, every other bundle of bills had been near or in the water. The Columbia River was over a thousand miles long, and that didn’t include tributaries like the Snake River.

Pressing on, he drove until he reached Umatilla Bridge. His nose was dusty and sunburnt, and he felt the first gnawing pangs of hunger.

Heading over the bridge, he got off at the first exit and headed home. He was close to La Grande, but until they heard back from the owner of the credit union, there was no point in stopping by to talk to anybody there.

The drive back to Portland was easy if a bit boring. He hadn’t scented a single thing, having turned on his scent for gold and silver just for fun yet yielding nothing.

He was on the highway now, not caring about slowing down. He’d put in the required hours, and all he wanted now was to head to the diner to get dinner and then sit back to watch a good movie. His needs these days were very simple.

He thought of the call with his son more than once along the way, the sunburnt landscape doing nothing to hold his attention. Regrets were the domain of the old, of people who had lived life but not done as well as they hoped.

He was lost in thought when the scent met his olfactory receptors, his foot pushing down on the brakes a little too hard. The rear wheels chirped as the back end of the car let loose until he got it under control again.

The truck behind him honked, passing him on the left with a middle finger stretched in his direction.

He pulled over at Le Page Park, the only break in the monotony for miles. There were no towns out this way, only the endless stream of highway flowing next to the actual river.

A few car campers had set up further from the highway, and he made a loop around the park before leaving. A few of the campers gave him suspicious looks, and he didn’t want to stick around any longer than necessary.

Pulling back to the on ramp, he parked on the side of the road, out of sight of the campers. It took him only a moment to find the right phone number.

Agent Larson answered quickly, a thin layer of nervousness present when he spoke. “Carl, what do you have for me?”

“I found something. I’m at Le Page Park by the Columbia River. There are people here who didn’t appear to like me poking around, so I’m waiting for you to show up.”

Agent Larson pulled up Google Maps, pinpointing Carl’s location. They hadn’t tagged his car. Not yet anyway. Mr. Scully insisted that they not as it wasn’t part of the contract, but he was debating whether or not to pop one under the rear fender, anyway.

“I see it. It will take the local police a while to get out there. It will take me close to two hours, so hang tight. You might want to drive over to Rufus and I’ll meet you there.”

“You don’t want me to stay to make sure they don’t move it?”

The agent sighed. “You’re not trained for that, Carl, and I won’t be held responsible if you get shot. Get your ass down to Rufus and text me with your location. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

Carl didn’t like it but did as ordered. If they moved the money not only would he lose out on his half, but he would also have to work harder to find it again.

Still, he could admit Doug was right. He wasn’t trained to deal with criminals, and the best idea he could come up with was to block the exit to the park and try to keep them penned in until the authorities arrived. He could admit to himself that it wasn’t a great plan.

Sighing, he rolled up his window and drove down to Rufus. He found a diner just off the highway, pulling into it a few minutes later.

The building had seen better days, but the patrons inside looked happy enough. Better yet, it was clean, and he could smell burgers grilling in the back.

He sat down at the counter, glancing at the menu on the back wall. A few of the magnetic letters were missing, but he got the idea.

The waitress came out from the back, an order in her hand. “I’ll be with you in a second, handsome.” She winked, and Carl didn’t understand why he blushed.

He changed his order between the time she passed him and when she returned. “What’ll you have?”

“I’ll take a half-pound cheeseburger with onions, pickles and tomatoes. No fries, but I’ll have a vanilla malted shake and a cup of coffee.” He’d always thought vanilla was the best flavor, chocolate being too much of a single note and strawberry not tasting anything like the real thing.

She wrote no more than a few words before ripping the ticket off the pad. “You got it.”

While she put his order in, he texted Agent Larson with his location.

The response was short. ‘Ok’.

Carl savored the burger, the juices from the meat dripping onto the plate like a real burger should. The tomatoes were fresh, and the onions had a bite to them. The diner was distant from all his business interests, but maybe he could stop in on his way to and from eastern Oregon should they end up purchasing the credit union.

He drained the last of his shake, the malt making it a bit sweeter and thicker than normal. It wasn’t as good as a true malted from when he grew up, but he didn’t mind in the least.

He waited a few minutes before sipping on his second cup of coffee. The few patrons that had been here left, and the waitress leaned forward on her side of the counter.

“You just passing through?”

Carl nodded. “Yes, and no. I have some business I’m interested in doing on this side of the mountains, but right now I’m just passing through. It’s a beautiful day, and I wanted to get out of the house.”

“Really? Any I might know?”

Carl liked to keep his cards close to his vest. “There’s nothing firm yet, but if it happens, I’ll be sure to stop by and let you know. How’s that sound?”

She smiled. “You do that, and I’ll throw in the shake for free.”

Even from a glance he could tell she was a woman who’d seen the worst in life, but not let it hold her back. Her skin was wrinkled and brown from the sun, but she had a relentless energy in her. This woman wouldn’t be beaten if she could do anything about it.

He smiled, feeling better about the day. “Thank you. I’m waiting for a friend, so is it alright if I stick around for a while?”

She laughed. “You see all the open seats? Yeah, I think it’s fine. It’ll get busy for dinner, but it’s a small town.”

They talked about this and that, sharing life stories that didn’t go too deep beneath the surface. He was enjoying the discussion so much that he was surprised when Agent Larson entered the diner, dressed for a shootout.

“Carl, come on. Let’s go.”

Carl rolled his eyes before turning to smile at the waitress. “It was very nice to meet you. See you next time.”

She waved, wondering if the man was in trouble or an agent himself. Either one made him a tiny bit hotter in her mind.

Carl followed Agent Larson back up the highway to Le Page Park. A half dozen police cars had surrounded the area, and the campers were nowhere to be seen.

Parking next to Agent Larson’s mammoth Yukon, he asked, “Where’d all the campers go?”

The agent turned to face him. “There were campers here?”

Carl nodded. “Yes. I told you that I was getting suspicious looks. Where are they?”

Doug held his hand up for Carl to stay back for the moment. “Let me check.”

He got back in his car to avoid the sun. He glanced at his exposed arms which had already started to freckle. Putting his seat back, he closed his eyes until he was needed.

He was jolted awake when Agent Larson knocked on his window. Rubbing his eyes, he opened the door and followed.

“Can you show me where it’s at?”

Carl was still waking up, the cat nap doing him a world of good. “Where are the campers?”

“They were taken in for questioning against my orders. It’s not a terrible thing, but it will be hard to explain why we rounded them up.”

Carl started sniffing, homing in on the money immediately. He walked past the park along the John Day River, into the rocky scrub until he reached the location. He thought he could see the money down there, but that might be his eyes playing tricks on him.

He pointed out and down. “Right there. It’s near the bottom, but not in the center of the river. Just like last time, it’s weighted down with something.”

Doug patted him on the shoulder. He had no idea how Carl was able to do what he did, but he appreciated it all the same. “You can go home. I rented the boat for late tomorrow morning. How does 11am work?”

He nodded. The meeting in Battle Ground shouldn’t take that long. “Where at?”

“Riverplace Marina. I suspect we’ll have to do more than one trip, both up and down the Willamette and the Columbia, along with the smaller rivers feeding into the Columbia. We never expected them to travel this far upriver.”

Gun shots rang out from the highway, the sound echoing along the water. Carl felt a stab of pain in his shoulder that sent him to the ground.

The rest of the group hit the ground, Agent Larson doing his best to get back to his car. “I’ve got a 10-32 on Highway 82 heading east. A yellow van and a black late model sports car near Le Page Park. Men down. Ambulance…”

Carl didn’t hear the rest, doing his best to get out of the way of even more gunshots pinging off the concrete. He rolled into the grass, already pulling up the blue boxes to relieve the pain.

Do you wish to remove the bullet embedded in your clavicle and repair all related damage?

Carl couldn’t think yes fast enough. “Yes. Yes!!”

Doug looked over at him, but he seemed fine. Yes, he’d taken a bullet, but it wouldn’t be fatal if they received help soon.

DNA acquired: 477

Unallocated points acquired: 4,750

Points remaining: 3

Do you wish to remove the bullet embedded in your clavicle and repair all related damage?

Unallocated points available: 82,665

Points required to remove the bullet embedded in your clavicle and repair all related damage: 140

Carl said yes, not thinking about how he would explain this to Agent Larson, Mr. Scully, the EMTs when they arrived, or anyone else for that matter. He just wanted the pain gone.

A flash of blue passed in front of his eyes, and he passed out.

Chapter 22

Carl came to in an ambulance. There was a police officer next to him being treated for a superficial wound to her arm, cursing as the EMTs wrapped it.

The EMT shook her head. “It’s a flesh wound. You’ll be fine.”

The officer didn’t seem to care, cursing a blue streak at that particular EMT, which quickly morphed into a diatribe against men in general.

Carl held his hand up. “Can I leave?”

The EMT nodded. “Yeah, you’re fine. We only brought you in to check you out and because you passed out and had blood on your shirt. We gave you a saline solution for dehydration, but you’re good to go.”

Carl nodded his thanks, easing himself up from the gurney. He’d seen the inside of too many ambulances to want to spend more time in one if he could help it.

Dusk had fallen, and he caught sight of a person with a blanket covering their body. He hoped whoever was responsible would pay for taking a life.

Agent Larson surprised him, approaching from his blind side. “How’re you feeling?”

He stumbled before catching his footing. “Better. Did you catch the shooters?”

“Sorry, but I can’t talk about that.” He grabbed Carl’s elbow, steering him away from the crowd. “I do have some questions for you, though.”

Carl pulled his arm free, surprising Agent Larson with his strength. For an old man, he still had some muscles left in him.

Keeping his eyes focused on Agent Larson’s, he spoke with more vehemence than he intended. It seemed the shooting had affected him some, and the last thing he wanted was to explain how he’d suddenly healed himself. “I don’t owe you any answers. I’m beholden to the contract, and only the contract. Now, did you find the money yet?”

Doug shook his head while his mind raced. “The divers just got here. The John Day River doesn’t have a lot of turbulence, so they think they can go down before it gets dark out.” He looked Carl up and down, not understanding how he was healthy. He’d heard the man screaming behind him, having been hit like a half dozen others. He pointedly focused on the bloodstain on Carl’s shirt, there being no other explanation than he had been shot.

Yet now he was healthy, with not a scratch on him. It defied explanation.

Carl noticed the interested look. Agent Larson caught too many details for his comfort. “Fine. I’m going home. It’s been a long day, and we have work tomorrow. You want to pick up some beers for the trip?”

Doug grinned a little too quickly. Grabbing a six-pack before heading out was an excellent idea. They might just loosen Carl’s tongue and he could find out what had happened here.

“Will do. You have a preference?”

Carl shook his head. He did in fact have a preference, but that beer could only be purchased down in Medford. He considered whether he should stop by the brewery when he was next down that way, to see if he could help them expand up to Portland.

He missed Agent Larson’s predatory grin as he thought about beer.

* * *

He went to bed early when he got home, too tired to stay up and watch TV. The next morning, he was up at 4:30am and minutes later jogging to warm up before his morning run.

The cool air felt good on his skin, both arms sunburned from being out too long in the sun yesterday. His face looked like he was permanently blushing, and he’d rubbed some aloe lotion on it last night before going to bed.

It helped, but only a little.

He ran longer than he usually did, feeling like he needed the exercise. He wound around the park where he’d petted the beagle before turning around and heading home.

Chloe greeted him at the diner. “What happened to you?”

He sighed. “Too much sun. I fell asleep and woke up looking like this.” Which was true, if not the whole truth.

“What can I get you?”

He ordered the hash, something he rarely got. He liked the crispiness of hash browns, but he felt like mixing it up today. He was following his gut—not his stomach—and his gut told him today would be a good day.

Chloe came out with his plate minutes later, the diner not that busy this early on a Saturday morning. He grabbed the paper to read while he ate, but there was nothing of interest in it.

He got home just before 6am. He opened his laptop to check on messages from Wendy since he hadn’t looked for any last night.

Just as before, there was only one message in his inbox. He didn’t know where the weekend spam mail went to, but he didn’t have any.

Carl, just a few messages today. I’m leaving early to meet Evan. Hope you have a great weekend.

1. Dean is flying to Nevada tonight to view the equipment. He’d planned to go yesterday but got delayed. He didn’t say what kind of equipment, but I assume you know. I’m guessing it’s mining equipment?

2. Ted called to say that the cleaners have started work, and they think it will be a quick job since the meth lab never got started. He’s already lined up the contractors but would like to talk to you before they start work on the upstairs apartment in case you want to change it around.

3. Gene got back this morning and wants to talk to you about the UFO conference in Denver this summer. He set up the new fences around the false plats and can keep track of all the sensors at his home.

4. I did some research on courier companies in Seattle. There are four companies, in order from largest to smallest.

1. On Time Delivery. They’re the oldest and biggest in the city, with hubs in downtown and North Seattle. Their website says they’ll be expanding into Tacoma soon.

2. Thundercat Delivery. They’ve been in business ten years now and seem to be doing well.

3. Reliant Delivery. Much smaller than the first two.

4. The Courier Coop. This is a group of independent messengers in downtown Seattle. They used to be bigger, but Thundercat stole a good portion of their business over the past few years. I’m basing this on an article I read.

5. There are two smaller companies, but neither of them have websites. On Time has the biggest website, and Thundercat isn’t far behind. I’m mentioning them just so you’re aware.

Should I meet you at the office Monday morning? I think that might be the easiest, and then we’ll drive up. I’m packing a small bag in case we need to stay overnight and have booked a reservation at the Four Seasons just in case.

Best, Wendy.

Carl replied that it was fine to meet at Lyon & Hudson, and that he would be there at 8am. He also thanked her for the research, as he usually just drove around until he smelled a failing business. It would be much faster to go directly to the companies and see if they were failing.

That done, he turned on the TV news for background noise while he got dressed. He had time to kill before his breakfast meeting, so he headed up I5 until he came to the Lewis River. He’d passed Battle Ground fifteen minutes ago but wanted to see what he could find.

The Lewis River spilled out of the Lake Merwin reservoir, which wasn’t as large as the John Day River. He drove up until he was almost at Lake Merwin, smelling nothing of interest. Just for fun he turned on his gold and silver scent but came up empty.

He headed back to Battle Ground taking back roads and turned on his failing business scent in case any opportunities were available. There were a few scents, almost all of them restaurants, including a few fast-food chains, but he passed them by.

He pulled into the Old Town Burger and Breakfast at a quarter before 8am. Heading inside, he found it busy.

A busy waitress with frizzed hair and a pencil behind her ear asked, “Is it just you?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m meeting someone here. He’s from London.”

Recognition dawned in her eyes. “He ain’t here yet, but he reserved a table. Said you’d be showing up. Follow me.”

A few customer ears perked up at hearing the expat would be in. It was well known that he owned a massive spread up near the St. Helens wilderness, but rarely came in.

Carl followed the waitress to a booth that had a “reserved” sign on it. “Coffee?”

He nodded gratefully. “Please.”

The waitress departed, and he pulled a menu out of the metal holder at the far end of the table. Breakfast was standard fare with a variety of different egg, breakfast meat, and hash brown or thick cut potatoes combinations on offer.

He read down the menu, spying an omelet with locally made salami and provolone. It would probably do terrible things to his body and cholesterol count, but it sounded delicious.

An older man sat down across from him. His cheeks drooped from age, and he had three or four chins packed in until it reached his neck. To top it off, he wore a cowboy hat.

Bleary, bloodshot eyes met his. “You must be Carl. I’m Julian. Julian Page.” He reached his hand across the table, and Carl took it. The skin around his hand felt too loose for some reason, but he said nothing.

“Thank you for coming.” He pointed to the menu. “I recommend the sausage and provolone omelet. They make the sausage just outside of town. It has a kick, and it’s delicious.”

Carl chuckled. “I was just thinking about it.” He closed his menu. “If you recommend it, I won’t turn it down.”

The two men made small talk, Julian filling him in on Battle Ground while Carl talked about Portland. They went through the weather, both agreeing it was fabulous despite Carl getting too much of it yesterday, then on to sports and then Julian talking about the move away from London. The waitress took their orders somewhere in the middle.

Julian cleared his throat. “A lot of people ask me why I moved, but I think it’s obvious. There’s more room to move around in out here. I worked in London for twenty-five years, and that was enough. My wife divorced me because of the long hours and a few”—he coughed, covering his mouth— “indiscretions, and I decided it was time to move. I invested in a number of local businesses and bought a few other things and settled down. I haven’t been back to the UK since.”

Carl took a sip of his coffee, still trying to figure the man across from him out. “I’ve never been. Haven’t been out of the country yet.”

Julian seemed surprised. “Really? I took you for a worldly man. Still, I can’t fault you for knowing what you want. I love it out here. Fresh air, good fishing, and the ocean is less than an hour away.”

Their orders came, and both men dug in. The salami was salty, spicy and had a good amount of garlic in it, but he couldn’t fault it in the slightest. The provolone balanced it out, and the conversation fell flat as both men ate.

Carl slowed down about halfway through his meal, the richness of the meat and eggs getting to him. The waitress refilled his coffee, and he leaned back against the seat cushion.

He studied Julian, who was still eating and had surpassed him, thinking through why he was here. It couldn’t be for just the buildings. Sure, there was an outside possibility that was all it was about, but he had a feeling it wasn’t. They had a common interest in the advertising company, but that was as far as it went.

He said nothing, taking a few extra bites before pushing his plate away.

Julian laughed. His British accent was full of mirth. “The first few times I ate here I had trouble cleaning my plate as you Yanks say, but you get used to it. Your stomach expands, and you can pack it all in.” He pointed with his fork at the remains of the massive omelet. “This will keep me going all day. I might have a light salad for dinner, but that’s it.”

Carl said nothing. He liked the ambience of the restaurant but doubted he could eat here on a regular basis. All they served for dinner were burgers and fried food, and breakfast was too heavy for him. Maybe it was his age, but he preferred the diners he knew. He didn’t need to add a new one to his repertoire. Medford Diner being the lone exception.

Julian set his fork down, patting his stomach. “I suppose you want to get down to business. That’s fine, but I’d hoped for more banter before that.” He shrugged as if such things were out of his control. “So be it. I hear you were interested in the buildings I own in downtown Vancouver.”

Carl sipped on his coffee, not reacting despite the flutter he felt in his full stomach. “That’s not why you called me up here. I could take a few educated guesses, but I won’t spoil the moment. And banter comes from honesty, from knowing the other person well enough that it comes naturally.”

Julian grinned. “I must be getting old or the generation behind me is getting smarter. I didn’t ask you down here about the buildings, or at least not just about the buildings. We can discuss that, but I have a different proposal.”

The waitress interrupted as she topped Carl off and refilled Julian’s cups. Once she was out of earshot, he continued.

“I asked you here because of Vancouver Life. I let that ass Neils run it into the ground, and now they’re filing for bankruptcy.” He shook his head, remorse written across his face. “I don’t have the desire or the energy to turn it around.”

He leaned forward. “I studied you after I first heard someone was interested in the buildings. Found out some things not listed on Google or in the newspapers. I have to admit I don’t understand why you branched into courier services, but I can admit it was a good play.”

He chuckled. “It was the advertising company that got my attention. I bought into that company over a decade ago, when I was having fun investing in up-and-coming businesses just because I had some money to spend. Last quarter was the first quarter of seriously positive growth in over two years. The stranglehold from the other advertising agencies was too much for Sue to overcome, which I’m sure is why she jumped at your offer.”

Carl didn’t have to force his smile. He had a lot of time for Sue. “She’s been a great addition to our team and has made a huge difference for the other companies.” He grinned. “It doesn’t hurt that she serves fresh donuts for every meeting. I don’t know where she gets them, but they’re delicious.”

Julian laughed out loud. “Really? Maybe I should stop by more often. Usually, you get stale cookies out of a box and bitter coffee.” He shook his head. “No, I don’t miss the board meetings. I stopped attending Vancouver Life’s board meetings, to my own regret it seems. Sending a proxy is fine, but you can’t see the looks on their faces when you corner them with hard questions. Then you’ll really know what’s happening.” He waved his comment away. “You’ll learn, and a fair bit faster than I did, I think.”

Carl glanced at the clock on the back wall. It was ten minutes before 9am, which meant he had plenty of time.

He decided to share some of his thoughts. Maybe he was being premature, but he thought it was the right move. “I am interested in buying Vancouver Life and turning it around. I met a few of the call center employees, and they were the nicest people. Unfortunately, I believe they’ve been laid off since. I’d make an offer now, except…”

Julian took his voice to a whisper. “Except your gold mines hit a snafu. That’s World War Two talk for fucked up.” He grinned. “That will change, I have no doubt. And when it does, I’d like you to come see me. I own a few other businesses besides the ones you know about, and I’m tired of taking care of them. I’d like to sell everything, lock, stock and barrel I believe is the expression, and I think you’re the man to right the ship. What do you say?”

Carl had a rough valuation for Vancouver Life, and the same for the buildings. The advertising company shares wouldn’t cost much, and he imagined any other companies he owned wouldn’t be as prominent or expensive.

“Can you give me a ballpark figure?”

Julian slapped the table, jostling the coffee cups. “Ah, baseball. The much better version of cricket, although the Mariners aren’t the best example.” He tapped a finger on his chin. “How does twenty million sound?”

Carl heard a gasp from the booth next to theirs, separated by a piece of stained plywood.

Julian laughed, holding his hand to his mouth. “Oops!”

If the Fed money he’d found last night was over forty million, his half of what he’d found would pay for it. He had the feeling that Julian didn’t negotiate, simply because he didn’t need to.

The only problem was that he hadn’t received a cent from the Fed. He reminded himself to ask Rebecca what the terms of payment were for the money he found.

Carl did his best not to blanch, even if he felt like it on the inside. “Can I call you when I’m liquid?”

Julian nodded. “Absolutely. Let’s go fishing next time. Maybe have you come up and spend the night so we can get up early the next morning to reel in some bass. I have a massive house on Lake Cougar, not to brag, which is far too big for one man, and the lake is stocked with fish every year.”

Carl could honestly say he’d like that. “That sounds wonderful. I look forward to it.”

Julian clapped his hands. “Wonderful! It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Carl. I must be going as the grandkids will arrive in an hour or so, and I should be there to greet them. We English are fussy about those kinds of things.”

The two men shook, and Carl left in better spirits.

Chapter 23

He was back in Portland in less than thirty minutes, wanting to stop home to change before going out on the river with Agent Larson.

He also needed to send an email to Rebecca, which he drafted immediately. This time his inbox was filled with junk mail, which he deleted.

The email was short, asking her the same question he’d thought of at the restaurant. As he wrote it, he wondered if Rebecca should get a percentage of the money he made from the Fed or FBI. He came to the conclusion that she should. No, she hadn’t been shot at along the way, but her name was on the contract right next to his.

She’d argue against it when he told her, but he’d win.

Closing the laptop, he spent some time trying to look like a fisherman out for a Saturday boat trip. He’d done some fishing in his teens and early twenties on the Raccoon River, but those days were far behind him. He wasn’t much of an outdoorsman, finding the concept of spending hours upon hours fishing versus buying freshly caught fillets at the market to make no financial sense.

Pulling a hat from the back of his closet, he adjusted the strap until it fit his head. It took a bit of searching, but he managed to dig up a pair of Ray Bans from the 70s. The plastic was chipped on the edges but would keep the sun out of his eyes.

With nothing else to do, he set the alarm on the clock radio and leaned back in his recliner. It wasn’t worth checking for old movies this early on a Saturday morning, as the airwaves would be packed with children’s cartoons.

* * *

Agent Larson was easy to pick out from the enormous black vehicle in the parking lot. The rest was filled with trucks and trailers, with a few smaller SUVs hiding among the trucks.

Carl pulled up alongside, rolling down his window. “Is the boat ready to go?”

Doug nodded. “Follow me.”

Carl parked and locked the car, following Doug who was holding a duffle bag into the marina. He waited outside while the agent talked to the marina manager, finally being handed a set of keys with floats on the end.

“The boat is on dock E, berth 122.”

The two men walked, little waves of water lapping at the dock as they made their way through the warren of boats. Some were luxury liners or massive sailboats, but most were nice everyday boats that he imagined dads taking their wife and kids out in when he had time away from work.

A little zing of pain wracked his heart but faded moments later.

Doug pointed in the distance. He was dressed in casual khakis and a short-sleeve polo, looking more like he was going to the golf course than boating.

They turned the corner, giving Carl his first view of the boat. It was large, although he didn’t have a guide to know how long it was bow to stern. Thirty feet, maybe?

The only way he could describe it was that it was much bigger than he’d expect for someone from the bureau to rent. It had a flying bridge on the top and a deck full of chairs and trolling rod holders in the back.

Doug climbed on first, followed by Carl. “Do you really know how to drive this thing?”

The agent smirked. “How hard can it be? Just like driving a car I imagine.”

The comment did not ease his concerns.

He opened the duffle bag, handing Carl a lifejacket and putting the second one on himself. “It’s really a bullet-proof vest, but it looks like a lifejacket.”

“So, it won’t keep me afloat when the boat sinks?”

Doug gave him the stink eye. He’d been looking forward to this trip ever since Carl mentioned it. And although he hadn’t shared the information with Carl, he did in fact have a boat license and training in high-speed boat chases. It wasn’t required in most bureau offices, but the Portland office recommended it to field agents because they were proximate to two rivers and an ocean an hour away.

Doug turned the key, causing the twin diesel engine to rumble to life. “Throw off the lines and pull in the buoys. You want to head upriver or down river first?”

Carl had already thought of this question. “Let’s head upriver. It’s a smaller area and will be easier to tackle. Then we can divide the lower Willamette and Columbia into sections and tackle them one by one.”

Doug raised an eyebrow, impressed by Carl’s forward thinking. It also meant he would be out on the water more in the future. Maybe he could bring fishing poles next time to complete the facsimile.

And get in some fishing to keep up the façade. He hadn’t had time to buy poles this time, his day yesterday extending well past midnight. His wife was used to it, but he knew that a part of her wished he had a normal 9 to 5 job that wasn’t as dangerous.

Carl jumped back in the boat, pulling the buoys in. “Let’s get going. Sorry, but I didn’t bring any beer. Did you?”

Doug shook his head, putting the transmission in reverse and backing the boat out of its berth. He’d meant to, but life at the office had gotten in the way, as usual.

Once they cleared the slow zone around the marina, he opened up the throttle as he sped past Portland, keeping to the right of the boats approaching him.

Carl pulled on his Ray Bans, completing the sportfishing look. The cool air blasting past his skin felt wonderful, and he relaxed into a cushy chair. The boat cleared Portland, and he tapped Doug on the shoulder.

Doug shouted, “What?”

Carl cupped his hands to his mouth to shout over the roar of the engines. “I can’t get a read on anything at this speed. Slow it down.”

Doug nodded, pulling back on the throttle. The boat burbled along eighteen knots or just under twenty-one miles an hour.

Carl left the comfort of the cabin for the open-aired rear of the boat, sniffing for lost money as they sped up the river. They took their time around Ross Island, but Carl was forced to shake his head after a full circumference.

The boat loped up the river, Carl sniffing constantly. The last thing he wanted was to worsen his sunburn, but he equally didn’t want to have to search the river again to find something they might have missed the first time around.

He caught his first sniff at Cedar Island, a state park upriver of Lake Oswego. He motioned for Doug to pull closer.

A few boats had beached on the sandy bar, their owners watching the much larger boat go by in admiration and lust.

Doug asked, “Where?”

Carl motioned to keep going past the island, the scent becoming stronger. It wasn’t until they were almost past the island that he closed his fist to stop.

Doug closed the throttle, the engines idling. “Where is it?”

Carl didn’t want to say it out loud in case the sound carried across the water. He walked up to the cabin until he was next to Doug.

“It’s below us, somewhere between where we are and the island.”

Doug pulled a phone out of his duffle bag, calling it in. Different codes were used during the call, which Carl paid no attention to.

He sat down on the chair, assuming they would have to wait for the police or the divers to arrive before leaving. “You never said how much they found in the John Day River.”

Doug whistled. “Twenty million on the dot. It was wrapped the same way as the previous finds. They tried pulling prints, but whoever did this was careful.”

Carl grinned on the inside. This find would put him over the twenty million he needed to pay Julian for Vancouver Life and all the rest.

A police boat with its siren blaring appeared from the north, a few boaters scampering to drain their beers prior to getting back on their boats and pulling away before the police showed up.

“As soon as they’ve secured the scene, we’ll keep going.”

Carl nodded absently. “I don’t get why they’re hiding the money in the water. Sure, it keeps it better hidden than most places, but why in so many smaller packages?”

Doug smiled but said nothing.

Carl followed his example. Endless speculation wouldn’t get him anywhere.

Police cars filed into the parking lot that led to the walkway to the island. A nondescript Yukon appeared minutes later, and Doug pushed the throttle forward as soon as he saw it. The man from the Yukon spoke to Doug for a handful of minutes before turning around and getting back on the boat.

The rest of the trip up the Willamette was boring. They stopped a few miles short of the Willamette Falls locks, despite the knowledge that the first find had been further up the river.

Doug kept to the eastern side of the river on the way back, and Carl dutifully sniffed. He caught a scent in the middle of the river once they reached Portland, but he knew it wasn’t Fed money. It didn’t smell fresh enough, and the scent wasn’t strong enough.

He told none of that to Agent Larson, however. That would entail another wait until a second police boat showed up, and unless it was a sure thing, Carl planned to keep his mouth shut. Still, he noted where the money was located by triangulating between points on either side of the river and memorizing them.

Chapter 24

Carl got home a few minutes before 5pm. His arms and neck were crispy, and the first thing he did was rub them down with aloe lotion.

It didn’t help, so he dug a crusty old bottle of calamine lotion out of the back of the medicine cabinet. It took a few minutes to get the cap off, but once he did, he spread it across the sunburn.

The pain eased as he leaned back in his recliner. He ignored his laptop and turned on the TV. It had been a long day already, and it wasn’t over yet.

By the time he started to get dressed a little after 6pm, he was on his third coat of calamine and starting to feel better. Thirst hit a few minutes after the second coat of calamine lotion, and he drank glass after glass of water to soothe a mild case of dehydration.

Feeling discombobulated but not willing to miss a date with Barbara, he eased the clothes over the sunburnt areas. The first shirt was too scratchy, so he changed up and found a soft cotton blend that wasn’t as bad.

He popped two Advil for good measure before he walked out the door.

* * *

Knocking on the front door, Barbara opened it. She was wearing a light summer dress that showed off all her curves.

Carl didn’t bother to try and hide his wolfish grin. “You look wonderful, Barbara.”

She blushed. “You look dashing as well, if a bit sunburned.” She closed the door behind her. “Let’s head to the restaurant. I have so many questions to ask you.”

Carl drove with his left hand while he held her hand with his right. “How was work this week?”

She shook her head. “I’m going to wait until the restaurant, as it’s all tied up with the blue boxes.” She shivered in excitement, her hair bouncing along in a hypnotic fashion. “I’ve seen things I never imagined in my wildest dreams these past few days. Now, tell me how your week was.”

Carl did so, explaining everything but the FBI contract. He would explain it in all its gory detail once the contract was over, but not until then. He also omitted the call with his son at the last moment, not wanting to be pitied.

“Has Dean called back about the equipment?”

A car buzzed by a little too close to the center line, forcing Carl to swerve. “Not yet, but if I don’t hear from him tomorrow, I’ll call. It might be that he found something better than he expected, and now he’s looking at that.”

She gripped his hand tighter in hers. “I would have never said this before the blue boxes, but what do you think of taking a trip this summer? I’ve always wanted to visit the Orient.”

Carl was noncommittal. There was too much going on to consider a vacation, but if he was ever going to take one, it would be with her. Of that he had no doubt. “Let’s discuss it at the restaurant. It might be possible after we finalize the Vancouver Life deal. That’s the biggest one on the horizon.”

The separate seats in the Honda didn’t allow her to get closer to Carl like her dad’s old Chrysler had done, the bench seats making a lot of different things possible that modern cars couldn’t accommodate. Still, she leaned into the center console to wrap his arm closer to her.

She patted his hand. “That’s fine, Carl, but if you expect me to wait much longer after that you’ll be waiting a heck of a long time. I feel like I’m back in my twenties, and I want to explore and enjoy life. Maybe we can go to Australia, as it will be summer down there while it’s winter up here.”

Carl nodded, understanding the irony for what it was. Half measures wouldn’t work any longer, not that they ever had for him. “Agreed. As soon as I buy Vancouver Life, we leave. We’ll take a couple weeks to explore and go wherever our hearts take us.” He whispered, “I’ve heard Bali is beautiful.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Mmmm. Yes, Bali, and Singapore, and—oh, I would love to see Thailand. Maybe Vietnam too.”

There was a still a part of Carl that wanted to resist. He mercilessly forced that part of him down. “Agreed. I’ll get Wendy started on it while we’re up in Seattle.”

Barbara stilled. “You never mentioned you were taking Wendy.”

He nodded, not catching Barbara’s reaction because he was driving. “Yep. She’s going so she can learn the business. Eventually she’s going to run one of the companies, and for that to happen she needs to learn how to make business deals. It will only be a few days.”

Carl pulled into a free spot only a block away from the Proof Reader.

Barbara was mollified, but only a little. She planned to call him every night until he returned to Portland.

The same maître d’ welcomed them with a bright smile upon entering the restaurant. Not only had this customer paid for her books this semester, but he’d also paid for some of her annual tuition.

She would make sure they got the best possible service tonight.

“Right this way.” She led them through the restaurant to the private room, the table set with roses in vases and flickering candles in the middle. Real candles, not the battery operated ones.

Carl seated Barbara and then took his own seat. She handed them menus, and added a paper insert after a long talk with the head chef. It was a list of expensive specials for high-end customers, and she’d done it with this man in mind. Management might not agree once they found out, but she wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass her by.

Once the maître d’ left, Barbara said, “I can’t hold it in any longer. I can cure cancer. Not all cancers, but breast and ovarian cancer. I had to touch a horse and an elephant. The horse was easy, as one of the nurses has a horse and invited me out once I expressed interest.” She grinned, sipping on water. “The elephant was harder, so I went to the zoo and talked to the curator there, and he was kind enough to let me get close after I flirted with him.”

Carl raised an eyebrow. “And you were worried about me taking Wendy to Seattle?” He wasn’t always as dumb as he sometimes looked. “If you’re worried, why don’t you come to Seattle too. It would be a lot more fun that way, and you could visit Pike Place Market and the aquarium there.”

Barbara laughed, feeling silly for questioning his ethics. “I can’t because of work, but it’s a lovely offer. Anyway, I’ve healed four women so far, and the doctors have no idea what’s going on. They’re baffled, and the patients are ecstatic.”

The waitress entered, taking their orders. Carl ignored the menu as the specials today were amazing. He waited for Barbara to order before saying anything.

“Oh, I don’t know. They all look so good.” She ran her eyes down the menu. “I’ll take the Belgian mussels cooked in white wine. It sounds delicious.”

The waitress was in on the game and smiled widely at the lady’s excellent decision.

She took Barbara’s menu before turning to Carl. “And for you, sir?”

“I’ll have a Caesar salad to start, and then the pork crown roast.”

The waitress hesitated. “That’s meant to be for two people.”

Carl laughed as he handed her his menu. “I know, but it sounds delicious. I’ll take the rest home with me in a doggy bag.”

The waitress nodded sagely. “And to drink?”

Barbara interjected. “Let’s get the same bottle as last time. That wine was divine.” She startled, then laughed at her inadvertent rhyme.

Carl didn’t hesitate as he nodded in agreement.

The waitress wrote it all down. The wait staff tonight was going to make out like bandits. And the two people in front of her were going to eat like royalty.

Once the waitress departed, Barbara continued. “I need to touch a blind or naked mole rat to cure other kinds of cancer, but I don’t know where to find one.”

Carl chuckled as he sipped from the glass of ice water than had been placed in front of him. “I had that one too. I don’t know what a naked mole rat looks like or where you find one, but the blue boxes seem to love them.” He thought about the problem, always taking the easier path when it was listed as an option.

An idea popped into his head. “You might reach out to a pest control company. See if they can procure a live one so you can touch it. Then you can release it into the wild. You’d be giving them more business that way.”

Barbara let a shoe drop to the ground and ran her foot up his calf. Carl’s eyes went wide, and she laughed a throaty laugh. “I’m not the same anymore.” She reconsidered her wording. “I don’t feel the same anymore. I have a new lease on life, and I want to make different decisions this time around. I’ll keep working, but now it’s to heal people.”

Carl felt the same. “I agree. I’ve had more fun in the past few months than I’ve had in the past twenty years. I’m not running out the clock any longer.”

He paused, considering the things he hadn’t shared with her yet. “I went a different direction than you did with the boxes. I want to help people too but the best way I know how is by turning their companies around. I can smell failing businesses now. That’s why I’m buying Donnehy and…” He knocked on the wood table. “Vancouver Life. Hopefully. Rebecca will run Donnehy and Charles will run Vancouver Life. The only difference is that Rebecca is excited for it while Charles isn’t, but he’ll come around.”

That got Barbara thinking. “I’m worried they’ll catch me. The doctors, I mean. It won’t make sense to them if they do, but I’ve been checking on patients that aren’t my own. It’s dangerous, but the good I’m doing is worth it.”

He patted her hand. “Please be careful, Barb. I can’t lose you now.”

She nodded as an idea struck her. “What if we bought a hospital? Or a clinic? Something where the treatment couldn’t be traced back to me. It takes me three minutes to heal breast cancer, and a bit longer for ovarian cancer. I need a way to do it without being noticed.”

The waitress returned with a bottle of wine, pouring a little for Carl to taste. He didn’t understand why restaurants still insisted on the archaic practice, as few modern wines went bad.

He swirled and sniffed dutifully, knowing his role in the charade. “It’s wonderful.”

The waitress smiled, pouring and then leaving the bottle on a side table. “Your meals will be a bit longer. Can I get either of you an appetizer?”

Barbara nodded. It had a been a long and stressful day trying to heal patients of cancer while not getting caught, and she was hungry. For more than just food.

“Can you bring us a selection of your favorite appetizers?”

The waitress nodded, trying to calculate her share of the tip but unable to come up with it because she’d failed math twice in high school. At least she had her looks to get her by.

“It will be just a moment.”

Once the door closed, he nodded. “A hospital is possible, but how would that change things? You would need a way to get in and out of patients’ rooms without being noticed, and most hospitals are too rigid in their schedules. A clinic would be worse, because as more people get healed there the word will get out.” He tapped on his chin. “What if you found a way that the patient can’t remember anything? Where they know they’re coming in for cancer treatment but don’t remember it when they leave?”

Barbara’s eyes glazed over as she thought the same question. The blue boxes responded.

“They say I need DNA samples from jasmine, valerian and one of either lavender, snake plant, or warneckei.” She blinked a few times to remove the blue boxes. “The combination won’t cause memory loss but will induce a deep sleep. Then I could heal them, and they could be on their way.”

Carl remembered the cancer he’d cured in his leg. It was long gone now, but cancer was the scariest word in the English dictionary no matter what age you were. “You could charge thousands.”

She shook her head, smiling. “I don’t have to. You’ll make the money, and I’ll heal people.” Then she frowned. “I can’t say I’m curing cancer, though. I’ve heard too many horror stories of the FDA and AMA going after people claiming to cure cancer. I’d have to call it something else, and even that might not keep them from pursuing me.”

They tabled the conversation as the waitress entered with a platter of different appetizers. Carl made room on the table by moving a few things around, and she slid the platter between them.

Then she refilled their wine and water glasses before leaving.

Carl did his best not to overeat from the appetizer platter, but he especially enjoyed the meat and cheese platter. He folded some cheese in between two slices of meat and chomped away.

Fortunately, their meals arrived minutes later, and the appetizer plate was taken away. Both were lost in thoughts of the future while they ate.

* * *

Barbara was up early the next morning, despite their late-night activities. It seemed that thirty-five-year-old bodies had a lot more stamina than seventy-three and forty-nine-year-old ones.

Carl got up when he heard the shower running. He made a pot of coffee and prepared breakfast since he knew she had an early shift today.

She grinned when she saw what he was doing. “Oh, you didn’t need to go through all the trouble, Carl.”

He shrugged. “It’s not a problem. I kept you up late, so it’s the least I could do.”

She shook her head, her eyes mirthful. “There’s no least about it. I haven’t had a night like that for far too long.”

Twenty minutes later she was out the door. Carl cleaned up the kitchen and washed the dishes before leaving. He didn’t have any plans today, which meant one thing.

He would be looking for more of the Federal Reserve’s money.

He sighed. The search was getting tedious.

Chapter 25

The only direction he hadn’t been yet was further up the Willamette River, past Unionvale where he’d made his first find. He took I5 to get there quicker, then got off at the Woodburn exit and headed for the back roads.

It wasn’t even 8am yet.

Driving along the Willamette again felt like déjà vu. He remembered the elation of the first find, then the fear that followed as he realized the mistake he’d made. It had all worked out fine, but he would never forget the lesson.

Think before you act.

There was no traffic as he drove, passing Wheatland and Lincoln before approaching West Salem. He wound his way around until he was closer to the river, stopping at the Wallace Marine softball park as the last two finds had been at parks.

Nothing. There wasn’t even the slightest tingle of a scent to be had. He went back and forth whether he should stop in at the bar he’d found recently but came to the conclusion it was unlikely to be open at this early hour.

He moved on.

His GPS said there were no roads following the river on the west side, so he drove over the bridge to east Salem, stopping at Riverside Park to check it out.

Finding nothing, he stopped at Minto-Brown Island Park, having to get out of his car to walk to the waterfront. It was a large park with a few creeks feeding into the Willamette, none of them deep enough to hide the money.

He caught the scent at the southern edge of the park. A few couples were lying out on towels to keep their places before it got warmer, throwing frisbees and in general enjoying the day while it wasn’t too hot.

Pulling out his flip phone, he caught sight of a motorcycle churning up the grass as it made a beeline towards him. A few people screamed, but the rider didn’t stop, a reflective helmet making it impossible to see the face inside.

Pocketing his phone, Carl panicked. His first thought was to run away, maybe hide in a creek where the rider couldn’t get to him.

Then the motorcyclist pulled a small handgun, pointing it at Carl.

Moving into action, Carl pocketed his phone as he ran for the water, his feet squelching in the muddy river’s edge before diving into the water.

Little spirals of fast-moving water went around him, none of them hitting him. He wasn’t out of air yet, but he would be soon, not having had time to take a deep breath before jumping in.

There was only one way out of this where he would survive a one-sided gunfight. He needed to swim like a fish.

Do you wish to swim like a fish?

Carl thought, ‘Yes, yes, yes!’

To swim like a fish, touch two fish. Any genus, any species.

So surprised was he by the message that he stopped swimming, his natural buoyancy taking him closer to the surface.

Diving back down and kicking his legs behind him, he reached for the small fishes inhabiting this part of the river. His lungs were burning, and he doubted that he would have time to catch a breath and dive again if he rose to the surface.

He would be shot. And it would be doubtful if he could heal himself in time if it happened. Whoever the motorcycle rider was, he looked and acted like a professional.

His finger grazed the slimy scales of a tiny fish, which darted away from the contact.

One more to go. He wanted to grab the one he’d just touched, but he knew it didn’t work like that. Taking a few strokes as his body spasmed from lack of oxygen, his fingers grazed on something slimy near the bottom of the river.

Young Brown Bullhead (Ameiurus nebulosus) DNA acquired.

Western River Lamprey (Lampetra Ayresii) DNA acquired.

DNA integration complete.

His mind lurched as the pain in his lungs eased immediately. River water filled his lungs, but it felt natural somehow. Once the dizziness cleared, he darted up the river while skimming the bottom. He didn’t know where the shooter was, and he didn’t plan to find out.

Except for one thing. He couldn’t let the shooter get away with the money.

He turned on his scent for lost money, the smell overpowering and slightly intoxicating. He spun around one hundred and eighty degrees, his body oscillating back and forth as he darted towards the money.

Laughing in his mind the entire way, he spotted the package. It was weighted down with a rock netting, the same as all the rest.

Glancing up at the surface to make sure he couldn’t be seen, he pulled the netting away. One corner got stuck underneath the package, but it didn’t take long to remove.

He pulled on the package, but it didn’t move. His first find had been heavy, but not this heavy.

If he couldn’t carry it, then he would drag it. He backed up a few feet to get a head start, then darted forward and hooked his right hand into the package handle and started dragging.

The churning water caused the motorcycle rider to pepper the river with bullets, but Carl had a feeling the shooter was on borrowed time. He’d be surprised if the early morning campers hadn’t run screaming from the park already, and probably more than a few had called the police if his guess was right.

* * *

Getting back on his bike, the shooter cursed at the old man for causing him so many problems. It had been a perfect robbery, and a damn near perfect plan for hiding the money. Who would think to look in the water to find it?

Nobody, that’s who. Except Tim had been lazy by digging a hole for his share because he didn’t feel like renting a boat. As the getaway driver he got a quarter share, and it was that quarter share that had started the ongoing debacle.

He swore he’d kill Tim the next time he saw him. And the old man. That was a given.

Speeding away, he made plans for moving the rest. It would be difficult with the FBI on his tail, even if they didn’t know who he was yet. How they’d found the drop at Le Page Park, he had no idea. That had been his share, and he’d purposely taken it far, far away from all the rest and dropped it in the middle of nowhere.

Now it was gone, and somebody was going to pay.

* * *

Carl sat in the river for over an hour. His phone was dead, so he couldn’t call for help. His only hope was that someone had called the police. He would wait until they arrived.

He drifted in place, a few fish moving closer as he closed his eyes and drifted underwater. It was the faint sound of sirens that pulled him awake.

Moving to one of the creeks feeding into the river so he wouldn’t be shot, he left the package lodged against a piling and put a few large rocks on top to keep it in place.

Then he emerged from the river, mud and various underwater growth covering his body.

A policewoman spun on him as he exited the water. “Stop right there! Hands up now!”

Carl put his hands up, and an officer walked over to yank his hands behind his back to cuff them.

“Who are you?”

“Carl Thompson. Please call FBI Agent Larson at the Portland office. He can vouch for me.”

The Salem police laughed sarcastically. “Sure, we’ll get on that right away. Take a seat on the ground and we’ll get to you.”

Time passed, and of all things Carl found that he was thirsty. The feeling of being underwater had felt… comfortable. Normal, if that made any sense. It was if humans weren’t meant to just be on land but had somehow ended up that way over the millennia.

The captain arrived an hour later and did as Carl asked. To his surprise, Agent Larson vouched for him, and a very nervous female officer uncuffed him. “Sorry about that.”

Carl shook his hands out to get the blood flowing again. “Can I get a bottle of water? I’m really thirsty.”

The officer ran to do what he’d asked, and she grabbed some donuts she’d picked up earlier but hadn’t eaten yet. Daynight Donuts in Salem were the go-to stop at the start of every shift, and sometimes after it ended.

“Here you go. Agent Larson won’t be here for an hour, but he’s sending a local agent to speak with you.” The officer cleared her throat as she watched Carl drink an entire half gallon bottle of water, and then he dug into the donuts. It seemed she would be stopping to get another box as soon as her shift was over.

Maybe even sooner if she could get away with it.

The officer interrupted him while eating his second donut. “This is odd, but the agent asked if you needed a diver.”

Carl shook his head as he took the last bite of an apple fritter. “I’ll go down again when the agent arrives.”

Her demeanor warmed to him. It worked on guys nine out of ten times, no matter their age. “Do you mind sharing what happened?”

Carl ate three donuts in succession, especially enjoying the maple bars. He’d always had a soft spot for those when he was a kid, and they still tasted darn good.

“I was walking around the park when a motorcycle rider came right at me. He pulled a gun, so I jumped in the river. I came up for air and then dove back down again, and almost got hit a few times.” He paused to drink a second, smaller bottle of water.

He pointed over to the shallows where the creek met the river. “I hid in that creek and waited for you guys to arrive. Then you cuffed me.”

The officer hemmed and hawed. “Well, you have to admit that you looked like the Swamp Thing emerging from the creek with river grass and a few fish falling out of your jacket.”

Carl blinked. “What’s the Swamp Thing?”

The officer shook her head. “Doesn’t matter.” She motioned towards the other officers like she had something important to take care of and made her escape.

Carl stripped down as much as he reasonably could to lay his clothes in the grass, the temperature rising as the sun was almost directly overhead now.

Surprisingly, Carl didn’t feel any different for having swum around like a fish. Maybe he could try the ocean if he had a chance and a quiet place to practice to try and see what was down on the bottom. Maybe he would find something interesting.

The Salem agent arrived a half hour later. Just as with Agent Larson, he could pick this guy out of the crowd without even trying. Dark suit, sunglasses and another black GMC Yukon.

He spoke with the police first, then walked over to Carl when they pointed in his direction.

“Carl Thompson?”

Carl nodded.

“I’m Agent Deloroso. You mind telling me what happened here?”

Carl gave a brief rundown, not elaborating when it came to his swim in the river.

The agent whispered, leaning closer to Carl. “And where’s the package?”

Carl pulled back. “I moved it. I’ll go down and get it if you get me a dry change of clothes.”

The agent grumbled but did as asked. He called in to someone, Carl not bothering to try to overhear the conversation. Pocketing his phone, he turned to Carl. “Clothes are on their way. The sooner you pull the money out, the sooner you’re dry.”

Carl nodded. “I want a receipt for the package, and a count of how much is inside.”

Agent Deloroso shook his head. “That’s not possible.”

Carl crossed his arms. “Fine, I’ll take it up with Mr. Scully. Can I borrow your phone? Mine’s dead after a swim in the river.”

Pulling his wallet out of his jacket, he fished out the card Mr. Scully had given him. It was damp and wrinkled but the number was still legible.

To his surprise, the agent handed him his phone. Carl didn’t know whether the man was calling his bluff, but either way he wasn’t having it.

He dialed the number on the card, then put his wallet away.

“Scully here.”

“Mr. Scully, this is Carl Thompson. I’m speaking to one of your agents regarding our agreement, and since he’s a local Salem agent and not Agent Larson, he won’t give me a receipt for the package I plan to give him with the money, nor will he agree to give me an accounting of how much is in it once they count it.”

Scully cursed. Some agents were like that, treating civilians as a species below them. “Hand the phone to him.”

It wasn’t in Carl to enjoy other people’s suffering, but there was a certain sense of schadenfreude as he caught part of the royal chewing out Agent Deloroso took from Mr. Scully.

The agent’s hand trembled as he handed the phone back to Carl. Mr. Scully said, “It’ll be taken care of. Is there anything else?”

Scully could admit that Carl had done an exceptional job thus far, finding all the money despite launching a private ongoing search where he’d sent a few of his top-tier agents out to replicate what Carl was doing. So far, it had been an exercise in futility.

“Yes, there is. I haven’t been paid my half yet. I realize this issue lies with Mr. Winterbach, and while I’ll keep working, I’d like to be paid what I’m owed for my effort.”

Scully nodded. “I’ll look into it but can’t promise anything. I will mention that the find outside of east Portland led to a number of arrests. You’ll receive your share the money in a week or so once everything is wrapped up.”

Carl was tired but perked up at the mention of money. “How much would half be?”

Scully chuckled, something he rarely did. “Between five and ten million. Goodbye, Mr. Thompson.”

Carl wanted to pump a fist in the air but decided in favor of decorum. He handed the phone back to Agent Deloroso.

“Give me a minute and I’ll go down and get it. You might want to back your Yukon up closer to the river, so we don’t have to carry it across the field for all and sundry to see.”

The agent nodded, jogging back towards his car.

Carl waded into the creek, the comfortable feeling of breathing beneath the water returning to him. He found the package within minutes, one of the rocks having fallen off since he’d left it there.

A few minutes later he emerged from the creek, hauling the package behind him. He didn’t know how much was in it, but it was far heavier than his first find.

The two men hefted the package into the back, the agent closing the rear door and locking the car.

Deloroso turned to Carl. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize which case you were working on, but Mr. Scully informed me. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Carl almost shook his head. Almost.

“What do you know of the Limelighter Bar in downtown Salem?”

Agent Deloroso scrunched up his face, shaking his head in distaste. “Not much. It’s a broken-down watering hole filled with day drinkers and petty criminals.” He leaned forward. “And that’s the polite version of what goes on in there.”

Carl thanked him for his help. He didn’t shake hands with the other man, but then again, he didn’t need to any longer. He picked up the DNA when he was within fifteen feet of other people.

Chapter 26

The new clothes arrived twenty minutes later, and Carl changed inside his car. It wasn’t easy or comfortable, but he did the best he could.

For reasons unknown, whoever had purchased the clothes had bought him shorts with multiple pockets along the side, and a light-green polo shirt. He was thankful to be out of his wet clothes but could readily admit that the choice in apparel put him far outside of his comfort zone.

Agent Larson arrived just as he finished up.

The two men shook hands. “Are you okay? I heard you took a swim after someone shot at you.”

Carl grinned. “I did. It’s not how I planned to spend my Sunday morning, but it worked out.”

Doug squinted his eyes. “I heard you called Mr. Scully. Anything I need to know?”

Carl shook his head. He felt bad for getting the other agent in trouble, even if the man had deserved it. “I’m sure Mr. Scully will call you if he wants you to know.” He sighed. “I’m going to head back. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, not really. We’re looking for the motorcycle rider, but I doubt we’ll find him.”

Carl had already pieced together that the more packages they found, the more attention the criminals would pay to them. “That’s three shootings so far. I’m not sure I’m comfortable looking on my own any longer. Add to that they almost definitely know what my car looks like, so they’ll be on the lookout.”

Agent Larson nodded. “We’re working on a plan to deal with that, but you’re right. Lie low for a few days. Maybe rent a car and park yours out of sight. I’ll call you when I have something. We’ll have an agent near your house at all times going forward, and the Portland PD will be doing drive-by’s every hour. Just so you’re not surprised.”

Carl held out his hand a second time. “I appreciate that.”

Getting back in his car, the new many pocketed shorts left the bottom half of his legs feeling exposed. He drove over the bridge to the Limelighter Bar, despite the agent’s warning. He was here, so he might as well check it out.

The GPS took him right there, and the lack of active businesses at this end of the street made parking easy.

It was a little after one in the afternoon, but the bar was open and doing a brisk business. He acted before his brain could question the decision of entering a shady bar while looking like a tourist from Iowa. Maybe it was the shootings that inured him to danger, or maybe he just wanted to see if this was a viable business to purchase.

Heads turned to look at him, more than a few smirking at the sight. He approached the bar, waiting for the man behind the bar to notice him.

The bartender’s eyes widened in surprise as he took in Carl’s outfit. “What’ll you have?”

“I’d like to talk to the owner.”

The bartender growled. “I’m the owner. Now, what’re you having?”

“A beer, and the chance to talk to you about buying your bar.”

The bar stilled, the few customers near enough to hear what he’d said scowling in Carl’s direction.

The nearest man pleaded, “Don’t sell the bar, Bill. This guy will turn it into some kind of yuppy hang-out. Just look at ‘im.”

Carl couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard someone use the word yuppy in a sentence. It was a remnant of the 80s, his memory told him.

Bill slid the beer in front of him. “You got five minutes. Follow me back to my office.”

Carl picked up his beer, taking a sip so it wouldn’t slosh over the edges. After everything he’d been through this morning, the cold goodness of cheap beer felt wonderful, and he took a second sip, savoring it.

A desk stacked with bills and paper filled the tiny office, an extra chair the only place to sit. On the walls were reminders of better days, pictures of bands that had played in the 60s and 70s when the bar was a place to look forward to on a Friday or Saturday night.

The owner wore a tired expression that said he’d seen everything there was to see in this world, and none of it impressed him. “Why do you want to buy my bar?”

Carl was well practiced now, having had the same conversation a few times over. “Your bar is failing. I don’t know why, and before you ask, no one told me. I have a sense for these things. I own a bar in Medford that was the same way, and I’m turning it around too.”

Bill didn’t react. He didn’t deny the statement, either. He sat there studying Carl, noticing the patches of wet hair and the sunburn he’d renewed while he waited for the FBI agents to show up.

“Why?”

Carl smiled. “Why do I want to buy it? Because I think it has potential.” He pointed at the pictures on the wall. “What if we turned back the clock and made it someplace special to go for people to let down their hair? We could bring back the live bands and have good beers on tap.”

This time Bill shook his head. “It won’t work. This area is a disaster, which is a polite version of the truth. There are ten buildings on this street before you get to this one, and each one is filled with squatters and drug addicts. You’ll need to clean those up before people are willing to come here.”

Carl had seen this for himself. Not the drug addicts and squatters per se, but the general state of the buildings. They had the same mid-century charm he’d seen in the buildings in Vancouver, except these had degenerated further than those had.

“What if I turned that around? Bought them out and made them into apartments and restaurants?”

Bill squinted. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Carl nodded. He knew his five minutes was almost up. “I am. It will take a while, but it can be done. I have the contractors, and I have the resources.”

Bill stood up, having watched the seconds tick by on the clock behind Carl. “Buy the first building, and then we’ll talk. I’d like to get out, to be honest. Maybe buy a ranch and grow apple trees. Back to nature, that sort of thing. Serving drinks gets old fast and serving drinks to addicts and alcoholics gets old even faster.”

The two men shook hands. “The name’s Carl. Carl Thompson. Thanks for your time, Bill.”

Carl left, depositing his glass on the bar before walking out the door.

Bill tried to remember where he’d heard that name before. One of the regulars had mentioned it, and not in a good way.

Chapter 27

Carl was up at 4am the next morning, having crashed shortly after he got home and got dinner in him. Which had been the leftover pork roast from the Proof Reader the night before. He’d taken a long shower, washing the grit and grime out of his hair.

He went for his usual run, taking the long route so he could go straight to the diner when they opened at 5am.

A fast shower and a change into proper men’s clothing later, and he was on his way to the diner.

Chloe glanced at the clock on the wall. “What in the world are you doing here so early?”

He did his best to push aside the memories of yesterday. Not all of them were bad, and he’d had an odd experience in the shower of wanting to breathe the water instead of the air, despite taking no action on his part.

“Had a strange day yesterday, so hit the sack early.” The smell of cooking bacon was intoxicating.

She nodded knowingly. “Had a few of those myself lately. Take a seat anywhere and I’ll get your coffee. The usual?”

He nodded. “Thanks, Chloe.”

There were no papers available for reading, so asked Chloe to break a dollar for change and went outside to buy one. It was the first time he’d bought a morning paper in a very long time.

His coffee was sitting there waiting for him when he got back, and he flipped through the sections until he reached business.

Hoping for news on Vancouver Life but seeing none, he folded that section and left it on the seat next to him. He read through the comics before briefly glancing through the front section. It was filled with news of wars, shootings, gang attacks, and the like, so he refolded the pages and set it all down next to him.

Seconds later it was gone, the man three seats over grabbing it.

* * *

He was out in front of Lyon and Hudson ten minutes before 8am. He’d packed a small suitcase of clothes and brought his laptop and his running outfit. He didn’t know if the Four Seasons had a pool, but he packed a swimsuit for this trip, just in case.

Wendy walked out of the employees parking lot behind the law offices, waving at him with a suitcase in her opposite hand.

He flipped open the trunk, getting out to assist if needed.

“Good morning, Mr. Thompson.”

Carl grinned. “Call me Carl, please, or it’s going to be a long trip. How are you doing this morning, Wendy?”

She smiled. “I’m excited and nervous. I only got a few hours of sleep, so don’t be surprised if I fall asleep on the way up.”

He helped her with her suitcase, then closed the trunk and got back in to start the car.

“How are you liking the convertible?”

She grinned from ear to ear. “It’s amazing. All my friends back home are jealous. And it’s fast, too. I really can’t thank you enough.”

Carl still had his old Honda parked out in front of the house. It wouldn’t get towed away, but already the paint had faded from the hot summer sun and it could use a good scrubbing to get the dirt off.

“I’m glad it worked out. I don’t suppose you know anybody who might need an old car. It’s dependable, but I don’t drive it anymore.”

She whipped out her phone from her purse, taking a note. “I’ll check around. What are you asking?”

Carl laughed. “It’s free. Anyone can have it, but I’d prefer if it went to someone who would appreciate it.”

Wendy perked up as an idea hit her. “Oh. My younger brother is fifteen, and he’s going through driving school right now. Let me check with him.” She leaned back in her seat, not looking tired at all. “He’s dead broke, and I doubt my dad will let him drive his car. I’ll call him tonight and let you know.”

They talked of this and that, the miles flowing by as Carl cleared the Portland Vancouver fifty-five mile an hour zone and opened it up to seventy-five as they sped up I5.

Wendy flipped through her notes, which were copious. “Which company do you want to visit first?”

He tapped his thumb to a song on the oldies station. “It doesn’t matter. I’d actually like to drive by them all first, and then we can decide which ones to visit. Which reminds me. We should switch up roles as we visit them. I’ll go first so you can see how I do it, although I don’t have a patented formula. While I’m talking you should take notes, but also look around and see how the employees are acting. Are they happy? Miserable? Or just going through the paces?”

Wendy again took notes. “I like that. Do you think I’ll be running one of the courier companies in the future, once I’m ready?”

Carl didn’t want to dash her dreams, but it didn’t seem likely. He gave the most honest answer he could. “I think it depends on what’s going on at that point in time. Once the gold mines are operating, I’m thinking of buying a credit union. There are a series of four buildings in Vancouver that are up for sale. They need to be renovated, but once that’s done, they’ll need a building manager.”

He left the fast lane to get around a slowpoke in a blueberry colored Toyota Echo with two guys inside. A few seconds later he was back in the fast lane. “Yesterday I was down in Salem, and there are ten old buildings that have seen better days that could be gentrified into apartments, small businesses, and anything else we can think of. I don’t think it’s the one job that makes the difference, but what catches your interest most.”

She again took notes. “Salem? Isn’t it kind of dreary down there?”

He shrugged. “That’s a matter of perspective. What if you renovated all the buildings into an area that attracts people in their twenties and early thirties? Would that be boring?”

She watched the landscape go by, lost in thought. “I think I understand. I’m so used to being in one job, and the only job you want is the one above you. You’re saying I can move around from job to job and moving up doesn’t really matter.”

Carl smiled. He knew she was a smart one, and some adults he knew didn’t have that level of insight. “Exactly. You might want to renovate buildings up and down the west coast for a while, then switch gears and take over the bank and expand it out to a dozen or more branches. Then we buy another bank, and have you merge them. After that you might take over our mining operations or build a courier network covering the western half of the United States.” He laughed. “As it stands right now, the possibilities are endless.”

She said a silent prayer thanking God that she had accepted this job.

* * *

She fell asleep as Carl drove past Tumwater, then Olympia. Another hour and a half and they would be in Seattle.

They hit a spot of traffic in Tacoma, then again near Seattle. He followed the GPS as it led him to their hotel.

She woke up as he pulled into the hotel. The valet came out and he handed the man the keys through the window. “Are you staying with us, sir?”

Carl nodded, handing him a tenner. “We’ll be going out in an hour or so.”

“Very well, sir.”

Their bags were taken from the car and put on the ubiquitous polished brass luggage carrier as they went to check in.

To his surprise, Wendy handled it. “The reservation is under Thompson. Two suites. The discount code is VLX-23RY.”

The check-in agent looked up in surprise at her. Rarely were guests so on point with their information.

“You’re staying for three days?”

Wendy nodded. “That’s right. It could be shorter or longer, but we’ll notify you tomorrow if anything changes.”

While Wendy checked them in, he wandered over to the concierge. A woman in her thirties with her hair tied up in a bun looked up at him from behind her desk. She adjusted her glasses as she tried to assess what he might need. It was a game she played with herself to keep the boredom from taking hold. Right now, she was thinking restaurant reservations on the waterfront. “Yes?”

“Yes, I’m wondering if you have any theaters in Seattle that serve food and beer and show old movies.”

She typed into the computer, her fingers moving so fast he had trouble following them. This was her fourth miss of the day, with not a single guess coming close to being right. “We do. The most well-known is up on Capitol Hill, which is walking distance if you’re feeling energetic. They show movies from the 30s through the early 70s. Is that close to what you’re looking for?”

Carl couldn’t nod fast enough. “Could you print off a list of showtimes?”

She smiled. Her grandfather was very similar, often saying the movies today were too loud and stupid to watch. “Just a moment.”

Seconds later she handed him a warm piece of paper. Carl folded it before stuffing it in the breast jacket pocket. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Carl rejoined Wendy just as she was being handed their keys.

They were taken up the elevator to the third from top floor. Carl had room twelve and Wendy room fourteen. There didn’t seem to be a thirteen.

Since his room was closest to the elevator, the porter deposited his bags in the walk-in closet first. The room itself was stunning, with a view of Elliot Bay and parts of downtown Seattle. It was a bit luxurious for his taste, but he didn’t say a word to Wendy.

Maybe he could talk Barbara into driving up if he sent her a picture.

He popped back out into the hall. “Meet downstairs in an hour?”

She nodded. “See you then.”

As he settled into his room, he ordered room service, picking out a BLT and a fresh fruit salad from the menu along with a carafe of coffee.

He opened his laptop, seeing a few emails that disappeared from view just moments later. It could mean only one thing: Wendy was hard at work sorting through his emails. The only one left was from Dean.

Carl –

I tried calling but couldn’t get you. The equipment in Nevada was in terrible shape and not at all what was described to me over the phone, but I got a line on some newer equipment in Wyoming. I’m here, and the equipment is in fantastic shape. The ore separator can do twice the volume compared to what Reeves’ old one can, and the drills are larger too.

Even better, it’s only fifty thousand more than what I was expecting to pay in Nevada. It will take longer to move out to Oregon, but I’d like to get started on this deal before someone else buys it out from underneath us. If the Reeves equipment goes up for auction, we can still buy it, because you have more than enough mines to keep both going.

Give me a call when you have a chance. I’ve attached a few pictures to give you an idea.

Dean

Carl opened the pictures one by one. True to his word, the equipment was much newer, the ore separator only ten years old. The drills were older, but the bits were newer, and after a quick Google search he discovered everything was from the biggest and most well-known brand in mining equipment.

Which meant parts would be easy.

The only problem was that he hadn’t had time to get a new phone yet, so he couldn’t call Dean back as he’d requested. He hadn’t bothered bringing his old one, which sat on his kitchen countertop, waterlogged and worthless.

Using the hotel phone didn’t even cross his mind. The fees would be outrageous. He might be semi-wealthy, but he wasn’t frivolous.

His food hadn’t arrived yet, so he grabbed his room key and dashed over to Wendy’s room before knocking on the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Carl.”

She opened the door. “What is it? Is something wrong with the room?”

He shook his head, a smile taking over. “The room is the best I’ve ever stayed in. I came over because I was hoping I could borrow your phone to call Dean. Mine doesn’t work anymore, and I haven’t had time to buy a new one.”

She giggled. Her grandfather was losing track of things all the time. The resemblance was stunning. “Just a second.”

She handed him her phone. Carl stared at it, filled with colorful buttons that he had no idea how to use.

He handed it back to her. “I need to call Dean.”

Seconds later the phone was ringing, and she handed it back to him. Carl motioned that he was going to go back to his room.

“Hello?”

“Dean, it’s Carl. Sorry, but my phone is dead so you should call this one until I can buy a new one.”

He heard the exasperation on the other end. “I’m glad you called. Have you had a chance to look at the equipment?”

“I did. It looks great, but do you know why it’s for sale? And at such an affordable price?”

“Yeah, it’s both good and bad. The good is the equipment and the shape it is in, the bad is that the mining company who owned it went broke. They’re out in the middle of nowhere, which will make shipping it all a bit of a problem. I’ve talked to a few shippers, and it can be done, but it will cost extra. Still, when you add it all up, we’ll still come out on top.”

Carl didn’t like making decisions without talking to Rebecca or Charles first, but could admit neither would know any more than he did. They had Dean’s word to go on, a few pictures and nothing more.

“When would it arrive in Medford?”

Dean didn’t hesitate as he said, “Two and a half weeks, tops.”

He had the money, but just barely. This purchase and Donnehy would take him down to almost zero until the Fed money came in, or the mines started producing again.

“What happened to all our gold in Medford?”

Dean wasn’t a financial whiz, but he thought he could hear the wheels turning in Carl’s brain. “It’s with the refiner in a secure underground vault. We can access it with a day’s notice.”

“And how much is there?”

Dean smirked. “At market prices, two and a half million. That doesn’t include the gold that Chuck stole from us.”

That sealed it for Carl. “Buy it. And get that mint we talked about up and running or sell the gold. Work it out with Randy, but that gold needs to generate income within the next few weeks. Sorry to push, but I’m juggling a lot of balls up here.”

Dean wrote it down on a notepad. “Got it. I’ll call him today.”

Carl smiled, feeling some of his stress easing. “Thanks, Dean. Get back to Medford when you can.”

“Will do. And thanks, Carl. I know you’re going out on a limb for me, but I have a good feeling about this.”

“You got it, Dean. Bye.”

Carl hit the red button, the call ending. With that small bit of product testing done, he knew he wouldn’t be buying this phone as a replacement. It was far too complicated for his tastes.

There was a knock at the door, and Carl opened it, letting his food in along with the woman carrying it. She pointed at the business desk. “Does right here work?”

He nodded. “That’s fine.”

She cleared a few things away, then set up a proper place setting, his meal forming a half moon around it. He hadn’t asked for a basket of warm bread, but one came with the meal, as did a small selection of tarts and a glass of fresh-squeezed red juice. He couldn’t be more specific than that without tasting it.

He handed her a tenner, and she took her leave.

Before he sat down to eat, he emailed Rebecca about the buildings in Salem, and whether she could find out who owned the buildings that had fallen into disrepair.

He didn’t mention the bar, as that was too tenuous to pursue at the moment.

That done, he closed his laptop and turned on the TV. It was time for lunch.

* * *

He met Wendy downstairs forty-five minutes later, the valet already off to pull his car around.

She chided him. “You got to that email before I could.” She wagged a finger, all the while smiling. “And you emailed Rebecca. I can do all those things for you, you know. That’s why you’re paying me.”

Carl shrugged. “I’m not completely helpless, although your phone is more than a little confusing.” He handed it back to her with his thanks.

“What did Dean say?”

Carl’s green Honda appeared in the semicircle in front of the hotel. He’d agreed to lie low and maybe get a rental, but wasn’t getting out of town as good if not better?

He thought so. And hoped so.

“I gave him the go ahead to buy the equipment. He’s in Wyoming now, which surprised me. The equipment should be here in two or three weeks.”

He got in on the driver’s side. “Can you program in the courier company furthest away from us? You’re going to have questions about my methods, and all I can tell you is I have a gut feeling about things sometimes. It was how I found Fastcycle.”

He’d thought about the story he was going to tell Wendy when they got here, not wanting to lie to her but also not wanting to reveal the truth. He’d ended up on the side of enigmatic.

She typed the location in far faster than he could. It was like the newest technology was designed for fifteen to twenty-five-year-olds. It was most definitely not designed for someone his age.

It was a short drive later when they drove past the first courier company. He could see the bikes parked outside as riders enjoyed the nice weather. He discreetly sniffed, his window already down, but there was nothing there. This company was doing fine.

He pointed at the GPS. “Next one.”

The rest of the afternoon was similar, as they waded through traffic to the courier company and sniffing while Wendy programmed in the next one. One smelled a bit off, but it wasn’t until they came to the fourth courier company that he smelled it.

The stench of failure. It was just as strong as the first time he’d smelled Fastcycle.

He pulled over to the curb. “Which one is this?”

She checked her notes. “Reliant Delivery. They’re the third largest in Seattle.” She grinned, excitement building. “They’re failing, aren’t they?”

He nodded, feeling just as excited. “That they are, and badly. Let’s go inside and talk to the owner if he’s around.”

The building was neatly laid out, with the reception area clearly marked. Industrial buildings were all around them, more than a few of them focusing on automotive repairs.

The receptionist looked up at them, startled that someone had walked through the door. Her job was to answer the phone, make coffee, and sometimes make a run for donuts and other things when Josh was having a bad day. Which was becoming more and more frequent lately.

Carl nodded, missing the days when men tipped their hats. He hadn’t been very old during that era but had seen his father do it many times. He didn’t know what happened to them, but he hadn’t inherited a single one. “Hello, we would like to speak with the owner.”

She shook her head, not even thinking about whether Josh was around. “He’s not here.”

“Could you check, please? We own Fastcycle down in Portland.”

She shrugged. “Never heard of it.”

To his surprise, Wendy yelled at the group of riders milling behind reception. “One hundred bucks to the first person who brings us Josh.”

A lanky female rider in the back called back, “Make it two hundred, and you got a deal.”

Wendy nodded. Carl was flabbergasted, regardless of how effective the technique had been. He pulled two bills out of his wallet and handed them to her out of sight of the receptionist.

It took a few minutes for the lanky rider to return, but when she did was dragging a man who blinked at the onslaught of sunlight.

Carl’s first impression wasn’t great. The receptionist had lied, and he had no doubt it was on this man’s order. Josh was similar in demeanor to Evan, but also differed in a few ways.

The biggest similarity was that he looked like another poster child to re-criminalize drugs, but he was different in that he was short and stubby, with a stomach prominently protruding in front. Also, where Evan was hungry to turn his business around, he didn’t get that feeling from his first impression of Josh.

The lanky rider shoved him forward, then held out her hand. Wendy placed both bills in her palm.

“Who the hell are you guys? You can’t come in here and tell my riders what to do.”

Again, Wendy responded before he could. “We didn’t. We made an offer, and it was accepted. Now, do you want to hear what we have to say or not?”

The receptionist piped in. “They own Fastcycle in Portland, whatever that is.”

Josh’s eyes goggled. “That’s you? Man, I know Evan from the old days, and I thought for sure he was going under. We hooked up at an epic party a couple of years ago. Then some guy shows up out of nowhere and now he’s pulling in large every month.” He shook his head, then looked at Carl again.

He waved his arm as he turned around. “Yeah, follow me. Come on back to where the magic happens.”

Wendy rolled her eyes. Carl stifled a laugh.

Carl followed Josh, but Wendy stopped to ask the name of the rider who had taken up her offer. If Josh didn’t work out or wasn’t suitable as the head of the company, she had a feeling this woman would do quite well.

The tall woman’s eyes met Wendy’s. “It’s Mary, but most people call me Moon Landing. It’s ‘cause I like jumps and hit them spot on more often than not. What’re you guys doing here?”

Wendy knew better than to say anything. “Just a meeting with Josh about a few things. You’ll know if it comes to anything.”

Moon Landing smiled, running a hand down Wendy’s smooth arm. “Hit me up if you want to do something later.”

Wendy had been hit on by women before. It didn’t faze her. She smiled. “I’ll do that. Thanks.”

She fast walked to catch up with Carl and Josh, who led them down a narrow hallway to an office far too large for a company this size. She doubted most Fortune 500 CEOs had such palatial spaces to work in.

Josh checked his watch, already irritated. He liked to celebrate 4:20pm every day, and if he could manage it, preferred to get a head start at 3:20pm. He felt like he was being more respectful of the plant that way.

The owner plopped down in a massive leather chair, spinning it to face Carl and Wendy. “Why are you here? I’m busy, you know, so spill.”

Carl sat down. “Your company is failing. Badly, I’d guess. The employees might not know it yet, but you do.”

Josh bristled. “Did Eva tell you? That little bitch, I’m going to smack her—” Josh leapt from his chair, but Carl stood up and grabbed his arm before he could get too far.

“She didn’t say a word. Now sit back down. You’re supposed to be running a company, for goodness’ sake.”

Wendy looked sideways at Carl. She would have used significantly harsher language than that, and then slapped him for denigrating women. At least once, but more likely twice just for good measure.

Josh wasn’t mollified in the slightest. “Fine. How do you know this, anyway? Are you spies?”

Carl leaned back, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes. It was a bad habit he’d picked up from Rebecca and more recently Wendy, but it fit this situation to a T. “No, we’re not spies. It doesn’t matter how we know. The question is whether you want to sell.”

Josh calmed down, easing back into his chair. “Oh.” He really needed to get lit. He always thought better that way. “How much are you offering?”

“If you can get us your audited financial accounts, I’ll give you an answer. Can you do that?”

Josh leaned back in his chair and nodded. He would love to get out and start something new, and then maybe sell it to this asshole once it was making money. If he did that a few times over, he could be rich.

He picked up his phone. “Eva, pull the year-end accounting reports for the last three years and bring them here.”

Josh put the phone down. “How long will it take for you to make a decision?”

Carl shook his head. “It won’t be today, if that’s what you’re implying. We might be able to give you a preliminary number, but I need to run it by Evan first along with our financial officer. If everyone is in agreement, you’ll get your check and we’ll take over.” Carl didn’t add the obvious, and you’ll be out of a job.

Josh grinned, yellow teeth showing through fat, pink lips. “Sweet.”

Eva came in with photocopies of the accounts, handing them to Josh. Who promptly handed them to Carl.

Carl handed them to Wendy, who started perusing them. She didn’t know financials very well, but she was a college graduate. It wasn’t rocket science.

It didn’t take her long to figure out what had happened. The office they were sitting in had been part of the property next door, which Josh had purchased three years ago. He’d spent a hefty amount for the space, and even more to connect it to the rest of the business. There were no expenditures for advertising, and revenues had been steadily declining all three years.

Possibly longer, although she couldn’t know that for sure from the accounts.

Carl stood up. He wouldn’t deny it was a promising opportunity, but not with the man in front of him in charge. “Give us a few days to review the accounts and we’ll get back to you.” He held out his hand to shake, which Josh reluctantly took.

Josh fished his card from the top drawer and handed it to him. “Hit me up as soon as you know.”

Carl and Wendy made their way back out of the building, neither speaking until they were back in the privacy of the car.

Wendy couldn’t believe the level of incompetence she’d just experienced. “Are the owners always this bad?”

Carl sighed, unable to hold it in any longer. “That is the worst by far. Evan was lucid enough to talk business, and desperate to dig himself out of a hole. Josh is on a different level.” He clarified. “A lower level. It’s unfortunate, but he made the choices that led him to the position he’s in now.”

She filed the papers in her purse. “The numbers don’t look good. I’ll have the hotel make you a copy, but revenues have been down each year, and Josh was foolish enough to buy the property next door so he could have that office.”

Carl wasn’t sure how to ask the question he wanted to ask. Rather than dance around it, he said, “He’s a drug user, isn’t he?”

Wendy had seen enough of it in Aberdeen to know the signs, but she knew Carl wasn’t used to it. “Very much so. I imagine he’s getting high right now as he imagines how rich he’s going to be.”

Carl started the car. “How much would you pay? Assuming it’s your money, and not mine?”

She didn’t have any rules of thumb to go by, so she said the first thing that came to her mind. “Fifty thousand. Maybe a bit more, but not much more.”

Carl smiled. He’d figured about the same, based both on Evan’s business when he’d first seen it and the relative size differential. Evan had more riders back then compared to what Josh had right now.

Wendy input the GPS coordinates to the next courier company. “What do you think about the woman who took the money?”

Carl shrugged. He didn’t think anything. “Why?”

Wendy watched the Seattle landscape pass her by. “I think she might be a good replacement for Josh. That’s all.”

Carl couldn’t have been prouder if she was his own daughter. Which then reminded him of his sons and sobered his thoughts.

Chapter 28

The last courier company on the list was the Coop Messenger service. Based on Carl’s nose, they weren’t doing well either, but they were doing far better than Reliant was.

Wendy looked over at him. “Nothing?”

He half shrugged. “No, there’s something there, but it’s not on the level of incompetence Josh has going. It is something to keep an eye on if it gets worse, but right now I don’t think it’s worth pursuing. To get it we would have to pay close to full price, and I prefer picking things up at a discount.”

Wendy sighed. She’d so been looking forward to this trip, and now it was over. It hadn’t even been a full day yet. “I guess we’re going home tomorrow then?”

Carl glanced at her while keeping his eyes on the road. “Not yet. We need to come to a decision on Josh, then make the offer. After that you might want to stay a few days to help with the transition. I’d also like to interview the woman you mentioned and see if she can take over.”

He swerved to miss a car that had slammed on its brakes in front of him, narrowly avoiding disaster. “Can you write up a summary of what we found today and send it out to Rebecca, Charles and Evan? Tell them that we’re pursuing the deal and add copies of the audited financials for Charles to look over.”

She noted it all down in her phone. “Should I mention the price we’re thinking of?”

He nodded, pulling into the hotel. “You probably should, just in case Charles wants to argue against it.”

They stopped in the lobby. “What are you doing for dinner?”

“I’m going to a theater that serves dinner and beers and shows old movies. I found one like that in Medford, and I try to stop in during every visit. Would you care to join me?”

Wendy didn’t have to think long to know it wasn’t for her. Old movies? Like black and white with subtitles? Yikes.

“I think I’ll pass. I might go out and walk along the waterfront after I’m finished up.”

They said their goodbyes as Wendy headed to the receptionist area to ask where the business center was located.

It was already 6pm when he got to his room, and the first movie started at 7pm. He pulled the print-off of movies and smiled when he saw what was playing: The Wages of Fear.

He arrived at the movie theater fifteen minutes early after taking a cab from the hotel, just to ensure he got a good seat. He ordered a hot brisket sandwich and a chocolate stout, which the man behind the counter said was the closest thing they had to a porter.

Taking a seat with his beer and glow in the dark number set on the table in front of him, he sat back and enjoyed the thrill ride of a classic movie. He’d seen this movie once before, years ago, and had been astounded when he’d read that all the stunts were actually performed on mountain passes.

His meal arrived midway through the movie, the service slow but the food delicious. He dug in, flinching as the truck carrying nitroglycerine mining explosives went over bump after bump, at times almost falling off the mountain.

Thank goodness they didn’t use such devices any longer for mining.

* * *

The next morning, they met for breakfast downstairs. Wendy had sent an email late last night asking if they could meet, and he could do with some company. He usually took these trips by himself, and it was hard not to feel lonely even in a big city.

He’d taken a long swim this morning in his own swimsuit, enjoying the simple yet strenuous movements. He’d done half of it underwater, pretending he was diving.

Wendy waved at him as he entered the room, and he made a beeline over.

She smiled up at him. “How was your movie?”

He sat down across from her. “Fantastic. I’ve seen it once before, but it was just as good this time.”

Wendy didn’t bother asking what movie he’d seen. She preferred Pixar and modern rom-coms, and nothing was going to change that.

The waitress brought a second carafe of coffee, filling his cup before asking for his room number.

Carl took a sip, the heat scalding his lips a tiny bit. “Room twelve.”

She shook her head as she looked at him. “Twelve? We don’t have a room twelve.”

Wendy cleared things up. “Suite twelve, not room twelve.”

The waitress’s eyes met her hairline. “I’m so sorry. Can I take your order for breakfast?”

Carl ordered two eggs over easy with bacon and hash browns. It was what he got at the diner now that Chloe had stopped with the healthy diet, and he didn’t see a reason to change.

Once the waitress had left, Wendy continued. “I heard back from Charles this morning. He thinks fifty thousand is on the high side but didn’t have a problem if that was what it took to buy the company.”

Carl blinked. “Really? Charles isn’t a morning person.”

Wendy blushed. “I might have mentioned that you needed his response to make a decision today.” She shrugged unapologetically. “I didn’t want to waste your time sitting around while we waited to hear back from him.”

If he’d ever had doubts that she was a go-getter, they had been resolved. “That’s fine. Did Rebecca comment back about the buildings in Salem?”

She nodded, sipping at her coffee. She’d already had breakfast. “She’s putting a Donnehy associate on it. She said, and I quote, ‘I’m too busy for that shit right now.’”

Carl grinned. He would miss her when she took over Donnehy. “I’ll need to stop by the bank today to get a cashier’s check. We also need a sales and purchase document for Josh to sign. I have a version from Fastcycle on my laptop, so we might be able to modify that one and use it.”

“How about I do that while you finish up breakfast? That way we can get over there before noon and get Josh out of his fancy office.”

They both laughed at that. The office was the size of Carl’s living room, kitchen, and bedroom combined. Maybe bigger.

“Make sure you send it to Rebecca for a final pass. Just in case we miss something.”

Wendy nodded as she stood up, eager to get going. She wanted this deal to go through and get started on turning the company around. Maybe it was the generational difference between them, but Carl moved a bit too slow for her sometimes.

Carl enjoyed his breakfast thoroughly, ordering crepes filled with ham and cheese once he heard a neighboring table order them.

He finished his carafe of coffee, and part of Wendy’s. Once he was thoroughly sated, he went back up to his room. Wendy knocked on his door ten minutes later and brought him back to her room, which was a mirror image of his own.

She grinned at him from behind the desk. “All done. Rebecca will have it back to us in a few minutes with her comments. I’ll print it out, and you should call Josh.”

Carl glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s not even 9am yet. Do you really think he’s at work yet?”

She giggled. “Not a chance. But he has his phone with him, and I saw the hunger in his eyes for money. He’ll blow it all on drugs is my guess, but there’s nothing we can do about that.”

She was right. They might not be able to help Josh, but they could help the employees. Improve the company and turn it into something they were proud to work for.

She handed him her phone. The number had already been typed in. He hit the green button.

A weary voice answered. “Yeah?”

“Josh, this is Carl. We met yesterday. I’m calling to see if you’re available to meet today.”

“What?” There were distinct vomiting sounds, and Carl held the phone away from his ear.

“Sorry. Yeah, how does noon sound? I should be in by then. Will you be paying me today?”

Carl sighed. He’d made a number of deals, but not a single one had been like this. “If we can come to an agreement, then yes. Please have the lease agreements and employee contracts ready before we arrive.”

“Nah, no contracts, but I do have the lease. It’s two leases.” There was a symphony of sickness on the other end, and the line went dead.

He handed the phone back to Wendy.

“Well?”

Carl didn’t know what to think. “Noon. Maybe. He’s sick, so who knows.”

She visibly deflated. “What do we do until then?”

Carl grinned, clapping his hands together. He wasn’t about to waste this trip. “Let’s go see what we can find.”

They couldn’t leave right away, but once Rebecca came back with her comments, which were nominal, Wendy printed it all out. Carl debated whether to visit the bank now or later, not wanting to carry that much money around until he absolutely needed it.

In the end, he went to the bank anyway. He pulled fifty thousand dollars of cashier’s checks out in ten-thousand-dollar increments, the last ten split into two five-thousand-dollar checks. That way he had the money no matter what the final price ended up being.

From there, they drove until there were outside the downtown core and the high rises. Carl pulled over to the side of the road.

He opened his door. “I need you to drive and keep an eye on the road. It doesn’t matter where you go. When I say stop, pull over to the curb.”

Wendy felt the same sense of excitement again. It was the thrill of the hunt, even if she wasn’t doing the hunting.

They drove in a zigzag manner, Wendy taking them down back streets away from traffic yet not straying into residential areas. Carl relaxed in his seat, letting his nose do the work for him. He’d rolled his window halfway down despite the morning chill, the seat warmer balancing things out.

His first hit was a dry cleaner which was similar enough to a laundromat for him to ignore it. He said nothing, letting Wendy drive on. He’d never seen this part of Seattle as they wound around the waterfront past Seattle Center and then back up towards Queen Anne and then Fremont. He had multiple hits, but nothing that excited him.

They passed over the Fremont Bridge, and he got his first nose full of failure this morning. It was a brewery pub that had seen better days, the brewing equipment still visible through the dirty windows.

He rested a hand on her arm. “Pull over.”

Wendy nodded, pulling a U-turn before parking in front of the brewery. It was the only building in this area, after all.

Carl got out and Wendy followed. To his surprise, the brewery was still open, but only on weekends.

She turned to him. “You want to buy a brewery?”

Carl grinned. He knew exactly what he would do with it if he bought it. He only had to convince the brewers in Cave Junction to expand up here. “Maybe. Can you take a note of the address, and we’ll call a brokerage company? I don’t really want to stick around until the weekend.”

Wendy didn’t mind, however. “What if I did? Not to buy it, but to do the legwork and report back?”

He looked at her sideways. “You really like this, don’t you?”

She blushed. “I do, even if I don’t know what you would do with a brewery. It’s exciting, and a big shift away from what I did at the resort.”

Carl filled her in. “There’s a fantastic little brewery down in Cave Junction, Oregon, a few miles away from Medford. Their beer is the best I’ve ever tasted. I’m thinking that if this works out, we might talk them into expanding.”

“Up to Seattle?”

Carl gazed at the brewery, which had seen better days. Pieces of siding had fallen off, and there was a crack at the top of one of the windows. “We won’t know until we ask, will we?”

They got back in the car, Wendy taking them around Lake Union and then back up towards Capitol Hill, passing the University of Washington in the distance. He caught the scent on a number of failing businesses, including an accounting firm, a premade food business, multiple restaurants, and a few others. None of them were worth pursuing in his estimation.

They reached Reliant Couriers a little before noon. They walked into the reception area, Eva waving them through. “Would either of you like coffee?”

Wendy declined, but Carl accepted. They knew their way to Josh’s office, the lanky woman from yesterday waving at Wendy.

Josh clapped his hands when they entered, looking much more chipper than he had sounded on the phone earlier this morning. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Carl.” He shook his hand up and down, exaggerating the movement.

“And Wendy.” He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, but she recoiled. She smelled something foul on his clothing.

Josh sat down in his expansive leather chair. “Do you have an offer for me?”

Despite the cashier checks in his wallet, he wasn’t feeling inclined to pay the man across from him the full fifty thousand. He was used to following his gut and wasn’t about to deviate now.

“We do. We have a sales and purchase agreement as well. Do you have the leases?”

He nodded, sliding them across his desk. “The main building is cheap, but the lease for this office isn’t.” He shrugged as if it was no concern to him. “I’ll leave that for you to figure that out.”

Josh rubbed his hands together. “How much are we talking?”

Carl crossed his left leg over his right. “Thirty thousand. That’s for everything.”

Josh’s gleeful face crumpled in on itself. “Fuck, no! A hundred thousand, and that’s minimum.”

Carl shook his head, unaffected by Josh’s cursing. “Thirty thousand is the best offer you’ll get, and probably the only offer as well. Let me remind you that your company is failing. If it were doing well, you would be paid more, but it’s not.”

Carl wasn’t going to budge. “Take it or leave it.”

Josh hated couriers, and they hated him in return. He’d been partners with a friend when they started the company, but that was almost ten years ago now. Their client base had degraded as deliveries were missed or late, and he was about to throw in the towel when the old fart in front of him showed up.

“Fine. Give me the papers.”

Wendy pulled them out, passing the originals to Josh. He didn’t bother to read it, ignoring the text and signing his name where indicated.

Carl pulled out three ten-thousand-dollar cashier checks and set them on the desk.

He held them until he countersigned the agreement, then slid the checks across to Josh.

To everyone’s surprise, Josh tossed the keys to the building to Carl and left without saying a word. He was done, out, finished. He had his money, and that was all that mattered. Sure, it was less than he expected, but he would throw a kick-ass blowout party tonight to celebrate.

Carl grabbed the keys out of the air, then passed them to Wendy. “Why don’t you bring in the lanky woman in if she’s not out on a job?”

Wendy couldn’t describe what she was feeling. It wasn’t remorse, but it wasn’t happiness. The deal was done, the hunt over, and that might be the problem. The chase was far more enjoyable than the catch.

She spotted the woman immediately leaning against the wall just outside Josh’s office. “Come on. My boss wants to talk to you.”

Moon Landing followed, enjoying the view the entire way. Wendy closed the door to Josh’s office.

Moon Landing didn’t want to sit in her former boss’s chair, having a good idea what he did in it. Instead, she pulled a chair from the other side of the room.

“You wanted to speak with me?”

Carl nodded. “I do. Tell me what you know about this place.”

Moon Landing wasn’t intimidated by men. “Is Josh gone?”

Carl nodded, and Moon Landing relaxed. The guy had hit on her constantly, not realizing she wasn’t interested in more ways than one.

She launched into her story. “The business is dysfunctional. Josh is a drug addict, and a few of the riders are too. The sales team quit three months ago, and our sales are down by thirty percent since last year.” She stretched out her legs, hoping to touch Wendy’s foot but not quite tall enough to make it happen.

“We get by taking the junk jobs, the ones that On Time and others don’t want. We’re left with onetime deliveries, not ongoing contracts. We catch some spillover from the big guys, but even that has fallen off. I should be out riding right now, but the jobs have dried up.”

Carl studied the woman next to him. Despite the multiple tattoos and nose piercings, it was apparent she knew what she was talking about. “What would you think about running the company?”

Moon Landing barked out a laugh. “No, thanks.”

Wendy joined the conversation. “We’re going to turn the company around. We did it in Portland, and we’ll do it here. That includes new investment, new employee contracts, advertising and a health care plan. We get rid of the bad riders and hire better ones while turning the ship around.” She’d picked a lot of what she’d just said from talking to Evan. The guy was a sweet talker, but despite Carl’s obvious concerns, she hadn’t fallen for him.

Yet. But probably not.

“What would you say now?”

Moon Landing gave a toothy grin. “Can we get rid of this homoerotic office?”

Wendy barked out a laugh. “Absolutely, although you should think about what we do with this lease. Do we dump it, or use the space a different way?”

She winked at Wendy. “I’d close off the door, add a door in front, and make this the riders room. That includes repairs and a space where riders can hang out.” She groaned just at the thought of the space they currently used. “The place we have now is terrible. It’s a literal hole in the wall, and most riders have to repair their bikes at home, which is tough if you live on the third floor of an apartment building.”

The attraction between Moon Landing and Wendy was obvious, even if it wasn’t reciprocated completely. “Do you know if the taxes have been paid? That sort of thing?”

Moon Landing laughed and laughed. “Not a chance in hell. Let me hire an accounting firm and I’ll get them in here to straighten it all out. It will cost you, but I think you know that, or you wouldn’t have asked the question.”

Carl nodded. “What about salary?”

Moon Landing shrugged. “How does fifty thousand a year work, with some performance guarantees added in. I’m thinking that if the company isn’t profitable next year, I take a cut in salary, but if it is, I get a bonus. That sort of thing.”

She tried to play it off like it was obvious, but neither of them were fooled. Wendy asked, “Where did you go to school?”

Again, she tried to look indifferent, but it didn’t come off that way. College had been important to her, and she was proud to be a graduate. She was the first that had done so in her family. “Wesleyan. Salutatorian, although my speech was cut short.”

Carl was intrigued. “What was your speech about?”

She snorted as she remembered being dragged away from the microphone by security goons. “Corruption in the US government and how we basically live in a fascist state, even if people don’t realize it yet.” She waited to evaluate their reaction but was surprised when neither shot her down.

Carl grinned. “We’re going to a UFO conference in Denver this summer. If you have time, you might want to come along.”

Moon Landing couldn’t believe her luck. She’d expected a fuddy-duddy asshole for a boss, but maybe she was wrong. Although that rarely happened, based on her past history. “I’d be down for that. You willing to pay?”

Carl nodded. The last one they’d attended had been a much-needed break, despite how much he’d suffered.

They talked for another hour, Carl and Wendy going over the current businesses and into planning for the future.

Moon Landing finished her notes, then looked up at Carl. “Can I give Evan a call? I don’t know him personally, but I feel like it would be good to hear it from his perspective. And just to be clear, I want the job. I’d rather captain the ship than follow someone incompetent.”

Carl grinned, feeling good about this investment now that he had someone who understood what they planned to do. “Welcome aboard.”

Wendy wrote the number on a piece of paper. Carl noticed that it was from memory. At the end of the day, he couldn’t control either of their lives. He could only hope that if it ended, it ended amicably, without bitterness and recrimination.

He’d seen enough of that in his own life to know how debilitating it could be to those involved.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Moon Landing. I look forward to working with you going forward.” He had trouble saying her name without laughing, stifling his mirth by biting the inside of his lip and drawing blood.

Moon Landing stood to shake their hands. “I owe you for getting rid of Josh. I’m not fond of men, but I hated that guy. What a waste of a Y chromosome.” She laughed, leaning her head back as her laughter filled the room.

Carl nodded like he understood, then beat a hasty retreat, while Wendy stayed behind to wrap a few things up. He was in the car and had it running by the time she arrived.

He turned to her. “What was that all about?”

Wendy laughed. “She’s lesbian, Carl. She’s been after me since we met, and I had to put an end to it.” Except that goodbye kiss had been far hotter than anything Evan could muster.

Her boss didn’t need to know any of that.

They drove back to the hotel, talking along the way. “Is it alright if I reach out to the commercial brokers to find out about the brewery?”

Carl bopped along with the music, having spun the dial to find the oldies station while he was waiting for Wendy. “Sure. Don’t promise them anything, as I don’t know if we can get it up and running again until we have a quality brewer lined up. I haven’t spoken with the Cave Junction brewers yet, and even if they agree it’s quite a distance between Medford and Seattle. They may say no due to the logistics.”

Wendy took notes, thinking about the situation while she did so. “If we do this, it only makes sense to put a brewery in Portland. That would make moving beer easier, as Portland is equidistant between the two cities.”

Carl agreed but couldn’t put much thought into it. He needed to focus on Donnehy and the gold mines. Only after they were up and running again could he put his time and attention towards other things.

He turned down the radio. “Why don’t you take that on as a side project? I don’t have enough time to devote to it, but I agree it’s an opportunity if certain pieces fall into place.”

Wendy stopped checking her phone. “Really?”

Carl smiled, the Seattle traffic making the short trip back to the hotel a tedious affair. “Sure. I’ll visit Cave Junction when I’m down in Medford next, which will probably be when the bar opens back up or the mining equipment arrives, whichever is first. It would be nice to meet the people behind such a fantastic beer.”

The same thrill she’d felt when they were hunting for courier companies returned. Which reminded her. “Do you want me to schedule a trip to San Francisco to look for more courier companies?”

He shook his head. “You and Evan can go.”

The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he’d said. He was basically giving them an all-expenses paid trip to the city by the bay.

Wendy responded before he could correct himself. “Sure, that works. I think if we meet enough of the company heads, we’ll be able to tell which ones are doing well and which ones aren’t. After all, Josh would have been a clear tip-off that something was wrong with Reliant.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “I agree. Plan the trip but try to make it after Reliant has settled down and is on the way to profitability. I’d rather not try to rehabilitate two failing courier companies at once.”

Wendy felt giddy inside. Not because of the trip with Evan, which she would insist upon separate rooms and mean it, but because he trusted her enough to do this by herself. “Thanks, Carl. You have any plans for this afternoon?”

Carl only had one. “Lunch. Then I think I’ll head back to Portland if that works for you. You can stay, then rent a car and come down when you want.”

Wendy couldn’t agree fast enough, although she tried to downplay it. “Sure, if that’s what you want. I’ll check in with Moon Landing tomorrow and see how’s she taken to having the head job now.”

Carl giggled. “Who has a name like Moon Landing? I’m not trying to be disrespectful, but I won’t feel comfortable calling her that at the company picnic.”

Wendy swiveled her head in his direction. “We’re having a company picnic?”

Carl nodded. The traffic wasn’t moving, but he’d never been one to beep his horn. He didn’t understand why everyone else did, as it didn’t help anyone move faster. It only annoyed them. “Charles is hosting it at his house sometime in August, after he gets back from Europe. It was going to be for the five of us, but we convinced him to include everyone. I don’t know if Ted or Dean will want to drive up and spend the night in a hotel, but maybe they will.”

In all her years at the resort, management had never once hosted a company picnic. They’d had birthday parties, sad little affairs with grocery store cakes where unwilling people sang ‘Happy Birthday’ before quickly dispersing.

“That sounds nice. I haven’t met a lot of people yet. I don’t know who Sue is, or the people from Medford.” She jotted down a reminder. “Should I have it catered, so all the work doesn’t fall on Charles’ wife?”

Carl nodded. “Give him a call when you have a chance, but yes, I think that makes sense.” A moment later he added, “And make sure there are barbeque ribs there. Maybe get one of those trucks to come in with their smoker.”

His stomach rumbled in response, and Wendy snickered.

Close to an hour later, they reached the hotel. Minutes later he was in the dining room ordering lunch and a beer.

Chapter 29

The drive back down I5 was much easier, the traffic through Tacoma quicker this time. He missed having a phone, but there was nothing to do about that until he got back. There was a phone shop just down the street from Randy’s coin shop. Maybe he could stop in there and get the cheapest phone they had for sale.

He got home just after 4:30pm, already a little hungry and ready to head over to the diner once he checked his laptop. He’d been in such a hurry to get back that he’d packed it up without looking at his inbox.

Kicking off his shoes, he sat down in the recliner and clicked on the TV. The best he could find after flicking through his usual stations was a rerun of Jeopardy! Looking at the answering machine, he checked his messages. A red LED number three blinked on top.

‘Carl, Agent Larson. The find you made down in Salem had thirty million dollars in it, making it the biggest find yet. Give me a call when you can, and we’ll schedule our next boat trip. I promise, this time I’ll bring beer.’

The message reminded him of the motorcycle rider that had shot at him. Whoever he or she was, they were still out there. Waiting to hunt him down again.

He shivered. He feared getting old and dying like most rationale people, but getting shot was on an entirely different level.

Then he whistled. He’d known that package was heavier but hadn’t expected to find that much. He deleted the message and went to the next one.

‘Carl, sorry about the delay the other day but I’m busy preparing the final sale and purchase agreement for Donnehy. It should be done by Wednesday. I’ll call you when it is so I can run it by you. Then Donnehy internal legal will review it, and we’ll sign in the next week or two. I know you recommended a transition time of August 1st, but I’d like to move that up.’ She sighed, and he heard mumbled words he couldn’t decipher. ‘Call me when you get back. Bye.’

Carl could hear the stress in Rebecca’s voice. Not only was she getting the deal ready, but she would soon be taking over for what Carl was told was a minor legend in the Portland legal community. He knew she’d succeed, but she might not be feeling that way right now.

He saved the message, then played the last one.

‘Carl, it’s Ted. The cleaners are done. They cost you a pretty penny, but they swear up, down, and sideways that the building is clean. I think it smells funny, but whatever. The contractors are going in next. Right now, I’m thinking the bar will reopen on Saturday, July 14th. I’m hoping you can be down here when it does. I had to fire a few waitresses, and I’m hiring new ones right now. Um, what else? Oh, I spoke to the Cave Junction boys. You made a splash down here with everything you’ve done, and they want to meet you. Just something else to put on your calendar for when you visit. Thanks.’

Carl checked the calendar, flipping the page over. July 14th was just over two weeks away. The 4th of July was marked as well, which usually meant a late night of TV watching with Gene until the fireworks ended.

Not this year.

He called Barbara’s house, leaving a message. He asked whether she had any plans for the 4th, trying to not give away too much.

Hanging up, he went shopping. For a phone, and something else besides.

* * *

The phone was cheap, just a hair over a hundred bucks, but the other item was not. Not wanting to carry it around with him, he left it with the seller who promised to keep it in their safe until he returned.

Satisfied with his progress, he pulled into the diner. The dinner crowd was out in full force, but he squeezed into a seat at the counter.

A waitress he didn’t recognize poured his coffee, then asked to take his order.

“What’s the special?”

She turned over a card in her hand, reading it off. “It’s bacon mac and cheese. It’s made with homemade—”

Carl cut her off. He was hungry, and while it wasn’t polite, he didn’t feel like waiting for her to read the entire thing. “I’ll take it, along with a piece of pie. Thank you.”

She wrote it all down, not bothering to ask him what kind of pie he wanted.

He ended up with lemon meringue. It wasn’t his favorite, but it was fine, and the lemony flavor cut through the richness of the mac and cheese, which had been delicious.

He left a nice tip, not deducting anything for the pie faux pas.

Instead of heading home, he stopped by Lyon and Hudson. He saw Rebecca’s office lights on before he pulled over.

The front doors were locked, but a few polite knocks brought her out of her office.

She pulled the door open. “Carl? I thought you were up in Seattle until tomorrow?”

He shrugged as he stepped inside. “I got bored, so I came home. Wendy is still up there, though. She’ll be back tomorrow or the next day.”

She waved for him to follow her into her office. “How did it go?”

Carl explained the trip, both of them laughing at the name Moon Landing. It sounded somewhat sexual, although Carl wasn’t sure why.

Rebecca rubbed at her eyes. “Thank you, I needed a laugh.”

He pointed at the papers strewn across her desk. “How’s it going?”

She tried to smile but didn’t have the energy to pull it off. “Well, if exhausting. They’re pushing back on the cash reserves, claiming that they are needed for payroll and benefit payments.”

Carl leaned back in his chair, yawning. “How much are we talking?”

She rifled through the papers until she found the right one. “One hundred and twenty-two thousand, rounded up.”

Carl waved it away. “Ignore it, as long as they’re really using it for what they stated. If they don’t, we’ll fire whoever’s responsible.”

Rebecca started to protest, but Carl caught it before she could. “Remember, this is a million-dollar deal. If it ends up costing an extra hundred and fifty thousand to smooth things over and save you time and stress, then it’s worth it to me.”

She shook her head, cracking open her umpteenth Diet Coke for the day. “You’re right. I’ve been thinking about this as if I’m not involved, but I am.” She shook her head, sucking down half the can in one go. “It scares me. I don’t know those people, and they don’t know me.”

“Do you think they really knew Mack? Or did he intimidate them into doing what he wanted most of the time?”

She waved a finger at him. “You’re making too many good points.” She closed her laptop, finishing off the rest of the soda. “Fine. I’ll simplify it all, and we’ll have this wrapped up by Friday. I plan to spend next week over there, getting to know the partners and support staff.” She grinned a little maliciously. “You want to join me?”

Carl could think of nothing he would like to do less. “Not a chance. Plus, if I go that will divert attention from you. If any of them are like Todd, they’ll try to divide and conquer by playing us off each other.”

She laughed. “Yeah, that’s lawyers for you.” She tossed her can in the recycling bin. “At least Robert is excited. He’s getting the corner office of the former partner who took those clients with him.”

Carl chuckled. “Have you called Sue yet?”

She shook her head. “I will next week once I understand the business better. Do I have an advertising budget?”

Carl shook his head. “As much as you need. Turn that company around and get it back in the black. Once it’s big enough, we’ll go after the other company.”

Rebecca put her hands over her ears. “Don’t tell me that! Getting ready for this one is already stressing me out. I don’t want to think about the next one.”

They both laughed. Carl got up from his seat and Rebecca followed. He wrapped her up in a hug before heading for the door. “I’ll always be here if you need to talk. And as much as you don’t like it, Mack is too. You’re not doing this alone.”

She wiped a tear from her eye. “I know, although you might have to remind me a few times if I forget.”

Chapter 30

The next few days passed in some semblance of normality. He saw Barbara Thursday evening, and they spent their time together talking about the possibilities of the blue boxes. There didn’t appear to be a limit beyond how many points you had and what your imagination could think up.

Wendy returned on Friday, taking away his ability to answer his own emails. There weren’t many, to be fair, but it was enjoyable while it lasted.

Portland was experiencing full-on summer now, and the TV channels were showing comedies instead of old classics. He tried to convince himself it didn’t matter, but it did.

After a few days of inane modern comedies, he’d had enough. It took a few lengthy phone calls before he decided on ordering something called a streaming service. He didn’t understand the specifics of what it entailed, but the saleswoman had promised him a wealth of old movies and TV shows that he could watch whenever he wished.

It took him the better part of Friday afternoon to sort it out, only to realize his old TV wouldn’t work. Apparently, he needed something called a smart TV.

He laughed out loud at that one. TV never had and never would be smart.

A quick trip to a big box store and a twelve hundred dollars and change later, he was promised by the cashier that the new TV he’d purchased would be set up later that evening. It meant he couldn’t swing by the diner in case he missed them, but he would get by. It was only one meal.

A colorful van backed into his driveway, and two kids got out. He doubted either was over twenty, but they made short work of the TV. Twenty minutes later and he was watching The Bridge on the River Kwai, tapping his fingers along with the jaunty tune. They’d even managed to lug his old TV out, although he overheard a few complaints before they drove away.

His new cell phone rang, and he paused the movie just as Saito locked Commander Nicholson into the iron box.

“Hello?”

“Carl, it’s Dean. We got the equipment out of Wyoming and we’re headed west now. We should get in next weekend, assuming all goes to plan.”

Carl put his turkey sandwich down, mustard staining his fingers. “That’s great, Dean. How are you doing?”

Dean did his best to remain chipper. In truth, it had been a shit show from day one, but they were moving now, and that’s what mattered. He answered somewhere between the truth and the answer he wanted to give Carl. “Good.” He audibly sighed. “Tired. Ready to get back home.”

Carl could hear the weariness in his voice. “Are they driving through the weekend?”

“No. Union rules, they get thirty-six hours off every week and that’s after we’re paying time and a half. They’ll stop tomorrow and then start up again early Monday morning.”

“Why don’t you fly back? It’ll be a short flight, and you can relax for a day or two and catch up with them when they’re back on the road?”

Dean rubbed his eyes. Darkness had fallen outside the dingy motel he found himself in. It had been the nearest stop on the eastern edge of Utah. At this moment he wanted nothing more than to sleep in his own bed. “You serious?”

“I am. This isn’t all on you. Take the weekend, and then catch back up with the convoy.”

Dean yawned, covering it with the back of his hand. “I’ll think about it. Anyway, that’s not the reason I called. Billy’s lawyer reached out to me. They want to sell if you’re interested. Everything, land included. The whole kit and kaboodle.”

Carl took a sip of beer. “How much?” Between all his expenses, money was getting tight. He wasn’t worried, assuming the Fed would pay him for his work sooner rather than later.

Which, he reminded himself, they hadn’t yet.

“Eight hundred thousand. You might talk them down, but they’re desperate. Billy retained his own lawyer, as did Chuck, and neither have the cash to pay for them.”

Carl wrote a reminder on the calendar for Monday. He needed to give Mr. Scully a call, and if that didn’t work, Mr. Winterbach. With so many projects going on demanding money, he needed some positive cash flow.

Carl considered whether he wanted to deal with what he felt was a dishonest auction company or not. “Interesting. So, it’s not going to auction?”

Dean swatted some night bugs away from his face. “Not yet, but if you don’t act quickly, it will. They won’t have a choice.”

Carl drained the last of his beer, savoring it on the way down. “Can I give you an answer on Monday? I need to sort a few things out first.”

Yawning again, Dean nodded. “Sure. I called to make sure you were aware. I’m sorry to cut this short, but I need to hit the sack. I’ll talk to you next week, Carl.”

They said their goodbyes, Carl turning the movie back on. He checked his account balance on his laptop just in case a large deposit had happened, but it looked the same. He had a hair over two million in there, and between the million to Donnehy and the eight hundred thousand he owed as soon as the equipment arrived, it would be close. Some belt tightening might be in their future.

* * *

A long run and a trip to the diner later the next morning, Carl was at the marina twenty minutes early. He didn’t bother turning on his failing business sense, not really having enough money to buy anything, but he did check for lost money.

As expected, there was nothing beyond the light scent of small bills.

Instead of the giant GMC Yukon, Agent Larson was driving a newer sedan painted black. Carl didn’t recognize the brand badge, which meant it probably wasn’t American.

Doug grinned, holding a six-pack of beer in the air like a triumphant explorer returning from the wilderness. “You ready to hit the water, Carl?”

Carl smiled. He very much hoped this was the last of their excursions. Not only did they eat up his entire day, but the shootings had him on edge.

“I am. Same boat as last time?”

Agent Larson nodded. “Yep. Let’s get on the water.”

Carl didn’t bother to ask about fishing poles or which direction they would be heading. He wasn’t interested in either. His plan was to do his job, keep his head down, and hopefully get home in time for dinner.

Doug took them downriver, past Swan Island and into the mouth of the Willamette. From there they turned right up the Columbia, passing Sauvie Island on their port side with Hayden Island in the distance.

Carl turned on his nose as soon as they passed Swan Island, having already searched the place with his car.

In addition to beer, the boat had a supply of water bottles and sodas. Agent Larson popped a Diet Coke, something Carl didn’t understood. Coke all by itself was wonderful, if a rare treat for him because he didn’t much like sodas. But Diet Coke?

It was atrocious. It had a slightly astringent taste, something he was amazed anyone would find delicious.

He opened a water bottle, guzzling half the bottle before moving to the cabin. “How long will we be out today?”

Agent Larson shrugged. “We won’t go past the Bonneville Dam, if that’s what you’re asking. As far as I know, you haven’t checked out the Oregon side of the river above Troutdale.”

Carl had but didn’t bother to correct him. It wouldn’t change anything. Agent Larson might act like they were friends when it was convenient for him, but Carl wasn’t fooled.

Moving to the rear of the boat, he relaxed in his seat, scattered cloud cover protecting him from the worst of the sun. Both sailboats and powerboats were out in force, families enjoying the water and the many parks that lined the Columbia.

The quiet of the river relaxed him, and he fell into a meditative fugue. He was still sniffing, but his mind was watching the river pass him by, along with boats and the shore in the distance.

They did a lap around Government Island, but Carl smelled nothing. Next came McGuire and Lady Islands, each coming up empty. When he’d been younger and had a family, they’d never really spent much time on the water beyond the odd invitation to go out with another family. The last thing Carl wanted to buy was a boat, but he could appreciate the appeal now that he was older.

His nose tingled when they reached Reed Island, which was another state park. He shouted so Agent Larson could hear him. “Slow down.”

Agent Larson nodded, taking them up the north side of the island. The scent got stronger the further they went until a small island appeared just off the northeastern corner of Reed Island with a shallow waterway separating them.

Carl pointed to the small island. “Pull in closer. I smell something.”

The agent beached the boat on the sand. A few families were having lunch and exploring the island in the distance.

The agent hopped out the boat after turning the engines off, and Carl followed not quite as nimbly. He walked east, closer to the tip of the island.

As he’d done many times before, he knew he’d found it. He could only hope it was the last stash of the stolen money.

He pointed. “It’s right there, just off the tip of the island. Not that far down, either.”

Agent Larson nodded, not moving to pull out his phone. Instead, he pulled a small pistol from behind his back that Carl hadn’t noticed previously. Which meant the agent had only recently placed it there before getting off the boat.

Agent Larson smirked at him, his eyes hard and the gun steady. “I’m sorry about this, Carl. We never expected you to find anything, and that forced us to change plans.”

Carl tried to piece it together, but it didn’t make sense. He’d found the money and when he did, he handed it all off to…

Agent Larson. Every package except the first and last had gone to Agent Larson. “That’s why I never got paid. You never turned in what I found.”

Doug smiled, touching his nose with his free hand. “You got it in one.” He waved the gun toward the water. “Now dive in and pull that package out.”

His mind racing, Carl stripped down, taking off his sunglasses and hat along with his shoes and pants. “I’m going to need you to help me pull it up.”

Agent Larson chuckled. “That’s fine. Now go.”

Not bothering to take a breath, Carl dove in, the cool water causing him to shiver before he took his first breath underwater. He made a beeline for the bottom to get out of range of Agent Larson’s firearm. The pull of the river was there, but nothing he couldn’t handle now. He spotted the package in moments, the same net of weights hanging over the top. He pulled it off the bottom and dragged it further down the shore, away from the boat.

Once it was secure, he swam back for the net. It was heavier than the package, but easy to drag across the sandy bottom.

Instead of trying to steal the boat, which he doubted he could get away without being shot, he swam for the boats further down the beach. One of them had to have a cell phone.

In the end, he swam until he reached the last boat in the line, hoping the three others between Agent Larson and himself would hide him.

Crawling out of the water to stay low, he stepped along the beach to a young couple watching a small boy play in the sand.

“Do either of you have a phone I could borrow? I lost mine while swimming, and it’s a matter of national security.”

The man scoffed, but his wife did not. She handed it to him. “Here it is.”

A shot rang out over their heads, and Carl fell to the ground. He dialed Mr. Scully’s number from memory. “Fox here.”

“Fox, this is Carl Thompson. Agent Larson was behind the robberies. He never turned in the money I found, and now he’s shooting at me.” The four-year-old began to cry, the parents quickly gathering their things to make a race back to their boat.

Mr. Scully clicked his tongue. “Ah, that makes sense. Where are you now?”

Carl inched along the sand towards the couple’s boat. “Reed Island in the Columbia. I just found the last package when he pulled a gun on me.”

“What car did he drive this morning?”

Carl didn’t need to push to remember. “A newer-model sedan. Sporty, painted black. Not American.” A gun shot whizzed over his head, digging into the sand not ten feet from where he was. He glanced back in Agent Larson’s direction, seeing the man sprinting towards Carl.

“I have to go. We took off from Riverplace Marina. He rented a big boat with a cabin in front.”

Carl hung up, tossing the phone into the couple’s boat before running towards the river. A bullet sliced along the top of his right calf, and he stumbled before diving below the surface.

Turning himself around, he swam upriver, against the current. Most people would swim with the current because it was easier, which is why he chose the opposite direction.

An unknown amount of time passed as he swam, all of it underwater. He wasn’t willing to come up for air in case Agent Larson found him before he could dive down again. His mind raced as he replayed events in his head, and he hoped the couple he’d borrowed the phone from were okay. He would hate himself if he found out that Agent Larson took his wrath out on an innocent family.

He passed a few shipwrecks, some modern and some older, all of them buried in the bottom of the river with silt banked up on the side.

He didn’t bother to sniff or check them out, powering further up the river. He swam at an easy pace, not pushing himself but not dawdling either.

It was only when he reached a pier jutting out into the river that he stopped. Lifting his eyes above the waterline, he spied a few boats tied up at a small marina dock, a handful of fishermen coming back after a full morning on the water.

He dragged himself up the sandy bar, shivering as soon as his skin was exposed to the brisk wind gusting down the Columbia.

He reached the road, his feet blistering on the hot asphalt until he stepped on the cool linoleum floor of the marina.

He walked through the front door in nothing but his underwear.

An older man with a salt and pepper beard stood behind the counter. “What the hell are you doing in your skivvies?”

Carl wrapped his arms around his chest, still cold. “I need you to call the FBI. I have the number.”

The few customers in the marina laughed, as did the man behind the counter. He stopped laughing when he noticed Carl wasn’t moving. “You serious?”

Carl nodded, reciting the number from memory.

Willing to play along with the joke, the owner of the marina dialed the number, expecting to hear a funny message or maybe get one of those throaty voiced girls who did sex over the phone. “Fox Scully, San Francisco FBI.”

The man’s bushy eyebrows rose halfway up his forehead. Instead of answering, he handed the phone to Carl.

“Fox, this is Carl. I’m at…” He looked to the man, who filled in the blank.

“Beacon Rock Marina.”

“Beacon Rock Marina. I changed where the package is located so Larson can’t find it. I’d really appreciate it if you could send someone to pick me up. Tell them to bring a fresh change of clothes.”

Scully took it all down, already typing in orders for the agent in charge of the Portland office. They’d suspected Agent Larson at first, but his service record had been exemplary. It infuriated him that he didn’t know how the man had pulled it off.

“A helicopter is on the way. Don’t bother with the package, we’ll pick it up later.”

Carl nodded, his teeth chattering. “Got it. Thanks.”

The call hung up. He handed the phone back to the man, who pulled a picnic blanket from the rack behind him and handed it to Carl. The man grinned, his long beard twitching in mirth. “You feel like a beer? Or maybe two while you wait for whoever’s coming to pick you up?”

Carl blinked away tears. Never in his life had he been so scared, not even during the UFO conference in Ocean Shores. Having a man trained in using guns firing at him was a good way to put his life into perspective. “Absolutely. And thank you.”

* * *

Carl was on his second beer and third pack of junk food by the time a helicopter showed up and started its descent towards the two-lane road out front. He knew a few of the fishermen in the marina didn’t believe him, despite the authentic call to the FBI, but this sealed the deal.

Carl gave them a happy wave, feeling much better now that he was warm and had some food in him. “I’ll see you guys later. Thank you again for your hospitality.”

The owner, Jerry was his name, called out, “Swing on by again and we’ll go fishing.”

Carl raised his beer can, guzzling the rest until it was empty. He tossed it in the recycling bin as he walked out the door.

He scrunched down as he approached the helicopter; afraid the blades would hit him unless he stayed lower than three feet from the ground. Opening the door, the pilot waved him in.

A headset was handed to him after he buckled in. “You Carl Thompson?”

Carl nodded. “Where are we going?”

The helicopter lifted off the ground, a strong gust off the Columbia swinging it around. Carl’s stomach lurched with the helicopter.

The pilot’s voice was nonchalant. “Back to the island. You need to pick up the package.”

Carl shook his head. “Nope. The last agent I worked with pulled a gun on me. No offense, but I don’t know you. Get Fox up here and I’ll do it, but not before then.”

The helicopter banked towards the river, racing a few hundred feet above the waterway. “Mr. Scully authorized me to tell you they brought Mr. Larson into custody and have secured all the previous finds. You should have a payment tomorrow at the latest.”

Ah… Now it was Mr. Larson, not Agent Larson. “How much weight can this chopper hold?”

The pilot didn’t answer, their elevation dropping as they headed toward the island he had swam away from not too long ago. “Six hundred and forty pounds.”

Carl didn’t know how much the package weighed, but it was too heavy to lift on his own. “Fine. You bring extra clothes?”

The pilot nodded, pointing his thumb behind him. Carl found the bag, Wal-Mart printed in large letters. He sighed.

Looking inside, he saw a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and a sweater, and a pair of flip-flops. He found a baseball cap at the bottom, along with the receipt for thirty-nine dollars and forty-three cents.

The helicopter landed, and Carl scanned the island. Where there had been multiple campers before, now there were none to be seen. Carl spoke into his headphones. “You’re going to have to help me lift it. First, give me your phone.”

The pilot wound the engine down. “Why?”

“Because your fellow agent took mine from me. I’m not getting left on that damn island without one.”

The pilot shook his head. With Mr. Scully personally supervising the case as well as the internal investigation, the pilot didn’t dare defy orders and handed his phone over after unlocking the screen.

Carl scowled when he saw it. The phone was the same model Wendy used.

The two men got out, the pilot securing the helicopter to the island, so a gust of wind didn’t blow it away. Carl dropped the blanket the marina owner had been nice enough to gift him, a chill causing goosebumps to pimple his skin.

The last thing he wanted to do was get back in the water, but he might as well do it and get it over with. He waded in, shivering before he dove under.

The package had moved a few feet from where he’d left it, but otherwise it was still intact. He grasped it with his left hand, tossing the net off before dragging it along the sand until his head breached the surface.

From there it was a slow pull until the package was fully out of the water. The pilot walked over, noticing Carl had taken his phone underwater by placing it in the waistband of his tighty-whiteys.

The pilot cursed. Maybe he could expense it and get a new phone.

It took the better part of twenty minutes to drag it to the helicopter, and to the pilot’s surprise he found that he was the one slowing them down.

Carl found it heavy, but not impossible to carry with someone holding the other end. Once they pinned it up against the backseats, they shoved until it moved into place.

As soon as it was there, Carl raced around to the other side of the chopper and sat down. His wet underwear squelched on the seat, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t getting left behind again.

Once he was certain the pilot wasn’t planning to leave without him, he pulled on the new clothes, ripping the tags off as he went. He donned both the t-shirt and the sweater which had a hood in the back that he flipped over his head. Then he pulled on the shorts, which immediately got wet. Last but not least, he pulled the flip-flops onto his feet.

The pilot spun the engine up, and Carl handed his phone back to him.

The pilot tried to get it to turn on, but the phone refused to obey. He threw it in the back. He was definitely expensing the bureau for a new one.

Instead of flying back to where Carl had left his car, the pilot flew to the Portland FBI office, landing on the roof of the building. Attendants swarmed out to secure the helicopter, and Carl took off the headphones.

Carl turned to the pilot before pulling his headphones off. “I’m sorry about your phone. Today has been… difficult, in a number of ways. I reacted poorly.”

The pilot waved it away. He chuckled. “You’re fine. Now I can upgrade to the newer model, anyway.”

The pilot walked away, and Carl followed until the pilot went through a door marked, “Authorized Access Only.”

With nothing left to do, he walked around the office, asking those he passed how he could get back to his car. Most shrugged their shoulders, while a few others said that he wasn’t one of their cases and couldn’t help him.

He managed to find his way to the receptionist’s area, where an older woman with graying hair at the temples had a headset on. He waited until she was done speaking.

She glanced up, picking up on the sales tag hanging off his hat. “Yes, hello. Can you help me get a taxi so I can go get my car?”

She didn’t respond, instead typing into her computer. “Your name?”

“Carl Thompson.”

She shook her head. “You’re to wait here. An agent will be out to meet you shortly.”

Carl took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He wanted to go home. That was all he wanted. His muscles ached from his long underwater swim, and his skin felt raw from the time in the sun and wind. To add to his misery, he felt shaky from not eating since this morning. The clock on the wall read 4:54pm.

Instead of arguing, he walked out the front doors and down the street. He didn’t mean to be impolite, but he didn’t want to wait for the gears of bureaucracy to turn. He’d given enough to the Bureau today, and he didn’t have the energy to give anything more.

He’d picked up his wallet, sunglasses and flip phone on the island. His clothes had blown away, so there was little he could do about that. The FBI office in Portland was east of the airport, which meant he shouldn’t have much trouble catching a cab.

A black GMC Yukon pulled over next to him. “Mr. Thompson, I need you to get in.”

Carl shook his head, tears threatening to spill. He could deal with a lot. Hell, he had dealt with a lot in the seven decades he’d been alive.

No more.

He kept walking, flagging a taxi heading the other direction.

The taxi ignored him.

The Yukon followed behind him. His legs ached, and he thought about sitting down. Right here in the middle of the sidewalk. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but it would get him off his feet.

A second Yukon appeared, but Carl ignored it. He caught sight of a taxi heading his direction and waved it down.

A few tears dropped on the ground when it pulled over.

He hopped in the backseat.

“Where you heading to?”

“Riverplace Marina.”

The cabbie nodded, and Carl leaned back in his seat. The cheap black vinyl felt luxurious, and he closed his eyes. Maybe he could catch a few winks before they arrived.

The taxi jolted to a stop, and Carl’s eyes flew open. Two agents in dark sunglasses and black suits exited the Yukon. They didn’t have guns in their hands, but they might as well have.

He didn’t want to bother the cabbie any more than he already had, so he pulled out a damp twenty and handed it to him. “Sorry about the trouble.”

The cabbie grinned, already reaching for his phone. “You a criminal? Serial killer maybe?”

Carl said nothing as he closed the door behind him. He turned around and put his hands behind his back.

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Thompson. I apologize for the imposition, but we need an hour of your time.”

Carl turned around. He didn’t recognize either agent. Coming to a decision, he raised his hand in the air, fingers spread. “I’ll go with you willingly if you’ll do a couple things for me. The first is bring my car to me. I don’t want to go to Riverplace Marina after everything I’ve been through to pick it up.” He curled one finger as he passed the keys to the agent.

The agent nodded. “What else?”

“Go to Chloe’s diner and order the special, plus a piece of pie.”

The agent was writing it down in a small electronic tablet. “What kind of pie?”

Carl shrugged, feeling a tiny bit of control over his life return. “Tell her she can decide.”

The two men were about to leave when Carl spoke again. “And if you don’t leave a good tip—I mean a really good tip—I’m telling Mr. Scully that you didn’t follow my orders.” He’d learned enough during his short time working with the bureau to know how to throw names around.

The agent who hadn’t been writing paled. The other man wasn’t as easily cowed. “Is that all?”

Carl grinned. “Yep. Remember, I don’t talk until you get the food back here. Whoever’s waiting for me isn’t going to be happy unless you hurry.”

The two men ran back to their Yukon and tore down the street, a flashing light appearing out of the passenger window and then on to the roof.

Carl chuckled out loud, his muscles weary but the pain from earlier momentarily forgotten. Walking a short distance, he opened the rear passenger door and got into the second Yukon.

Chapter 31

In the end, he didn’t keep anyone waiting. The reason for that was obvious.

Mr. Scully was the person waiting for him. How he’d flown up to Portland so fast, he had no idea.

Fox’s face was placid as he spoke. “I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through, Carl.”

Carl sipped on the coffee. It wasn’t good coffee, but it was better than the stuff they had down in the San Francisco office. “It’s fine. Did you find who was working with Agent Larson?”

Mr. Scully ignored his question. “The reason I asked to speak with you was to follow up on a few items. The money we found near Troutdale was gang money, part of a drug deal gone bad. Because of this there is no legitimate claimant. Now that the trial is over, the money is yours.”

“How much?”

“Nine point four two seven million. As you may recall, our original agreement was for only half, but in light of recent events, I’ve authorized the full amount. A wire will be sent to your account first thing tomorrow morning.”

Carl nodded. After what he’d been through today, the money didn’t mean much to him.

He knew that wouldn’t be true tomorrow. “What else?”

“I’m curious about a few things. For example, how you ended up so far east of Reed Island. Care to explain.”

Carl’s body went still. He met Mr. Scully’s eyes, not looking away. That would be a sign of guilt, and he wasn’t guilty of anything but serving his country and the Bureau to the best of his ability.

Mr. Scully nodded his head. “I see. The last thing I need is for you to write a summary of what Agent Larson did on the island.”

Carl shook his head. “I don’t believe I’ll be doing that. Not just because it’s not part of the contract, but because that man shot at me multiple times. That may be normal for an agent, but I’m a civilian. I have no wish to revisit that experience.”

Mr. Scully had expected as much. It didn’t matter as they would get the information out of Larson and Deloroso, along with the driver Deloroso had given up as soon shortly after they brought him in for questioning.

It also hadn’t been a surprise when they’d found the bike Deloroso had used to shoot at the man across the table from him a week ago.

A knock came at the door, then opened a moment later. The agent from before brought in a few paper bags of food, placing them in front of Carl. Then he handed the keys over to him as well.

Carl smiled in appreciation. The food smelled divine. “Thank you.”

He pocketed the keys, then pulled the first bag open. A meatloaf sandwich had been wrapped up for him, the sandwich still warm. The next package was a slice of chocolate vanilla cream pie. The last package held a second sandwich, with a note on top. I threw in a second sandwich, so you’ll have something to eat later tonight. Hope you’re well. Chloe.

Carl held the second sandwich up. “You wouldn’t by chance be hungry, would you, Mr. Scully?”

* * *

Carl got home at a little after 8pm. Mr. Scully had in fact eaten with him, clear enjoyment on his face as he ate his way through a Chloe’s Diner meatloaf sandwich.

There weren’t really any questions after that. Carl chalked it up to Mr. Scully wanting to reaffirm his position in the pseudo hierarchy after so many of his agents had gone rogue.

Instead of staying up to watch TV, he took a long shower and hit the sack. He didn’t dream or wake up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, sleeping all the way through to a little after 7am. His body still ached, but a little less than it had yesterday. He knew he could fix that using some points, but he decided against it.

Chapter 32

Carl drove into the diner after a short shower the next morning, not feeling up to a run. He’d expended enough energy yesterday to last him a month or two.

He opened the door, and Chloe ran over to wrap him up in a hug. She pulled back to look at him but couldn’t find anything wrong, confusion clear on her face. “What happened? I heard you fell in the river yesterday.”

Carl took her hand in his. “I’m fine. Yes, I fell in, but only for a bit. Thank you again for the sandwiches yesterday. They were a big hit.”

She grinned. She loved to hear people praise her husband’s cooking. “I’m so glad. The two men who showed up… were they the police?” She asked softly while winking.

Carl shook his head. The less she knew, the better it would be for her. “Not at all. Everything’s fine now. I promise.”

She wrapped him up in a second hug, then led him to a seat at the counter. Just two seats over the morning newspaper sat undisturbed if a bit ruffled on a chair.

He glanced at the news while he drank his coffee, then put it aside while he ate. There had been an article on Vancouver Life on the front page of the financial section, but he didn’t read it. Maybe that would change in a few days after the stress of the weekend faded, but right now he didn’t want to think about business.

He had a few personal items to take care of first.

* * *

He drove home, calling Barbara as soon as he stepped in the door. As was the norm these days, he got her voicemail.

“Hi, Barb. Just calling to see if you have time this week to get together. Be careful with… what we talked about. I miss you so much, and I love you even more.”

It was only as he dialed the second number that he realized what he’d said. His first reaction was shock tinged with fear, but only for a moment. Grinning and not at all feeling uncomfortable with his second declaration of love, he dialed his younger son.

A young male voice picked up. “Hello?”

Carl steeled himself for a second rejection. If he gave in now, he would only be exacerbating the mistakes he’d made in the past. “Is your daddy there?”

“Daddy! Phone call!” The receiver clattered on to something hard, bouncing a few times before coming to a rest.

“Yes, who is this?”

Carl spoke less forcefully than he had intended. His son’s name came out with a squeak. “Jim?”

“Dad?” The question had an inflection of disbelief.

Carl fell into his recliner, his knees no longer able to support him. “Yes, it’s me. How are you?”

There was a long silence on the other end, the only noise a door closing. “I heard from Ryan that you called. How are you? Are you sick? In the hospital?”

Carl dared not to hope, but so far, so good. “Not any longer. Do you have time to talk?”

“Yeah, I do. I think it’s been long enough now, don’t you?”

Carl wiped the tears from his eyes. “I do too.”

They talked for the best part of an hour until Jim had to take his son to a baseball game. They talked about the family, and the things he’d missed from being away for so long.

The question he’d thought would be too difficult to ask came easily now. “Would you like to bring the family out and visit?”

Jim laughed. “I don’t think so, Dad. That house is barely big enough for you. We raced to take showers in the morning before school because whoever got in there first had hot water and the other one didn’t.”

Carl remembered the kids racing from their bedroom into the bathroom, whoever got there first locking the door. He had a feeling he wouldn’t have remembered that without the memory upgrade. “Things are different now. I’ll fly you out and put you up in one of the apartments I own. They’re not far from the house and will give you some privacy. Or if you don’t like that, then a hotel.”

His son couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice. “You own an apartment building?”

Carl knew the answer wasn’t as clear cut as he made it out, but now wasn’t the time to split hairs. “I do, with businesses downstairs. I’m in the process of buying a law firm, and I own a coin shop, two courier companies, an advertising agency, and twenty or so gold mines.”

Jim snorted into the phone. His voice was laced with disbelief. “Are you on the meds again?”

“Not at all. Look, I don’t care where you stay. If you have a few days you can spare, I would love it if you came out. Bring the family and spend some time in Portland. Maybe talk to the CEO of the law firm and see if I’m telling the truth.”

His son was a lawyer, although Carl hadn’t been able to pay his way through law school. He’d paid his undergraduate tuition, and after that Jim had worked multiple jobs and taken out a number of loans to make ends meet. He wished he’d been able to do more for his son, but money had been tight back then.

Carl briefly wondered if he could pay those off, assuming there was some debt left on them.

“Let me talk to Ellen about it first. I won’t say no, and it would be nice to get away.” He paused, not understanding how his father could afford half the things he’d mentioned. He was well aware of how much his mother had taken from him during the divorce. “Does that work?”

Carl smiled. The heaviness he’d carried in his heart for so long had lessened. It wouldn’t be gone until he had a heart to heart with Ryan, but that would come in time. “It does.”

“Look, Dad, I gotta go. And thanks for calling. The kids want to meet you, and Mom has eased up a bit on how she thinks of you since… well, since then. Have you talked to her lately?”

“I’m sorry, but I haven’t. I’m seeing someone else right now. She’s a nurse at Portland General.”

The two men talked a little longer before they ended the call. Jim was still in a state of disbelief. His reclusive father had come out of hiding and hadn’t mentioned conspiracy theories once. He knew his dad had gotten the short end of the divorce, but it appeared he’d overcome that and was doing fine now. Amazingly well if his words were to be taken at face value.

Carl set the phone down, not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. In the end, he did a little of both.

As his emotions faded, he considered what he wanted to do next. There was no need to head down to Medford yet, not until Dean returned. Ted hadn’t mentioned anything about the bar either.

Pulling out his laptop, he found no messages, which meant one thing.

Wendy was back at work again. He was interested in what she’d gotten up to in Seattle, but not enough to check in with her on a Sunday morning.

He toggled over to his banking app and signed in.

Then he whistled. His account had just under eighty-two million dollars in it.

A quick call later and he was driving north to do some fishing and buy an insurance company, along with the rest of the advertising agency and four buildings, plus who knew what else. He had no idea what he would do with them, but he was sure he’d figure something out.

Julian greeted him with a wide smile at the entrance to his house, which was a misnomer. Estate was closer to the truth, as the house took up the best part of an acre, with wings flowing off the three-story central hub in multiple directions.

Julian greeted him like he imagined British lords had done centuries ago, bowing slightly at the waist. “I’m so glad you took the time to come visit, Carl. The fish won’t be biting right now, but they might tonight.”

The rest of the afternoon and evening could only be described as what Carl imagined wealthy people did when they were bored. They sampled a half dozen bottles of single malt scotch, tested some new Cuban cigars Julian had flown in from England on his private jet, played pool and enjoyed a dinner that he doubted the Proof Reader could match in quality and quantity.

Julian slapped a hand on his shoulder, ruddy cheeks and a pink nose doing nothing to hide a blazing smile. “You really must get a private chef. If you need a recommendation, I can give you a few names when the time is right.”

Carl nodded, sipping on an expensive wine that he could barely appreciate. His taste buds hadn’t been developed in that direction. “I just might. This is the best meal I’ve ever tasted. What is this dish with grilled shrimp on top?”

The cook answered his question from the open kitchen. “Si. It is called mofongo. It is a traditional Puerto Rican dish. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Carl helped himself to seconds. Sushi, which covered a good portion of the table, didn’t really agree with him, but he could get behind this dish. It was creamy like thick, spicy mashed potatoes on the bottom, with a heaping portion of freshly grilled shrimp on top.

They enjoyed snifters of brandy afterward, Julian lighting his third cigar of the day. Carl begged off, his head already spinning a bit from the excess of alcohol and nicotine. This was his first time smoking in over forty-five years, and he was out of practice.

“Before we go fishing, I’d like to purchase what we discussed. I hope I’m not being too forward.”

Julian waved it away. “Of course, I assumed as much. You Americans are always so direct. We can discuss money tomorrow. Why don’t we retire to the theater tonight and watch a movie from a time when Hollywood knew what they were doing?”

Carl raised his brandy snifter, of which he’d drank only a tiny amount. He knew Europeans enjoyed things like this, but he was just as happy with a can of Rainier or Miller beer. He didn’t need fancy things to enjoy himself.

Carl already knew the movie he wanted to watch. “Lawrence of Arabia?”

Julian spun in his chair, a bit of brandy sloshing out of his glass. “Blimey! I think you read my mind!”

Of course, Julian fell asleep just as Lawrence led the charge on Aqaba, not even halfway through the film.

Just as the movie ended, a servant appeared to turn off the projector and lead Carl to his room.

He pointed at Julian. “Will he be alright?” There was no name tag, so Carl didn’t know what to call him.

The servant nodded. “He’ll be fine. This is a nightly occurrence, so we know what to do.”

A nightly occurrence? No man could withstand this every night. “Is he ill?”

The servant fidgeted, then shook his head. “Not at all. Let me show you to your room.”

* * *

Carl was up at 4am, having set his alarm so they could go fishing. Despite brushing his teeth last night and taking a long shower, he still reeked of cigar smoke, and he had a headache pounding at the front of his head.

Exiting his room, he made his way to the kitchen. He could smell the coffee before he arrived. The same chef from last night greeted him. “Good morning, señor. Coffee?”

Carl sat at the counter, nodding. “Yes, please. Do you mind if I ask you your name?”

She smiled, setting his cup before him along with a cup of creamer and cubes of sugar. “Of course. I’m Isabella. My friends call me Isa.”

She didn’t hold her hand out so he could shake it, but it made a certain sort of sense because she was the cook. “I’m Carl.”

“Would you like an omelet? Bacon? Or something else?”

Carl didn’t want to put her out. “An omelet with bacon sounds great.”

And hand to God, it was. He hated to think anything even remotely negative of Chloe and her husband’s cooking, but Isabella’s meals were that good. He had the omelet and bacon, and when a pan of fresh out of the oven coffee cake made an entrance, he felt obligated to taste test a few slices.

With Julian nowhere to be seen, he asked Isabella where the fishing poles were located.

“If you head out the front door toward the lake, you’ll see a small shack at the entrance to the dock. Inside you will find the poles, nets and everything else you need.” She turned to face him. “If you bring me the fish, I’ll cook them up for lunch.”

Fully awake from two strong coffees, Carl did just that. It seemed Julian would be sleeping in, but he wasn’t about to miss out on the fishing. He found the shack as directed and picked out what looked like a good trout pole.

He tied on a lure after a bit of fiddling, then sat down at the end of the dock and let the lure sink beneath the still water. He waved it slowly back and forth every now and again, and other times he let it sit there without movement.

The first bite caught him by surprise, so enamored by the raw scenery around him that he failed to notice the tug of his pole. Without his enhanced memory he wouldn’t have been sure what to do. It had been that long.

Pulling sharply on the pole, he set the hook, then reeled in all the slack in the line. When he netted the fish out of the water, he had a ten-inch-long brown trout on the end, which he placed in a cooler that hung off the end of the dock.

Carl spent the next four hours like this, the fishing good for the first three but dropping off after that. The scenery never failed to deliver.

There was still no sign of Julian.

He packed in his gear, setting it where he had found it and took all six fish to Isabella. One had been a monster of fifteen inches, while the rest ranged between eight and twelve inches.

Isabella clapped her hands to her cheeks. “My goodness. You did very well, Mr. Thompson.”

He grinned. “I just sat at the end of the dock. I didn’t do anything special.”

She took the dripping net from him and set the fish in the sink. “These will be excellent eating. I might even freeze a few for later.”

A grumpy, raspy noise came from down the hall. “Freeze what for later?”

Julian had emerged from his lair. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes were puffy and full of redness. “Coffee please, Isabella.”

She quickly poured him a cup, sliding it in front of him. He drank the still-too-hot liquid like his life depended on it. “Ahh, that helps.” He rubbed at his eyes again.

“The fish. Mr. Thompson caught trout this morning.”

Julian turned to Carl. “I apologize for not being up early enough to join you in fishing this morning. I’m afraid I’m doing a poor job as host. I fell asleep on you last night, and then you are forced to go fishing all by yourself this morning.”

He drained his coffee, then slid it towards Isabella for a refill. “How did you do?”

Isabella held the net up over the sink so Julian could see. “Oh my. Well done, Carl. It seems you have the magic touch. I rarely get more than two or three when I go out.”

Isabella flashed a look that Carl couldn’t decipher. He had a feeling this was Julian’s normal morning routine, not some anomaly as he was making it out to be. He couldn’t imagine having someone carrying him to bed each night after passing out from too much strong drink.

Carl pretended he hadn’t noticed. “It was a lot of fun. Like I said earlier, I haven’t gone fishing in a long time.”

Julian drank greedily from his second cup of coffee. “I suppose you need to get going this morning?”

Carl nodded. “I do need to get back to my regular life, although this has been a wonderful change of pace. I have people depending on me and would like to get back to them.”

Julian gave him a wistful look as he set his coffee cup down. “I suppose that’s right. Business doesn’t sleep. Follow me.”

They left the kitchen and headed deeper into the mansion, passing closed doors on each side of the hallway. Then they passed an arcade room with two pool tables, sheets pulled over both of them and the arcade games powered down.

He was getting the distinct impression that Julian was a very lonely old man.

They came to a large, wood-paneled room at the end of the hallway where the door was open just enough to see inside.

Julian pushed the door open. A man at a desk turned at their arrival.

Julian did the introductions. “Jasper, this is Carl. Carl, Jasper. He’s my accountant and confidant, and Carl is buying me out of my holdings around here.”

Jasper stood and reached out a slender arm towards him. “Well met.”

Carl took the other man’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

And in a flash of understanding, Carl realized Julian wasn’t quite as alone as he professed. Jasper had an accent as well, but by the way the two men stood next to each other he understood it was more than a professional relationship.

If anyone needed someone on their side, it was Julian.

Jasper pulled a pile of papers from a cubby, then grabbed a chair from a small table and set it next to it. “Carl, please take a seat as this will take a while. Julian, why don’t you go and have breakfast. I can still smell the brandy on your breath this morning.”

Julian laughed a rasping laugh. “As you wish. Carl, please stop by before you leave, won’t you?”

Carl nodded, taking the other seat.

Jasper clasped his hands together once Julian had departed. “I think it’s best that we get started. I’m going to cover everything you’re purchasing from Julian, which is probably more than you realize.”

He pulled a folder from the top of a stack of similar looking folders. “Let’s start with Vancouver Life. I have here the shares, the last five annual reports, and the last two years of board meeting notes. I would focus on the board meeting reports, as they detail why the company is in financial trouble.”

Carl waited for an explanation, but none was given. It seemed he would have to discover the problems on his own.

“Next, we have the four buildings in Vancouver that you expressed interest in. I tried for years to have Julian renovate the buildings. They’re quite beautiful in their own way, and you may not know this but the top two floors of the building nearest the river have beautiful views over the Columbia, and you can see Portland in the distance on a clear day.” He tried to smile but didn’t quite pull it off. “Just so you’re aware.”

Carl nodded. “I didn’t know that, but that will change my thinking on how they’re used.”

Julian nodded like it was obvious. “Next are the shares for Beacon Advertising, which should bring your majority ownership up to 70%. Not that it matters, really, but there you go. Now on to the things I doubt you’re aware of. Julian owned the restaurant you dined in the first time you met. He owns the building and the land and eats for free every time he shows up. If you want something different on the menu, just let them know and they’ll change it for you.”

Carl’s eyebrows went up. “Why?”

Jasper sighed, shaking his head as he set his pen down. “When he bought these businesses, it was at a different time in Julian’s life. I’m not going to divulge Julian’s past as that is his story to tell, but I think it’s obvious he did well during his time in London. When he moved out here, he followed his whims. The restaurant was doing poorly, so he stepped in and provided financing. The other businesses and buildings are much the same, things that caught his fancy at the time.”

Carl nodded. “I think I understand. But why didn’t he renovate the buildings? Or step in to help the businesses.”

A pained look crossed Jasper’s face. He took a shaky breath before saying, “Let’s continue. There is a lot to get through.”

“I understand.” He really didn’t, but it wasn’t any of his business.

Jasper pulled out a number of title deeds. “He owns four apartment buildings in and around Portland. Two are in good shape, while one needs repairs and the last needs severe repairs. The roof is failing on that one, and the occupancy has dropped below 40% because of that.”

He handed the title deeds to Carl, who placed them on top of the stack of papers he was accumulating. “Next we own a small bank in Astoria and another bank in Longview. The first has three branches, and the second has two branches. Neither make a great return, but then again neither have been provided any kind of leadership in a very long time. My recommendation would be to merge them and expand into Portland and Vancouver, or possibly into Seattle. In fact, here is the report I prepared outlining how that might happen. It will require you to get both boards to agree, but I don’t imagine that will be a problem for you.”

By the time Jasper finished, Carl felt overwhelmed. What Jasper had just described was far more than Julian had mentioned, and with this information Carl felt a responsibility to the people who worked at these businesses. He’d planned on buying the credit union in La Grande, but it seemed he now had two other banks to turn around. Along with a host of other things.

Besides the banks, apartments and everything else Jasper mentioned, there were also large tracts of undeveloped land that Julian had purchased sometime in the past. Jasper didn’t give a reason as to why they were purchased or why he was selling them now, but Carl gave himself a mental reminder to check out each and every one as a plan began to form in his head.

And it just so happened that one tract of twenty-five acres was located outside of Ashland. Which wasn’t all that far from Medford.

Carl leaned back in his seat. “Thank you, Jasper. That was quite enlightening. And without being indelicate, may I ask what afflicts Julian?”

Jasper’s face puckered, and Carl could see he was torn as to what to share.

“He has cancer. Prostate cancer, to put a fine point on it. It’s been difficult living with him as of late, as he seems determined to bring haste to his own demise.”

Carl tapped a finger on his chin as he thought about possible solutions. “Would you and he be open to something a bit unorthodox? Please realize that I can’t make any promises that he’ll be healed, but I might have a solution. It would require a strict NDA from both of you, but I might know of a way to cure his cancer.”

Jasper gripped Carl’s hand between both of his own as tears formed in his eyes. “Whatever you need. We’re tried chemo, which failed miserably. Along with acupuncture, different diets, and everything else in between. Nothing has worked.”

Before Carl could reply, Jasper pulled a business card from his desk. “Have whomever you know call me instead of Julian. He can be stubborn, but I’ll make sure they see him. Please, it would mean so much to me. To us.”

Carl took the card and placed it in his shirt pocket. Then he pulled out his checkbook and wrote the single largest check he’d ever written in his life.

* * *

When he arrived home later that morning, he had thirty-two messages on his answering machine. He played the first one, which was from the bank manager.

“Mr. Thompson, please call us as soon as you can. It’s a matter of some urgency. I’d really like to speak with you as soon as possible.”

The next twenty messages were all the same, the pleading tone turning more desperate with each subsequent message.

He deleted them all.

The twenty-second message was from Rebecca. She sounded tired, but happy. “Carl, just called to let you know that the agreement has been finalized. Can you stop by today to sign the papers and then wire a check to me for the purchase price? I also left you an email with the same message. Thanks.”

All the rest of the messages were from the bank manager. He thought about unplugging his answering machine but decided against it. He was planning to head into the bank today anyway.

Before he left, he called Barbara. “Hi Barb, I had an interesting meeting this morning. Someone may have need of your skills. And since I’m calling, can we get together tonight or tomorrow? I miss you greatly and want to hear how you’re doing.” He firmed his resolve as the next words came much easier than he expected. “Love you lots.”

Moments later he was out the door and on his way to the former Lyon and Hudson building.

Amy waved at him when she saw him coming their way. Carl opened the door, and she came around her desk and hugged him tight.

“What was that for?”

She giggled. “I wanted to thank you for letting me keep my job at the new company. I’m so excited. The commute will be longer, but I got a raise and I get to work downtown.” A shiver ran down her body from the excitement.

Rebecca stuck her head out the door of her office, waving him in. “Did you get my message?”

He nodded, taking a seat on the other side of her desk. “I did, and I’m thrilled for you. How are you feeling?”

He hadn’t noticed it until now, but Rebecca’s face had turned pale. She also looked gaunt, her cheeks hollow like she hadn’t eaten in a few days.

She got up from her chair, tears falling from her cheeks. Carl barely caught her in time. “I’m so scared I’m going to fail. It’s all I can think about. The board members scare me, and… and…” She hiccupped a few times in succession as she collapsed into his arms.

Carl ran a soothing hand along her back. “That’s nonsense. The only way you could fail is if you aren’t being true to yourself. This is what you always wanted, right?”

She nodded, the top of her head rubbing on his suit jacket. “It is.”

Carl thought about trying to cheer her up, but his gut didn’t think that was the right approach. “Okay, say you fail. The company goes down in flames, and I don’t have enough money to save it. What happens next?”

She pulled away from him, her eyes disbelieving what her ears had just heard. “What did you just say?”

He repeated himself, just a little more forcefully this time. “You failed. The company goes under. What do you do next?”

She took a tissue from her desk and blew. Hard. She looked dazed for a moment. “I don’t know. Go back to being a lawyer like I always was?”

Carl gave her a small smile. “Right. And what happens to Amy and Robert?”

She nodded as she began to understand. “They come back to work here again.”

“And what about the other employees? And the board members?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. They find jobs.”

“That’s right, they will. And what would have happened if we didn’t purchase Donnehy?”

Her voice was stronger. “They would have all lost their jobs.”

“Exactly. Would you agree that’s the worst possible outcome?”

She nodded, the color returning to her face in blotches. “You’re right. I’d only be delaying what was going to happen anyway.”

Now it was time to turn the corner. “And are you a bad lawyer? Or a bad manager?”

She pulled back like he’d slapped her. “No. Why would you say such a thing?”

“So, you’re not a bad lawyer, or a bad manager?”

She shook her head, understanding in her eyes. “And if I’m not, then it will be hard for Donnehy to fail.”

He grinned. “That’s right. And if the board scares you, then fire them. Put people you respect on the board. They’ll be your board, not Mack’s.”

She took a shuddering breath. “Thank you for that, Carl. My mind has been going nonstop about everything bad that could happen. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get it to stop.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

She sat back down in her chair, then picked up the phone. “You want the same as last time?”

He nodded. As soon as she started dialing, he knew who she was calling.

The pizza arrived twenty-five minutes later, which gave him just enough time to tell her about his visit to Julian.

Immediately after the call to the pizza place, she had dug out a tin of Altoids from her purse and started inhaling them. They crunched before and after each time she spoke. “What are you going to do?”

“I have a few ideas. You mind if I work with Wendy for a while?”

She grinned. “Only after you go to the bank. I’ll have the final number before you go.”

“It’s not a million?”

She shook her head. “The purchase price is still the same, but we agreed to make pension contributions since it was underfunded. And we agreed to pay off a few outstanding liabilities as well. The total is a little over a million and a half.”

“That sounds reasonable. You learned not to sweat the small stuff, didn’t you?”

She took a sip of coffee to hide her grin. “I’ve got one more item before you head to the bank. Amy overheard what you gave Wendy when she was hired, and she’s more than a little jealous. I explained to her that Wendy works directly for you, while she works for me, but I think it would help balance the scales if you gave her something.”

Carl sat back in his seat. “I never meant to make her feel uncomfortable.”

“I know. Once I heard the full list, I was a little jealous myself. A new car?”

After everything he’d been through today, he didn’t have the energy to fight. And moreover, he didn’t want to. “What will it take to make this a non-issue?”

Rebecca tapped a finger on her chin. “Would a fifty thousand dollar bonus be too much?”

Carl had started to reach for his checkbook, but he stopped. “You know that if I give her something, no matter what the amount it, someone else will want the same.” He tried to think of a way to avoid that from happening. “How about I give you a check for fifty thousand, and Donnehy pays her a one-time bonus? Amy will have no idea the money came from me, nor will anyone else.”

Rebecca laughed, chortling at his deviousness. “You want to hide behind Donnehy so she doesn’t know the money is coming from you, right?”

He shrugged. “It may be devious, but that doesn’t make it a bad idea.”

“Fine. I can talk to payroll about it this afternoon. I was planning to head over after this meeting.”

Carl pulled out his checkbook out. A few scribbles later, he handed it to her.

She wrinkled her nose. “What is this for?” Then she gasped. “Five million dollars?”

“It’s your share of the Federal Reserve money.”

She started to shake her head, then stopped. “Thank you, Carl. I know you’re being gracious, and I accept. I have no idea what I’ll do with the money, but…”

She handed the check back to him.

He gave her a quizzical look as he took his check back. “I thought you accepted?”

She nodded. “I did. Now I’m investing it with you. You’re going to make me a lot more than five million dollars for me. I love pretty shoes. And big fancy houses on the lake. And maybe a private jet. And…”

Carl held up his hands, both of them laughing now. “I’ll make sure Charles is aware. If you’re investing, should we allow Mack to invest?”

She nodded. “We should. He won’t have a say in anything, but we’ll invite him to the annual board meetings. That should keep him out of trouble for a while.”

“Will you let him know? I’ve got enough to do. After I visit the bank, I need to make a few calls, then visit some banks to let them know they’re under new management.”

Amy brought the pizzas in, along with a roll of paper towels and a carafe of water. In return, Rebecca gave her half of her pizza.

“You want some of mine?”

She was already backing away from him. “Thank you, but no. Your pizza box stunk up the office for the next few days. I had to spray Lysol everywhere to get rid of the funk.”

Rebecca gave him a look. “Told you.”

In the end, he gave half his pizza to Wendy, who didn’t mind the stinky things on his pizza. It only reinforced in his mind that she’d been a good hire.

The eating done, he walked to the bank with a note in hand for the amount. To his surprise, Kerrie was at the cashier’s window. She smiled wide. “Mr. Thompson. You’ve nearly given our dear bank manager a heart attack. What can I do for you?”

He handed her the note. “I need a cashier’s check in this amount made out to Lyon and Hudson.”

They both turned as they heard the bank manager hang up his phone. “Why won’t he call back!”

Intense eyes met his. “Same rules as last time?”

Carl almost said yes. Almost. “Would you be interested in a job, Kerrie?”

* * *

He glanced at his watch. It was a little after 1pm, which should give him enough time to visit both banks. Kerrie wouldn’t be joining the company for a while yet, as she needed to give two weeks’ notice first.

Wendy sat in the seat beside him. Instead of them meeting in her office, they were taking their meeting on the road.

She was reading off her phone while she took notes on a pad of paper. “Do you know who you want to manage the apartments?”

He nodded, the oldies station on in the background. “Call Kelly at the commercial real estate office and see if she is open to a job offer.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Part of her wanted every job, but she knew that wouldn’t work. Maybe she could tag along with Kelly and Kerrie and learn everything they knew? That way would probably be more efficient anyways.

“And the buildings in downtown Vancouver?”

Carl tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel to the beat of the song. “Call the contractors we used for the apartments above Randy’s shop and have them submit a quote. Oh, and call Gene about setting up security for them. Reserve the top two floors of the building nearest the river for us. Apparently, they both have fantastic views of the Columbia River, and you can see Portland on a clear day.”

“What about turning one or two of the buildings into apartments? Or condos?”

Carl paused. He’d never thought of that. “Look into that with Kelly. See if it makes more sense to keep them for businesses or to turn them into condos.” He glanced at her. “That’s a good idea. Keep them coming.”

Wendy blushed. She was still learning, but she was catching up quickly. “And Vancouver Life?”

“Set up a call with Neils and the board this week. It will have to be an emergency meeting. I want Charles at that meeting too. And I need to get over there to tell their legal department to use Donnehy from here on out.”

Wendy moved from her phone to the pile of paper that Jasper had handed to Carl. From what she saw, twenty million had been a fair price. A very fair price.

“Should I set up time for you to visit the undeveloped land?”

He shook his head. “Not until we get Kelly on board. That is, assuming she accepts. If some of it can be developed, then great. If it can’t, we might sell it.”

Wendy took copious notes. “I heard back from the Donnehy lawyer. The buildings in Salem are owned by the same company. Should I reach out to them?”

Carl nodded. “See if they’ll sell for a bulk price. It will be a good challenge for you I think.”

Wendy gulped as she turned to look at him. “For me?”

Carl held the smile he felt coming on inside, but he kept his face neutral. “Yes, you. From now on I’m giving you the responsibility to manage the courier company up in Seattle. You should also prepare a brief assessment of the brewery we looked at, and a recommendation to buy or pass.”

She leaned back in her seat. She couldn’t find the words to express what she was feeling.

He glanced at her. “I know you want to buy it, but this will force you to put your thoughts on paper and make a case for purchase. The same is true for the properties in Salem, assuming the price is reasonable. You should probably schedule time to head down and see them, just so you know what we’re getting into before we give them a check. Fair warning: they’re not in good shape.”

Wendy stopped writing. “Are you sure?”

Carl grinned, pulling around a slow and beat-up Chevy Chevette. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen one on the road. “Yes, I am. You’ll need to work with Evan on Reliant, and I already promised I’d talk to Cave Junction Brewery about setting up in Seattle.” He glanced at her. “You can do this. Whatever you don’t know, someone else will. We’re all in this together.”

She nodded, picking up her pen again. “Thank you, Carl. I won’t let you down.”

He started tapping his thumbs again to a catchy tune on the radio. “I never thought you would. Now, what’s next?”

“Do you want to hear about the brewery?”

He nodded. “Sure. What’s the story with them?”

“What I got from the from the broker is that the brewery went out of business last year, and someone else moved in to keep it open on the weekends. They don’t brew beer there though. Seattle is a beer town, and it’s hard to break in unless you have something new. Parking isn’t great, but if we purchased the lot next door, we could put a parking lot in there.”

“You have prices?”

She pulled the sheet with the information out of the stack of papers she’d brought with her. “Yes, I have prices. They’re asking two hundred and ninety thousand for the empty lot next to the brewery. It will take another sixty or seventy thousand to level it and put in parking places. The brewery is eight hundred and sixty thousand, and that includes the building and everything inside but not the land. The land is for sale, but I don’t think we should buy it.”

“How much?”

“Over a million. Let’s see how the brewery does first, then decide.”

“Agreed. See if you can talk them down on the brewery, just for practice. I’ll be in Medford for the bar reopening on July 14th. You’re welcome to come if you want.”

Wendy felt a frisson of excitement course through her body. “Maybe. But that means you’ll talk to the Cave Junction brewers then. I’ll wait until you talk to them before bidding on the business, just in case they say no.”

Carl had been about to say the same thing. “Have you spoken with Charles’ wife yet about the summer picnic?”

She nodded. “I have. We’ll pay for the caterers, and she’s ordered a large tent in case it rains, along with a bouncy castle and games for the kids to play.”

Carl scratched his cheek. “Who has kids? I know they do, but does anyone else?”

Wendy checked her notes. “Sue has two daughters, and Robert has a boy and a girl. Rebecca thinks we should invite a few of the senior partners from Donnehy as well, and they have kids.”

“That’s fine. Do we know if Dean or Ted are coming?”

“Dean has confirmed and is bringing a plus one, while Ted is a maybe. Oh, and Olivia has a daughter.”

Carl could see the logic of inviting Olivia, even if he’d never thought of it until now. “She said yes?”

Wendy could see the look on Carl’s face. He hadn’t invested with Olivia yet, but he would very soon. “She did. She thinks this will be a good chance to meet more people in a comfortable setting. Her words, not mine.”

Carl put on his blinker, their destination ahead of him. They hadn’t called ahead, because there wasn’t any reason to. The bank manager should be in his office.

If he wasn’t, that would be a different sort of discussion.

Pulling into the parking lot, he noted that things looked clean and tidy. There wasn’t any trash in the parking lot that he could see, and while banks were rarely if ever architectural masterpieces, it looked like a decent place to work.

He opened the door for Wendy, then followed her in. It was a small bank, but most everyone had smiles on their faces. He walked over to the first open cashier.

“How can I help you?”

Carl smiled, then held his hand out. She took it daintily. “I’m here to see the manager.”

She nodded, typing on her keyboard. “And what is this about?”

“I purchased the bank from Julian Page.”

Her fingers froze as she turned to face him. Her voice was a little frosty as she asked, “And I assume you have documentation to that effect?”

Wendy passed a document to her that had been signed by Julian. The bank had seventy shares, of which Carl now owned sixty-five. He assumed the manager owned the other five.

“I see.” She tried to smile but failed before handing the papers back. “He’ll see you in a moment.”

Carl didn’t miss that as they walked away to take a chair, the cashier picked up a phone, speaking very softly.

A few seconds later a door opened behind them, a lanky man with glasses and thinning hair walking their way. “I’m Russell, Russell Burnet. It’s nice to meet you, Carl.”

Carl stood and shook hands. “This is Wendy Lawson.”

Russell shook her hand as well. “Please, both of you come in. We’ll have coffee and tea brought in shortly.” He talked as they walked in and took seats. “Unfortunately, Jasper didn’t inform me of the sale, so you’ve caught me a bit unaware.”

That comment surprised Carl more than a little. “So, you worked with Jasper, not Julian?”

Russell nodded; his eyes focused only on Carl. “Julian didn’t involve himself with the business. I’m not sure why he bought the bank, but it was a godsend at the time. Back then we weren’t doing well under previous management. Julian provided some initial investment, then Jasper worked with me to turn things around. We don’t speak as frequently as we used to, but the bank has turned a steady profit ever since. We’re second in Astoria and surrounding areas for personal banking, and third in commercial banking. We have even beaten out some of the big boys.”

An older woman brought in coffee and tea, but unfortunately no cookies or donuts. Carl glanced through the window, clouds rolling in from the ocean and a drizzling rain coming down in waves.

“That’s wonderful. I really only stopped by so we could introduce ourselves. Our financial officer will be your contact for quarterly and annual reports, and Wendy is my assistant in case you need to reach me.”

Wendy passed him Charles’ contact information, along with her own. He didn’t know when she’d had business cards printed up, but there they were.

Russell smiled, but Carl noticed that it was a bit brittle. “I think I understand. Since I have you here, do you mind if I ask you some questions about your other businesses?”

Carl settled into his seat. “Not at all. And before you ask, no, I don’t know what will happen next with North Coast Bank. We are just now getting our head around everything. The bank in Longview is our next stop, and we’re thinking about purchasing a failing credit union in Eastern Oregon.”

Russell poured two cups of coffee for his guests, then poured a glass of water for himself. He slid the coffees over to them, along with a small bowl of non-dairy creamers and various sweeteners. “You’re planning to use the banks to fund your other business’s expansion?”

He phrased it as a question, but it didn’t come out that way. “In part. We’ll need to have one bank expand to Portland, and another to Medford. That way all the businesses can bank within the broader company.”

Russell unlocked a door on his desk, pulling out a vinyl-wrapped presentation. “I presented this to Jasper a little over three years ago, but at the time they weren’t interested in doing anything with the bank.” He handed it to Carl, who opened it and glanced inside.

Russell continued. “This is the expansion plan I worked up to open new branches further down the Oregon coast to Seaside, Lincoln City and Newport, and one up in Olympia. I didn’t consider Portland because it’s a saturated market, but the model can be twisted in different directions depending on which way you want to go.”

Wendy took the presentation from Carl. “Can we take this with us?”

Russell nodded. “Of course.”

“What are the biggest risks with expanding?” Carl asked.

Russell steepled his fingers. “It usually comes down to overextending our systems and people. Leasing a building and adding a drive-through are easy, as are the reserves if we have sufficient investments.” He gave Carl a knowing look. “Advertising can be tricky as we haven’t had much in the way of a budget for it, but word of mouth does us well.”

Wendy pulled another business card from her pile of papers. “Call Sue and tell her what you need. She’ll set you up for advertising.”

Russell started to protest, so Carl intervened. “I’ll pay the cost for the initial campaign to get you started. She’s very good at what she does, so take some time and work with her.”

The bank manager seemed like he was going to say more, but all that came out was, “I will.”

Something was off here. By all appearances, the bank was doing fine, so the problem might be employee related. Or personal. He wouldn’t know until he asked. “What’s wrong, Russell? Yes, I know we surprised you by showing up out of the blue, but I think we’re making changes for the better. That should be a positive thing.”

Russell looked back at Carl, evaluating something in his mind. Coming to a decision, he got up and went around his desk to close his door.

Sitting back down, Russell shook his head. “You might not know banking, but I think you have a pretty good handle on people. What gave me away?”

Not sure where this was going, Carl said, “It wasn’t just one thing. I will say you’ve been subdued since we arrived. I had a feeling something wasn’t right but wasn’t sure what it was.”

Russell nodded, steepling his fingers again. His voice turned frail as he explained. “My wife has fallen ill. I grew up in Astoria and my parents live near the top of Coxcomb Hill.” He pointed. “It’s up that way.”

“I hope she returns to better health soon. In the meantime, what would you like to do about it?”

He sighed. “The doctors think she needs to get to someplace warmer. The damp is getting into her lungs, and it never seems to leave now that she’s gotten worse. A bank manager makes a decent salary, but not enough to pick up roots and move without another job lined up. I’ve been looking but haven’t had much luck yet.”

Carl nodded, not answering immediately as he thought things through. He took a sip of a surprisingly good cup of coffee before speaking. “I have a few ideas if you’d like to hear them.”

Russell couldn’t nod fast enough. “Please. Seeing her health slowly fade is killing me. I’m out of ideas. We thought about retiring early and moving to Las Vegas, but she doesn’t want to put me out like that.”

“She sounds like a lovely woman. Now, about my idea. I can’t promise anything, but if we do purchase the credit union, would that work? You could take that over, and we’ll find someone to replace you. If you don’t know already, La Grande is bone dry in the summer, and while it snows in the winter, it’s not as wet or damp as Astoria is. If that doesn’t work, I’ll try to think of something else. Not that I have an idea as good as that, but your part of the broader company now. We don’t give up on our own.” Carl thought about mentioning Barbara, but he wasn’t sure if this was something she could cure.

Russell wiped his eye to remove the dampness there. “Thank you for committing to that. When do you think a purchase might happen?”

Carl shrugged. He could see the hope in Russell’s eyes, and while he hated to dash it, until they purchased the credit union there wasn’t much he could do. “We’ve made an initial inquiry, but they haven’t responded. I’m not giving up, but you know as well as I do, they could say no. If push comes to shove, we could move you to Portland and have you run things from there. It would be a stopgap measure, but better than nothing.”

Russell nodded. “Can you give me a few days to think on it?”

Carl smiled. “Of course. I plan on taking a much more hands-on approach than Jasper did. Feel free to call anytime.”

Russell nodded as he let out the breath he’d been holding. His pain was obvious.

Carl checked the time. “Is there anything else you need right away?”

He shook his head. “No, the bank is doing well. I would like to put in a better medical plan for the employees, but there just isn’t the budget for it. One of our cashiers was pregnant last year and had complications that our current plan didn’t cover.”

Carl looked to Wendy. She nodded, sitting up a bit straighter in her chair. “Increase the medical plan and send a check to the cashier to cover her out of pocket costs. I’ll make sure you are reimbursed.”

Standing up, he shook hands with Russell. “It’s been very nice meeting you, Russell, and I look forward to working with you going forward. We’ll get this worked out; you have my word.”

“Thank you.”

Carl continued. “If you’re free in late August, we’ll be having a company picnic at our financial officer’s house. Wendy can forward the details.”

Wendy nodded. “If you provide me with your email, I’ll send it to you.”

The bank manager quickly scribbled it out on a piece of paper, then handed it over. “Thank you both for coming. I know we don’t have a solution just yet, but I feel better just for having talked it out with someone.”

As they exited the office, every face was turned to see the new bank owner emerge. Carl gave his new employees a breezy wave as they headed towards the door. Within minutes they were headed back the way they came.

“I think that went as well as could be expected.”

Wendy nodded. “I feel bad for him. I got the feeling that his wife’s condition was consuming him. Do you think he’s the one to lead the merged company?”

Carl looked over at her. “You’ll understand what that’s like when you fall in love and get married. You can tell he cares about his people, and if the financial reports are as solid as he claimed, then he’s a strong contender. Whether he stays or moves to the credit union, it would be interesting to see how they do when they’re competing against each other.”

They drove in companionable silence towards Longview. Carl took the bridge near St. Helens, Oregon to get across the Columbia River and into Washington state. From there it was a quick shot to Longview after Wendy programmed the address into the GPS.

When the Cowlitz Bank sign came into view it looked a bit worse for wear, as did the building itself. Carl and Wendy looked at each other, unsure about what awaited them inside the double doors.

Just like last time, they got in the cashier’s line and waited their turn. Fifteen minutes later, an attractive woman who couldn’t be much older than Wendy glanced at them.

She typed on her keyboard, distracted as she said, “Slide your card in the reader.”

Carl leaned forward and said, “We’re not customers.”

She stopped typing, only now taking the time to look at them. “New account?”

Carl shook his head. His enhanced senses were tingling that something was off in this bank. The young woman in front of him was the only cashier working among the five stations available.

“For reasons I don’t want to go into right now, I purchased this bank from the previous owner. I’d like to speak with the manager.”

The woman laughed, trying to cover her mouth as she did so. “You’ve got to be kidding. Who would want to own this dung heap?” She spun her hands around like it was obvious.

Wendy spoke up. “Is the manager available to speak to us?”

She shook her head. “No, he’s on his siesta. That’s what he calls it, but I think he’s getting some on the side. He only hires women that look like…” She glanced at Carl, then pointed at Wendy. “Like her. Or me.”

Carl didn’t get angry very often. He prided himself on that, keeping a level head when others let their rage fly free. Right now, his fuse was shorter than it had been in a long time.

He nodded, choking down the words he wanted to say. “Call him and tell him he has five minutes to get here, or he’s fired.”

The cashier stopped laughing. She leaned forward, her face serious. “Make it three. Please, make it three.”

This time Wendy laughed, and Carl almost did as well, doing his best to keep it in. “Fine, three minutes or he’s fired.” He justified this because the man was likely to be fired anyway. Not because of his siesta, but because of the poor state this branch was in.

Although the siesta didn’t help matters.

The cashier got on the phone. “Ty, I’ve got the new owners here in front of me. They want me to tell you that you have three minutes to get here, or you’re fired.”

She bit her finger to keep from laughing out loud. “Yes, I’m serious. If you want to keep your job, pull your pants on and drive like your life depends on it. Because it does.”

She hung up, slamming the phone down into the cradle. Then she crossed her arms like she was a superhero. Or superheroine, more accurately.

Carl couldn’t hide his grin. “Is there a finance officer here? Someone we can talk to about how the bank is doing?”

She nodded, pointing to her left. “Will is in the back corner, right next to the empty office. She handles the finances and signs off on the larger loans.”

Carl nodded but didn’t move. A few people were standing in line behind him, but he wanted a few answers first. “What would you change about this place?”

She leaned forward, thinking. “We need more cashiers. Normal cashiers, not young women that look good in swimsuits. The building needs a paint job, and I know our interest rates for checking accounts are too low. We’ve lost a few accounts because of it, but Ty didn’t do anything about it. The other branch is doing better, but not by much. It’s mainly because Ty doesn’t spend time over there as much as he does here.”

A car screeched into the parking lot, smoke coming off the tires. It was some kind of muscle car that Carl didn’t recognize. The door opened and a half-dressed man ran towards the front door. His trousers dropped to his knees before he could pull them up again.

Carl turned to the cashier. “How long has it been?”

She glanced at her monitor. “Five minutes, almost six.” She said it gleefully, white teeth peeking through red lips and a broad smile.

“I’m here, I’m here.” He raced over to the cashier, pushing Carl and Wendy to the side. Wendy nearly stumbled onto the floor, but Carl stabilized her before that happened. “Where are they? The new owners, where are they?”

She pointed a pink fingernail at the man he had just shoved to the side.

Ty’s eyes got big, and he did his best to straighten his shirt. “I’m sorry, I was at lunch, but I’m here now, Mr. ….”

Carl turned back to the cashier. “Call in three or four cashiers. Tell them they’re getting time and a half, and make sure you always have two or three cashiers on hand from now on, especially during the busy times. Let the other branch know as well.”

She jotted it all down, looking up at him for further instructions.

“And you’ll have to forgive me, but I never caught your name.”

“Oh. It’s Lilly.”

Carl nodded. “Nice to meet you, Lilly. Next to me is Wendy. Once you have more cashiers in, come and see us in the finance office.”

Lilly smiled. The world was finally righting itself. “I will, Mr. Thompson. It might take twenty or thirty minutes. Is that okay?”

Carl smiled in return. “It is.”

With that, Carl and Wendy turned to head to the finance office. Ty tagged along like a stray dog, trying to get a word in edgewise.

“I would have been here earlier but… shit, sorry. I’m here now is what matters. Please, just give me a second…”

A security guard was sitting in a chair while he watched the drama unfold. Carl stopped in front of him. “Please help Ty gather his things and make sure he leaves the premises. You should also ensure that he doesn’t have access to any banking accounts. Take his keys as well.”

The security man stood, then saluted. It was a habit from his years in the police force before a bad knee injury forced him to retire and take a security job. “You got it, Mr. Thompson. Come on, Ty, your time here is over.”

Carl knocked on the door. An older woman sat at a desk, and Carl watched her approach through the window next to the door.

“Yes?”

Carl held out his hand. “My name is Carl Thompson, and this is my associate, Wendy Lawson. I’m the new owner of this bank, and Ty has been fired. Would you have an hour available to speak with us?”

The finance officer looked around him as the security guard helped Ty gather his things. The man was crying as he put his things in a cardboard box.

The woman smiled, then inclined her head. “Wilhelmina Viggiano, at your pleasure. My mother is German, my father Italian.” She said it as if she explained her full name to everyone she met. “You can call me Will, most people do.” She smiled. “You’ve already done more for this bank in the last ten minutes than anyone has in the six years I’ve been here. Please come in.”

They moved to a small table in her office. “Would you care for something to drink? We have sodas and coffee, but if I’m being honest you should stick with the sodas.”

Wendy jotted a note down. Carl didn’t even have to read it to know that she was jotting down a reminder for the bank to purchase a better coffee maker and higher-quality beans.

They took seats around a small wood table. “What can I help you with? You caught us all by surprise, which is good in some respects and less in others.”

Carl leaned back in his chair and smiled, wanting to put the woman at ease. He wasn’t here to interrogate anyone, but to instead gather more data and information. “Can you tell us about the current state of the bank. How are the reserves? Do you have any bad loans? Personnel issues. That sort of thing.”

She stood up and went behind her desk, fishing out a few reports. She passed them to Carl before sitting down again. “These are the last four years’ annual reports. The bank has made a profit each year, but it has been declining year over year.”

Wendy asked, “Do you know why?”

“Bad loans, just like you mentioned. Ty gave loans to a few business acquaintances. On the face of it they made a lot of sense, but each one only made payments for a few years before they started to drop off. One is still paying, but the other five have stopped. I’ve sent notices to each of them, but they’ve been ignored. Ty told me that he talked to them, and they were good for it.”

Carl sighed. He wasn’t surprised. “What’s the next step in the process?”

Will blinked. “The next step? We default the loan and claim their collateral.”

Carl nodded. “Then do that. Hire security guards if you need them…” He turned to Wendy, but she was already passing Gene’s number across to Will. “…and claim the collateral. Do you happen to know what they put up for the loans?”

She nodded, pulling her laptop from her desk. “Let me print it out. One is a shopping center in Roseburg where the company used the land plus another development they had finished against the loan. The next used the company partners’ vacation homes along with the land the development is on. The rest are variations on that theme. Despite Ty approving them, I made sure they put up collateral.”

Will picked up the card Wendy passed her. “Who is this?”

“He’s our security specialist. Call him if you need to hire security people to enforce the collateral claim. Also, here is the number for our lawyers. We recommend you use them going forward.”

Will looked up at Carl in wonder. “You own a law firm?”

Carl shrugged. “It just sort of happened. Now, tell me about the reserves.”

The conversation continued until a timid knock was heard at the door. Will called out, “Come in.”

Lilly entered, pulling a chair from Will’s desk. “Have I missed much?”

Will asked the unspoken question with her eyes and a small rise in her eyebrows. Carl nodded just a fraction in response.

Carl gave Lilly a warm smile. “Nothing that you can’t cover with Will afterwards. While I have both of you here, I need a rough budget for what it will take to turn the bank around. Painting the outside, renovating the inside, updating computer systems and the like.”

Will’s jaw hung open in disbelief. “Do you know how long I pestered Jasper for some of what you just listed?” She shook her head. “It’s been years, and never once did I get the go ahead.”

Lilly spoke, her voice a bit shaky but charging ahead anyway. “Painting won’t be bad, but the renovation will be. Both branches desperately need new carpets, and some of the desks are falling apart and need to be replaced.” She turned to Will. “What do you think about the systems? I know the ATM at the Chehalis branch isn’t working right and doesn’t accept checks any longer.”

Will nodded. “She’s right. All our ATMs could use replacement with more modern systems. They’re not cheap, but that’s how our customers interface with us most often. The online system is fine if a bit antiquated. If I’m devoting budget to something, it would be the ATMs.”

Wendy asked, “And how much does a top-notch ATM cost?”

Will started typing on her laptop. “Ten to fifteen thousand, plus installation so it works with our systems.”

Carl could see where this was going. “And how many ATMs do you have currently?”

Will and Lilly looked at each other, Lilly counting them on her fingers. “Five. Two here in Longview, two in Chehalis, and one in the local Safeway.”

Carl’s stomach rumbled. He would prefer to take his time with turning a business around, but since he’d fired the bank manager less than an hour ago, drastic steps were required. It had to be fixed now, or as close as he could come with the time they had.

He turned to Lilly. “Would an investment of two hundred thousand work? I’m thinking eighty to a hundred thousand for the ATMs, and the rest for renovation.”

Her eyes were wide, and her grin was enormous. She managed to eke out, “Yes.”

Carl pulled out his checkbook and started writing. He turned to Wendy midway through. “You might mention Sue to them.”

Wendy was tired too. It had been a long day. Exciting, yes, but exhausting too. She didn’t know how Carl did it at his age. She told them about Beacon Advertising, and that the first campaign would be paid by the LLC.

Carl handed the check to Will, then turned to Lilly. “I’d like to offer you the interim bank manager position. Interim means that if you mess up, you’re back to being a cashier and I find someone else. It also means that if you do well, you can have it permanently.”

To her credit, Lilly didn’t respond immediately. “Can I have a raise? Right now, I make a little over minimum wage, and it’s barely enough to cover my portion of the rent.”

Wendy passed him a note with a number on it. He was surprised how close it was to his number. “We’ll start you at forty-five thousand dollars a year. With that salary I expect you to hire cashiers who know what they’re doing. I also want to see more business accounts. We’ll get personal accounts through advertising, but business accounts will make us the most money. I also want to know whether it makes sense to open new branches. If it doesn’t, fine, but show me why. And if you see banks that aren’t doing well in the area, let us know. Maybe we’ll buy them and merge them with this bank.”

If Lilly’s face had been pale before, now she looked like a ghost except for two small circles of red blush on her cheeks. “Thank you, Mr. Thompson. I won’t let you down.”

Carl said nothing, but he wouldn’t be willing to bet against this woman. He had a feeling she would accomplish great things.

Will held up her hand. “I don’t mean to be forward, but can I get a raise too? I make a little over twenty-two thousand a year. Not to be disrespectful, but it’s a pittance. I wouldn’t be able to survive on it except for my husband’s salary.”

Carl was flabbergasted. “Absolutely. We’ll raise you to forty thousand. Does that work?”

Will nodded a little like a bobble head doll, with a big smile on her face. “It does. Thank you, Carl.”

Lilly wasn’t done yet. “We also need to increase the pay for the cashiers. I only took this job because I was desperate. If we want tellers who know what they’re doing, I think we need to pay more.”

Carl turned to Will. “How much would that be? I’m not against it, but I have no idea what a reasonable salary is.”

Will nodded. “In Longview, a reasonable bank teller salary is thirty to thirty-five thousand dollars. That would be my recommendation. Pro-rated for part-time.”

Maybe it was because he was flush with cash, but he wanted this bank back in the black. Soon. “Do it.”

Wendy asked, “What about health care and retirement?”

Will look at Lilly, both of them shaking their heads. “We have a medical plan, but it’s piss poor. We don’t have a retirement plan.”

Carl yawned, the long day catching up to him. “Pick a medical plan and put it in. For a retirement plan, prepare a recommendation and send it to Wendy. We’ll review and get back to you.”

He yawned a few more times as the meeting wound down. They talked about timeframes, and Lilly mentioned a few banks she thought might be good acquisitions. It was just speculation, but it told him she was thinking in the right direction.

Four more yawns and ten minutes later they were back on I5 and heading south.

Wendy was typing into her phone. “You realize that you didn’t have to give the financial officer a raise?”

Carl nodded. He thought about stopping by the restaurant in Battle Ground that he now owned, but neither of them had the energy for that. “I do, but then again I just gave our new bank manager a raise.” He shook his head, still a little angry at how the bank had been run before they intervened. “What Will was getting paid was criminal. Now that they’re both getting paid decent money, it’s easier to expect more from them and get it.”

She only grunted, still typing. “I’ll call everyone we talked about earlier tomorrow morning. It’s too late for most of them to be at work.”

Carl couldn’t agree more. “Unless something comes up, I’ll drive out to the properties to check them out.”

Wendy sat back in her seat, turning her phone off. “I want to go, but that sounds like a long drive. I think I’ll pass. I want to talk to the owner of the buildings in Salem. If the price is reasonable, I’ll drive down and check them out.”

Carl turned to her. “Take someone with you if you do. Those buildings aren’t safe, and there are people living in them. Illegally, I should add.”

Wendy closed her eyes as she leaned her head back on the headrest. “Maybe Gene will want to go. He can bring his taser to keep me safe.”

Carl laughed. “That works.”

After forty minutes of backed-up traffic from Vancouver to Portland, Carl dropped her off at the law offices. “Thanks, Wendy. It was good having you along.”

She grinned. “I thought so too. See you tomorrow, Carl.”

Ten minutes later he was seated at the diner.

Chapter 33

The next morning Carl was up a little after 4am, having gone to bed early. He went for his run in the predawn light, his speed picking up as his body got into the rhythm. More and more he was doing what he used to call the long route, and he had a feeling it wouldn’t be too long before he had to create an even longer route.

A quick shower later and he was at the diner. He’d had chicken cordon bleu last night, so he ordered oatmeal with a side of link sausage and a muffin just to mix things up. He left a nice tip when he was done and got back in his car to drive home.

When he’d gotten home last night his answering machine had over forty messages on it, so he’d ignored it and gone to sleep.

Now he had to deal with them. As expected, almost all were from the bank manager. Not only was he prolific, but his messages become more and more disturbed as they continued.

Call 3: “Please, Mr. Thompson, call me back. Please, I beg of you. You may not believe me, but we can help you in so many different ways.”

Call 11: It started with heavy breathing, and Carl almost thought it was somebody else. It wasn’t. “If you don’t call me back, I’ll have to stop by your house tonight. You’ve been warned.”

Call 23: “WHY WON’T YOU CALL ME BACK!”

Call 29: “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m under a lot of stress, and our investment options are appealing. So, so appealing. Just invest a little bit. Please, invest. Please, please, please, please, please, …”

Carl deleted them all. He thought about calling the headquarters based somewhere on the east coast but decided against it. That would only drag him in deeper as he dealt with people savvier and more charismatic than his local bank manager. For the moment, at least.

The thirty-fourth message was different. “Carl, I’m quite annoyed with you right now. I understand you purchased Vancouver Life along with some other businesses, and not contacting me like you should have denied us the opportunity to get a news piece out to the major papers. I encourage you to call back before Vancouver Life launches one of their own. They’ll be on the attack I would think, to keep you from cleaning house. Bye.”

Carl couldn’t pick up the phone fast enough.

“Beacon Advertising. How may I direct your call?”

“Hi, it’s Carl Thompson. Is Sue available?”

The receptionist laughed. “We’ve been expecting you, Carl. Just a moment.”

Hold music came on, and for the first time it didn’t annoy him. He was that distracted. “This is Sue.”

“Sue, this is Carl. I apologize for not calling you earlier. Will you please help me?”

“Of course, Carl. We have a number of different drafts ready for the Vancouver Life piece. Can you let me know what else you purchased? I’ve heard a few rumors but not the facts.”

“Um… a bank in Astoria called North Coast, a bank in Longview called Cowlitz, four buildings in Vancouver, a restaurant in Battle Ground, a couple of apartment buildings, and some undeveloped land I’m going to check out today. Oh, and the remaining shares of your company.”

She laughed her practiced laugh again. “Yes, I’m familiar with those shares. I must say it feels nice to have them out of Julian’s hands. Jasper refused to help, even when he knew how desperate we were at times.”

Carl waited. He was too flustered to say anything cogent right now, his mind imagining scenarios where Neils remained as the CEO and the board ignored his plans to turn the company around.

“If you have time, I think it would be best if you stopped by.”

He shook his head, even though Sue couldn’t see it. “I wish I could, but I don’t have time. Use whichever one you think is the best. The banks only need small notices I think.”

“If that’s what you think is best. I have one that hints at an imminent change in the CEO position, and I have another that hints that bankruptcy will no longer be needed. Which one do you like best?”

He liked both of them, but he couldn’t promise he could forestall the bankruptcy. He liked the employees he’d met, and he didn’t plan to mislead them with something that he might not be able to change.

In contrast, he could promise that Neils wouldn’t be the CEO any longer. “The CEO one. Use that.”

“I was favoring that one as well. Do you know when you’ll be meeting Neils?”

“I don’t. I asked Wendy to get us a meeting with the board, but I haven’t heard anything yet.”

Sue tsked under her breath. “He’ll delay meeting you for as long as possible. You may own the company, but until he is forcibly removed, he’ll be in charge. I imagine he is drafting plans to give himself a golden parachute as we speak.”

Carl uncharacteristically cursed. “Shit. Sorry, but you scared the living daylights out of me. You get the blurb out, and I’ll deal with Neils.”

“Done. Good luck, Carl.”

Carl went into his closet and changed into a business suit. If he was going to show up at the company unannounced, he would look professional doing so.

He would have to look at the land another day. This was too important.

The drive to Vancouver was easy against the flow of morning traffic, and he knew where the life insurance company’s headquarters were located. For the size of the company, it was overly ostentatious for his taste.

He parked his car in the CEO parking spot, unsurprised that Neils wasn’t in today. He walked inside the building, large abstract art paintings hanging off the walls.

A petite brunette woman looked up at him. “Which floor?”

He reached out his hand. “I’m Carl Thompson. I’d like you to call Neils Thomas and tell him that if he isn’t here in thirty minutes that he’s fired.” It was becoming his go-to line when he wanted someone out his companies.

The receptionist blinked, then asked. “I don’t mean to offend, but could I see a piece of identification?”

Carl smiled, pulling out his driver’s license. She compared it to his face, then nodded and handed it back.

“I’m afraid I don’t have Mr. Thomas’ home number, but his secretary does. Should I notify her?”

Carl shook his head, a hard glint in his eye. “I’ll tell her. Do you know where she’s located?”

“Top floor at the end of the corridor. You can’t miss her.”

Carl was about to leave when she called out to him. “Wait, Mr. Thompson. You can’t get up to the executive levels without a pass.”

It took a few minutes to print out the pass, but that was fine. It gave him a moment to cool his emotions.

She handed it to him, and he clipped it to his suit. “Thank you.”

Then he was up the elevators.

The executive level was even more plush than the entrance, with a water fountain by the elevators and what he assumed was even more expensive artwork lining the walls. Doors leading to large offices were on either side of him as he walked down a long hallway.

He stopped when he came to a curved, wooden desk. The receptionist looked up at him in annoyance. “How did you get up here?”

He pointed to the pass clipped on to his suit. “Are you the receptionist for Neils Thomas?”

She nodded, already dialing the number for security. “Yes, I have an intruder on the executive level.”

“Um hm.” She glanced up at him. “Yes, but…”

Carl knew he shouldn’t have enjoyed the moment when her face drained of color, but a small part of him did. His new job was hardening some of his soft retirement edges, and he wasn’t sure if it was a positive thing or not.

She set the phone down. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Thompson. You didn’t identify yourself or I—”

Carl held a hand up. “I’d like you to call Neils at his home. If he doesn’t arrive in thirty minutes, tell him he’s fired.”

Carl planned to replace him anyway but knew it would help to have Neils help with the transition. He glanced at the nameplates on the door, seeing the CFO, Chief Actuary, and a number of other impressive titles.

Maybe he didn’t need Neils after all.

The receptionist hung up the phone. “He’s not coming in.” She winced. “He asked me to tell you that you can’t fire him without board approval.”

Carl nodded. Just as Sue had said, he should have expected as much. “I want to see every piece of paper he touches. Literally, every piece of paper and every email.” He passed her Wendy’s card.

The receptionist took the card, looking at it like it might burn her fingers. “Can you do that?”

Carl shrugged. “Let me check with legal, if you can point me in the right direction.”

She pointed down the hall. “Jennifer is third door down on the left. She’s in today.”

Carl nodded, then headed off to see legal. He personally didn’t see any issue with reading an employee’s email. Neils might be CEO for the moment, but he was still an employee.

He knocked lightly on the closed door.

“Come in.”

Opening it, he was met by an older woman with glasses, gray hair spilling around her face with sharp, focused eyes meeting his. She stood as he approached her desk.

“You made quite a stir when you entered unannounced. Don’t get me wrong, I applaud it, but you’ve rattled a hornet’s nest.”

Carl held his hand out. “Carl Thompson. And you are…?”

“Jennifer Tine. It’s a pleasure. Now, what can I do for you, Mr. Thompson?”

Carl gave his most winning smile. “I’d like to do one of two things. Either disband the board entirely or call an emergency board meeting tomorrow or Thursday.”

She nodded, as if she’d expected the request. “Disbanding the board is quite simple. As the majority shareholder, it is within your purview to dissolve the board of directors at any point in time for any reason.”

If his previous smile had been winning, the one he was putting off right now was downright luminal.

Jennifer noticed and held up a hand. “Having said that, I don’t think it is the right course of action. Tell me what your goals are, and I can advise you better.”

Carl didn’t feel the need to mince words with this woman. He didn’t know if she supported Neils politically or not, but right now she was all he had to go on. “I’d like to have Neils removed from his position as CEO, the sooner the better. My assumption was that the board supports him and won’t support his firing, which is why I wanted to dissolve the board.”

She tapped a pen on a pad of paper. “Technically, Neils is correct. The board holds the power of hiring and firing over the CEO, and the CEO holds the power of hiring and firing over the CFO and his other direct reports.” She straightened her glasses. “You want him gone, which leaves you with two options. Call a board meeting as you planned and make a motion prior to calling for a vote. Neils is on the board so expect some pushback from him, but that won’t stop you from raising a motion. Despite what you may think, not every board member is in his pocket. You might be surprised by the outcome.”

Carl couldn’t quite make out whether she was cluing him in that the board members might want Neils gone too, or whether it was just a possibility as it was with any vote. She was a difficult person to read.

“And the second option?”

She doodled on her notepad, drawing something that Carl couldn’t discern. “Appeal to the court of public opinion. You own an advertising agency, do you not? Use the tools you have and make it untenable for Neils to continue as CEO.”

Carl could admit that made sense, but it didn’t ease his biggest worry. “And what’s to stop him from pushing through a golden parachute for when he gets shoved out?”

She chuckled, the sound dry and humorless. “Oh, he’s already done that.” She opened a drawer and reached in, rifling through her files before passing him a few pieces of paper. “That should be enough to get you where you want to go.”

Carl took the papers from her and turned them right-side up. On the first page was the salary for the CEO, CFO and other key positions. Scanning down the list, he saw that the woman across from him made a tidy six hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year. Not including her annual bonus.

As large as that was, it paled in comparison to Neils. He made a whopping two point one million dollars, not including the stock he owned. Or his bonus.

He glanced up at Jennifer before turning the page. The next one listed the payments to each director on the board. Most made eighty thousand a year plus a few perks such as cars to pick them up and take them back home, plus a few other perquisites.

Three board members were paid differently. One made a hundred and twenty thousand dollars, and two made a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

He pointed at the paper, not quite understanding what he was seeing. “Why do these three directors make more than the others?”

Jennifer said nothing, smiling but remaining silent.

He nodded as he turned it over in his head. “I see. Thank you for your time and the information you’ve shared. It’s been very enlightening.”

She held a hand up. “Before you go, may I ask what you have planned for the company?”

Carl stopped and turned back around. She’d shared with him, so he would reciprocate. Despite his animosity for Neils, he wanted to get off to a good start with the rest of his employees. “I plan to turn it around. Make it into a company people are proud to work for again.”

She smiled, the first true smile of their meeting. “One last piece of advice. Don’t share the exact numbers for the board. Point out that three are making more, and hint at how much more. That will be enough to get the others asking questions.”

“And Neils’ salary?”

She shrugged. “You’re the new owner. You can share his salary with whomever you want.”

Carl grinned. The battle wasn’t over yet, but he now had a new angle of attack.

He waved before closing the door behind him, then walked over to the CFO’s office. The door stood halfway open, although it hadn’t been when he first entered the executive floor.

Rapping the wood with his knuckles, he said, “Hello. May I please come in?”

A middle-aged man with neatly parted brown hair opened the door wider. He had a tanned face like he had recently returned from vacation. “Ah, it’s you. Please come in, Mr. Thompson. We have a few things to go over I believe.”

Chapter 34

Carl took a seat across from the CFO’s desk. The nameplate read Joseph Neffiljik. “I wasn’t aware I was expected.”

Joseph smiled, but it lacked warmth. Carl had the distinct feeling that this was a man who tightly controlled his emotions.

He closed the door behind Carl, then sat down. “Julian informed me of the change of ownership. We go back quite a few years.”

Carl nodded as if it all made sense. “I see. Then you have me at a disadvantage.”

Joseph nodded as if that was obvious. “The bankruptcy filing hasn’t been made but will be in the next few days. Our cash flow and reserves are fine, but our liabilities have ballooned far out of proportion. Until those are brought back into line, I see the bankruptcy as an inevitability.”

Carl opened his mouth, then closed it. He placed a lot of blame on Neils for what had happened to the company, but maybe it didn’t all lie with the CEO. “You don’t seem bothered by that?”

Joseph shook his head. “It’s business, plain and simple. The company will recover and be stronger for it. Our liabilities will be reduced by 50% or more, setting us up for the future.”

Carl wondered what those enigmatic, yet malicious liabilities actually were. “And what are the liabilities forcing this bankruptcy action?”

Joseph stilled, then waved the question away. “A variety of different things. Some commercial, some internal.”

Carl leaned forward, placing his elbows on the expansive wood desk. A perpetual motion machine started bouncing metal balls back and forth. “I have all the time in the world. Why don’t you explain them to me, in excruciating detail?”

Forty-five minutes later Carl was appalled. Half the liabilities resulted from an employee’s retirement plan. They planned to close that plan, paying out the people in the plan a pittance. Carl would be lying if he didn’t think the retirement closure hit close to some of his own issues. Those issues were in the past, but they still prickled from time to time.

The pricing issue he’d read about in the paper was serious but taken on its own wouldn’t force bankruptcy.

Instead of reacting to the news like he wanted to, Carl schooled his features, nodding along like it all made sense. He didn’t know these people, and with the possible exception of the company lawyer, didn’t trust them.

Carl stood up, a plan forming in his head. He needed to place a few calls when he got out of this building, and he needed a few things to tilt in his favor, but he thought he could turn it around.

Or at least make a solid start.

“Thank you for your time, Joseph.”

The CFO nodded, already getting back to work as he opened his laptop.

Carl cleared his throat. Joseph looked up in surprise that Carl was still in his office. “Excuse me, but I do have a request. I would like the last twelve quarterly reports sent to me, along with the last five annual reports. I would also like the board meeting minutes going back three years.”

Joseph’s mouth opened and closed like a landed trout. He shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s possible. You may be the owner, but everything you’ve asked for is private and confidential.”

Carl wasn’t about to back down. “Then consider it a direct order, not a request if that helps you sleep. I expect them in my inbox no later than the end of today.”

He turned to walk to the door. “Neils’ receptionist has my contact details. Good day.”

The trip back down to the ground floor took far too long. It felt as if the company itself rebelled against having him here, as if he was intruding into matters far above his pay grade.

He couldn’t get out of the building fast enough.

* * *

As soon as he was safely ensconced in his car, he called Rebecca, getting her voicemail. A short message later and he called Charles.

“Carl, I’m glad you called. I understand you purchased Vancouver Life. I really wish you would have spoken to me about it beforehand.”

He started his car in case security guards came out to detain him. He’d given them no reason to do such a thing, but he was wary, nonetheless. “I’ll explain some other time, Charles. And we bought more than the insurance company. It was a package deal, including two banks, a couple of apartment buildings, and some land. And a few other things.”

Charles started to speak, but Carl cut him off. “I called to ask you a question. Would it be okay if I put you on the board? As a temporary measure until you take over as CEO when you get back from vacation.”

“Carl, no! I told you—”

Two security guards were walking towards his car. Pulling his seatbelt across, he put the car in gear and drove off. “Charles, I don’t have time. Please say yes, you’ll be on the board. We’ll discuss the rest later.”

A shocking number of curse words came out his phone, forcing Carl to pull it away from his ear. A car with security written on the doors started to move towards the exit, so Carl floored it. He didn’t know of any reasons the company might have for detaining him and didn’t plan to find out.

He made it through the exit with feet to spare. He doubted his old Honda would have made it out.

“—fine, I’ll do it. But I’m not promising I’ll take the CEO job.”

Carl grinned. “What about the CFO job?”

The line went dead. Carl shrugged, tossing his phone in the passenger seat as he drove back across the Columbia and towards Beacon Advertising.

Chapter 35

Sue placed the papers Carl had brought her down on the table. “The information here is amazing, Carl. Damning as well. I think the company lawyer is right, and despite your reservations, she wouldn’t have shared this with you if she didn’t trust you. I’ll leak a public announcement that three board members make more, two significantly more, than the rest. That should get them asking questions. All the board members are captains of industry, and they’ll hate it when they learn someone is making more than they are. It will also get them asking questions about who and why.”

Carl pulled out the second page, sliding it across the conference room table to Sue. Then he took a plain cake donut, his favorite. The first bite was still warm. Exquisite.

Sue gasped. She looked from the paper in her hand to him. “The executives there make this much?”

He nodded, sipping his coffee to wash down the donut.

She shook her head. “I’m in the wrong business.” She set the paper aside, then turned to him. “I can make use of that, but I doubt it will bother Neils or Joseph. It might outrage the employees, but I’d be surprised if either cared one way or another.”

Carl nodded, finishing his donut. “I agree. I have one last tidbit that will get employees up in arms.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “As part of the bankruptcy filing, the company is planning to gut the employee retirement plan. It’s an older plan so not everyone will be affected, but the employees who’ve been around the longest will.”

Sue gave him a Cheshire grin. “I can have both tidbits out for the morning paper. I’ve also been thinking of a public campaign, using advertising like politicians do. The problem with it is the company will be forced to fight back, spending money they should be using on things other than advertising.”

He shook his head, thinking about taking a second donut but deciding against it. “No, we’ll stick with the newspaper. I plan to call each and every board member tonight and try and talk them into an emergency meeting for later this week. I only need a simple majority for a quorum.”

He could tell she was already thinking about how to write the news release to share with the newspapers by the way she was gazing out the windows. It took a few moments before she turned to him. “Yes, you do that. I’ve got the news release I want to write. You want to read it first?”

Carl shook his head. “No, I trust you. Do what you think is best.”

The resulting smile could light up a room. “Thank you. Not everyone does. Trust me, that is. I appreciate it.”

He stood up, then grabbed a napkin and a second donut for the road.

She laughed. “We only get them for you. You can take them all home if you want.”

He shook his head. “No, two is enough for me. Otherwise, I might ruin my appetite for dinner.”

The drive back across the river took forever, not because traffic was bad but because he felt like he was racing against the clock. If Neils realized what he was doing it might take weeks, or even months to get him out of his plush office. Carl would be forced to disband the board, and while he was fine with getting rid of three of them, he might be burning bridges by dismissing the rest.

He stopped at Lyon and Hudson before heading home.

Amy gave him a wave as she talked on the phone. Walking over, he knocked on Wendy’s door.

“Come in.”

He entered, taking a seat opposite her. She looked up from her laptop, surprised to see him here. “I thought you’d be at Vancouver Life all day?”

He shook his head, the memory not pleasant. “No, they didn’t want me there. The CEO is working from home, and I need the board of directors to fire him.” He let out a breath, a bit of the tension in his shoulders leaving with it. Donnehy & Associates had been a difficult deal, but nothing like this.

“What can I do to help?”

He passed her the list of board members and their annual salaries. “I need to get the board in a room away from the CEO. Can you call them individually and ask for a meeting in a nearby hotel? Reserve a room that’s large enough plus some food and drink. Oh, and don’t call the three guys getting paid more the rest. I have a feeling they’re getting that money to vote with Neils when he needs the extra push to get what he wants.”

She glanced at the list, then nodded. “Sure, that’s fine. Let me find the hotel first, then I’ll start calling the members. You have time for a few updates?”

He nodded, the adrenaline of the last few hours slowly draining away.

“Good. The lawyer at Donnehy found the lawyer handing Billy Reeves’ case. Billy wants to sell, but Chuck is holding out. He’s dead broke, but I think it’s a matter of pride. They think that if you up the price by a hundred thousand you’ll get him to agree.”

Carl yawned, leaning back in his chair. “How much?”

“Eight hundred thousand. That includes everything, the land, the buildings, the separator, the trucks, and the drills. All of it.”

He rubbed at his eyes, feeling like a nap would do him a world of good right now. “Fine, but not a penny more. That’s the most I’ll pay to someone who stole from us.” Normally, he wouldn’t pay them a dime, but he knew Dean needed the land and the extra equipment. He might not like it, but a deal was a deal.

Wendy noted it down. “Next, Dean is back in Medford with the equipment. He put all the equipment on his property for the time being but needs somewhere to put it all to get drilling again. I’ll let him know if the Reeves deal works out.”

“Do we have a backup in case it doesn’t?”

She nodded. “He found ten acres less than a mile from where Reeves were working out of. It’s undeveloped, but he says it wouldn’t take long to fix it up.”

She glanced at an email, beating him to the question. “Two hundred and fifty thousand.”

He nodded. “Tell him to buy it. You have access to my account, so wire the money when it’s time.”

Wendy nodded, jotting down a reminder as she looked at him through the corner of her eye. He looked frazzled and more than a little tired. “We can do this tomorrow if you’d like?”

He shook his head. “No, keep going. What else?”

Less than fifteen minutes in, Carl wished he’d agreed to do all of this tomorrow.

“—and Kelly called back and is interested in working with you. She’d like to meet you in the next few days to understand what you need first. I slotted in some time Friday morning if that works.”

Carl nodded. His eyes were drooping but he was hanging in there. Better to get it done today than waiting until tomorrow.

Wendy closed her laptop, causing Carl to look up at her. He raised an eyebrow. “What?” He glanced out the window, seeing it was still light out.

She pointed at the door. “Go home, Carl. Get some sleep and we’ll pick this up tomorrow. You’re not doing either of us any good. If something important comes up, I’ll make sure you know about it. Also, check your calendar in case I add more appointments.”

He stood up, weaving a little on his way to the door. “Thank you, Wendy.”

She waved with her fingers. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Carl.”

He ignored the diner, too tired even for food. He went straight home, shutting the house down as he moved through it on the way to the bedroom. The clock on the bedside table read 7:48pm.

Minutes later he was fast asleep.

Chapter 36

Instead of being up before dawn like he expected, he ended up sleeping in until 6:30am. The last few days had taken it out of him. Fixing problems non-stop was just as hard, if not harder, than working a nine-to-five job.

He skipped his run, waiting for the first cup of coffee of the day as he perused his inbox.

The first email was from Gene. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken with his best friend.

Carl – I’ve stayed away since I know you’re busy, but I was wondering if you would be up for an old time Friday night get together? I’ll even bring the beer this time, since I have the money for it. Let me know.

Gene

Awake and full of energy, he wrote back immediately.

‘Gene – Yes. Let’s make it a night. We can listen to the ham or just hang out and watch old movies. Whatever you want, I’m up for it. Say around 7pm?

Carl.’

Next was an email from Dean.

Carl – I don’t want to brag, but the equipment you bought is even better than I thought when I saw it in Wyoming. The separator came with five years’ worth of spare parts, and the drills have multiple bits depending on what we’re drilling through. Give me a week or two to get things set up before we start digging again. I know you’re heading down for the weekend of the 14th, so let’s catch up then.

I got the word this morning that both Reeves have agreed to the buyout. It will take a few days for the titles to clear, but then everything is ours. With two sets of equipment, we can probably upgrade to five or six mines at a time depending on the crew. Oh, and you might want to stop by and talk to Randy. He has some good news for you that I don’t want to spoil. Dean.

Carl took a deep breath and released it. After everything they’d been through, they would finally start drilling for metal again.

He got up and wrote a note on his calendar to stop by the coin shop. The note wasn’t strictly necessary, but with how busy his life was right now he thought the reminder would help.

Email number three was from Rebecca, but he didn’t have a chance to read it as the phone rang.

“This is Carl.”

“Carl, it’s Barbara. How are you?”

The line was a bit scratchy, and he had a sense she was far away. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed hearing your voice. Where are you?”

She laughed, then her voice dropped to a whisper. “San Diego. I’ve been visiting the zoo to get new DNA samples. You wouldn’t believe what I can do now.”

Carl was at a loss for words. A complete and utter loss for words.

“San Diego?”

“Hm hum. I got the naked mole rat from a pesticide company after I flirted with the company owner for a couple minutes. Then I needed animals that can camouflage themselves. The easiest was the chameleon, but I needed two more. They took the longest, but now I can stay hidden for as long as five minutes.”

His mind was finally catching up the conversation as he asked, “What were the other two?”

Her voice was vibrant and full of life when she responded. “A great grey owl, an Egyptian nightjar, and a potoo. Don’t ask me what their Latin names are because I have no idea.” She laughed. “I went a little overboard, but the…” She whispered again. “…blue boxes gave me a boost for having one extra.”

“Why do you need to camouflage yourself in the first place?”

“I almost got caught healing a woman with breast cancer. She was planning to go in and get a double mastectomy, but I cured her in time. The doctors can’t explain it.” She giggled. “I decided to camouflage myself, so I don’t get caught next time.”

Carl asked the first question that popped into his head. “What about your clothes? Do you have to get naked first?” Just the thought sent Carl’s mind spinning far away from the conversation.

“No, but maybe we can do that when I get back. It’s been far too long.”

Carl couldn’t agree more. “When will that be?”

“Um, let me check. I’m flying back late Friday night, so what do you say we get together Saturday?”

“You want me to pick you up at the airport?”

Her voice softened. “That’s a very nice offer, but I can get myself home from the airport. If I run out of money, I’ll have my rich boyfriend take care of it.”

Carl didn’t feel like having the conversation of how wealthy he was over the phone. “Saturday it is. Give me a call after you wake up and I’ll come over.”

He could hear her smile on the other end of the line. “Deal. Love you, Carl.”

“I love you too, Barbara. I can’t wait to see you.”

He hung up happy that she was coming home but unnerved by how fanatical she had become about the blue boxes. He’d viewed them as a means to an end, something to pursue until his life was back on track.

Never had he considered going that far out of his way to gain new DNA. If she was willing to fly to San Diego, where else would she go to get what she wanted?

He didn’t have an answer to that question. But the thought scared him more than a little.

Opening his laptop again, he read the email from Rebecca.

“Carl, I wanted to check in now that I’m working full time at Donnehy. Mack has proven himself to be surprisingly helpful, and the partners I’ve met have been receptive to the change in leadership. I still get scared, but your words help me each time. Thank you for that.

Just to forewarn you, this year won’t be very profitable for the company. My goal is to pare back the employees that aren’t pulling their weight while advertising as much as possible. Which reminds me: have you had a chance to speak with the legal team at Vancouver Life? I saw the article in the paper, so I know you pulled the trigger on that.

Also, just so you know I’m having an associate start on winding up Lyon and Hudson as a company. It’s bittersweet, but since we have no employees any longer, it makes sense. I’ll send the lease agreement to Wendy when I have a moment.

Anyway, I just wanted to check in. It’s not the same as it used to be with you popping into my office every other day, and I miss that. Feel free to pop in here whenever you want.

Becky

Carl smiled wistfully. He might just do that.

The last email in his inbox was from Wendy.

Carl –

I hope you’re feeling better this morning. I doubt you heard much of what I said last night, so I’ll repeat it all this morning.

The board of directors have agreed to a 10am meeting at the Hilton in Vancouver for two hours today. I recommend you get there a half hour early for meet and greet. If you send me your agenda, I’ll print it out and have it ready for you when you stop by. As far as I know, Neils and the three directors you didn’t want contacted are unaware of the meeting.

I see that you read the message from Dean, so I won’t repeat that.

Mack Donnehy wants to invest five million dollars in the LLC. I believe you and Becky already agreed to this. If you agree, I’ll send him the investment documents since I have a copy of the form Charles gave to Becky.

1. I’ve contacted the owner of the buildings in Salem. I plan to drive down there this morning to check them out while you’re in your meeting. It sounds like they’ll need to be pulled down and new buildings put up but let me confirm that first. I have a tentative price of two and a half million dollars, but I think that’s inflated.

2. A Kerrie Glaston emailed me and said you offered her a job. She’d like to come in and interview. I scheduled her for Friday here in the office, right after your meeting with Kelly.

3. The owner of the credit union responded to the lawyer Rebecca gave the project to. He’s open to selling, but the lawyer (Jill) mentioned that he used a lot of colorful language. She has the impression the credit union isn’t doing well. I’ll give you the contact details when you come in on Friday.

4. A reminder that you need to be in Medford on July 14th for the reopening of the bar. I recommend you go down the day before. I’ve spoken with Ted and purchased furniture for the upstairs apartment. Let me know if anything isn’t to your taste. Also, don’t forget you need to stop by the mapmaker shop.

5. The apartments above Randy’s shop are all done. Gene has installed the security equipment, and I furnished the one you planned to keep. The others are empty so renters can move in their own furniture. You might want to discuss what rent would be with Kelly on Friday.

6. The contractors are now assessing the four buildings in Vancouver. At some point you’ll need to decide how you want them refurbished, and how much you want to pay.

7. Moon Landing has laid off a quarter of her riders and is now using the same employment contract that Evan uses.

8. Reminder: I’ve tentatively scheduled Monday for the two of us to visit the land you purchased.

9. On a personal note, my brother loves the old Honda. He didn’t know how to drive a stick, but he does now. He wanted me to say thank you for your generosity. He’d already cleaned and waxed it to a shine. Even my dad is impressed that a car that old is running so well still.

See? There was no way you could have stayed awake through all this. See you soon, Wendy.

The first thing Carl did was check the time: five minutes before 8am. He had ninety minutes to get ready for the board of directors meeting that would determine the immediate future of the company.

A thought struck him that he couldn’t shake. He hadn’t pursued any new skills via the blue boxes, but right now he could use something that would help him be more persuasive that he normally was. He was a man who preferred facts over fancy words, but with the board meeting less than two hours away, he could use some fancy right about now.

The blue boxes responded to his thoughts.

To influence other humans, two or more of the following DNA samples are required: *

* Margay Cat (Leopardus wiedii)

* Coati (Nasua Nasua)

* Tentacled Snake (Erpeton tentaculatum)

* Wobbegong (Orectolobidae)

Carl studied the list in his right eye, becoming more confused the further he went. The only things he recognized were cat and snake, but he had no idea where to find the specific versions listed.

It had been such a good idea, but for whatever reason, the blue boxes were playing hardball. Maybe Barbara heading down to San Diego wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

He closed the blue box. Time was of the essence now.

Chapter 37

Carl pulled up in front of the Hilton, passing his keys to the valet before getting out of the car. The meeting room was on the mezzanine level, a short elevator ride up.

His hands were sweaty as he gripped the bound agenda and related documents. He didn’t know the people on the board, and they didn’t know him, which meant first impressions were everything.

Wendy had ordered a coffee and tea service with a buffet breakfast. His empty stomach growled at the idea of food, since he hadn’t had time to stop at the diner for breakfast. He’d changed ties three times, unsure of which color he should wear for such an important meeting. In the end he decided on a red and navy regimental. He’d never served in the armed forces, but he thought it looked professional and something the owner of a company would wear.

He walked through the open double doors, the wait staff putting the last touches on the setup. Carafes of coffee, tea, and water ran in bunches down the center of the table, with the buffet off to the side.

An older man with thinning hair sat at the far end of the table. Not at the head, but off to the left.

Carl walked over, setting his papers down. “Hello, I’m Carl Thompson.”

Intelligent eyes met his. “Matt Jackson. Senior partner at McKellon, Gerling and Tandsey.”

Carl immediately recognized the name. They were the other Portland law firm that were failing. Carl held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Jackson.”

The partner didn’t smile, but he did shake, however briefly. “I’m not sure about that, but I expect this meeting will be far more interesting than the last dozen has been. And likely shorter too.”

Carl shrugged, both out of nervousness and lack of food. “I’m afraid you have me at a loss, since I didn’t attend those meetings.”

A second board member entered the room, and Carl sighed in relief. He didn’t know if Matt Jackson was for or against him, and he didn’t have time to find out.

Carl fast walked to the new member. “Carl Thompson.”

The man smiled wide as they shook. “Sanford Bering. Retired now, but I used to work at Simpson Paper.”

Matt scoffed from twenty feet away. “He didn’t just work there. He was CEO for ten years.”

Carl looked between the two men.

Sanford waved the comment away, taking a seat and pouring himself a cup of coffee. “That was almost five years ago. Now I play golf and go fishing when I’m not spending time at our condo on Maui. The grandkids love it there.”

Carl was about to respond when three more men and one woman entered the room. Instead of trying to do a meet and greet with everyone, he stood behind the chair at the head of the table as everyone took their seat.

Small talk filled the room, and Carl couldn’t help but feel out of place, wishing he’d thought of the ability to influence people a few days ago. These people were titans of industry, each and every one of them. He was nothing but a retiree with a healthy amount of money on his hands.

Steeling his nerves, he put on a brave face. He would fake it until he made it.

The wait staff closed the door as a man raced in, taking a seat near the end of the table. Carl nodded his thanks, then turned to address the group.

He cleared his throat, waiting for the small talk to die down. When it did, he addressed the board. “My name is Carl Thompson, and I want to thank each of you for joining me here on such short notice. Before we go over the agenda, I would like to go around the room and have everyone introduce themselves. You may know each other, but I’m afraid I don’t know any of you yet.”

Matt nodded, standing and introducing himself. They went around the table that way, each person stating their name and their current or previous work position.

Sanford went last, then all eyes turned to Carl. “Thank you. I called this meeting because there are issues that need to be addressed now that the company has changed ownership.”

The woman he’d seen earlier spoke up. “Why’d you buy a company going into bankruptcy? Doesn’t seem like very good timing.”

Carl smiled. “That’s a fair question. I met some call center employees in an office building in Vancouver. I was thinking about buying the buildings, and I stumbled across the call center people by accident. They were warm and welcoming to an outsider, and I remembered that. It bothered me when I learned they were let go, along with hundreds of other employees. I expect this company to be profitable in the future, but not at the expense of its employees. I worked a full forty years for different engineering companies, and I know what it’s like to work for a company you don’t respect and doesn’t respect you back. If I’m going to change Vancouver Life into a business that the employees respect and enjoy working for, I’m going to need your help.”

The woman smiled, and the man opposite her asked a question.

“You just bought Donnehy out as well, didn’t you?”

Carl nodded. “The business was failing, for reasons we can get into after the meeting if you’d like. A new managing partner has taken over and I have little doubt she’ll turn the business around within a year, if not sooner.”

A few eyebrows went up around the table.

Sanford spoke next, his retiree demeanor vanishing like fog on a sunny day as his business persona returned. “You seem certain of that.”

Carl took a seat, feeling more comfortable now that he knew everyone’s name. He’d known the board were going to ask him questions, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so early in the meeting. “I do. I also own an advertising company along with a few other businesses. Between them we will reduce costs, find synergies, and help each other out. We’ve bought a few partners at the law firm out who weren’t pulling their weight, and the company has a new focus.”

The man who had arrived late laughed. “Mack must have cussed up a storm when you offered to buy him out.”

Carl nodded, not denying it. “He did, but now he’s invested in the LLC that oversees all our companies. I think he sees what the future might hold, and he wanted a piece of the pie.”

Matt started taking notes, which wasn’t surprising. Others were talking in small groups at the news, which gave Carl a moment to gather his thoughts and get the group focused on what he wanted to talk about.

He gave half the agendas to Matt and the other half to Sanford, and they passed them down the table.

He took a quick sip of water before speaking. He hadn’t thought to pour himself a cup of coffee before the meeting started, which he regretted. “I called you here for a few reasons, some of which you might expect and others you won’t. The first topic on the agenda is the closure of the employee retirement plan. I obviously wasn’t around when that decision was made, but I’d like to have it reversed. The plan isn’t overly expensive, and I think it is particularly egregious that the executive plan wasn’t addressed at the same time. I’d like to change that going forward. If something changes for the employees, I’d like to have equal changes for the executives.”

A few people nodded, but the majority did not.

* * *

Ninety minutes later and he’d won the vote to save the employee’s retirement plan, lost the vote to forestall the bankruptcy filing unless he could specify how much he was willing to invest to do so, and they were just about to discuss Neils’ dismissal as CEO.

Matt leaned back in his chair. “Look, Carl, I understand why you want him out. But most of us have worked with him for the past few years, and he’s been a solid leader during that time. The bankruptcy is unfortunate, as is the loss of jobs, but that’s business. It will turn around in time.”

Sanford nodded. “I agree with Matt. I might not like his style, but he does a good job. The company could have been in much worse condition than it is right now if someone else had been leading the company.”

The woman down the table—he’d learned her name was Violet—spoke up. So far, she had been the most supportive of the changes he wanted to make.

She shook her head. “I agree with Sanford that the profit and loss at the company could have been worse, but do any of you have faith in him that he’ll turn VLI into a prosperous company? Because I don’t see it. He’s arrogant and manipulative, and if any of you doubted that you only have to look at how much he was paying the three cronies that voted with him on every proposal he put forward. And we need to remember that we don’t own this company, Carl does. If he thinks he has someone better to turn the company around, I think we owe him that chance. When was the last time Julian or Jasper showed up at a board meeting to share their views?”

Carl heard only a few mumbled comments.

Someone volunteered, “Seven years ago?”

“No, I think it was eight. He showed up for the vote on buying that small insurer in Seattle and then left without talking to us.”

Someone else said, “Yeah, that’s right. I remember that.”

Carl held his hands up. “To build on Violet’s point, I do have someone in mind. He’s a CPA who was offered a partnership at a prestigious accounting firm in the area before I talked him into working with me. He won’t be able to start until September because he promised his wife a trip to Europe, which I approved.”

One of the men in back who hadn’t spoken much piped up. “Are you talking about Charles Wilson?”

Carl nodded. “That’s correct.”

The man shook his head while Carl dredged his memories. In a split second he had it: the man’s name was Anders Borkstrom.

“I wondered who enticed him away from the partnership offer. It looks like it was a good decision for him.”

Carl smiled but didn’t respond. He turned to the group. “How about we take a preliminary vote on the removal of Neils Thomas as CEO of Vancouver Life Insurance? Those in favor?”

Seven hands went up.

“Those against?”

Four hands went up, including Matt and Sanford along with the man who’d been late and Anders.

“Does anyone want to make a counterargument? Or shall we move on to the next topic?”

Matt shook his head before saying, “I do think you should bring Charles in to meet the board at some point. Assuming we’re all staying on as board members.”

Carl smiled as he sighed in relief. He’d gotten what he came here for, even if it wasn’t a unanimous vote. “I think that’s fair. And I plan to leave the board configuration to the new CEO.”

A few smiles blossomed from that statement, especially from the naysayers.

“Next, I’ve put forth a proposal to limit the maximum base salary to one million dollars for all executives, including the CEO, starting immediately. Does anyone have—”

The doors burst open, an angry Neils Thomas entering the room with the three uninvited board members in tow behind him. The CEO’s face was blazing red, and he stuck a finger forward at Carl.

He screamed, his throat muscles contorting as he spoke. “You bastard! What right do you have to call a board meeting without inviting me?” He turned to Matt. “What have you passed?”

When Matt didn’t answer, he screamed more than a few decibels louder, “What have you passed!”

Carl held up his right hand to get the attention of a hotel security guard by the door. He motioned to Neils and the gang, and the security guard nodded as he spoke into a walkie talkie.

An elderly board member who had to be in his eighties started to accost Violet. Carl raced forward seeing as no one else was moving to help her, and he unhanded old but firm hands from the woman before leading him away.

Four security guards entered the room, two holding Neil while the other two gently but firmly helped the elderly board members from the room. As the group left the room, Matt turned to Carl.

“I want to change my vote.”

A nervous laugh went up around the table. By the time everyone stopped laughing, all but Anders had changed their votes to remove Neils from the company.

Carl filed that little tidbit away in his memory, as well as the fact that someone had tipped Neils off about the meeting. He’d also noticed how Neils had pointed his finger at Matt first to find out what had happened.

It would be Charles’ problem eventually, but Carl didn’t plan to forget.

In the end, Carl passed his motion to limit executive pay, and he also passed a motion to eliminate any golden parachute payouts to executives until the plan could be reviewed and brought before the board at a subsequent meeting.

The last item hadn’t been on the agenda, but no one seemed to care. Right on time, a buffet lunch was wheeled in and set up. Carl was desperately hungry, but happy enough that it didn’t bother him.

He wanted to do a happy dance right now but held still to maintain a minimum level of decorum.

Violet found her way to his side before he even realized she was there. “That was well done, Mr. Thompson.” She handed him her card, which told him she was an SVP at Bank of America in Portland. “I’d be happy to meet privately if you have any future issues that you think the board might need to weigh in on. Consider me your sounding board.”

From the way she smiled and the seductive way she walked away, Carl doubted she had much talking in mind should he visit. He could admit he was flattered, but not at all interested.

He waited until the line was gone, then walked over and made himself a few ham and cheese sandwiches with mustard. He ate in blissful silence, the rest of the board talking among themselves. A few seemed more hopeful for the future, while it was apparent others saw this as nothing more than a paycheck. He’d advise Charles on who to keep and who to let go, but it would be entirely his decision.

Assuming he could talk Charles into taking over the head job. He hadn’t managed to crack that nut yet.

Everyone made their way after eating, a few thanking him for getting involved in the company. Others only waved as they departed, while Violet winked before walking away.

Slowly walking away.

Matt patted him on the back. “I had my doubts about you, Carl, but I believe you want the best for the company and the employees. That’s about all you can ask from an owner.” Then he said in a low voice just above a whisper. “If you’re amenable, I’d like to speak with you about a few things at McKellon. Does a date over the next few weeks work?”

Carl nodded, shaking the other man’s hand. He handed him a card from his wallet. “Call my assistant and set up a time.”

Matt nodded, slightly embarrassed but not so much so that he was willing to back out. “I’ll do that. It was nice meeting you, Carl.”

When the room was empty, he went back and made himself two more sandwiches, this time with melt in your mouth roast beef, crumbly cheddar cheese and spicy horseradish sauce. They were delicious.

Chapter 38

When he finished eating, he debated heading over to Vancouver Life to ensure Neils vacated the premises along with giving new instructions to the CFO and company lawyer.

He only thought that for a moment, though. He was tired of politics and executive machinations, so he did something different. A quick trip home gave him the chance to change clothes, then he drove over to the river until he got to what he thought was the right spot. He parked his car in a boat launch that was nearly empty because it was the middle of the workweek.

He pulled on a set of flippers and popped in some ear plugs before walking into the water. The water was cold but comfortable, and after a quick check to ensure no one was around to see him, he dove in and then down.

The flippers increased his speed substantially as he wove through small fish and bottom debris towards the center of the river. He turned on his lost money scent, turning upriver as he followed his nose. The scent was old, heavy and strong, making it easy to home in on.

The temperature went down by five degrees as he descended, then another five as he reached the bottom. The Willamette had been dredged regularly for the past hundred plus years, but whatever was down there hadn’t been affected by it.

A four-foot sturgeon swerved to make way for him, then scuttled away into the murky gloom. Growing up Carl had always been a strong swimmer, but he knew that he could win the summer Olympics’ swimming events now and come away with more gold medals than Mark Spitz had back in the seventies. It wouldn’t be fair or ethical, but he could do it.

A crumpled aluminum boat passed by underneath him. Broken bottles and other debris littered the bottom despite the recent river clean-up efforts.

Pushing forward, the destination came into sight. The shattered hull of a wooden boat lay on its side in the silt. More debris had collected in the obstruction, and a large, rusty fishing hook grazed his arm before he pulled away.

The scent was right underneath him, but he couldn’t see anything through the obstruction. The more he moved the more silt he stirred up, and while his senses knew where the lost money was his eyes couldn’t find it.

Sitting down on a sturdy plank that hadn’t rotted away, he waited until the silt cloud dispersed with the current. A part of his mind worried whether this was the right thing to do, but he closed off that line of thought before it took hold. This adventure wasn’t about the money.

Well, it wasn’t just about the money. It was also about having fun and enjoying himself in a way he could have never imagined before. The blue boxes had taken his life in some strange directions, but he thought this one topped the list.

He grabbed a few stray plastic bags and triple bagged them as he cautiously made his way down into the wreck. He paused after every movement, keeping the silt cloud to a reasonable level.

Leaning down, he waved his hand. Silt billowed up around him, yet he kept fanning until the silt began to dissipate. The rotted lid of a small chest was hanging by a single rusty hinge.

Gently tugging on the lid, it gave way before the hinge broke completely. He was about to push further when his eyes caught sight of what lay in the chest.

The chest was filled with small coins dull from age and weathering. It only took a split second for Carl to turn on his metal sense to know that was what they were.

Gold coins.

A few coins were smaller, but most were a medium size. He didn’t bother to spend time trying to figure out what they were, instead fanning the silt away from the area to pick up the coins that had tumbled out of the chest. He put those in his plastic bag, as he wasn’t sure whether he could get the chest itself back to his car.

Jiggling the chest, it moved but didn’t come free. Shrugging his shoulders, he got to work transferring the coins from the chest to the plastic bags, which then necessitated him swimming around to find more plastic bags after the first one filled up.

* * *

When he emerged from the water two hours later, he looked like a sodden hobo out who’d gone for a swim to get clean. That didn’t bother him at all as the water that had filled his lungs drained out of his mouth. He coughed before air filled his lungs, taking a deep breath as he adjusted back to breathing on land.

He put the coins down on a thick piece of cardboard he scavenged from the side of the road after draining as much water as he could from the bags.

Opening the driver’s side door, he checked to see if anyone was around. A few people walked by in the distance, but otherwise the parking lot was empty.

He pulled down his swim trunks, then quickly dried off before putting on some dry clothes. He was sure he’d thought of everything until he realized he’d forgotten socks. Toweling off his feet as best he could, he slipped them into the shoes he’d bought for his first week of work at Wal-Mart.

Turning on the oldies station, he made the short drive over to Randy’s coin shop.

He parked just down the street, opening the hatch to grab his coins before walking down to the shop. A small line of people was standing outside, and while he sometimes pulled rank when he was in a hurry, today he didn’t.

Thirty minutes later he walked in the door. Jeb was on the phone while a person he didn’t recognize was at the register. He waved at Jeb. “Where’s Randy?”

Jeb pointed to the back.

Carl nodded his thanks as he headed to the door. He knocked just to be polite.

“Door’s open.”

Pulling the door open, he stepped inside. Randy was busy on his laptop searching for gold coins in volume. “Jeb, I told you you’re good on sales up to ten thousand.”

Carl cleared his throat.

Randy spun around in his chair. “Carl! Where the hell have you been, stranger?”

Carl smiled, setting the bags on the ground. “Here and there. How’re you doing?”

Randy got up and they hugged. “Good. Really good, in fact. I told Charles we might need another cash infusion to buy more coins.”

Carl nodded. If Randy needed him to write another check, he would. He pointed at the bags. “I brought you a present. I don’t know what they are, so check them out and tell me if they’re worth anything.”

Randy raised an eyebrow but wasn’t about to turn down a present. Pulling the bags into the vault, he opened one and started pawing through the coins inside.

He turned his head quickly to look at Carl, a question mark in his eyes. He pulled a handful out, setting them on the table.

A bit of gentle rubbing with a small microfiber towel later, and Randy could only shake his head. He held it up for inspection under a digital microscope. It didn’t allow him to see the grains, but he’d already found a few people trying to sell him collectible coins with problems that the eye couldn’t see.

He spoke while still studying the coins. “Most of these are British gold sovereigns from the mid-1800s. There are a few guineas and some smaller coins, but most are sovereigns. I have no idea if they’re collectible as we don’t see much in the way of British coinage on the west coast.”

Carl grinned. He didn’t really care what they were, and he had no intention of keeping the money for himself. This was for fun, and nothing more.

And based on the look on Randy’s face, it had been totally worth it.

Randy kept shaking his head as he studied the different coins, until a question popped into his head. “Where did you find them?”

Carl took the seat by the laptop. “Where do you think?”

It really wasn’t that hard to guess. The coins were wet and if they were British like Randy said, then they must have come from a British ship either exploring or exploiting the area centuries ago. The boat had been so far down that the dredgers only caught the top of the structure which was probably rotted wood by that point in time.

Randy furrowed his eyebrows. “The river?”

Carl nodded. “They’re yours. Sell them or keep them, I don’t care. It was a happy accident that I found them at all.”

Randy was already shaking his head before Carl had even finished speaking. “No, I can’t. We just started the mint which is going to make us a ton of money.”

Carl’s ears perked up at that bit of information. He felt his heart rate pick up. “You started minting the gold?”

Randy grinned like the cat that ate the canary. “Yep. You want to see the proofs?”

Carl couldn’t nod fast enough. “Absolutely I do.”

Randy went deeper into the vault, pulling out a varnished wood box. He handed it to Carl, and with a little bit of effort it popped open.

Four one-ounce gold coins gleamed from within the felt-lined box. The reverse side had a picture of Mt. Hood carved in amazing detail, while the obverse had the town of Medford as if the picture had been taken by an airplane. The edges were ribbed, and the weight was… substantial.

Tears threatened at the corners of his eyes. They’d been through so much to get here, and now he had the result of all their efforts right here in his hand.

He glanced over at Randy. “It’s beautiful.”

Scooting around Carl while he studied the coins, Randy pulled a bottle of single-malt whiskey out with two glasses. Before he’d met Carl, he’d kept a bottle of cheap bourbon whiskey there, but now he could afford the good stuff.

He poured two fingers worth in each glass, then handed one to Carl. Putting the box down, they clinked glasses as Randy said, “To the future.”

Carl nodded. “To the future.”

They sipped on whiskey while they talked. “How many coins will we get from what we already mined?”

Randy shrugged, refilling his glass just a little. “Between fifteen hundred and two thousand coins. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but that’s over two and a half million dollars.”

Carl leaned back in his chair, the stress from this morning gone after a long swim in the river. “I think it’s time we talked about a second store.”

Randy smiled, then nodded as he sipped on his scotch. “I think you’re right. I understand you bought some buildings in Vancouver. You think you could spare some space for me?”

Carl laughed as he took a sip of his own. “I think that could be arranged.”

Chapter 39

In the end, Randy accepted the British coins only after Carl told him it was an investment. He’d had fun swimming the depths of the river, and he might do it again if anything caught his fancy on the riverbed. The money had little to do with it beyond surprising and astounding Randy.

Which hadn’t really worked now that he thought about it. Randy has surprised him just as much a few minutes later.

He smiled thinking back at the look on Randy’s face after he first opened the plastic bag. It was priceless.

He made it to the diner just before 4pm. There were a handful of customers there, but the counter was empty.

“What can I get you, Carl?”

Carl shrugged. “How about you decide this time, Chloe?”

She raised a fine eyebrow. “Really?” She chuckled, which didn’t reassure Carl at all. “Well, alright then. Let me see what I can come up with.”

The newspaper was nowhere to be seen, but Carl was fine with that. Now that he was a part of the public persona—a very small part, but still a part—he found that he wasn’t as interested in the news as he used to be.

A plate slid in front of him, two grilled cheese sandwiches on the plate followed by a bowl of tomato soup.

Carl looked up in surprise. “I haven’t had a grilled cheese in ages.”

Chloe nodded. “I know. It was the first meal you had here, whenever that was. We’ll just leave it at a long time ago.”

Not only could Carl remember it, but he could also taste the memory of the buttered bread mixing with a few different types of cheese. It had been delicious, and he didn’t doubt this would be just as delicious.

He spoke before he could stop himself. “What would you say to opening a new diner in Vancouver?”

Stunned, all she could do was blink as her mind processed not just the question but the possibilities it entailed. Her first thought was more work, and while that might be true for a while it wouldn’t always be the case.

Her eyes refocused as she looked at him. “Where?”

Carl sipped on his coffee. “I bought a few buildings in Vancouver. They need to be refurbished first so there is plenty of time to decide, but I think a diner would make a nice addition.”

She nodded as the tunnel vision ended, and she heard customers calling out for her again. Some wanted to be seated, others wanted to pay their check and get going.

She smiled. “Let me talk to Dan about it. It isn’t something we’d considered before, but we’d be fools not to think about it at the very least.”

Carl nodded. “That’s fair. If you have any questions, let me know and I’ll answer them as best I can. I’ll even give you the keys to check out the space.” He took another sip of coffee. “Excuse me, but I want to get at this grilled cheese sandwich while it’s still hot.”

Chloe patted him on the back. “You’re full of surprises today. I’ll talk to you later, Carl.”

* * *

He took a walk around the block when he got home, the sun fading behind the trees while a warm breeze caressed his face. He waved to the people he knew sitting out on their porches, and even to a few strangers enjoying the weather. He didn’t turn on any senses, not wanting to detract from the moment.

When he got back, he noticed a for sale sign had gone up in front of Martha’s house. It was only in hindsight that he realized that Martha hadn’t been after him romantically.

She’d been lonely and had wanted someone to talk to. The closer you came to death the more you treasured those around you. Or at least that’s how he saw it.

He went inside and called the number on the sign. He’d make her estate a ridiculous offer just to avoid a bidding war, which was becoming more and more common these days in Portland.

“Windermere Realty, this is Jana.”

“Hi, Jana. I saw your sign on a newly listed house right next to mine. Can I ask what the asking price is?”

“Oh, you must mean Martha Bergquist’s home. Yes, the asking price is four hundred and ninety-five thousand. Are you interested in taking a tour?”

Carl sat down in his recliner, clicking the TV on with the remote. “Not really. What I’d like to do is make an offer for six hundred and fifty thousand.”

Jana coughed a few times. “I see. Are you at home right now?”

“I am. If you hurry over, I’ll sign the documents before I start my movie. How’s that sound?”

Jana checked her watch. “I can be there in eighteen minutes. Which side of her house are you on?”

Carl leaned his head back against the faux leather. When he’d bought the recliner, he hadn’t been able to afford the real leather version of the chair. He knew he could buy a more expensive recliner, but nothing could replace the memories he had with this one. “The northern side. Can I ask if you accept checks?”

Chapter 40

He pulled in front of Lyon and Hudson a little after 8am, a box of donuts in the passenger seat. He rarely splurged on something like donuts, but he had a lightness to his step that made him feel like taking chances this morning.

The light was on in Wendy’s office, but all the others were dark. Amy’s desk was empty, as were Rebecca’s and Robert’s offices. It was the beginning of a new era, and while he knew he would see Rebecca in the coming weeks once she settled into her position, he didn’t want to bother her right now.

Wendy waved before unlocking the door. “Come on in, Carl.”

He set the box of donuts on Amy’s desk, taking a cake donut for himself along with a napkin. “I thought we could catch up on things before Kelly arrives.”

“She just called and said she’s running late. The traffic on I5 south is holding her up.”

Carl understood, having experienced the same backed up traffic on the way home from Cowlitz Bank not long ago. He followed her into her office, taking a seat opposite her.

Wendy pushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “You want updates first or a bit of news?”

Carl took a bite of donut, swallowing before he spoke. Just like his mother raised him. “News first, then updates.”

She scanned her laptop until she found the correct email. “The lawyer at Donnehy received an email last night about the credit union. The owner who was all standoffish is now desperate and wants to sell. He’s asking a million and half, and that includes the land, the branches, everything. He wants out.”

A month ago, Carl wouldn’t have hesitated. But that was then, and this was now. He had two banks in his portfolio, one doing well and one turning things around.

“How’s Lilly doing?”

Wendy stopped for a moment as she considered the question. “Excellent. All the branches have been repainted and the signs are working again, and a basic advertising campaign started yesterday. They’re seeing new business accounts now along with more personal accounts. They haven’t finished the interior renovations but that will start a week from today since they’re closing that weekend to get the work done. She wanted to pick out everything personally, so it took a bit longer than she thought.”

Carl nodded. “What do you think? Should we buy the credit union?”

She chewed on the end of her pen. “Without meeting the owner and having Charles’ input? No. If we get those two things and we bring the price down? Maybe. It’s not a question of whether a credit union will make money, but how it will integrate with everything else. We could spend the same amount of money and add two or three branches to the banks we have, including one in Portland and another in Vancouver. Which is what we’ll need in the next three to five years.” She hurried to add as she remembered something. “And that’s not taking into account the situation with Russell’s wife.”

Carl couldn’t have said it better himself. “Tell the lawyer that we’ll pay eight hundred thousand sight unseen. It’s not that I don’t agree with you, but we’ll be mining for gold and silver in eastern Oregon in the not-too-distant future. Having a local bank with a safe could help with that. And I agree that if we can help Russell’s family situation, we should. He may be new to the LLC, but I’d like to show everyone that we take care of our own.”

Wendy pointed at him. “Damn. I wish I’d thought about the safe.” She typed into her laptop. “Let’s see how they respond to that offer.”

A knock came at the door, a short, perky brunette waving through the glass door. Carl stood up but Wendy beat him to the door, unlocking it to let Kelly in. Carl couldn’t help but compare her to a young Suzanne Pleshette. He’d loved that show back in the day.

“Hi, I’m Kelly. I took a shortcut to get here sooner. I can’t apologize enough for being late.”

Carl stepped forward with his hand held out in front of him. “It’s nice to meet you, Kelly. I’m Carl and this is my assistant, Wendy. Why don’t you join us in the conference room?”

Wendy already had the coffee and tea prepared and placed a few donuts on a platter and brought them in before closing the door behind her.

Kelly pulled out a notepad and a pen. “I was so surprised when you asked me if I wanted a new job. It’s not that I didn’t like working at Wakefield, but… well, you’re Carl Thompson. You’ve been in the news non-stop the last few weeks, and my managers were so upset that you bought those buildings without paying a commission.” She laughed. “They were really annoyed.”

Wendy poured a cup of coffee for Carl since she knew how he liked it, then offered one to Kelly. She nodded emphatically. “Yes, please.”

While Wendy did that, Carl started speaking. “The reason I asked you in for an interview is because you were so pleasant to work with, and you went above and beyond helping me with those buildings. Which means that I now have four eight-story buildings to fill, along with a few apartment buildings, some undeveloped land that I haven’t had a chance to see yet, and we’re considering a project to gentrify a couple blocks of old buildings down in Salem. Our company is small, and while Wendy is very talented and will be working on the gentrification project, she can’t oversee everything.”

Kelly nodded, jotting everything down. “Do you know how many apartment buildings you have?”

His memory gave him the answer. “Three sites with twelve buildings totaling seven hundred and twenty-six units.”

A thin, penciled eyebrow went up at that. “I assume you have onsite managers?”

Carl could only shrug. Jasper had never mentioned it, so he didn’t know.

“I’m assuming you want me to manage all this to maximize returns, while assisting Wendy with the gentrification project? Plus develop the Vancouver buildings and possibly develop the undeveloped land?”

This wasn’t going at all how Carl had anticipated. She was too smart by a half, and he meant that in a good way. “In a nutshell, yes. We own other businesses, and we may need your help in deciding whether to own the land or lease it, that sort of thing?”

She noted it all down in neat penmanship on her notepad. “And the Vancouver Life Insurance headquarters monstrosity?”

Carl could only shake his head. “I have no idea. I managed to get the board to agree to a few changes recently, but that building was custom built for Vancouver Life. The executive level is like the top floor of a five-star hotel, except there are offices instead of bedrooms.” That got him thinking. Maybe there were bedrooms on the top floor, but he just hadn’t seen them.

She nodded like she had expected no less. “Let me look into a few options. A leaseback is the easiest, but with four buildings and well over twenty thousand square feet of office space currently sitting empty in downtown Vancouver, it might make sense to have Vancouver Life use those buildings when they’re renovated.”

Carl and Wendy looked at each other. Wendy flexed her head up and down a fraction, and Carl agreed.

“May I ask what you made at Wakefield, Kelly?”

She glanced up from her notes. “I was on commission there against salary. Last year I made seventy-seven thousand plus a small bonus. If you’re thinking salary, I would suggest somewhere between ninety and a hundred and ten thousand. It’s more than what I made, but I won’t be spending all my time on the phone like I used to do.”

The only term that described what he was experiencing with Kelly was a reverse interview. “Assuming this works out, I think we should start at a hundred thousand. You’ll be eligible for a portion of the profits from most of our businesses except Vancouver Life, so keep that in mind.”

This time both eyebrows went up. “I see. I’ll take ninety thousand, as I’m guessing the bonus will far outstrip my salary. Do you have a health plan? Or a retirement plan?”

Wendy started taking notes. Carl shook his head. “Not yet, but Wendy will work on that. I expect we’ll have both soon.”

Kelly reached her hand across the table. “Very well. I need to give Wakefield my two-week notice, but I suspect they’ll only keep me on for a week or so. As soon as I’m done, I’ll contact Wendy.”

Wendy smiled. “That’s fine. You’ll work here until the buildings in Vancouver are done, then you can work there.”

Thirty-five minutes later, Kelly walked out the door. Carl didn’t have any reservations about hiring her, but it seemed a little odd. He had a feeling Kelly was in the habit of steamrolling clients when she could get away with it, and sometimes even when she couldn’t.

Wendy tapped him on the shoulder. “Grab the donut box and we’ll go over the updates.”

He picked out a cinnamon-dusted cake donut and placed it on a napkin before picking up the box.

Wendy took a maple bar. “I went down to Salem yesterday to look at the buildings. You were right, they are in bad shape. Death trap is probably a more accurate way of putting it. The price they’re asking is way too high, but I haven’t gone back to them with a counteroffer yet until I can get a surveyor in there first.”

He took a sip of coffee. “Why a surveyor? I thought we were going to tear the buildings down?”

She felt the excitement coursing through her veins again. “We are, or that’s the plan at least. I want to know what’s possible with the buildings and the land there. I was told a surveyor would tell me, and after that I’ll need an architect. It doesn’t make sense to buy until we know what we’re going to build and project out the financials. I have calls into two surveying companies and a local architectural firm.”

Carl could only grunt as he swallowed a bite of donut. “Good. I hadn’t even thought of that. I know all this started because of the bar at the end, but I like the idea of turning that area of the city around. I’d like to find investors willing to help defray the cost, but that might have to wait for the next project after we prove ourselves with this one.”

Forty-five minutes later Wendy had finished her updates and half the donuts in the box were gone. It wasn’t that Carl was a glutton, but he’d bought a good number of the donuts he liked, which he now learned Wendy didn’t like.

A knock came at the door, Kerrie cupping her hands over her eyes to see inside. Carl got up and unlocked the door, inviting her in.

“I’m glad you could make it, Kerrie.”

She held her hand out in front of her, which Carl took. “I have to say I’m intrigued. Your account balance has been the talk of the branch, and a handful of regional managers have flown in from Seattle and L.A. to develop ways to get you to invest in some of our products. You didn’t hear it from me, but they’re after you. I’m only telling you because you’re offering me a job. That sways my loyalty a bit.”

Carl could well remember the endless messages left by the bank manager.

He directed her towards the conference room while Wendy filled fresh carafes for the meeting. “If this works out, maybe that’s something you can help me with.”

Kerrie nodded like that made perfect sense. As far as she knew, Carl wanted her to be her private fund manager, investing his money to give a secure but solid return.

Carl and Wendy took the same seats as last time, while Kerrie chose to sit across from Wendy. She opened her purse and passed across a copy of her resume to each of them.

Which reminded Carl that he hadn’t seen Kelly’s resume at all. They were going purely on her experience on Wakefield, and nothing else but her word.

He glanced over at Wendy to remind her, but she was already noting it down, then circled it for emphasis. It seemed to bother her more than him that they’d overlooked it.

Carl turned to Kerrie. “Thank you again for coming in, Kerrie. We have a situation which we think you could help us with, which—”

Kerrie nodded in agreement. “You’d like me to manage your money, which I can do. We’ll need an investment plan put in place, so you’ll always know where it’s invested along with the target returns, and I won’t have access to your money except for investment purposes. I handled a few private clients at Umpqua Bank before moving to Bank of America.”

Carl held his hand up. “That’s great, but that’s not what I meant exactly. We have—”

She waved her hand. “That’s right, you own Vancouver Life now. I can help advise on their investments as well, but I think it would be best if you made me an employee there first. You can pay me a nominal salary.” She gave Carl a wide smile.

Carl was at a loss for words. This woman in front of him had never acted like this at the bank, so why was she interrupting him now? It didn’t make sense.

Before Carl could get to his next thought, she started up again.

“Oh, and I heard about the bar down in Medford. It wouldn’t be my first choice for an investment, but if that’s the way you want to play it, we can. It will keep the portfolio diversified which—”

Wendy slammed the palm of her hand on the table, rattling the carafes. Kerrie started, fanning her face as she looked between Carl and Wendy.

His mouth opened, but Wendy beat him to the punch. “Listen! All you have to do is listen. If you keep interrupting us, you won’t get the job. Plain and simple. STOP INTERRUPTING!”

Wendy rubbed her right hand on her jeans under the table. She’d slapped the table harder than she meant to.

Kerrie reached over and pulled her purse in front of her like it was her first line of defense. “I see.” Her nose drifted up until both nostrils were visible. She hadn’t said it in so many words, but it was obvious she was affronted by the outburst.

Moments later she spoke what her body language had already conveyed. “It seems it was too much to expect a nonhostile workplace at an interview.”

She made to stand up, but Carl noticed it wasn’t very quickly. Despite her show of walking out, he had a feeling she wanted this job very badly. Whether it was for the money or just to work on something different, she wanted it.

Carl poured a cup of coffee and pushed it in her direction, then poured one for himself. “Please sit down, Kerrie. You may disagree with Wendy’s methods, but she’s not wrong. Interrupting me each time I try to speak will make for a horrible work relationship.”

Kerrie nodded just a fraction. “Perhaps I was a bit overeager.” Her nose returned to the horizontal plane. “Please continue, Carl.” She took her seat.

Carl sighed under his breath. “The situation we have is that we own two regional banks with a few branches each, and we’re looking at purchasing a credit union.” He glanced up to check if she was going to interrupt him. It was interview PTSD.

To his surprise, she sipped on her cup of coffee and remained silent. He continued. “And while I might need help investing my funds to make a good return, that isn’t what this position is for. Vancouver Life won’t be a part of it, either. This job is to manage and expand the banks and the credit union if we buy it, along with finding other opportunities up and down the west coast.” He made eye contact. “Does that sound like something you would be interested in?”

Kerrie paused, turning her head a bit in thought. “How many branches do these banks have?”

Wendy answered that question. “Cowlitz Bank has two branches, and North Coast has three. The credit union in eastern Oregon had four but closed two of them last year. One of them has to open at least one branch in Portland, and another in Medford because that’s where our businesses are at.”

Wendy was diligently taking notes as she added, “And the bank in Medford needs a massive safe that will defy the best thieves, too.”

He hadn’t thought of it before, but it was true.

Kerrie’s eyes goggled the more she heard. “Why do you need such a big safe in Medford? There can’t be enough business to justify that.”

Carl poured himself a second cup of coffee after offering to refill Kerrie’s, which she declined. “We own a number of gold and silver mines in the area.” He turned to Wendy. “We’ll need the same in one branch of the credit union too. Assuming it doesn’t get converted to a bank.”

Kerrie stuttered, “Y-you own gold mines?”

He sipped at his coffee. “Yes. Quite a number of them. Now, would you mind telling us what you would do if you were in charge of the banks and the credit union? How would you handle it?”

She took a deep breath, then released it. “Don’t merge the banks. It will keep them competitive if they know there’s someone else out there doing better. I’ve heard good things about North Coast, so I would expand them into Portland and Medford. If you expand Cowlitz, I would move them up the I5 corridor to Olympia, Tacoma and Seattle. Maybe Everett and Bellingham if things go well.”

She sipped on her coffee, eyeing the donuts but not wanting to get distracted. “The credit union is the odd man out. I would convert it to a bank to attract business accounts. The average business loan will return multiple times more than a personal account does. I’d keep them on the eastern side of the Cascades, expanding once the transition is complete. Move them into Boise, Bend and Nampa, maybe even all the way down to Klamath Falls and Sacramento.”

She did a few mental calculations in her head. “All that would take five to seven years, but you’d more than double your branches and probably triple your reserves. Acquisitions will only help that.”

Carl felt the words leaving his mouth to offer her the job when Wendy interjected. “What are the biggest issues you see with that plan?”

Kerrie nodded, sipping her coffee. “Hmm, that’s a good question. Poor management can do more damage than low interest rates and bad loans do. I’m assuming you’ve got some bad loans on the books already, and I can guarantee the credit union has a few as well or they’d be doing much better than they are. Advertising can help, but that depends on the budget.” She shook her head. “The biggest issue is the economy. Banks do well when the economy does well, and poorly when the economy turns bad. I know that’s not in your control, but that’s the truth.”

This time Carl wasn’t so quick to jump the gun. “Is this something you might be interested in doing? I expect a lot from my people, so keep that in mind.”

Kerrie gave him the same smile he’d seen when they first met. “It’s even better than I hoped for, truth be told. And I need to apologize for interrupting you earlier, Carl. I’m not usually a nervous Nellie, but I couldn’t get to sleep last night because I was so excited about meeting you today. I’ve been at the bank a long time, and my interviewing skills are rusty.”

Carl leaned back in his chair to stretch his back out a little. It felt fine but sitting down for hours on end wasn’t his definition of fun.

Unless an old movie was involved. That was different.

“I hope I’m not being too forward, but what did you make at the bank?”

Kerrie relaxed as well. “Fifty-six thousand a year, plus benefits. I did receive an annual bonus, but it was small, usually less than two thousand dollars a year.”

Carl didn’t have to glance at Wendy to know what she was thinking. “How does eighty thousand sound to start? We’re working on putting in the benefit plans, so if you have a medical issue feel free to expense it until that’s sorted out. You’d be working out of these offices along with Wendy and our real estate specialist.”

Kerrie blushed. That was more money than she’d ever hoped to make in a year. “I accept. I’ll give notice when I get into work and should be able to start work a week from today.”

Carl stood and held his hand out, and Kerrie took it.

“And you really should diversify your money. Having that much money in your account isn’t wise, and you can make more elsewhere. If you were to spread it around among multiple accounts and banks we can keep each account under the FDIC limit. It’ll be a lot of accounts, but others have done it.”

Carl shrugged. That was fine by him.

Wendy asked, “What if he put some of it in the other banks?”

Kerrie chuckled, the sound light and slightly Irish. “If you put even a tenth of what you have into an account at Cowlitz or North Coast, that much capital might cause them to do some silly things. It’s better that you don’t entice them.”

They talked a bit further to get to know each other better as the interview wound down.

As Kerrie walked out the door, Carl checked the time. It was a few minutes before 12:30pm, and he was hungry.

“Join me for lunch?”

Wendy nodded. “Let me put this stuff away and I’ll meet you at the door.”

* * *

“Do you still want to hire Kelly?”

Carl shrugged, keeping the radio off for the short trip. “I do, but I think we’ll have Charles interview her before we offer her a job. Can you set that up?”

Wendy nodded. “You want me to warn him in advance or let him find out for himself?”

Carl flirted with the idea of letting him figure it out on his own but decided against. Everyone was busy, especially Charles, and wasting his time like that didn’t seem fair to him or Kelly. “Give him a heads up and forward a summary of the questions we asked today so he’s prepared. And remind her to bring a resume.”

She jotted down the note, debating whether to talk to Carl now or later. She decided on now instead of trying to talk to him in a noisy diner with food in front of him.

The words came out too fast despite her trying to keep a steady cadence. “Carl, I’d like to purchase the brewery that we looked at in Seattle even if Cave Junction doesn’t work out. They reduced the price by thirty thousand dollars which means they’re desperate. I want to see if I can turn it around.”

He nodded like it made perfect sense, even if the request had come at him out of the blue. “And use the property next door for parking?”

She watched the businesses passing her by, wondering if they were missing out on opportunities they hadn’t investigated yet. “Yes, it would be for both. If Cave Junction works, that’s fine. But if they don’t, which is the answer I think they’ll give, then I’ll hire some brewers to get it up and running again. I’ll redecorate the interior, maybe add a fireplace at one end and a stage at the other for live music. Make it a place people want to stop by for the ambience as much as for the alcohol.”

Carl quirked a brow at the idea of a fireplace. He could picture himself with a smooth porter in hand while he warmed by the fire.

He glanced over. “A real fireplace or a gas one?”

Wendy hadn’t thought that far ahead, but she could tell which one he wanted. She waved a hand as if it were obvious. “A real one, of course. Maybe make it out of river rock so it’s big enough to keep a dozen or more people warm on a cold, rainy night.”

Carl grinned, his mouth opening to give her the go ahead. He only managed to close it at the last second.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Come up with a project plan and we’ll go over it. What it will cost to get everything up and running, along with projected revenues for the next few years. Feel free to ask Charles if you need help. I’m not against it, but let’s do this right so there are no surprises.”

It wasn’t the answer she’d wanted, but it wasn’t no. It was as good as she was going to get.

Carl already knew how he was going to remodel Martha’s house. He could use it as a place for guests when they were visiting, whether they were family members or business associates. And it would have a fireplace just like the one he’d envisioned moments ago, although on a smaller scale.

Chapter 41

Carl dropped Wendy off at the office, then went to the grocery store to get fixings for tonight along with a couple six-packs of beer. He picked up a deli platter filled with slices of Black Forest ham, salami, pepperoni and more plus a wide swath of different cheeses. He had no idea how he would get it into his fridge, but he would find a way.

He then added in a couple bags of hoagie rolls and some veggies, and he was set for the night. In the end he emptied half of the top shelf of the fridge to get the meat and cheese platter in, putting everything that used to be there in the fruit crisper which sat unused.

With a couple of hours to burn until Gene showed up, he got his laptop out and turned on the TV. He’d just entered his passcode when his phone rang.

“This is Carl.”

“Carl, it’s Charles. I received an email from Wendy that prompted me to call. You have a few minutes?”

He turned off the TV. “Of course, Charles. What’s on your mind?”

“Well…” His voice disappeared, and Carl thought that the line might have gone dead.

“Charles, you still there?”

“Yeah, I am. This is harder than I thought.”

Carl’s heart froze when he heard those words. He couldn’t afford to lose Charles, not right now. Not for another decade or two, at the very least. “You can’t quit, Charles. I have too many balls in the air for you to leave.”

“Leave?” A slightly hysterical laugh erupted from Charles’ throat. “I’m not leaving. I called about the Vancouver Life job. The CEO position, to be exact.”

Carl leaned back in his chair, then wiped away the thin veneer of sweat that had accumulated on his forehead. “You scared the living daylights out of me, Charles!”

“I’m sorry about that, Carl. That’s not what I intended.”

Taking a deep breath and releasing it, Carl asked, “You mentioned the CEO position. Have you reconsidered?”

“I have. My wife, she… well, you don’t need to know about that. We’ve been talking ever since you offered it to me, and she made a lot of good points. I won’t deny that it scares me in more ways than one, but I’m also excited. If you’re still offering, then I’d like to take the job.”

Although Charles couldn’t see it, Carl had the biggest smile he’d ever had plastered on his face. Right now, the company was operating without a CEO, and while that would be fine for a few weeks, it wouldn’t work long term. His alternative had been to offer the job to the CFO, but that would be a stopgap only. He didn’t like the casual disregard that man had when it came to the company’s employees.

“That’s wonderful, Charles. May I ask what changed your mind?”

Charles chuckled. “It boils down to the fact that I was afraid of taking on such a big job. Of managing people and leading such a big company. I think that’s obvious.”

“And you’re not now?”

He laughed again. “No, I still am. But I think it will be fine, and I’ll get used to it. And once the company is doing well again, I’m sure you’ll figure something else out for me.”

Carl nodded. He wasn’t wrong. “That’s probably true.”

“Right. And that’s what did it. Just knowing that this wasn’t the biggest job I’d have over the next twenty years turned things around in my head. And I knew that if I didn’t do this and someone else got that next big job, I’d be kicking myself for being scared. I wouldn’t have faced my fears, either.”

Carl couldn’t be happier for his company, but that was overshadowed by how happy he was for his friend. “You’ll do an excellent job. I have no doubt.”

Charles paused, then cleared his throat. “There is something I need before I can accept.”

“What?”

“My wife was very clear that if I’m to do this, I need five weeks of vacation a year. And I can take up to three weeks at a time if I give you advance notice.”

Carl chuckled. “Where does she want to go next?”

Charles sighed. “Australia and New Zealand. The kids don’t know yet, but I’m sure they’ll be thrilled. Who doesn’t want to visit a few small islands prone to earthquakes while walking the trail to Mordor?”

“You certainly have your work cut out for you. And that’s in reference to the trip, not the job.”

Both men broke down in laughter. Once it cleared, Carl addressed a key issue.

“We need to talk about your salary. You may not know this yet, but I passed a motion with the board of directors that limits executive salaries to a million dollars a year, not including bonus or any other benefits. With your share of the profits from the LLC, I think you’ll be fine.”

Charles again went silent, which presaged bad news. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to work for the LLC any longer if I take this job. Which means I won’t be getting a share of the earnings.”

Carl could see the logic of it even if he didn’t like it. “How about this? You join our board of directors, which will be you, me and Rebecca. Would that change anything?”

Charles smiled. Many managers would cut him loose as soon as he took a new job, but not Carl. “You’ll need to talk to Rebecca first, but it might. How about I leave that with you? I think I can manage on a million dollars a year just fine.”

“That’s a deal. Do you want to talk to Sue about an announcement or should I?”

“No, leave that to me. I have the notes on which board members to let go that you gave to Wendy, so I’ll address that too. Until I have things straightened out, I might need you to keep your distance or certain people might try to divide us to get leverage.”

Carl nodded, wiping a stray tear away. It was the exact same thing Rebecca had said to him. He was happy for Charles, but he would miss him greatly.

“I understand, I really do. I hope you’ll put Rebecca and me on the board, however. Otherwise, I might not see you often enough.” He could barely get the last few words out before choking up.

“Thank you, Carl. For everything. And if you think you’ll be getting rid of me that easily, you’re not the man I know you are.”

“You’re very welcome. I’ll make sure Wendy keeps you informed of what’s going on every now again for old time’s sake.”

Charles wiped a tear away as well. “I’d like that. And don’t forget I’ll see you at the company picnic. Unfortunately, you’ll have to find somewhere else to host it next year. I have a feeling I’ll be too busy.”

He grinned. “That won’t be a problem. Good luck, and don’t be a stranger.”

The two men hung up, each lost in their memories. It had been six months ago when Carl hired him away from the accounting firm, although it felt like much longer.

It took him a while to bring his emotions under control, but eventually he did. He opened his laptop and flicked the TV on, turning it to one of the streaming services and playing The Ox-Bow Incident. He wasn’t sure if he’d seen it before or not, but it didn’t really matter. Westerns had the ability to take his mind off his troubles, and he needed that right now.

Chapter 42

In the end he sent a brief note to Wendy to let her know that Charles would be taking over the leadership position for Vancouver Life, and also to ask her to find a well-respected residential contractor to remodel a home.

With a quick flip of the wrist—not so different than pulling a six-shooter from a holster, he thought—he turned the TV back on. Maybe they weren’t the same thing at all, but it was as close as he was going to come in this lifetime.

* * *

There was a knock at the front door, and he got up to answer it. Gene was grinning at him on the other side of the door.

“I brought an extra-large pizza just in case. Along with something special.”

He held up a large bottle of beer without a label. Carl took the pizza from him, setting it down on the kitchen table.

Gene set the growler of beer down as well, then the two men hugged. Enough had changed in their lives that a mere handshake couldn’t communicate their feelings sufficiently.

“It seems like forever since I was last over here. As far as I can tell, nothing’s changed?”

Carl grinned. “And the problem with that is what, exactly?”

They both broke into laughter. Gene shook his head. “It’s been too long. I’ve been down to Medford three times now since I last saw you.”

That was news to Carl. “Really? I’m so sorry, Gene. I’ve been tied up with the purchase I made from the English guy up in Battle Ground. He owned a few banks along with buildings and Vancouver Life. Which means I should bring you up to date on a few things. You want to eat first or talk first?”

Gene smiled as he patted his stomach. “What do you think?”

Nodding, Carl brought out the meat and cheese platter along with a few vegetables and the bread, then dumped out his condiments shelf from the left side of the fridge and on to the table.

He topped that off with a six-pack of beer and a few glasses and plates. Ironically, Carl went for the pizza while Gene started making sandwiches, one after the other. Only when his plate had three large sandwiches with the meat spilling over the side did he grab a bottle of beer and take a seat on the sofa.

The first bite was pure ambrosia. He’d piled the roast beef high, interspersing slices of cheddar and jack cheese while ignoring the vegetables completely.

Carl opened the large bottle of beer with no name on it, a single sniff spoiling the surprise. “Is this what I think it is?” It was a rhetorical question as he was already pouring it carefully into a glass.

“Yep. The contractors are almost finished with the remodel, and it looks nice. Ted set up a few beers on tap to keep everyone happy after they were done for the day.”

He took a small sip, the taste just as good as it was down in Medford. He sat down in the recliner, ignoring the pizza for the moment.

Gene caught the gleam in Carl’s eye and had a feeling his friend would be drinking his meal for a while. “Why don’t you tell me your news while I eat, and I’ll tell you mine afterward?”

Carl nodded while holding the porter up to the light. He could barely see through the brown haze. “Like I said, we bought everything from Julian. He’s the Englishman, although he didn’t run anything. Which means you have some new buildings to set up security systems on once the remodel is finished.”

Gene perked up at that news. “Where?”

Setting his beer down, he counted them off. “There are four eight story buildings in Vancouver, plus Vancouver Life could probably use your services to make sure everything is up to snuff. We have two banks with five branches between them, and a couple of apartment buildings. I don’t know where those are at, but I’ll find out on Monday. And if you want to drive up to Seattle there are—”

Gene cut his friend off before he got too far ahead of himself. “I’m not driving for a while.” He set his sandwich down, to his great chagrin. It wasn’t going anywhere. “I was planning to mention this later on, but I think I need to hire somebody to help me with the workload. I don’t like spending four hours on I5 each way, and I doubt I’ll like it any more driving up to Seattle.”

Carl laughed. “Do you remember when you used to complain how sick you were of Portland? How you couldn’t wait to travel somewhere? Anywhere?”

Gene sighed, smiling but not laughing. “Yes, I do. Now I’ve seen the world, at least our small part of it, and I want to come home and relax. Motels get boring real fast. I’ll hire someone else who can travel to wherever you want them to go. I might go every now and again to oversee the work, but not as much as I’ve been doing lately.”

He leaned over and patted Gene on the shoulder. “You got it. Hire two people if you want. You can set up shop in Vancouver if you want for a while.”

Gene raised an eyebrow at that. “Really?”

Carl smiled as he got up to make his own sandwich, the slice of pizza already devoured. “Let me put it this way. The first dividend will be paid out to employees near the end of this month. Dean and Ted will get a pro-rata amount, but you’ve been here the entire time. Go ahead and hire some people who know their stuff, and you can have some fun with your money. Buy a new car, buy a boat, buy whatever you want. Take some time off and enjoy yourself. You’ve earned it.”

Carl nuked a few slices of ham with cheese on top until they were gooey, then slid them onto a slice of bread slathered in mustard and mayonnaise. He refilled his glass on the way back, already feeling a nice warmth in his belly.

Gene almost asked, ‘Really?’, but he knew Carl better than that. If he said it was fine, then it was fine. That wasn’t the problem though.

He’d been pinching pennies his entire life. Going to UFO conferences had been the first thing he’d done for himself back in his twenties, and that was why they were so important to him. They allowed him a few days to forget whether he would be able to pay his rent on time or not. Or repair the failing brakes on his Buick. Or a thousand other things he couldn’t do because he lacked the money.

That way of thinking was so engrained that he didn’t know what he would spend it on. A large part of his brain was telling him to invest it, either with Carl or somewhere else. Otherwise, he would blow it all and be right back where he’d been six months ago.

“Gene, you okay over there?”

His friend nodded, setting his plate on the coffee table. “I think so.” He turned to face Carl. “You know I’ve been poor most of my life.”

Carl shrugged. He’d known, but he hadn’t cared. So what if he paid for their meals more often than not. He was happy to do it. “I know.”

A choked laugh emerged. He shook his head back and forth. “Carl, I don’t know what to do with that kind of money. I’m assuming it will be a large amount, so I’m going to need your help.”

Getting up out of his recliner, he sat down next to Gene. “That’s fine, and I’m happy to help. You do remember I was working as a security guard too not very long ago, don’t you?”

Gene smiled. “I remember. Your arthritis would kick in during the winter.”

He remembered that, and so much more. He hadn’t liked being a security guard working the night shift, but he’d done it because he had to. “That’s true. Now, let me ask you this: if I wrote you a check for ten thousand dollars, what is the first thing that comes to mind? What is the one thing you would want to spend that money on?”

Gene didn’t have to think very long. “A new car. I love my old Buick, but the quarter panels are rusting out as are both rockers. It costs me a fortune in gas to drive down to Medford and back.”

Carl grinned, and Gene continued a moment later.

“I want something fun. Maybe a Challenger or something like that.” Then he shook his head. “No, that won’t work. The trunk isn’t big enough to carry around my equipment.”

Carl could only shake his head. “That’s not the point, Gene. You’ll find the right car, but at least you know what you want. Now say that I’m writing you a check for five hundred thousand dollars. What would you buy?”

“A house. Not that I don’t love my house, but it’s too small and gets mildewy in the winter. It also needs a new roof, and since I’ve already put three roofs on it, the roofers will have to strip it all the way down before starting over.”

Carl patted him on the back. “There you go. Get those two things, and then we’ll talk more.”

He got up off the sofa and returned to his recliner. He was just about to bite into his ham and cheese sandwich when Gene asked, “How much will it be?”

Carl shrugged. He didn’t really know, but he could guess. “A couple million I think, divided up between the group. Charles might reserve some of the money for future investment, which would mean you’d be an owner in the company along with the rest of us.”

Gene scrunched his face up in disbelief. “Million?”

Carl took a bite before the cheese solidified again. It was delicious. He washed it down with a sip of porter. “Yep. Probably more than a million, but I don’t really know.”

The color drained from Gene’s face. He took a long draught of his beer, finishing it off.

Carl could see he was having trouble, so he said, “Take a deep breath and hold it. Everything will be fine. Housing isn’t cheap, depending on where you want to buy.”

Gene took a deep breath, holding it until his face turned red. He released in a giant whoosh of breath. “You’re right. Everything will be fine.” He glanced at Carl. “Would you mind if I bought a house nearby?”

“Not at all.” Carl thought for a moment about Martha’s house. He’d bought it for his kids, but maybe it would serve a different purpose instead. “In fact, I bought the house next door when my neighbor passed away. If you want it, it’s yours. I’ll sell it to you for what I paid for it.”

Gene popped the cap on his beer. His expression turned serious. “Don’t you dare sell that house until I have the money. Deal?”

Carl gave his friend a toothy smile. “Deal.”

Chapter 43

Gene left just before midnight, mumbling about how it would be easier to get home if he lived right next door.

Despite the late hour and ingestion of numerous beers, Carl was up early the next morning to go for his run. He assumed Barbara had gotten back late last night, but if she had, she hadn’t left a message for him.

He crossed his fingers that today would work out the way he hoped as he ran into the early morning fog. Greasy sweat started rolling off of him in waves, and although he didn’t smell anything a few passersby made pointed comments.

A slender woman he’d seen more than once while running waved her hands in front of her nose. “Did you drink the entire keg all by yourself last night?”

She turned and ran the other direction, away from Carl.

Carl gave her an embarrassed wave as she sped away.

They’d eaten enough last night to feed the average family, and probably a little bit more than that. The meat and cheese platter had been demolished, as had the pizza. Gene had the last slice after warming it up in the microwave.

He ran the long route, adding a few blocks onto it until his sweat held nothing more than his own manly musk. By the time he made it home he was winded, and he stretched by the backdoor instead of the park so as not to offend anyone else.

A long, hot shower later and he was out the door and heading to the diner. Despite the early hour, the parking lot was almost full. He had to squeeze in between two pickup trucks, which reminded him of what Dean had told him during one of his trips down to Medford.

Grinning, he walked in and waved to Chloe on the way to the counter. A minute later she slid a cup of coffee in front of him. “What are you having this fine morning, Carl?”

He glanced up. Chloe was in a chipper mood, which wasn’t always the case given how many people she served every day. She rarely said an unkind word to anyone, but her mood could drop if she had an especially nasty customer.

“Two eggs over easy with hash browns and a sausage patty.”

Leaning down so she wasn’t overheard, she said, “Got it. Can you stick around for a few minutes after you’re done eating?”

Carl nodded. He would go above and beyond for that woman after all she’d done for him since his divorce.

The man next to him stood up leaving the paper behind on his seat, and Carl grabbed it. He hadn’t spoken to Sue recently, but he had a feeling that hadn’t stopped the flow of press releases.

He found the article on page three of the financial section.

‘Vancouver Life Insurance owner fires CEO Neils Thomas.

Neils Thomas, 44, was released of his position after an emergency board meeting called by the new owner of the troubled insurer, Carl Thompson. The former CEO was escorted off the premises the same day with his belongings. Sources say that the board also passed a motion to limit executive pay to no more than a million dollars a year.

The ramifications of this action are still unknown, but employees are thrilled. Sandra Mick, an employee of ten years said, “We couldn’t be happier. Thomas never cared about his employees, and his actions reflected that. He threatened to cut our retirement plan, which the new owner has already reversed. I can only hope we’ll see the company return to its glory days again.”

Despite these changes, the bankruptcy action continues. We were unable to contact Mr. Thompson for this article.’

Carl scratched his chin. They were unable to reach me? That doesn’t seem right.

He had a feeling Wendy would know about this, as would Sue. Seeing as it was Saturday, he wouldn’t bother either of them, but he was intensely curious.

He finished his meal and the paper around the same time, setting it on the empty chair next to him where it was immediately grabbed by an older man in his sixties. Carl sipped on coffee while he wondered whether it made sense to invest enough in the company to forestall the bankruptcy or not.

The only person who would know was the CFO, and Carl didn’t relish having to ask that man anything. Carl had heard people in finance were heartless, but he took it to an entirely different level.

Chloe walked over and tapped him on the shoulder to pull him from his daydreaming. “Come on in back, Carl. We have a few questions for you.”

He smiled, standing up. “Of course.”

Chloe’s husband stood in front of a massive grill. A large pile of hash browns was cooking on one side, while bacon, sausages, onions and eggs were going on the other.

“Carl, this is Dan. Dan, this is Carl. He’s the man who made the offer for us to expand.”

Dan waved with a spatula. “My hands are greasy, so I’ll shake with you later. Chloe and I were honored by your offer, but we do have a few questions.”

Chloe’s husband was a large man. He was tall and hefty, but he moved across his grill like Dr. J threading his way to the basket. Carl leaned away from the splattering bacon grease. “Fire away.”

He flipped a half dozen eggs, then plated three orders at the same time and handed them to Chloe. “I’ll be right back. You two talk.”

Carl could cook when he needed to, but not like this. Keeping dozens of orders in his head and plating them took a special skill that he didn’t have.

An omelet went on to the griddle, then he placed a handful of ham and cheese with green onions on it. “Where would this second location be?”

“Vancouver. I own a few buildings there that are being refurbished.”

Dan nodded as he cracked egg after egg onto the griddle. “That could work. Would you be willing to set up the kitchen the way I wanted?”

“Nope.”

Dan turned sharply. “Why not?”

“Because I’m going to give you the money to set it up however you want. You two know far more than I do, so I’ll watch from a distance.”

Dan grunted. “I guess that makes sense. What about the menu?”

Carl shrugged. “Keep it the way it is or change it. Look, I’m not trying to be flippant here, but I leave this kind of stuff to the experts. Which is you and Chloe. I provide the financing and the space, that’s all.”

That got Dan’s attention. “How long do we have to pay you back?”

Carl didn’t understand the question and said so. “You don’t. Chloe helped me through some dark times in my life, and now I’m returning the favor. Which in turn will be helping me out even more since my buildings need a place for people to eat.”

“So, you’re giving us the money for free?”

Now Carl understood. These were proud people who’d pulled themselves up by their bootstraps, and they weren’t accustomed to receiving charity. “Nope, not for free. You’ll let me and my friends eat there for free as long as we’re still living on this green Earth.” Which will be a heck of a long time for two of us.

Dan turned to face him. His face was red, but from the heat, not embarrassment. “You and your friends eat free, and we get a new location that you’ll pay for?”

Chloe popped her head in. “How’s it going back here?”

Her husband gave her a warm smile. “Just fine.” He plated four more orders, and then she was gone.

“What about rent?”

Carl shrugged. “Rent is fine. We’ll keep it reasonable.”

Dan went back to flipping bacon and eggs, then pulled another pile of grated potatoes on the grill and weighted them down with a large, flat block of steel with a wooden handle on top.

“When can we see the building?”

The smell of food was making him hungry again. His stomach was full, but the heady odor of salt and fat was causing him to salivate. “Whenever you want. I’ll give Chloe the address and you can drive over. It’s not remodeled yet, but it will be in the next few months.”

Dan flipped him a slice of bacon which Carl deftly caught between his thumb and forefinger. “I think we have a deal. It’s not that I don’t trust you, Carl, but Chloe knows you better than I do. You’re sticking your neck out for us, and I’m not used to that is all. If we managed two diners that would give us more time together, because we wouldn’t be working all day every day at this one.”

“You’re closing this one?” Carl couldn’t help the look of alarm that overtook his features.

Dan caught his look and laughed. “Nah, but we’ll hire some people to take the load off our backs. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure the cook is just as good as I am.”

Carl took a large bite of his bacon in celebration. Having the diner in Vancouver would give employees working there a place to eat. Not only were the breakfasts good, but they made some mean sandwiches for lunch.

Chloe popped her head in again, but this time she saw smiles on both men’s faces. She glanced at her husband. “We’re doing it?”

He nodded. “I think so. What do you say we close early on Sunday and drive over to have a look?”

She leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek, taking care to avoid the hot grill. “That’s wonderful.” She turned to Carl. “I can’t thank you enough, Carl.”

It didn’t matter how many people he helped. He got the same feeling every time. He’d thought more than once that it was better to help others than to help yourself because of how good it felt. At least, it was working him and he didn’t plan to stop.

“You’re very welcome. Both of you. And you’ll be doing me a favor as well. I need a place for the people working in the buildings to eat. If I’m visiting, I want to eat somewhere where I know the food is good.”

Chloe led him back to the front door.

Carl pulled two twenties out of his wallet, but Chloe refused to take them. “I can’t, Carl, not after everything you’re doing for us.”

He put the bills back in his wallet, secure in the knowledge he would leave an even larger tip the next time he was here.

Minutes later he parked in front of the café, which had activity going on inside. He waved at Olivia, who waved back before walking over and unlocking the door.

“Good morning, Olivia. How’s it going so far?”

“Busy. This place was filthy, so we’ve been scrubbing night and day to clean it up.”

Carl glanced down, thankful that he hadn’t tracked in any dirt. “It looks good.” He really didn’t know what else to say about the floors. They were clean and none of the tiles had cracked. “You have a moment to talk?”

Olivia nodded, but the same nervousness returned. Her hands shook like the leaves of a Quaking Aspen. “You can’t afford the café anymore, can you?”

He gave her a knowing look. “Olivia, please sit down.”

She slid into a booth, and Carl sat opposite her. “I’m not changing the deal we have. I came in to check whether you’ve priced out everything you need.”

“Oh.” She shook her head, tears threatening. “I always do this. I get ideas in my head, and I run away with them.” She looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Have you updated the report?”

She nodded while sniffling. “It’s in my purse. Just a sec.”

Carl glanced around the space, and it was starting to look like a restaurant. A few pictures of what he could only assume were of Poland hung on the walls, and the tables were being put together in one corner.

It didn’t have a diner counter, but he’d already accepted that it wouldn’t. They weren’t there yet, but it was a good start.

Olivia handed the folded paper over to him. “Here you go. The amount we need went up because of the liquor license. We’re going for wine and beer only, not hard alcohol.”

Carl flipped through the pages until he came to the back. A total of seventy-three thousand and twenty-four dollars was at the bottom of a long list of items.

“Have you signed the agreement between us?”

She nodded. “I sent it back to the lawyer. I haven’t heard anything yet though. Oh no, what if it got lost or went to her spam folder?”

Carl sighed. “I’m sure it’s fine, Olivia. I just needed to know that you signed.” He pulled out his checkbook and wrote a check slightly larger than what she’d asked for, because it was a certainty that they’d overlooked something.

He passed it to her as he put his checkbook back in his breast pocket.

Seeing the check caused something to crack inside of Olivia. All the distrust, even outright hate she’d had for men gave way to something better. Calmer. The distrust wasn’t gone entirely, but the pressure had eased a little. Her hands didn’t flutter as she pressed the check to her chest.

She straightened her back instead of crying, which is what she felt like doing. They would have been tears of happiness, but she held them back. She wanted to be a professional woman, and part of being a professional was acting professional.

She inclined her head. “Thank you, Carl. We’ll get started immediately. Would you be willing to join us for opening night?”

The woman across from him was an emotional Dutch dam where the little boy had run away to play instead of poking his finger into the leaking hole. Still, she was doing her best to keep it together. He respected that she working to change herself for the better. “I would be honored, Olivia. Could you make it for two?”

Tears sprang forth as she smiled. “Absolutely. Thank you again, Carl. And thank you for the remodeled apartment. It’s better than I could have hoped for.”

Which reminded him that he hadn’t seen the finished apartment upstairs yet. Wendy had told him that she’d furnished it, but that was all he knew.

And he didn’t have the keys anymore. Gene did.

He got ready to stand up. “If you need anything, contact my assistant. And don’t forget to contact Sue for advertising once you’re ready.”

Olivia smiled wide. “I won’t. I’ve got it all down in my calendar, so I don’t lose track of anything.”

He stood up. “Well, I suppose I should leave you to your floors. Is the coffee shop doing well?”

She left the booth as well, then walked over and hugged him tight. “It’s doing great. I’ll have no problem paying rent this month. I can’t apologize enough for how I acted when we first met.”

She released him, pulling away a bit. He smiled. “It’s water under the bridge, Olivia.”

Nodding, she wiped her eyes. She wanted to say thank you a hundred times over but held the impulse back. “Bye, Carl.”

He gave her a jaunty wave as he pulled the front door open. “Bye, Olivia.”

He walked back to his car, hearing the click of the door locking behind him. He knew Olivia wasn’t the best investment, but he found that he didn’t care. She was a fragile porcelain doll that had been bruised one too many times, and he hoped that his investment would help her turn the corner. There were no guarantees with people. All he could do was hope for the best.

He drove home a little faster than the law allowed, hoping to find a message waiting for him on his answering machine.

When he walked inside, the answering machine blinked zero. Where in the heck could Barbara be? He’d thought they’d worked everything out, but he couldn’t deny he was feeling a bit of dread that Barbara might be finding the blue boxes more appealing than him.

It wasn’t rational. Then again, love never was.

He called her home, then her cell phone, leaving messages on both. He opened his laptop in hope that she had sent him an email, but it was filled with spam and an unread update that Wendy had sent last night.

While he had it open, he sent a quick email to Charles asking how much it would cost to avoid bankruptcy at the insurance company. He had no idea if Charles knew the answer, but he had to start somewhere.

He closed his laptop without reading Wendy’s email. He was to wound up to focus on that right now.

Turning on the TV, he scanned the selections until he found a movie he hadn’t watched in ages: The Ladykillers.

He watched the first fifteen minutes, but his heart wasn’t in it. Alec Guinness was a fine actor, but he missed Barbara too much for an old movie to fill the void.

That left him in a predicament. He didn’t have anything to do. Not really, at least. He wasn’t needed in Medford for another two weeks. He could go searching for gold mines, but they hadn’t bought the ones in eastern Oregon yet.

Not wanting to forget again, he opened his laptop and sent a quick email to Wendy asking her to take care of that.

He didn’t need to look for the FBI money anymore, and with Kelly joining the team he didn’t need to look at the undeveloped land they owned.

Out of ideas, he called Gene. He knew one thing they could do together.

* * *

Gene turned the lock on the street-level door. “I thought you were spending the day with Barb?”

Carl was at his wit’s end. “I don’t know where she is. I left messages on both her phones, and last I heard she was in San Diego.”

Gene turned around. “San Diego? What the heck was she doing down there?”

The door opened, revealing a freshly painted and widened set of stairs leading up. Sconce lights on both sides lit the stairwell nicely.

“She went to the zoo. She’s looking for…” Carl motioned touching. “You know.”

Gene’s eyes widened. “You gave her the blue boxes?”

Carl didn’t like the look in Gene’s eyes. They were hungry, even if he didn’t know what the blue boxes did beyond healing the body. “I did. She can cure cancer now. Not all cancers, but some of them.”

Carl locked the door behind them as they walked up the stairs. Gene whistled. “Really? Cancer?”

Gene came to the second door and unlocked it. “Yep, cancer. She’s probably working on something else right now and lost track of time.” It was the best theory he had. He refused to believe that she would leave him without telling him first.

The door opened and a modern apartment lay before them. The walls were painted a light gray, with a modern kitchen in the corner. He could already tell it was far nicer than his own home.

Gene whistled again. “Wow! They did a fantastic job here, Carl.”

He patted his friend on the shoulder. “We better take our shoes off. This is too nice to mess up.”

As they explored the apartment in their socks, Carl couldn’t help but be impressed. The contractors had put the extra windows in that he’d requested, filling the room with light, yet he could barely hear the road noise below.

Gene pointed in the corner. “I put motion sensors in all the apartments. This one has a security panel by the door. Not sure if you noticed that.”

Carl had. “It looks good, Gene. You did good work here.”

His friend preened like a blue medal winner at the county fair. “Actually, they weren’t very expensive, although the extra security in the stairwell did cost a pretty penny. It doesn’t have retina scan like I wanted but it does have thumbprint ident—”

Carl cut him off before he headed off on a long tangent about security systems and the art of the possible. “Gene! Thanks, but I don’t need the details.”

His friend gave an embarrassed shrug. “Sorry, Carl. I get excited is all.”

They poked their heads in the bathroom which was much larger than he remembered. The master bedroom had a king-size bed while the second bedroom had a queen in it. Tasteful pictures of Portland and Mt. Hood were hung in both, and more were in the main room.

After doing the full circuit Carl knew it wasn’t for him. It was too nice, too clean, too modern for him to really enjoy. What if a drop of mustard fell on the brand-new cloth sofa? He’d feel terrible.

His recliner, in contrast, had endured more spills than the Gulf of Mexico had, and he couldn’t care less. A quick spritz of cleaner and it wiped away, looking good as new.

“What do you think, Carl. Will your family like it?”

Carl turned to his friend. “Yeah, I think they will. The boys can sleep in the second bedroom and will still have plenty of room.”

Having seen everything, the two men left after Gene locked everything up and set the alarm again. It was hardwired to one of the security services, but Carl didn’t need to know that.

Carl opened the street level. “What happened to the other entrance?”

Gene locked up behind him, then handed the keys to Carl. “They closed it off to make more space. They added a closet where it used to be.”

Carl nodded, not really paying attention anymore. The visit had been a distraction from the fact that Barbara wasn’t answering her phone and had missed their date, and it worried him more than a little.

He pocketed the keys. “Thanks for last night, Gene. How about we make Friday nights a standing time to get together? Bring back some of the old days?”

Gene grinned. “I’d like that. You should know that I bought tickets for the Denver UFO conference a couple weeks ago. You need to get the airline tickets.”

Carl gave himself a mental reminder. “Is Randy coming?”

Gene shrugged as he pointed off to the side. “We can stop by and ask him, but I don’t like the look of that line.”

Carl turned in the direction Gene was pointing. He couldn’t imagine how many coins Randy was selling to keep the line that long day after day. “I don’t either. Have you seen the minted coins from the gold we mined?”

Gene’s eyes went wide. “No. Are you keeping secrets again?”

He snorted. “Not at all. Stop by Randy’s shop when it’s slower and he’ll show you. They look good.”

The two men stood on the sidewalk, neither ready to walk away just yet.

“I’ll have to do that. What are you doing for the 4th of July?”

Carl scrunched his face. He knew he could calculate when the fourth was from his memory, but it was easier to ask. “When’s that?”

Gene rolled his eyes. “This Wednesday night.”

Carl cursed under his breath. “That’s four days away! I haven’t made any plans.”

“What plans? Pull the barbeque out and clean it, purchase some nice steaks and corn on the cob and get grilling. I’ll bring the potato salad. It’s my mom’s recipe.”

An idea began to form in Carl’s head. “What if I rented a boat and we watched from the water? Just to try something different?”

He remembered the boat the agent had rented, and while he would need to cram to get his online boating license, he could do it.

Gene turned a bit green around the gills just at the thought of being on the water. “Please don’t. I won’t enjoy it and my stomach will ensure that no one else does too.”

Carl patted him on the shoulder. “Fine, we’ll leave the boat for the future. I’ll get some nice cuts of meat from the butcher. Maybe even a chicken to mix it up.”

“How does 5pm sound?”

Carl smiled. Now he was looking forward to it, assuming his girlfriend showed up in time. “That’s perfect.”

Chapter 44

He called Barbara again when he got home, but there was no answer. He left a short message and asked her to call him in case she was in trouble. He could feel the desperation seeping out of his pores like sweat had this morning, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

With nothing better to do with his day, he scrolled through his emails until he found one from Jasper listing the undeveloped properties he had purchased. One was down in Brookings at the southwest end of the state. Two were up in the Cascade Mountains with large acreages: one was forty acres and the other was a one hundred and twenty. Another was in Bend, which was a four-hour drive he didn’t feel like making.

He also wasn’t looking forward to tromping through the wilderness, so he scanned down the list until he found one right on the ocean just north of Newport city. He could only hope it would take his mind off of Barbara.

* * *

The drive out was pleasant until he hit Highway 101. The summer tourist traffic backed up just outside of Lincoln City and continued south. Every once in a while, he went a mile or two at the speed limit, but then it was back to stop-and-go traffic.

Still, he didn’t let it bother him. The waves crashed onto sandy beaches in the distance, and advertisements for hotels, motels, restaurants, inns and saltwater taffy continued nonstop the entire way. He kept the passenger window cracked open enough that the smell of salt water and sand filled the car.

He’d programmed the address in his GPS, so he took his time while he enjoyed the sights. The GPS spoke to him when he was a few miles out from Newport, and he slowed down as he approached the address.

The entire drive he had kept his expectations low. The property wasn’t large at a little over an acre, but as he pulled into a turnout, he couldn’t stop grinning at what he saw.

The land had multiple no trespassing signs on it along with a ten-foot-high chain-link fence that kept hooligans from treading on the property. He didn’t have a key to the gate that went through the fence, so he walked along the chain-link fence, the view changing step by step.

A bluff rose up from the shoreline, fir and pine trees bent backwards from the fierce winds lining the front of the property. The view was stupendous, and the property was set back from the road far enough that road noise wouldn’t be an issue.

It was beautiful. The kind of location that the wealthy pounced on and held through multiple generations of their family until a descendant made a bad enough mistake and they were forced to sell it.

A police car pulled over, its lights flashing. A voice came over a loudspeaker. “Get moving or I’ll write up a ticket. You do see the no trespassing signs, don’t you?”

Carl turned around, seeing a Newport city sheriff’s office sign emblazoned on the passenger door. He had been enjoying himself as he fantasized about the kind of house that could be built on the property. It was just his luck to be interrupted.

He approached the door, both hands out of his pockets. “I’m Carl Thompson. I own this land.”

The officer broke into raucous laughter that never reached his eyes. “Really?”

Carl nodded. “Really.” He thought about bragging about what he owned to get the officer off his back, but that didn’t sit right with him. He’d done nothing wrong, and he hadn’t trespassed no matter what the police officer thought.

The officer pulled his hand-held transmitter but didn’t speak loud enough for Carl to overhear him. He turned back to the wonderful view for one last look, his feelings more muted now but still there. He promised himself he would build the kind of house all his friends could enjoy and put a walkway directly down to the beach.

The officer opened his door. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

Carl said nothing, although he was thankful that he’d thought to lock the doors on his car when he got out. He put his hands behind him, and the officer cuffed him. He didn’t do it roughly like he’d seen in the movies, but he also wasn’t kind about it.

He spoke over his shoulder. “Are you sure about this?”

The officer was quick to reply. “Keep your yap shut until we take your statement.”

Once he was cuffed, he was led to the backdoor of the police car, then more or less shoved inside. He got his feet out of the way just in time before the door slammed shut. He caught a glimpse of the name tag on the officer’s chest: Officer Dagget.

The officer looked in the rearview mirror, a victorious smile on his face. “The county deed office is closed until Monday, so we’ll hold you until then so we can check the records. If you’re who you say you are, you’ll have all charges dropped against you.” The officer gave Carl a look that said there wasn’t a chance in hell that would come true.

It took more than a little effort, but Carl kept his mouth shut. He would ask for his phone call when he got to the police station and not a moment before.

The drive was short, less than ten minutes before he was pulled out of the back seat and led inside. His prints were taken, then he stood for front and side photos. He wasn’t deloused like the shows his ex-wife had liked to watch and was thankful for that.

His wallet, phone, keys and a pack of white Tic Tacs were taken from him. In his entire life he’d never been arrested, maintaining a clean record like most upstanding citizens did. All he had done was take a look at the property he now owned, and now he was in jail for his efforts.

The officer left as soon as he was booked, and the woman behind the glass said, “You can have your phone call now if you want.”

Carl nodded and she uncuffed his hands. He moved them in front of his body, and she cuffed him again, which was much more comfortable. Another officer led him to a desk with modern phone that had multiple outgoing lines in an empty office. The door remained opened, but he didn’t care if the officer overhead him by this point.

He dialed Rebecca’s home number after a quick bit of memory recall. The phone rang too many times to be picked up by anything but an answering machine. The brief bit of hope he’d been feeling deflated with each ring.

A groggy voice came on the line. “Hello?”

He gripped the phone with both hands. “Rebecca?”

“Carl?”

“Yes. Sorry to wake you but I’m in the Newport city police department out on the coast. I went to look at a parcel of land I purchased from Julian, and I was picked up by a police officer. They haven’t charged me with anything, but they want to keep me here until Monday.”

It took a long moment for Rebecca’s mind to catch up to what he was saying. She’d been up until almost daybreak reviewing the latest financial projections, and while they were better than before, they weren’t good enough. She’d sent off more than a few emails to some key employees a little after 3am.

Her voice turned hard. “Put the officer on.”

Carl let a small smile slip as he turned to the officer outside the office. “My lawyer wants to speak with you.”

The officer nodded. He knew all the local lawyers, and more than a few were willing to play ball with the department when needed. “Officer Daley here.”

Carl didn’t hear what was said, but he got the gist of it. Whatever the officer had expected hadn’t come true, and in less than a minute his face had drained of color.

The man glanced at Carl, then looked away quickly. “I see.”

“No, we don’t—”

“Yes.”

“Yes, but—”

“That’s not our—”

Whatever Rebecca had said had caused the officer to plop down in the chair. His body language spoke volumes as he hunched over with his head cradled in his left hand.

“Let me speak to the chief. I’ll talk to him right now and then I’ll call you back. What’s your number?”

He jotted the number down on a pad of paper, then hung up.

Standing up, he avoided looking at Carl as he took a wide detour around him, jogging to wherever he intended to go.

With nothing better to do while he waited for the gears of justice to turn, he walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. It wasn’t great coffee, but it wasn’t bad either. The maple bar sitting in the donut box right next to it made it taste that much better.

He had taken his first bite of the maple bar when he heard shouting in the distance. He recognized one voice as belonging to the officer who had arrested him but didn’t know the other one.

Shrugging, he walked closer.

“You don’t understand, Tim. This guy owns Vancouver Life Insurance along with a couple law firms in Portland. He could put us all out of our jobs if we keep him here.”

“I don’t care! He was trespassing, plain and simple.”

Something crashed to the floor. “On his own property, you hardheaded dumbass!”

Smiling, Carl finished his maple bar and went back for a glazed cruller donut and a second cup of coffee.

Despite the argument, it took thirty minutes before he was uncuffed. Officer Dagget didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. He was angry and wanted to take that anger out on Carl.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t. “Get out of here. You’re free to go.”

Carl nodded. He hadn’t collected his things yet, but he would in a moment.

“When are the next elections?”

Dagget blinked. “What?”

He spoke slower. “I said, when are the next elections?”

Dagget didn’t understand, but the officer who had allowed him his phone call did. Before the other officer could stop him, he said, “This November.”

Carl nodded. “I guess I need to have my house built by then, don’t I?”

There was no question it had been a low blow. Then again, being arrested for no reason caused even logical people to do irrational things sometimes.

Understanding dawned in Dagget’s eyes. He opened his mouth, then shut it. A moment later he walked away, his fists clenched tight.

Ten minutes later he had gathered his things and was given a ride back to his car by the sheriff himself. This time he sat in the passenger seat instead of in the back.

The sheriff drank from a beat-up stainless-steel coffee mug. “I’m sorry about that. Despite what you might think, Dagget is a good officer. This isn’t Portland but a small town on the ocean, and we do the best we can with the people and resources we have.”

The chief was an older man with a salt and pepper mustache that curled around his mouth. He had a couple of extra pounds on his frame, but Carl got the sense that the man meant what he said.

Carl enjoyed the view as he asked, “Are you running for sheriff again?”

He laughed as he set his coffee cup down. “My wife wants me to quit and enjoy a well-deserved retirement, but I don’t know what I would do with myself if I did. I’ve seen too many people retire to the coast after successful careers and die a few years later. They’ve lost the spark that made them successful in the first place, and they don’t know what to do with themselves when work isn’t a part of their lives.”

Carl pulled a card from his wallet. “If you decide to run again, give my assistant a ring. I’ll make a nice donation to your campaign.”

The sheriff took it, looking at it for a few moments before stuffing it into his jacket pocket. “You own that property?”

Carl nodded. “I don’t know if the deed has transferred yet, but I do. It came with the insurance company along with a few other things.”

The sheriff nodded. “Anything I might recognize?”

“You heard of North Coast Bank?”

The sheriff turned to him in surprise. “Really?”

“Yep. The bank manager up in Astoria is doing a good job. I doubt I’ll have to change much.” He briefly considered mentioning Russell’s wife, but that wasn’t his story to share.

“I’m in the wrong business it seems. Still, I wouldn’t give it up for anything.”

Carl grinned. “Me either.”

The sheriff pulled in behind his car. “If you do build a house out here, call me up. I take the boat out when the fish are biting and I can get away from the office, and if you’re going to donate, it’s the least I can do.”

Carl reached his hand across the center console. “Will do, sheriff.”

“Jason. Jason Mallory.”

“Nice to meet you, Jason.”

Carl got back in his car as the big SUV drove off into the distance. He gazed at the property one more time before pulling a Uey and heading back the way he came.

The sheriff saw the Uey but didn’t flash his lights. The way he figured it the man had earned a pass for today.

Chapter 45

Carl got home a little after 6pm. He considered going to the diner but dismissed it, not wanting to face awkward questions from Chloe when she asked why Barbara wasn’t with him.

Because as it stood right now, he had no idea where she was at. The best he could come up with was somewhere between San Diego and Portland, which wasn’t very helpful. And might not be true if Barbara was after a specific sample of DNA.

He glanced at the answering machine, but there were no answers there either. A blinking red LED zero stared back at him.

At the end of his wits, he made a couple of PB&Js for dinner before sitting down in his recliner and flipping the TV on. Instead of watching an old movie, he watched reruns of the Hollywood Squares. That Paul Lynde was a hoot sometimes.

When he finished eating, he popped open his laptop. He had an email from Rebecca, which he read first.

Carl – I asked the officer to put you back on the phone, but he ignored me. I hope they released you, but if they haven’t then give me a call back. You caught me off guard because I was up late last night, but I’m feeling better now.

Since we haven’t spoken in a while, I’ll give you a quick update on Donnehy & Associates. Robert is doing well and says hi. He couldn’t be happier working on corporate accounts. It’s right in his wheelhouse.

The partners were recalcitrant at first, but they’re coming around. We’ve had a few clients come back to us, and the financial prospects are looking better. Not great, mind you, but better. Sue and I are working on the advertising campaign and it’s shaping up nicely.

I know I’ve said it before, but I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done. This year will be a tough one, but next year will be better. I can feel it in my bones. And surprise of all surprises, Todd has changed his tune and become someone I can rely on. I know you won’t believe me, but it’s true.

Carl laughed out loud. He remembered Todd like it was yesterday and doubted the Ivy League lawyer had truly changed his tune. Then again, people did change. He was proof of that himself.

Anyway, I thought I should let you know where we’re at. Charles mentioned a quarterly meeting after you get back from Medford and before he leaves for Europe, FYI. We’re having our own quarterly meeting on July 25th, after Charles leaves for Europe. As the owner, I think it makes sense for you to join us. It’s your choice obviously, but I would appreciate it. I’ll call you a few days before the meeting so we can go over a few things I want to get done.

Hope you’re doing well. Looking forward to catching up with you in a few weeks.

Becky.

Carl couldn’t hold in the grin. He had a good idea how many hours she was working, but he knew she was doing it because she thought it was the right thing to do. He kept the email in his inbox so Wendy would mark the date down on his calendar.

Then he composed a quick note back to her, mentioning by the by that a senior partner at McKellon, Gerling, and Tandsey who was on the Vancouver Life board wanted to have a talk with him. She would likely chew him out for even considering a merger between the two companies, but she would appreciate that he was still looking out for her.

The second email was from Wendy, sent early this morning.

Carl – I found a few residential contractors in your area, but the best from what I’ve researched are Lynden Bros. Contractors. I’ve made an appointment to have them come over and see you at your home on Monday morning at 9:30am. If you want to change that let me know.

Also, the same contractors who renovated the building with the apartments have been inside the buildings in Vancouver. I don’t have prices yet as they want to work up a couple different proposals for you to review, but you’re looking at somewhere between one and a half million and three million, plus or minus. Kelly thinks they will lease quickly once they have modern amenities. Just so you know Charles is meeting with Kelly this Tuesday at 10am in our conference room for her final interview.

I’ve told her a few times she doesn’t yet have the job, but she just ignores me. She’s been working on everything you gave her since we talked to her.

Kerrie called late Friday night to let me know that she will start work in ten days. I’ll make sure we have a laptop, printer and everything else ready for her after she signs the employment contract.

Finally, I have put together a deal for the brewery up in Seattle along with the empty lot next door. I’ve attached the details along with the risk analysis and business case. Let me know what you think.

Hope you have a great weekend—

Wendy

He typed out a quick reply, thanking her for all the work she’d done and promising he would review the business case soon. At the end he added in that he’d been arrested while viewing a property they owned on the coast and that the sheriff there might call her asking for a donation. He didn’t know what level of political contribution he should give, so he gave her a range between five and ten thousand.

He added, “Also, I’d like you to find a well-respected contractor to look at the property. I don’t have the key to get through the fencing so you might need to call Jasper for that. I’m thinking a four- or five-bedroom house that looks over the ocean, with a separate garage and a large kitchen. Maybe we can put in a separate wing for guests or something like that. Oh, and a stone fireplace like you described for the brewery, except on a smaller scale. And steps leading down to the beach.”

His typing wasn’t fast or error free, but he got the job done. He hit the enter button and the email left his laptop.

Putting his laptop away, he said a silent prayer to the heavens that Barbara was okay. She was a strong woman who could take care of herself, but he still worried.

Chapter 46

He woke up early the next morning, the sun not yet up. Despite this, he was warmer than usual and had to peel back the blankets before glancing at the bedside clock.

It read 2:42am.

Shaking his head, he rolled over. Warm lips touched his and he stiffened for a split second before a sultry voice moaned while they kissed.

A blue box popped up as soon as they touched.

New DNA samples available for integration. New skills available for purchase. Begin DNA integration process?

His mind couldn’t say no quickly enough. Now was not the time.

She mumbled as she kissed her way along his chin. “Did you miss me?”

He confirmed that notion within seconds.

* * *

When Carl woke up the second time, a warm energy suffused his body as the shrill notes of a ringing phone tore into his consciousness.

He mumbled into his pillow, “I’ll get it.”

He padded along the floor in his bare feet, shivering from the lack of heat. “Hello?”

“Dad, it’s Jim. How are you?”

Carl rubbed his eyes, then pulled a blanket off the back of the sofa and wrapped it around him before plopping down on the recliner. “Good. What’s up, son?”

“Well, I wanted to see what you were doing for Thanksgiving. We’d like to come out and visit.”

A few happy tears splatted on the recliner before he spoke. “I’d like that. I’d like that very much.”

“Good. Look, I don’t have much time because we have an away Little League game this afternoon, but I’ll call you in the next few weeks and work out the details.”

“Wonderful. How long can you stay?”

“We were thinking a long weekend. Arrive on Wednesday and leave on Sunday.”

Despite the years spent apart, he knew his son. He was an engineer at heart who loved to solve problems. As a kid he’d taken the toaster apart and put it back together, along with every other small appliance in the house. “See if you can take an extra day. I’d like to have you visit Medford. I have a bunch of gold mines going down there and would value your insights on our operation.”

Jim’s laugh was tinged with disbelief. “Let me think about it. Work is busy, and… well, you know.” There was a pause. “Gold mines? For real?”

“Yep. And silver too. We’ve already made a couple million so far and are minting the ore into one-ounce rounds to sell at a coin shop I co-own.” He turned up the sales pitch. If he could talk his kids into living in Portland, it would be the best moment of his life since they’d been born. “You know I’m not an engineer, so we’re winging it. So far, so good, but I’ve heard of terrible accidents happening in other mines.”

He knew he was underselling Dean’s expertise, but this wasn’t about that.

“I’ll think about it. Gold mines? You have any other surprises tucked up your sleeve?” A shorter pause. “Wait, don’t tell me. I really have to go, but it was good to talk to you, Dad. We’ll see you at Thanksgiving.”

Carl set the phone down feeling giddy. If all he could get was Thanksgiving, he would take it with both hands and hold tight.

But that wouldn’t stop him trying for more.

Barbara called through the open bedroom door. “Who was that?”

Carl set the coffee maker to brewing before wandering back into the bedroom. “Jim. He and the family are coming out for Thanksgiving.”

She reached out a hand to him, and he took it. “That’s wonderful, Carl. You must be thrilled.”

He took hold of her arm and a lot more as he leaned down in bed, discarding the sofa blanket. “I am. You want to help me go Christmas shopping? I’m going to spoil my grandkids rotten.”

* * *

They got out of bed a little after 11am, both of them famished for food. Rather than cook, they drove down to the diner while Barbara told him what had happened.

She took a sip of water. “I needed a DNA sample from a blue whale or an elephant, and elephant was the easiest to get. Unfortunately, not a single one came near the enclosure so I could touch them, so I used my camouflage skills to sneak in to where they’re fed after a zookeeper went in. I got the DNA and passed out for seven hours. By the time I woke up it was dark out, and I’d missed the final feeding.”

Carl chuckled in relief now that he understood the delay. “You were locked in.”

She nodded. “I was.”

“But why did you need blue whale or elephant DNA?”

She waved her hand as if the answer were obvious. “I got your message about the man with prostate cancer. The only way I could heal it is with the DNA samples, and blue whales and elephants have large… mammalian packages. Apparently, that was important.”

“You can heal him now?”

She smiled. “I can. Unless you have something else going on this afternoon, I’d like to go see him. I worked hard to get that DNA, and I want to test it out now.”

He pulled into the diner parking lot which was half empty. “We’ll call him after we’re done eating. He rarely leaves his compound, so I think he’ll be available.”

Chloe placed two cups of coffee on the table. “What can I get you today, Barbara?”

The two women smiled at each other. “I’ll have a Denver omelet with bacon on the side.”

Carl got his order out before Chloe could ask him. “I’ll have the same, Chloe. Thank you.”

Chloe wrote down the orders in shorthand. She doubted her husband would recognize them if she spelled them out completely. She turned back to Barbara. “Did Carl tell you that he offered to have us open up a diner in Vancouver?”

His girlfriend grinned. “No, he most certainly did not. That’s great, Chloe! Congratulations to both of you.”

“Thank you. It’s all we can talk about lately. Sometimes we worry, but most of the time we’re happy. It’s all so new is all.”

Barbara stood up, and they hugged. Something unsaid happened between them, but he doubted he would ever figure out more than that.

Chloe wiped a few tears away. “I best be going to get your orders in, or I’ll turn into a puddle of emotions.”

She walked away with a smile on her face and a lift in her step.

Carl scrunched up his face. “What was that all about?”

Barbara smiled enigmatically. “Nothing you need to worry yourself about. People think that you’re a big old grouch, but I know the truth. You’re a big softy on the inside.”

He didn’t deny it, even if it wasn’t always true. While they waited for their food, Carl told her about the drama with Vancouver Life last week while she went into more detail about all the zoo samples she had come away with.

“I even got a few that I didn’t plan for just because they were easy to get. I flirted with the arachnologist to get some spider DNA. If I’d grabbed a few more I could secrete a venom on par with the redback spider. I didn’t, but I could have.”

He gave her a questioning look. “You do a lot of flirting to get what you want. Should I worry?”

She laughed. “I got what I wanted most earlier this morning. Three times, as I remember.”

He grinned. Three times didn’t seem like enough these days.

Chloe brought out two large platters, sliding one in front of Barbara and the other in front of him. She pulled a bottle of ketchup out of her apron, along with a smaller bottle of hot sauce.

She was gone before they could say thank you.

Barbara ate like a famished woman, and Carl wasn’t far behind. Both cleaned their plates, washing it down with coffee refills.

He asked between bites of food, “When do you go back to work?” He wasn’t really asking that question. What he wanted to know was how long they had until she went back to work.

She stilled, setting her fork down. “I quit. I called in on Thursday afternoon before I was locked in the elephant cage, and I quit. So, the answer is never. Sort of. I’m thinking of a few things I might want to do.”

Carl set his cup of coffee down. “You quit?”

She laughed. “Yes. And no one at Portland General seemed very surprised, either. They know who I’m dating, and that you just bought Vancouver Life Insurance. Is that all right? Can you help me get by until I decide on what I want to do next?”

His brain was having trouble computing. He’d started working at the tender age of eleven helping in the corn and wheat fields of Iowa. He was making more money than all his friends when he was a senior in high school. True, he didn’t play sports, but he found that he didn’t mind that.

Working was simply a way of life for him.

He cleared his head of all these nonsensical thoughts, focusing on Barbara. “I can do that. For a long, long time.”

She raised an eyebrow at that. “How long?”

He wrote a number on a napkin, then slid it across to her like he’d seen people do in movies so many times before.

She whispered, “You have fifty thousand dollars?”

He shook his head, unable to hide his amusement. “Million.”

Her lips formed a perfect O. Back when her husband had been alive, they’d never made more than a hundred thousand a year. Then again, they’d never cared. If they couldn’t afford something, they put it off until later. Sometimes later was next year, sometimes it was never. Material things had never threatened their happiness.

“I see. I’ve been thinking of opening a clinic. Someplace I can heal people without breaking any laws, although that will be difficult in the US.”

Carl shrugged, drinking from his coffee. “Why not go overseas then? Spend a few months in countries that need the most help and where you won’t get into trouble with the law. Then come home to take a break before doing it again.”

She pointed at him, a wide smile on her face. “That is a fantastic idea. I don’t suppose you’d like to join me the first few times? I’ve never been out of the country, and while the idea of going to Africa to save people from cancer is a great idea, the reality will likely be different.”

He inclined his head. “I would love to. If push comes to shove, I’ll have Gene hire a private security team to keep us safe.”

They smiled at each other while lost in their thoughts.

A few minutes later Barbara asked a different question. “Will the prostate cancer person be home?”

Carl nodded. “I don’t think he gets out much. I don’t know how far the disease has progressed, but I think it’s bad. Just so you’re prepared.”

“That poor man. All I can do is try.”

A few minutes later they were out in his car after paying for their meal. He dialed the number from memory, and it rang a few times.

Then a few times more. He was sure it was about to go to voicemail when Jasper picked up.

“Hello?”

“Jasper, it’s Carl. I was wondering if we could come up today to see Julian. I haven’t had time to draft an NDA yet, so I’m going to ask that you keep everything you see and hear to yourself.”

Jasper went silent for a short minute. “Can the person you know heal him?”

Carl sighed. False truths were easier to give than the real thing in times like these. That was why hospitals and doctors rarely said that a treatment would truly work. “All she can do is try. I wish I could tell you more, but there are no guarantees when dealing with cancer.”

When Jasper spoke next, he sounded like a defeated man. “I understand. Let me draw up an NDA and you can sign it when you get here. When do you think that will be?”

“We’re in Portland, so thirty to forty minutes.”

“Good. I’ll see you soon, Carl.”

The call went dead, and he put away his flip phone before starting his car. “Can you check and see if he has any other ailments?”

She placed his hand between hers. “I’ll do the best I can, Carl.”

He could only hope that was good enough. It wasn’t that he owed Julian anything, but to help someone who was suffering was a noble cause. Even though they were only business partners, that didn’t mean he would turn his back on him.

They drove in silence up I5, then took the backroads to Julian’s estate.

Barbara goggled at the ornate gates and the massive roof that could be seen where the gate ended. “He lives here?”

Carl chuckled, even if his heart wasn’t in it. “Yep. It’s bigger than it looks on the inside if you can believe that.”

As the gates drew open in front of them, she did.

Carl pulled the car around the circular drive to the front door. Jasper met them a few moments later.

He held his hand out to Barbara. “I’m Jasper. Thank you so much for taking the time to come out and see us. Let me show you where he’s at.”

Barbara nodded. They followed him through the central area where Carl eyed the kitchen, then down a long hallway to a room at the very opposite end of where Jasper’s office resided. He wondered if this was a coincidence or on purpose?

As the door opened, an array of medical devices came into view. A hospital bed had been placed awkwardly where a real bed would have been, and a small TV rested on a dresser off to the side.

Barbara took it all in, recognizing the machines immediately. She turned around. “Both of you out. I’ll come get you when I’m done.”

Jasper started to protest, but Carl took him by the bicep and steered him out of the room before closing it behind him. The walk to the other end of the house seemed to go on forever.

Jasper’s office was just as tidy as before, with arrays of papers spread out on his desk. He picked up a folder and handed it to Carl.

“Here’s the NDA. It’s boilerplate, so if you want to change something let me know.”

Julian’s friend curled up on himself even though he was seated. He didn’t cry, but this somehow felt worse.

Carl had planned to go through the document line by line like he normally would. Instead, he turned to the last page and scribbled out his signature before dating it. “Here you go.”

Jasper turned and nearly fell into his lap. Carl hugged him, both to keep him from falling over and hurting himself and for emotional support. He didn’t say anything, but he did say a short prayer that Barbara was successful.

They sat like this for a long while, Carl occasionally rubbing Jasper’s back. When Jasper finally sat up, it startled him.

“Thank you for that. Julian has been… distant, ever since he was diagnosed. He’s a proud man, and he was born with a stiff upper lip. Brits can be like that, you know.”

“How long has it been since he was diagnosed?”

Jasper gave a bitter laugh. “Well before the first time you visited. That’s why he sold everything. He planned to leave his money to me, but I don’t want it. Money is a poor replacement for friendship.” Jasper’s eyes seemed to become distant. “Or love.”

Carl could only agree. He’d learned that lesson himself. “Why didn’t he do anything with the businesses?”

Leaning back in his chair, he looked up at the ceiling. “At first he did. He was heavily involved with all of them, and they prospered. His wife passed eight—no, nine, years ago. That hit him hard. The kids won’t have anything to do with him. It didn’t start all at once but accumulated over time. He stopped attending board meetings, sending me as a proxy. I didn’t have his power or charisma, so I was steamrolled by that ass Neils.”

Jasper laughed but it quickly turned to coughing. When it cleared, he said, “Thank you for firing him. It couldn’t have been easy, but he needed to go.”

Carl recounted the events in his head. “I called an emergency board meeting and didn’t invite him or his cronies on the board. I missed a few cronies, but when Neils came into the room screaming at us that was enough for most of them to change sides.”

Jasper slapped the arm of his chair. “Really? I would love to have a video of that if you have it. Just to see the look on his face.”

Carl wouldn’t mind having a copy himself. “Let me check with the hotel. They might have had a security camera in the conference room.”

“After the board meetings, he stopped taking calls from the banks or anyone else. I didn’t know what was wrong, so I insisted he go to the hospital. You would not believe how obstinate that man is when he puts his mind to it.”

Carl remembered the heavy drinking the night he’d been here. It all made sense now. “I met the bank managers. North Coast is doing fine, but I fired the manager of Cowlitz.”

Jasper shook his head. “That guy was a fucking prick, pardon my French.”

They both broke out in laughter. The tension wasn’t gone, but it had lessened. He supposed that was as much as he could hope for right now.

Hours passed, and they vacated to the kitchen so Jasper could eat lunch. Carl wasn’t hungry, but Isabella talked him into a grilled cheese sandwich. He didn’t put up much of a fight.

When Barbara found them in the kitchen, she looked exhausted. Her skin was pale, and her hands shook, but she had a smile on her face.

Carl rushed over to hug her. “How are you?”

“Tired, but good.” She pushed him away so she could give Jasper the news. “The cancer had metastasized and spread from his prostrate to his colon, intestines and rectum.”

Jasper left his second sandwich behind, forgotten. “How is he? Can I see him?”

She shook her head. “He’s asleep, and he’ll probably be out for ten to twelve hours. Make sure he has something light to eat when he wakes up, like applesauce or Jell-O. Unbuttered toast is fine too. And make sure he drinks lots of water.”

Jasper bobbed his head up and down with each command.

Barbara continued. “You need to get him to stop drinking. His liver hasn’t failed yet, but it could if he keeps it up. It’s that close.”

Jasper turned to Isabella. “Throw out all the alcohol, including the bottles he thinks he’s hiding from everyone.”

Isabella nodded as she went to grab boxes. They would need a lot of bottles based on the night Carl had spent with him.

“Is he healed? Is the cancer gone?”

Barbara gave him a weary smile. “He is. I’d like to come back in six to eight weeks to check up on him, but I got everything I could find out of him. He can start exercising again after the checkup if I find he’s clear.”

Jasper rushed forward and wrapped her up in a hug. “Thank you so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Barbara’s smile was radiant. He now understood why this was the path she wanted to follow. It was dangerous, but life changing at the same time.

Jasper released her. “What can I pay you? You name it, and I’ll pay.”

Barbara shook her head. “That’s very kind, Jasper, but we don’t need money.”

Nothing was said for a moment while Jasper was lost in thought. “Wait, I think I have it. Julian has a house in St. John’s Wood in London. It was where we met. He bought it with his inheritance from a distant uncle, and his wife didn’t know—” He waved his hands. “The why doesn’t matter. The house hasn’t been used since we moved out here. It would be my pleasure to give it to you, with the addendum that if we ever return to London that we can stay there. How does that sound?”

Barbara’s eyes were wide. “You want to give us a house? In London?”

He grinned. “Indeed, I do. A housekeeper comes by every month to check on it and do some light cleaning, but it will be a bit of a tip when you see it. You might want to hire a cleaning service to get it back in shape before you go.”

Carl turned to her. “If you travel to Africa, it would be a lot easier to do it from London than Portland.”

“You two are going to Africa?”

Barbara shrugged. “Doing what I just did will be difficult in the US. If the AMA or the Feds find out, I’ll be fined or jailed. Probably both. We were thinking that going to Africa or South America might be easier and less risky.”

Jasper nodded in understanding. “Ah, I see. That makes sense. I’m South African, so I might be able to help you if you get down that way. It would be my pleasure.”

They looked each other. It was one thing to sketch out a plan in a diner over brunch, and quite another to make actual plans.

She held her hand out. “I just might take you up on that, Jasper. Now, why don’t you go sit by Julian while he recovers, and we’ll get out of your hair. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

Jasper’s eyes were full of gratitude. “I need Julian to sign the deed to the house, so I’ll give it to you when you come back to check on him. Thank you both so much. This is a dream come true.”

Chapter 47

Barbara dozed in the passenger seat as they drove back across the river into Oregon. She’d been shaky getting into the car and passed out by the time he got to Battle Ground.

When he pulled into his driveway he parked by the back door, then went around to pick her up out of the car after unlocking the door.

He kicked the door closed before going inside. He set her on the bed, pulling a blanket up and over her.

She mumbled something, but he didn’t hear it. He let his hand linger on her hair before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

He flicked the TV on before pulling out his laptop. He didn’t have any emails beyond junk mail, so he sent Wendy a quick note to keep her up to date on things. He mentioned the house in London, although that wasn’t a certainty yet.

It made him think what he would give someone for saving his life.

His answer? A lot. A heck of a lot. Everything, and then some.

And he would give even more to someone who saved Barbara.

He closed his laptop as the email whooshed away, understanding Jasper’s motivation a little bit better. What was an unused house in a distant country when the person most important to you was dying?

What was anything compared to that person?

He pushed the recliner back until the footrest popped up. He flipped through a couple stations, not feeling like watching TV right now.

He flicked the TV off and went into the bedroom, curling up next to Barbara. He fell asleep far faster than he had expected.

* * *

The next few days passed without distractions from work. Barbara had to go into the hospital to clean out her locker and attend a going away party, while Carl prepared for a board meeting which would formally appoint Charles as CEO. He’d dismissed the people on the board who had sided with Neils and had sent a formal invitation to Rebecca to join. It included an eighty thousand dollar a year stipend, along with a company car if she wanted it. He doubted she would.

He opened the door to Martha’s house when the contractors showed up on Monday morning. He gave them some rough instructions as to what he wanted before dashing back inside and next to his love.

Today was July 3rd, and he was trying to get everything done so they could enjoy the 4th tomorrow. He was almost there, just a few things to finish—

The phone rang, interrupting his thoughts.

“Carl here.”

“Dad, it’s Ryan. Um… you have a second to talk?”

“I do. What’s up?”

“Well…” His son went silent, but Carl didn’t press. He had a feeling that would be a bad idea right now. “Shit. This is harder than I thought it would be.” He sighed. “Deborah got on my case after our last call, and I talked to Jim a few times as well. I know he’s coming out for Thanksgiving, and I wondered if we could join as well.”

Carl felt his heart miss a beat. “Of course. I would be honored, Jim.”

“Good. Great. Okay.” He heard a distant ‘ouch’ before his son started talking again. “Maybe we could find some time to talk and clear the air.”

“Absolutely. I think we need that.” Carl was doing his best to keep calm, while his emotions were zinging in every direction.

“Good, good. And Jim mentioned you had a couple of gold mines? What the fuck, Dad?”

The response came automatically from two decades of parental experience. “Watch your language, Jim. You can talk like that in a bar, but not—”

“—on the phone or in the house. Yes, I remember. Sorry.”

“Okay. And yes, I own twenty or thirty gold and silver mines, and I’m buying more.” He paused for effect. “I also own a law firm that was failing. Not sure if you’ve heard of it since it’s local.”

“Really? Are you becoming a conglomerate?” Carl waited for the inevitable question. “Which law firm?”

There it was. “Donnehy and Associates. I’m looking into another one that is larger and not doing well, although I don’t have anyone to run that one, so I’ll probably hold off.” He said it very nonchalant, keeping his tone lowkey.

“Which one?”

“Um, let me think. McKellon, Gerling and Tandsey. I think that’s right.”

“Holy shit, Dad. They’re a large firm and have a half dozen offices across the west coast.”

Carl hadn’t heard that before. He’d been interested in the company since Matt passed him his business card, but now he was downright intrigued.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. The senior partner is on the board of the life insurance company I own, and he asked for a private meeting to talk about the company.” This time it was Carl’s turn to pause for effect. “I don’t suppose you would want to join me when we talk to him?”

Jim laughed. “Dad, I can see right through you. You want me to come out and attend the meeting, and I’ll be so excited that I’ll offer to be CEO of the company. Well, that’s not going to happen. I’m a hair’s breadth away from being partner at my firm, and…”

His son’s voice trailed off. “Fine. I’ll be at the meeting, and we’ll talk. That’s as much as I’ll promise.”

Carl pumped a fist in the air. “I appreciate it, Jim. I’m a businessman, not a lawyer. I could use your help.”

Jim chuckled. “Since when have you become a businessman? I’d love to hear that story.”

“I’ll tell you when you get out here. I’m looking forward to it.”

“I am too, Dad. I really am. And I hope you have a happy 4th of July tomorrow.”

“You, too. And say hi to Deborah and the kids for me.”

The two men hung up. Carl knew they had more to discuss when his son arrived, but for the first time since the divorce he had hope that he could turn their relationship around and make amends for all the years he’d been away from them. Not everyone got that chance.

Chapter 48

Instead of the boat he wanted to rent, he was outside cleaning the barbeque grill early Wednesday morning. Once that was clean, he would pull the picnic table out of the garage and clean it up too.

He couldn’t be happier. The sun was out, the sky was clear, and the news reports said it was going to be a hot one today.

Once both were clean, he went inside to start prepping the meat. He had a homemade marinade he’d learned decades ago and had stuck to ever since. Once it was done, he poured it inside multiple zip lock bags and gently laid two or three steaks in each. That done, he stuck the whole thing in a large bowl and into the fridge.

Gene showed up a little after 4pm with a woman Carl hadn’t met, bringing over his potato salad along with two six-packs of beer and a plate of brownies.

Setting everything down in the kitchen, Gene did the introductions. “Carl, this is Mary. Mary, this is Carl. We met a couple of weeks ago, and I didn’t say anything in case I jinxed it. Over there is Barbara, his girlfriend.”

Mary leaned into Gene. “You didn’t jinx anything.”

Barbara waved before making a beeline towards Mary. The two women walked outside after grabbing a pair of beers.

A knock came at the door, and Carl hurried to open it before anyone else could.

“Carl Thompson?”

“That’s me. You have the papers?”

“Yes. And please don’t do this on the 4th of July next time. I know you’re a valued customer, but I have a family too.”

Carl nodded. He hadn’t thought of that when he’d ordered, but it was a fair comment. He wrote out a check for five hundred dollars and handed it to the man. “This is to help make up for the inconvenience. Thank you for bringing it over.”

The delivery driver looked from the check back up at Carl. “Really?”

Carl grinned, giddy with excitement. “Yep. You have the keys and title?”

The rental company employee handed him two sets of keys along with the title. “You have a happy 4th. Thank you again.”

“I hope you do too. Thank you.”

Barbara called from the kitchen. “Who was that?”

He turned to face the group. “I have a bit of a surprise. Come take a look.”

Gene had a pretty good idea what it was. Dean was a staunch supporter of blue jeans, cowboy hats and big trucks. He’d given Gene the same talk he’d given Carl, that if they were going to spend any amount of time in Medford, then they needed a truck.

A large truck.

Barbara and Mary approached the front of the house, while Gene hung back to sip on his beer.

Grinning, Carl opened the passenger door of the truck with a hint of showmanship. It was green, just like his Honda, and was big enough that he knew he’d have to use the step side railing to get up and into it.

Instead of the congratulations he expected, she said, “Oh, Carl. What were you thinking?”

Mary whispered something and both women started howling with laughter.

Barbara leaned into Mary. “It’s not true, but it’s still funny.”

Gene walked outside, taking a full spin around the truck. “Did you get the biggest one they had?”

Carl nodded, a grin on his face from ear to ear. “Dean told me that I wouldn’t be accepted as a Medfordian until I bought a pickup truck. Since I’m heading down there in two weeks for the opening of the bar, I figured now was as good a time as any.”

Barbara turned to him. “Carl Thompson, what have you done? I can’t get up into that beast.”

Carl shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to help you up then.”

Both women started laughing.

With the excitement over, everyone went back inside. Barbara pulled out a plate of hors d’oeuvres she had prepared while he’d been out cleaning, and everyone dug in.

Mary paired off with Barbara inside the house as she pulled together a salad while Gene and Carl talked as he prepped the grill.

He poured a pile of real mesquite charcoal into the grill, then placed the electric starter on top before pouring in another pile. He was cooking up three ribeye’s, three sirloins, and three porterhouses to give people a variety of meats to choose from.

Gene handed him a second beer after pulling off the cap. “Where are you off to next?”

Carl put the lid back on the grill to build the heat. “After Medford?”

Gene nodded. “Yeah.”

He paused. He knew where he wanted to go but that depended on the stars lining up, which he knew rarely happened. “Probably back to eastern Oregon. Then the UFO conference in Denver. I don’t know after that.”

He looked at his friend, who was gazing at the massive truck. “Why, you want to go with me?”

Gene shrugged as if he would think about it, but then he nodded, just a little. “Maybe. I don’t like traveling on my own. It gets boring and I’m not as outgoing as you are, which means I’m holed up in my room most nights.”

“What if we spent a long weekend in San Francisco? Partly for work, and partly for fun?”

Gene scrunched his face up. “You need to go to San Francisco?”

Carl shook his head. “No, not really. But you have to admit it would be fun. We could go on trolley rides, check out the waterfront, see the sights. That kind of thing.”

“What… um, what if we went to Hawai’i?”

Carl frowned. “Just the two of us? That would be a little weird, and we’d get some strange looks at the hotel. I guess if you want to—”

Gene shushed him to cut him off. “No, not the two of us. As couples. I’d like to do something special for Mary. We’re really hitting it off and a couple’s weekend would mean I wouldn’t have to entertain her 24/7.”

Carl set the lid back down on the barbeque after checking that the coals were coming along nicely. The sun wouldn’t set for another couple hours, which should give them enough time to eat before the fireworks went off.

He steered Gene away from the open window and toward the street. “You don’t have to entertain her, Gene. Let it flow naturally and do things you both want to do. Try new restaurants, go for walks along the beach, maybe go on an excursion somewhere. Keep it light. If the conversation lags, then let it lag. You’re getting to know each other and that happens sometimes.”

His friend rubbed his hands on his shorts, pale skin showing from his knees to his sandals. Carl was beginning to understand why the relationships Gene had been in never lasted very long. That didn’t mean it was all on Gene, but him trying to constantly entertain them like a talk show host probably didn’t help.

Gene leaned against the tailgate of the truck. “I guess. I like to eat, so that makes sense.”

“Alright, let me paint you a scenario. You and Mary go to Hawai’i. What do you do first after you’ve checked in?”

A long, drawn-out ‘ummm’ resulted. When it ended, he was silent, the chirping of birds and fireworks going off in the distance filling the silence.

He looked over at Carl. “Go for a walk?”

Carl nodded. He wanted to encourage Gene, not discourage him. “Maybe. But you can’t go wrong asking her what she wants to do.”

Gene’s eyes went wide. “You’re right! That’s brilliant.”

Carl grinned. It worked, but you couldn’t use it over and over without the other person getting annoyed. “Before you go, make a list of all the things that interest you. Pick out the top two or three things you want to do and try to fit them in. That way you’re not always asking Mary what she wants to do.”

Gene blinked. “Like what?”

Carl sighed out loud. “I don’t know, Gene. That’s your homework. Maybe you go visit Pearl Harbor, or—”

His friend’s eyes lit up. “That’s right, Pearl Harbor. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Exactly. You get the idea? Take some time and do your research. Pick out some things that you like, and some things that she would like but you probably won’t. Then the things that you might both like.”

Gene opened his mouth as he scratched his head. Carl could see the question coming a mile away. His friend wasn’t obtuse, he just didn’t have a lot of experience with women. Carl filled in the blank. “You could visit a botanical garden, or go shopping, or take a trip to a plantation. You won’t like them, but she might.”

Gene grinned. “I think I get it. Maybe I can buy her a small piece of jewelry, or have fresh flowers delivered to our room every day.”

Carl clapped him on the shoulder. “Exactly. It’s more about the intent than the actual thing itself.” He turned around to make sure the women weren’t in earshot. “Although with jewelry, it is about the thing itself.”

Gene pulled out the same phone model that Wendy used as he typed out a reminder. Carl took that as his cue to check on the barbeque and get the meat out of the fridge.

* * *

He set the platter of meat in the center of the table, letting them rest for five to ten minutes before calling everyone out to eat. Barbara had already placed a tablecloth over the old picnic table, although he had no idea where she’d found it.

Sticking his head through the backdoor, he said, “Everyone ready to eat?”

Barbara and Mary were sitting in the living room talking, wine glasses in their hands. “Just a moment and we’ll be out.”

Carl nodded as he went back to the picnic table. He placed a large, inverted metal colander over the meat platter to keep the flies and hornets away.

The women filed out moments later, their arms laden with salads, wine bottles and more utensils. Carl quickly walked over and grabbed the salad bowl from Barbara, giving her a kiss on the cheek before placing it on the table.

Gene followed his example a half step later. He hesitated on the kiss until Mary angled her cheek out towards his lips.

Mary cleared her throat after everyone had taken a seat. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to say grace before we eat.”

Everyone nodded.

She folded her hands and closed her eyes. “Bless us Lord, for these gifts which we are about to receive from thy bountiful Christ. Amen.”

Everyone clinked glasses and dug in.

Mary turned to Carl while she used giant wooden spoons to place salad on her plate. “I understand you might be buying a house in London. That must be exciting.”

Gene looked at his friend across the table and laughed. “London? You know how expensive that place is? Even your money couldn’t buy you a place over there.”

Everyone turned to look at Gene.

“What? I watch House Hunters International. It’s crazy expensive.”

Carl glanced at Barbara, who shrugged as she cut into her tenderloin. It was pink in the center with crisscrossed char lines outside, just the way God intended.

He turned back to Mary. “It’s possible. We won’t know for a few months still. Julian is recovering from prostate… surgery and when he’s better we’ll know for sure.” It was as close to the truth as he could get without giving too much away.

Gene stopped laughing. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Carl cut into his ribeye, pleased when juices didn’t spill from the still hot meat. “It’s a possibility, that’s all. If we do get it, you’d be welcome to use it.”

Mary perked up at that. “Really? I’ve always wanted to go to London. To traipse around the city and take in the sights would be a once in a lifetime opportunity. The history, the food… it sounds wonderful.”

Barbara spoke, giving Carl a chance to eat. He only used salt and black pepper on his own steaks besides the marinade, saving the A1 sauce for lesser cuts of meat.

“I think so too. I’ve never been outside the country, except for a short trip to Canada which doesn’t really count. London would be magnificent.”

The two women were lost in thoughts while the men ate.

Gene popped a beer, taking a long drink. “I can hardly imagine it. London! We could travel around Europe and see stuff. Maybe you could buy a few businesses over there to give you an excuse to travel more.”

Once again, Gene had hit on a plan he’d never considered. He wasn’t a world traveler and doubted he ever would be but buying a business or two in a foreign country had a lot of appeal. Especially if he could make them profitable.

He spooned a large helping of potato salad onto his plate. He took a quick bite, nodding his head. This was the real thing, not the stuff they made in the grocery store.

“This is excellent potato salad, Mary.”

She leaned closer to Gene, who appeared to be oblivious. “Thank you. It’s my mother’s recipe. I add a bit of hot sauce because I like it spicy, but other than that it’s exactly as my mother made it.”

Thirty minutes later people started patting their stomachs. Carl had eaten a ribeye and finished Barbara’s sirloin, had a couple scoops of potato salad, polished off three halves of corn on the cob, and helped himself to a large helping of salad with ranch dressing. As summer holiday meals went, it was hard to beat.

Barbara excused herself for a moment, dusk falling as the streetlights came on. She came back out a few minutes later with a pie in one hand and a carton of ice cream in another.

“Just a moment and I’ll grab the bowls and spoons.”

The aroma of spices and sweetness wafted into the air. Carl could already taste the apple pie in the middle of the table.

Barbara returned a few moments later with the bowls. “Everyone can help themselves. I’m going to wait a while until I have a little more room.” She scooted closer to Carl, wrapping her hands up in his. “I put the coffee on too. It should be ready in a few minutes.”

He kissed her politely, thanking her for everything and promising more after the guests had gone. “When did you have time to make this?”

“Early this morning before you got up. I set my alarm for 4am because I know you’re an early riser.”

Mary’s cheeks turned red, and a second later she exploded in laughter. “Gene’s the same way too!”

The party devolved into raucous laughter.

Night fell, and private firework shows were happening all around them. By the time the city fireworks started, Carl couldn’t eat another bite of food. He was that full.

He sipped on a cup of black coffee with his head craned up to the northwest. A firework exploded into green and white lights, with flashes of red in the center. Oohs and aahs from the neighbors filled the air.

He felt content for the first time since his divorce. Life would always present challenges, that was to be expected. He had a long life ahead of him if he chose to go down that path, and for the first time since he’d acquired the blue boxes, he thought he might.

But only if he had his friends by his side.

That thought brought on a bout of melancholy, until he realized what he needed to do. He’d already passed his blood to Barbara, although he had doubted that his blood had done anything at all. It was whatever was inside his blood that made it happen if that made any sense.

Sometimes when his mind was wandering, he got the sense that something was alive inside of him. Something not Carl. He didn’t know what it was, just that it was there.

The fireworks continued, showering the city in sparkling light. He wrapped an arm around Barbara, his heart full and content.

A violet light burned across the sky, brighter than a satellite but not quite as fast. His muscles tensed involuntarily as he watched it cross the sky to the south.

Gene pointed, having noticed it as well. How could he forget what it looked like after the craziness of that night at the UFO convention? “Carl, is that—”

Carl kicked him under the table.

“Ouch!”

Barbara tore her eyes away from the fireworks, not understanding what was happening. “What’s wrong? You tensed up all of a sudden.”

He looked around the table. Gene was rubbing his shin with a scowl on his face, and Mary was still watching the fireworks. “It’s nothing. Can I get you anything?”

Barbara looked into his eyes, not quite believing it was nothing. “No, I’m fine.” She kissed him on the cheek, worried about him more than a little. Despite their abilities to heal, she knew he’d been through a lot these past few months.

The painful memories receded, and his worries went a different direction. Someone nearby was having a very bad night, and if they didn’t have someone to help them, they might just die. It also meant a competitor was nearby, and while he thought he had enough points to do battle should it be necessary, there were no guarantees. He had the ability to spot another blue box user if they were near, but someone else might have the ability to camouflage himself.

It was more than a little worrying.

He did his best to let those thoughts go and return to the festivities but found that he couldn’t quite do so. Not completely. The fireworks were just as pretty as before, but the sudden intrusion had twisted his thoughts in other directions. He had a feeling he would be thinking about this long into the night.

* * *

Gene held his hand out as they got ready to leave. “Thank you for a great night.” He pointed at the house next door. “When I’m over next, I’d love to have a look at it. Just to get an idea of what needs to be done.”

Carl nodded, rubbing his eyes. He was just as tired as everyone else. Eating too much food tended to have that effect “I was planning to remodel it for you as a housewarming gift. The contractors should be done soon so you can look at it.” He smiled at Gene, holding his hands in the air. “Surprise!”

Gene wrapped him up in a hug. “I would love that, Carl.”

As he watched his friend drive off down the road, he waited until he saw the Buick’s headlights turn a corner and head out of sight. Then he went back inside.

The kitchen lights were out, and a lone candle shone through the open door of his bedroom. He kicked his shoes off before locking the front door behind him. It seemed his night wasn’t over yet.

Chapter 49

He turned around quickly, spilling a drop of hot coffee on his thumb. “You want to do what?”

She blew on her tea to cool it down. “You’re going to be in Medford anyway, so I thought I would try to find a way to heal liver disease. If Julian’s liver fails, I want to have a cure.”

Carl saw a pattern unfold in front of him. “You want to be able to cure everything. Eventually.” He didn’t phrase it as a question.

She sipped on her tea. It was a mint chamomile blend she had found online and quite delicious. “I won’t deny it, but it probably isn’t possible. Every part of the human body requires unique DNA, and gathering it is a pain in the patootie. I’m going to go after the most common illnesses, and that includes liver disease. After that I’m thinking the common flu or autism.”

Carl poured himself a cup of coffee before sitting down. It seemed she was living in his house now, and he couldn’t be happier about it. “Please be safe whatever you do.”

A warm smile overtook her face. “I will.”

Two days later he left for Medford, and she left in search of cures. She said she would stay in the Pacific Northwest, but that definition could extend north to British Columbia or east to Montana, depending on how you wanted to define the region.

The big truck he’d just purchased ate up the miles as he drove south on I5. He didn’t turn any senses on, not interested in finding new businesses or opportunities. Not right now, anyway.

He towered over most vehicles, including other pickup trucks as he passed Salem. Halfway there.

Arriving in Medford a little faster than usual, he parked his truck in a parking lot, not sure it would fit in a normal parking space next to the sidewalk. It cost him eight bucks a day, but he was fine with that.

Knocking on the front door, he could see people moving around inside through the window. Ted waved at him. “Just a second, Carl.”

A minute later the door open, and a slightly grimy Ted was grinning at him. “You made good time. Come on in.”

It was the same building but a different bar inside. The wood floors gleamed with fresh polish, the noisy TVs had been taken down, and…

“Is this the same bar?”

“Yep. I replaced the footrail and the end caps, but the wood is the same.” Ted ran a hand across it. “Nice, isn’t she?”

Carl looked over at Ted. “It’s a she?”

He shrugged. “I think so. I’ll be sliding a lot of drinks down it, and I prefer to think I’m sliding them along a lady instead of a man.”

They both broke out laughing. “Can I see the upstairs?”

Ted bobbed his head. He was wearing a cowboy hat today and had more pep in his step than Carl had seen before. To his eye he looked like a changed man.

They went up the painted stairs, then waited at the top. Ted turned around. “You remember what this place looked like, the short time you got to see it?”

Carl shook his head. “Unfortunately, I do. It was a pigsty.”

Ted turned back around, sliding a key easily into a new lock. “Take a look now.”

Carl stepped inside. The apartment was bigger than he’d thought, curling around the corner in a large L shape. A large living room with a sofa sat in the corner, a big-screen TV along the opposite wall. To the left a king-sized bed had been placed, a large patchwork comforter on top. A few pictures of the bar from the olden day dotted the walls.

Carl took it all in. “It’s better than I could have imagined.”

Ted nodded. “Makes me wish I’d thought of this before you. And the best part is, you can’t hear anything downstairs.”

Carl stilled, listening. He approached the window and saw cars driving past, but he couldn’t hear them.

“They put in triple-paned windows. There’s another one in the bathroom. They packed in a massive amount of insulation between the two floors, and I could barely hear them working downstairs. Even the door has insulation in it.”

Carl grinned. Not only was it comfortable, but having an apartment in town meant he wouldn’t have to deal with random people the moment he stepped out of the motel any longer.

He glanced around. “There’s no kitchen?”

Ted shook his head. “There’s a fridge and a microwave, but that’s it. The contractors quizzed me about the layout, so I chose the bathroom instead of a kitchen. You eat out more than I do, so I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Carl patted him on the back. “You did good. Let me peek in the bathroom and we’ll get going.” He walked around the corner, a massive TV taking up the entire wall. It had to be six or seven feet diagonally.

He opened the bathroom door, which had been done in black and white with green accents. Vintage looking black and white tiles were underneath a massive claw foot tub and a double wide shower.

Carl closed the door behind him. “You made the right decision, Ted.”

Ted grinned. “Come on, I’ve got a few things to show you downstairs. We’re having a soft launch tonight, so I’d like you to be here. Dean is coming over and Gene might drive down. He sounded a bit wishy washy when I called him.”

Carl laughed. “He’s met a nice lady, and I don’t blame him for being wishy washy. I would be too.”

They walked down to the bar, Carl taking in the dartboards and pool table in a separate room he hadn’t seen before. He pointed at it. “Where’d that space come from?”

“We found it when we were remodeling. They pulled the paneling down and found a blocked off room behind it. We think it was used during Prohibition to keep whiskey bottles and other things back there, although how they got them in and out, I have no idea. We moved the pool table back there to give us more room out in the main area.”

Carl nodded. When he’d first entered the bar, it had been a tired, failing enterprise. He had trouble imagining how well it would do now that it was fully restored.

They walked over to the bar, and Ted poured a few beers in smaller glasses, sliding a few over to Carl. “Cave Junction came out with a few new beers. They’ll be here tonight if you want to talk to them.”

Carl raised the glass, sniffing it first. It smelled of malt and maybe honey, with the bitterness of hops coming in at the end. He took a sip, his eyes going wide. “Oh my, that’s good.” The bitterness offset the sweetness of the malt and honey, leaving a pleasant taste in his mouth.

He finished that glass and moved to the next one. This one was darker than the last, but not quite as dark as the porter. When he sniffed, he came away with rye and orange, and a bit of sour funk. The hops weren’t so strong with this one, but the alcohol level was.

By the time he finished all four samples, he was a little tipsy. “These are amazing.”

Ted raised a glass of stout, which had been the last sample. It was warm without being bitter and had a hint of chocolate in it. “Those boys know what they’re doing. If you’re going to invest, let me know. I don’t have any money available for that sort of thing, but I know a good beer when I taste it.”

Carl leaned forward on the bar. “Your share of the profits will be paid later this month. Charles is working on the numbers. I haven’t heard any of the details yet, but I will once they’re prepared.”

The wait staff came in an hour later. He recognized a few faces, while others were new. He took the opportunity before the party to head out and get his suitcase. He’d be sleeping upstairs tonight, which would be mighty convenient if he had one too many.

He set his clothes in the dresser, then flipped on the TV. A few channels were different, but it had the same streaming service he had in Portland. Which meant he could watch old movies to his heart’s content.

It was the smell of food that pulled him away from the 1969 version of The Italian Job. Those little Minis were devilishly fast.

He locked the door behind him as he walked downstairs, the smell getting stronger. The beer samples from earlier had passed through his system and he was clear headed now.

A few people lingered around the bar. He recognized one of them right away. He made a beeline for him.

“Welcome back, stranger.”

Dean turned. “Carl! I’m glad you could make it.”

“You, too. I don’t suppose I could get a tour of everything tomorrow?”

Dean laughed. “You won’t believe your eyes, but sure.” Someone cleared their throat behind him, and Dean turned but not before shaking his head just a fraction. “And before I forget, let me introduce you to the mayor of Medford, Gary Whittier.”

Carl held his hand out and the mayor took it. The man had more than a few extra pounds on his frame and had a politician’s easy smile, with short white hair and hazel eyes. The suit he was wearing didn’t quite fit right, bunching up at the shoulders. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Mayor.”

“The pleasure is all mine. You’ve done more for this town in a year than anyone else I can name. I wish I could take credit, but I can’t.”

A photographer appeared out of nowhere, and before Carl could protest, she said, “Say cheese.”

The bulb went off with the ‘no’ half formed in his mouth.

The mayor clapped him on the back, and Carl understood what this was about. “When’s the next election, Mr. Mayor?”

The mayor played coy. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Thompson.”

Carl nodded, and Dean saw the look in his eyes. His boss didn’t like being played the fool.

Dean interjected before Carl could speak his mind as he turned to face the mayor. “You do realize he owns more than a bar and a few gold mines, don’t you? He might have moved Vancouver Life here, or a couple banks, or his entire operation. And you gave it up by going for a cheesy one-off photo.” He shook his head. “Pitiful.”

The mayor started to protest, but Dean wasn’t hearing it. Carl gave his employee—no, his friend, a wide smile. “Thanks for that. My words wouldn’t have been half as kind.”

Dean laughed. “I know. Why do you think I jumped in as quick as I did?” They both broke down in laughter.

Ted shook his head in disgust as the mayor left the bar, the mayor’s handlers telling him he had made the right move. Once they were out the door he climbed on a chair and dinged a spoon against a pint glass.

“Listen up! The Rustler’s Brand has had a long and storied past. It opened in the early 1900s and stayed around under different names through the years, until Paddy O’Byrne bought it and named it The Rustler’s Brand. He was fond of the wild west, and thought the name sounded right.

“The bar is now entering a new era with a new owner. It still has the soul that Paddy put into it, and now it has the financial backing to see it through. The formal opening is tomorrow, but today is for us. Carl not only gave me my job back, he gave me hope again. I know he’s done the same for a lot of you as well.”

Ted raised a beer up high. “To Carl!”

The crowd roared, “To Carl!”

Carl grabbed a beer from the counter, not caring if it was a porter or not this time. He held it up high as he raised his voice a bit. “I want to thank each and every one of you for joining me in some crazy adventures. I went through a lot for this bar, and I think it shows.” He wiped a tear away. “To Paddy!”

The crowd roared, “To Paddy!”

He clinked glasses with Ted and Dean, a few waitresses who winked at him before he could look away, and then he took a long drink.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to see a younger kid in glasses with a MST3K t-shirt with a couple of robots on the front, whatever that meant. “Mr. Thompson, I’m Dillon and the guy next to me is Blake. We own Cave Junction Brewing. You have a few minutes to talk?”

Carl shook hands with both of them. “Absolutely, and please call me Carl. You two are making some fine beers. I just tasted the new ones and I love the stout.”

Dillon nodded, a little self-abashedly. “That’s good to hear. Look, we don’t want to take up too much of your time because we know you’re busy and have important things to do.”

Carl waved away their concerns, the warmth of the beer spreading to his limbs and making them a tad bit lighter. “It’s fine. I actually have a proposal for both of you, but I’d like to hear what you have to say first.”

Blake returned with three beers, leading them to the pool table room which was currently empty. He set them down on a table.

Dillon took a deep breath, like he was pumping himself up for the big game. “The problem we’re facing is that… um…”

He turned to Blake for support, but Blake shook his head.

Dillon turned back to Carl. “We’re running out of cash. The beer is selling, but our startup costs were higher than we expected. We missed a payment on our equipment loan, and if we miss another one, they’ll take it away from us and we’ll still owe money. Our rent is fine, but the plan to open a pub in the building we’re working out of didn’t get approval from the county.”

Dillon seemed to fold in on himself. “We need help.”

Blake looked between Dillon and Carl, realizing that he would need to say something. “We need more than financial help. Our marketing is word of mouth, and it doesn’t help that we’re in the middle of the redwood forest with no big cities nearby. I drive the kegs out to Medford and Ashland, and when I have time, I take samples up to Salem, Eugene, and even Portland once.” He shook his head at the memory. “It didn’t go well. A couple owners laughed me out of their bars.”

Maybe it was the beer, or maybe it was his inner need to help people he liked. Carl drained the last of his stout, grabbing a porter from the beers Blake had brought over. He held it up in front of him. “I think I understand. Let me know if I’ve gotten any of this wrong.” He wasn’t able to resist taking a sip of the porter. It was magnificent as always.

“You need financial help to get the loan off your back, and you need marketing to get the word out about your beer. You also need a better distribution model. I can help with a few of those things, depending on how you want to do this.”

Dillon perked up while Blake faded into the background again. “Really?”

He took a sip of porter. It was just as good as the first time he’d tasted it. “Really. But it will require some work on your end. I need the two of you to come up with a proposal for what you need. It can include finances, extra headcount if you’re planning to expand, where you want to distribute your beers to, that sort of thing. Ask yourself questions like if you sold every drop of beer you made, what would you do next? Buy a bigger brewery or move somewhere else?”

Dillon rubbed at the peach fuzz stubble on his chin. “We can’t leave Cave Junction. Blake inherited his house from his mom, and we can’t afford to move.”

Carl set his beer down. Maybe it was time for some tough love. “That makes it harder, but not impossible. If you picked up and moved to Grant’s Pass or Medford, or anywhere along the I5 corridor, what would that mean? What would it change?”

Dillon scoffed, ticking the items off on his fingers. “Our rent would go up, our housing would go up, our…” He looked over at Blake. “Our malt would be a ton easier to bring in. Right now, we have to pay extra to have it shipped. And distribution would be easier too. Probably, I don’t know.”

Blake remained silent, but something unspoken went between them. Dillon turned back to Carl. “Are you saying we should include things like that in the proposal?”

Carl set his beer down. He was on a pace his body couldn’t sustain. “It depends. I’m not going to run your brewery for you. If you think that makes sense, then include it. If it doesn’t, then don’t. But you will need to add a list of benefits and risks for any actions you propose. If that includes more expensive housing, then list that. I want to help, but you need to figure this stuff out on your own first. I’m not going to force you into anything. Having said that, I would encourage you to think bigger than you are right now. Try to see ten or twenty years ahead, and what might change after enough time passes.”

Ted waved to get his attention, and Carl nodded. “Before I go, I wanted to mention that we’re buying a defunct brewery in Seattle. I’m not asking you guys to brew for us, but I would like to bring your beer in when you’re ready. It won’t be for a while yet, so it will give you some time to figure everything else out first.”

He reached into his wallet and pulled a card out, passing it to Dillon. “When you have your proposal ready, send it to my assistant Wendy. We’ll discuss it and send a response back a few days later.”

Dillon placed the card in his wallet. “Thank you. I know we came on a bit desperate, but that’s because we are. We’ll get on this right away.”

Something fuzzed at the edge of Carl’s awareness. “Let’s work on this tomorrow and…”

The noise of the bar faded away, and a blue box blossomed to life in front of his eyes. He was practiced enough now that he didn’t let it affect him, even when it surprised him a little.

DNA acquired: 1,311

Unallocated points acquired: 13,100

Points remaining: 1

Limited telepathic abilities unlocked.

You have experienced telepathic thought forms. Telepathic abilities limited to single-word thoughts transmitted by touch.

Outcome: Psychic abilities unlocked. At random times psychic insights may present themselves in dream or reduced mental states. Telepathic abilities will grow the more they are used. All psychic and telepathic DNA samples previously acquired have been activated.

He pushed on the boxes and they closed. He held out a hand to Dillon. “It was nice meeting you, and congratulations on brewing some of the best beers I’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting. I’m looking forward to hearing from you.”

Dillon shook back, pumping a few times extra in his exuberance. Nothing was final yet, but he hadn’t been told no. He’d heard that word enough times in the short time they’d been in business, and he was glad he hadn’t heard it today.

Carl turned to Blake, extending his hand. The other man hesitated before placing a damp but warm hand in his own.

Blake squinted. He’d felt something while talking to Dillon that wasn’t normal. “Can you hear me?”

Carl smiled, keeping his emotions under control. “It was good meeting you as well, Blake.” He held on to the brewer’s hand for a moment longer than socially acceptable, pushing on his mind to get a single word across.

“Yes.”

Blake’s eyes went wide as he yanked his hand free. Carl winked before picking up his beer and heading off to find Ted. Just when he thought life was interesting enough, something like that turned his expectations on its head and made it a little bit more interesting than before.

Leaving the pool room, Ted waved to him from behind the bar. He had no idea who he was supposed to meet next, but he found that the idea didn’t bother him. Not in the least.

Even if they were a politician. He chuckled at his own thought.

* * *

Carl groaned as he turned over in bed. His mouth was drier than midsummer in Death Valley, and his head throbbed something terrible.

He made a jagged walk to the bathroom, taking a long shower after sitting far too long on the toilet. Memories flittered back to him. He remembered playing darts with Dean and a couple people, then playing pool with… someone?

He couldn’t remember. It seemed his skills didn’t apply when alcohol was involved. Or at least not yet.

Despite the lack of memory, he had a sinking feeling he’d done something stupid.

He dried off, then poured himself a long glass of water from the small sink in the living room. He drank that down, then another, until his stomach jiggled from all the water.

Dressed and feeling somewhat better, he walked downstairs. The bar was relatively clean despite the party last night. A waitress was sleeping on the opposite side of the pool table, and the food had been taken away.

He opened the front door and used the key Ted had given him to lock it behind him before walking a few blocks over to the diner. Breakfast would sop up the remaining alcohol in his system, or so he hoped.

The diner was busy on a Saturday morning, and he had to wait for a chair at the counter. He was just about to sit down when someone called out his name.

Glancing over, he saw Dean sitting in a booth. He walked over.

“How’re you feeling, Carl?”

He shook his head a little, just enough to convey the message. “Not well.”

Dean raised a hand, and a waitress came over. Carl briefly wondered if he had dated this one too. “He’ll have hash browns with two eggs over easy and a side of bacon.”

The waitress put a cup of coffee in front of him, and he drank greedily despite how hot it was. The fog of the previous night started to recede the more he drank.

He held the cup between both hands like the precious life blood it was. “How bad did it get?”

Dean smiled, then pushed the morning paper to his side of the table. The front page read:

Mayor Whittier Inaugurates Reopening of Historic Medford Bar

Underneath the bold letters was a picture of a smiling mayor. Beside him Carl was frowning, his eyes flashing anger.

Carl pushed it away. “What are people saying?”

Dean took a bite of omelet, the cheese stretching until it broke. “What do you care? The mayor’s an ass, everybody in Medford knows that. The fact that he pushed his way into a private party to get a picture with you is funny as hell. It’s even funnier from the look on your face.”

Carl shook his head. “I don’t like that guy. If I cared a little more, I might ask who’s running against him, but I don’t. As long as he stays out of my way I’ll stay out of his.”

“That’s the spirit. Eat up and I’ll take you on a show and tell. I’m betting it will capture your attention.”

The waitress refilled his coffee, and he took a long sip of the scalding liquid. The pain distracted him from the headache he had. “Did you buy the land?”

Dean nodded. “I did. Wendy wired the money to the bank since you were busy. We have two sites now. One is the new one with the equipment I purchased in Wyoming, and the other is the Reeves and Reeves land. I pulled out the old double wide trailer and I’m having a permanent building built that we will work out of going forward. I hope you’re okay with that, but a double wide has zero security despite the razor wire Gene had installed on top of the chain-linked fence.”

A plate was set on the table. The hash browns smelled heavenly while the eggs made him want to gag, but he pushed through. He mixed them all up and took a bite.

He sighed. “That’s the ticket right there.” He took another few bites before setting his fork down. “Please don’t let me drink like that again tonight. My body can’t take it.”

Dean chuckled. “I think you’ll do that all on your lonesome. You might have one drink for the hair of the dog, but you’ll stop there.”

Few words were spoken when Carl set his mind to eating. Just as he’d hoped, the remaining alcohol was soaked up by the food, while the coffee got his brain working again.

He pushed the empty plate away from him, nibbling on the last piece of bacon. “We haven’t purchased the plats in eastern Oregon yet. I haven’t forgotten, not exactly, but other things were more important. I’d like to get on that next.”

Dean shook his head. “We won’t be able to get the…” He grinned as his eyes lit up. “You’re thinking of moving the extra equipment over to that side of the state before this is fully played out.”

Carl nodded. “I don’t want to push people, but at some point, we might need another set of gear and a third or fourth crew. Just a thought.”

Dean pulled a wrinkled pad of paper out of his pocket, scribbling a reminder down. He leaned forward until his voice was barely audible. “How big are they?”

Carl picked up his coffee cup, holding it close for comfort. “One is bigger than three or four of the ones you’re tackling right now. And there’s a large silver mine too.” He pulled out his wallet and paid the tab, leaving a slightly larger tip than usual. He hadn’t been on his best behavior, and he felt bad about that.

Dean whistled. “I thought we were doing well already, but it seems we’re just getting started.”

The two men got up and left the diner. Dean’s truck was parked right out front, but Carl wanted to show off his new truck. “You mind if we take my car?”

Dean squinted at him. “You sure? It’ll get dinged up pretty bad, but it’s up to you. You’re the boss.”

He grinned. “That’s right, I am. Come on.”

They walked a few blocks back to the bar, then past that to the parking lot. He waited until they were twenty feet away to click the button to turn it on. He’d never had a car where he could do that, and he was like a kid in a candy store.

Dean slapped him on the back. “I see you took my advice. Damn, Carl, this is a nice rig.” He walked around the truck, making numerous comments about things Carl was not aware of yet.

He opened the front door and the step slid out from underneath the car, causing Dean to whistle again.

“Sorry about that, but I wanted to show off.”

Dean leaned back in the plush leather seats of the full-ton truck. “I would too, Carl. This is nice.”

The truck was so tall that it was hard to tell if there were any pedestrians trying to cross the road in front of him, so he began to stop five feet away from the line so he could be sure.

“Go straight for four miles and take a right. I’ll let you know when you’re close.”

Carl pulled into a gravel drive, the signs of recent excavation work everywhere he looked. A tall fence with razor wire on top spoke louder than the no trespassing signs dotting the chain-link fence every fifteen feet.

Dean pressed a button on a remote and the gate opened, sliding off to the side.

An industrial building with white metal siding stood off to the side, while the rest of the land was filled with equipment. Large dump trucks were lined up like dominoes, and the separator stood apart from everything with a regular dump truck sitting underneath it. A couple of black GMC Yukon’s sat to the side. They looked brand new.

He pointed, worried that the bureau was involved somehow and not liking it one bit. There was a bit of heat in his voice when he asked, “Where’d you get the Yukon’s?”

“Oh, that was Gene’s idea. The dump truck taking the unrefined gold has an emergency beacon in it in case someone tries to hijack it, but he didn’t think that was secure enough. He bought the Yukon’s to have security people ride in front and back of the dump truck. To my mind that only makes them more obvious to the bad guys, but Gene insisted.”

“Are they armed?”

Dean laughed. “Out the wazoo. They have shotguns, pistols, tasers and a bunch of stuff I know nothing about. Yeah, I’d say they’re armed. Gene said the drivers are full trained on all the weapons.”

He pulled up in front of the metal building. Dean opened the wide door and walked inside, Carl following a few feet behind.

It was empty. “What’s this for?”

Dean closed the door before answering. “It only looks empty. Gene and I worked on the design. The vault at the refiner is overflowing with our gold, so he bought a vault and placed it ten feet underground. It has a small elevator that goes up and down. Most people won’t notice it if even if they manage to break in.”

Carl looked around, studying the layout. It was a basic rectangular building, with an office at one end and a loft up above. He almost asked Dean to tell him, but the challenge of figuring it out had him intrigued.

The further he studied, he realized only one location made sense. He walked over to the far side of where the main door opened, studying the concrete. The line between the elevator and the regular floor was so fine that it looked like an irregularity in how the concrete had set more than anything else.

“Right here.”

Dean shook his head. He should have known that Carl would find it. “Yep. You want to see it?”

Carl put his hands on his hips. “What do you think?”

Dean walked over to a hidden panel on the wall, pulling it open with a special key. A simple device with a red button and green button was set inside, along with a key code. Dean punched in a few numbers and hit the green button.

The floor beneath him started to rise. Carl jumped, landing outside the rising block of concrete.

The concrete floor looked to be eight inches thick, with thick steel rebar underneath it as it rose above floor level. Beneath that was a laser array.

Carl chuckled to himself. Gene loved his lasers.

The elevator rose higher, until the top of a vault came into view. It was larger than the one in Randy’s shop, but not by a lot.

Dean entered another set of numbers, then placed his ring finger on the device. The vault door clicked open, the sound resounding through the building.

Carl couldn’t help but be impressed.

Dean pulled the door open, and gleaming bars of gold filled the space. The top shelf and half of the middle shelf were empty, but bars were stacked up along the bottom row. Because of how deep the vault was, he doubted he could count them all.

“How much weight is that?”

Dean shook his head. “In truth, I don’t know. Tons. Maybe three tons? I know the hydraulic lift can manage up to twenty-three tons, which is probably overkill. Now that we have the design down Gene thinks he can replicate it quicker and cheaper than this one was.”

Carl thought about asking how much it cost, but he held back. The gold inside it would pay him back a hundred times over. “I’ve never seen so much wealth in one place. It’s humbling.”

He picked a bar and lifted it up, the weight more than he expected. It took some effort to put it back on the stack. “Are the refiners sending us daily updates?”

“Hourly, actually. Every time a truck comes in, they update their website with the gross tonnage, then the net tonnage less the weight of the truck. We see the refined weight and market value after they’ve checked for imperfections in the bars and approved them.”

“Good. Next time you talk to them, ask them what it would take to set up another refinery in eastern Oregon between Baker City and Joseph. If they need help with the cost, we can discuss that.”

“Will do. You want to see the rest of the operation?”

It took some effort for him to tear his eyes away from the gold. “Lead on.”

Dean pushed the red button and the elevator slid into the ground, settling with a solid thunk when it hit bottom.

They walked outside again, Dean showing him each machine and telling him what it could do. They talked about the staff for a while, who were making good money now that Dean had given them a raise.

“Should we pay them a bonus at the end of the year?”

Dean nodded. “I think we should. They work hard, and I know a few are hoping I’ll take them with me to the next job. A bonus will go a long way to getting more people on board with that.”

“Good. Let me know when you have some numbers, and we’ll talk about it.”

Dean turned to him. “You want me to do that?”

Carl looked around the job site. “I don’t see anyone else here who can do it. Who do you have working in the office?”

“Me. Gene didn’t want anyone else in there in case they figured the vault out. I’ll probably hire a few people on once the office building is built.”

Carl did his best to explain. “Look, it’s not that hard. Figure out what amount of bonus you want to pay. If they’re working full-time, calculate out the percentage you want to give and then multiply it so it’s an annual amount. Same for part-time except it’s prorated.”

Dean kicked his cowboy shoes at a large chunk of gravel. He didn’t look happy with his new task. “Fine, let me get on that next week.”

Carl smiled, although he made sure Dean didn’t see it.

An hour later they wrapped up the tour. “You want to see Reeves and Reeves?”

Between the building and the equipment, there wasn’t much to see. Still, Carl took a long look, so he didn’t forget single thing. None of his businesses besides the coin shop would make as much as the mining operation did. “Does it look any different?”

“No, not really. The building is gone but everything else is the same. I’m planning to upgrade the trucks once I find a good deal, but that’s not a big hurry. Their separator has a larger capacity than the one I picked up, even though it’s older.”

“I think we need to take a look online for some land on the other side of the mountains. Closer to where they put the refinery is better.”

Dean shook his head, pulling out his little notepad and taking more notes. “I liked it better when you didn’t visit for weeks at a time. All you’re doing is giving me more work to do.”

Carl patted him on the back. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be a very good boss, would I?”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. You know where we’re going after eastern Oregon?”

Carl shook his head. “I’m picking up a few maps later today, but I haven’t visited the areas yet. The next few months are going to be busy, so I probably won’t get to it until the end of the year.”

“Good. Make it next year and I’ll buy breakfast tomorrow.”

“What will I get if I move it out two years?”

Dean shrugged. “A nice Christmas card? I don’t know.”

He shook his head. “No deal. Although I still want a Christmas card.”

They got back in his rig and drove up to the mining sites. The land had been scarred with a large pile of tailings behind the open shaft. He felt bad about that, but that was mining. “Can we fill the hole in?”

“We were planning to push the tailings in when we’re finished with each one. It won’t fill it completely, but we can put a steel cover over the top with vents to outgas anything dangerous, so it doesn’t blow. That work?”

“Yeah, that works.”

Carl drove to the next six plats, marking them with a pile of rocks since he hadn’t brought a paint can. Each plat required Dean to open a small gate with a key, then lock it behind him.

“I thought there would be people out watching us?”

“Oh, they’re there. Look for a glint of sunlight in the distance. That would be someone using a telescope or binoculars. They won’t get inside, but that doesn’t stop them from trying.”

Just as Dean had said, a small reflection flashed in the distance. It passed quickly, but he’d seen it. He waved, holding his hand over his head.

Dean rushed forward to pull it down. “Please don’t encourage them. They’ll think you’re inviting them up to grab a few nuggets.”

Chagrined, he took Dean’s words at face value. He had no idea who he’d waved to, and didn’t know if they were dangerous or completely benign.

He marked each plat, finding one that now had two veins of gold and a smaller vein of silver. He pointed at it. “Not sure if you’ll remember this, but that one over there is silver. It’s not big but it’s there.”

Dean sketched it out on his notepad before stuffing it back into his pocket.

Three hours later, they were back at the truck.

“You up for lunch?”

Carl shook his head. “I’m going to take a nap. Maybe I’ll grab something at the grocery store first, maybe not. I’ll meet you for dinner if you want before heading over to the bar.”

“Nah, I can’t. My girlfriend wants to party at the grand opening tonight, and who am I to say no? We’ll see you there.”

Carl nodded. He understood that. “I’m not sure I told you this yet, but you’re doing good work. Is there anything I can do to make things easier? Anything you need?”

Dean choked on his coffee, hitting his chest a few times with his fist to clear it out. “Thank you, Carl, but no. Never in my life have I worked for such a well-funded operation. We’ve got another year or two on the mines you bought here, and then we’ll move on. I’ll probably bring on a foreman if I find anyone who has experience, but other than that we’re good to go. You know the equipment I want to replace so don’t be surprised when the request comes through. Other than that, we’re good.”

That made sense. “I had to ask. I probably won’t be back down for a few months unless you need me, so I’ll tell you that we’re having a meeting next week to decide the bonus payout. Wendy will contact you once it’s decided.”

Dean squinted his eyes, studying Carl. He started to fidget under the scrutiny.

“You gettin’ hitched?”

Carl’s mouth fell open. How had he known?

Dean chuckled. “Congratulations to both of you. Call it a sixth sense, but I got a nose for things like that. You say you won’t be down for a few months, and it got me to thinking.”

“Thank you. And keep that under your hat. I haven’t popped the question yet, but I will soon.”

They climbed in the cab. “Don’t worry about that. I won’t say anything, or my girlfriend may get some ideas I’m not yet ready to consider.”

* * *

When Carl got back to Medford, he dropped Dean off at his truck before parking in the same spot again. The heat was picking up now that it was full on summer in southern Oregon, and he stuck to the shade on his way over to the mapmaker’s shop.

Pushing the door open, the bell above the door tinkled a few times and then again when it closed.

Seeing no one behind the counter, Carl raised his voice. “Cyris?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Carl. Carl Thompson.”

“Carl! Just a moment and I’ll be right with you.”

Just like he’d done the last time he was here, Carl walked around the shop, looking at the old maps. A new one had gone up on the back wall, that showed a train line running from Ashland, Medford, and then out to the ocean and down to Crescent City on the coast. There was no date listed, but it looked old with the edges having turned brown and crusty.

“Carl, I’m glad you stopped by. I was planning to head out in another hour or so for the grand reopening. I trust you’ll be there?”

His stomach turned queasy just at the thought of alcohol, but he put a brave face on. “I will. Sorry it’s taken me so long to stop by, but life has been busy.”

Cyris’s mustache twitched in amusement. “I’m aware. I get the Oregonian, and I’ve seen the articles. You’re making quite a splash in our little corner of the world.”

Carl wasn’t sure what to say to that. The silence lingered until Cyris broke it. “You want to see the maps?”

He rubbed his hands together in excitement. “I do.”

Cyris nodded like he’d expected nothing less. “Let me get them out of the safe. Not that I expect a break in, but it keeps them out of my way while I’m working on other things.”

A minute or two later Cyris returned with three cardboard tubes, which he set on the counter. “Now, before you go tearing them open, I need to confess to something. I might have gone a bit overboard on these maps, and it took quite a bit longer to make sure I had all the details correct. It stretches from the southern edge of the maps I gave you last time down to Grants Pass, and then into northern California and northwestern Nevada.”

“Really? Is it possible to mine in California?”

Cyris chuckled. “Absolutely. While I was doing my research on current and past mines down there, I discovered that California has quite a vibrant mining community.”

Noticing the look in Carl’s eyes, he quickly added, “Before you get too excited, you need to be aware that you’re going to have to wade through a couple miles of red tape to do it, but after you look at the map you might just be willing to give it a go. Nevada is well known for mining, and while I can’t tell you where the precious metals are, I can tell you where others have found them.”

Carl pointed at the maps. “Can we open one of them? Not that I’m doubting your work, Cyris, but the prospector in me is getting excited.”

Picking a tube at random, Cyris pulled the paper from the tube and then spread it out across the counter with Carl’s help. He weighted down the corners with leather bags of sand.

“Ah, yes. This is Nevada. I’ve put crosshatch in the areas that are national or state parks, along with the wilderness areas. I’ve marked out the larger plat lines just like last time, and I’ve marked every mine I could find going back to the 1840s. I’m sure I missed a few, but I got a lot more than I missed.”

Carl didn’t doubt it in the least. Leaning forward, he scanned across the various marks where former mines had been. “This is impressive. And it goes all the way to Utah.”

Cyris bobbed his head, a little embarrassed. “You might not know this, Carl, but mapmaking is becoming a lost art. It doesn’t make much money, and other than you and the people who like to collect reproductions of some of my old maps, business has been slow lately.”

They looked at the maps in silence. The detail was amazing, and Carl was sure that the man across the counter from him had added even more detail than last time.

A lot more detail.

“Are you thinking of retiring?”

Cyris snorted. “Not a chance. I’d rather dig my own grave than watch daytime TV while withering away in a Barcalounger. No, I’ll stay until the rent becomes too much, and then I’ll move everything back home. I’ve got a spare room that I use, and while it isn’t much, it’ll do. I’ll work from there.”

Working it through his mind, Carl did his best to find the right words. He decided to be direct, just like Cyris had been the first time he’d met him. “Would you be open to an employment offer?”

Cyris laughed as he began to roll up the map. “You don’t need a broken down old man like me, Carl. Hire a geologist like all the big guys do.”

That was the logical answer, but not for the way he mined. “You may not have noticed, but I’m not very young myself. I forced myself to go to community college earlier this year to learn how to use a laptop.”

Cyris looked up at him. “Seriously?”

A smile broke out on his face. “Why would l lie about something like that?”

Cyris’ mustache quivered. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” The mapmaker tapped a finger on the counter. “If I did come to work for you, what are we talking?”

He’d already worked this part out. Charles would hate it, but he could only hope his finance officer would be too busy with Vancouver Life to pay any attention to it. “I’m thinking we pay you a base salary, plus a portion of what we pull from the mines.”

Cyris’ jaw dropped. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

“Maybe I am. But you set me right with Ted, who had done a fantastic job restoring the bar. If you don’t believe me, wait until you see it later tonight. More importantly, every single one of the mines we’re planning to dig in Medford came from the map you sold me. You keep making the maps, I’ll keep buying up the mineral rights, and Dean will keep the crew drilling. You have to admit, we would make a pretty good team.”

Cyris rubbed at his right eye. “Don’t mind me. Just a bit of pollen.”

Carl didn’t say a word. Once the mapmaker’s emotions cooled, he put his business face on. “What kind of salary are we talking?”

Carl pulled out an expression his father has used often back in Iowa. “I’m just spitting in the wind, but would seventy thousand a year be enough to keep the shop open?”

Cyris looked away from Carl. It seemed the shop was filled with pollen. When he’d composed himself, he asked, “While I think on that, how about I make a pot of coffee?”

“You may not know this about me, Cyris, but I love coffee. That sounds wonderful.”

While Cyris got the coffee maker going, he peppered Carl with questions about the mining operation. “I heard about the Reeves brothers, and that was before it was on the second page of the local paper. Did they put a crimp in your operations?”

As before, Carl was roaming the shop as perused the maps. “I think we were down for two and a half weeks. Dean flew out to Wyoming to pick up some newer equipment, and then we purchased the brothers land and equipment a while later. It was shortsighted on their part, but the result set us up for the future.”

Cyris poured water into the coffee maker. “I see. And where else are you looking for gold?”

If Cyris was going to become part of their team, which Carl wanted, then he needed to be open with him. “There’s a mapmaker in Baker City that I hired to get some maps of the area. We haven’t purchased the mineral rights yet, but once we do, I’ll tell you more.”

“That’s fair. Just so you know, I can make maps for areas outside of the west coast. It might take me a while longer to do the research, but I can do it.”

“I don’t doubt that at all.”

Minutes later, Cyris returned with two steaming mugs of coffee. He slid one across the counter to Carl. They both sipped, and Carl had to admit it was a fine cup of coffee.

Setting his cup down, Carl said, “I don’t need an answer today, or even this week. Take your time. Talk to Ted and Dean and ask them how it’s working for them. We can talk after that.”

“I appreciate that, Carl, and while I do plan to speak with each of them, what I want most is to keep doing what I love most.” He looked up from his mug to look Carl eye to eye. “Would I have to stay in Medford?”

Carl shrugged. “No, but I would need you somewhat nearby. I suppose anywhere from Seattle to San Francisco works, and east to Boise. What are you thinking?”

Cyris grinned. “You’re not going to like it.”

“As far as I’m concerned, we’re still negotiating. It’s better if we get it out of the way now than later.”

“Western Colorado. Not the fancy places like Aspen or Vail, but there was a lot of mining done in those mountains. If you’ve found as much gold as the rumors say in Medford, I can only imagine what you’d find out there.”

Carl had a feeling this wasn’t a last minute request. This was something Cyris had been thinking about for a long time. “You have a place in mind?”

“You’re smarter than the gossipers give you credit for. I like that.” He took a sip of coffee now that it had cooled. “There’s a certain lady who lives in the city of Cortez in southwestern Colorado. I was a lot younger then, but we’ve stayed in touch ever since.” He winked. “I’d like to see if I could rekindle that flame once more.”

Carl held his hand out. “It’s not what I had in mind, and I can’t promise I’ll stop by all that often, but if that’s what you want, I can work with it.”

Cyris took his hand, and they shook. “Thank you.” He sniffled. “I think the pollen is back in full force today.”

That was his cue to leave. “If I gave the info to Ted, could he get it to you?”

Cyris nodded. “Yep. We don’t live that far apart. I’m about a mile further down the road from his house.”

Although he had the apartment above the bar, it might make sense for him to look for some land out that way too. The view was that good. “I’ll see that he gets it.” He polished off the rest of his coffee before gathering the tubes up in his arm. “We’ll talk soon, and I’ll have my assistant send Ted an employment contract.”

Cyris waved before heading into the back room. Opening the front door, he stepped out into the sun again, beads of sweat already forming on his brow. He had no idea where Cortez was, but Colorado wasn’t that far away. Maybe Gene would want to take a road trip with him after the UFO conference so they could stop by and say hi.

* * *

Carl attended the grand reopening after a short nap in the apartment, but he only stayed for an hour or two. He congratulated Ted on a great success and did a bit of meet and greet before departing for the diner for a quick bite a little after 7pm, then fast walking over to the theater to catch a movie. He hadn’t had time to stop by and see what it was, but he didn’t really care.

The marquee listed only one movie tonight: How the West Was Won. It wasn’t his favorite western, but he would get by.

The lights dimmed and he leaned back in his chair, eschewing beer for a glass of water tonight after the hangover he’d suffered through this morning. Spencer Tracy’s voice came on over an aerial landscape view of the Rocky Mountains.

He smiled, then yawned a moment later. If he fell asleep partway through the movie, well… that would be enjoyable too.

Chapter 50

The drive back to Portland the next morning was fine, if bittersweet. He missed the days of being out on his own hunting for gold, using his senses the only way he knew how to find veins where no one else had.

Now the operation was a well-oiled machine, and while he might get out to find more mines eventually, he didn’t think it would happen anytime soon. There were too many other issues that captured his attention, and he mourned the old days for a few minutes before he came to his senses.

The old days had been only a few months ago, but they felt longer. They had been the beginning of the end of him being on his own. Now he had friends all around him. Some ran companies, others ran key operations. Some he didn’t know very well yet, like the two bank managers, but that was only a matter of time.

He wondered briefly how Lilly was doing in her new position. He set a reminder for himself to ask Wendy when he got back.

He pulled into his driveway, the tires on his truck spilling over the stone path that led to the garage. Maybe he could park it at Martha’s house until Gene moved in.

A construction van was in front of her house. He thought about going over and introducing himself, but then thought against it. He would only slow them down, and he had other things to do.

Laying his suitcase by the door, he kicked his shoes off before turning to close the back door.

Pulling open his laptop, he found multiple emails in his inbox, none of it junk mail.

Carl – Just a reminder that the LLC quarterly board meeting is on Monday at 8:30am in the Lyon & Hudson conference room. Charles asked for an early meeting as he started at Vancouver Life on Friday and wanted to get as much done as he could before they leave on vacation.

He also has a recommendation on a replacement for the LLC’s financial officer. It’s someone from his firm, but he didn’t give me a name. He said he’ll give you her resume at the meeting.

Other items:

A man from Cave Junction Brewery called and said that you’d talked to him at the party. I think his name was Dillon. He sent through a business plan to expand the brewery and send kegs up to the new brewery in Seattle when it’s ready. Thank you!

Carl grinned, remembering the bit of telepathic voodoo going on between the two brewers. It seemed that when an opportunity presented itself, they didn’t sit on their hands.

The credit union accepted your offer. Kerrie left this morning to check their operation out and doesn’t want you to pay them until she gives the go ahead (she was very insistent). I can tell you that she’s been reading up on credit unions ever since she started on Friday, and I wouldn’t worry that she’ll miss something. She’s tenacious.

Lilly found a bank in Aberdeen that has two branches and wants to sell. It’s the same story as the credit union, except they had three owners and two dropped out. I gave this to Kerrie for when she’s back in Portland. She also wanted me to tell you thank you for taking a chance on her.

Kelly will start this coming Monday, the day of the meeting. She told me she plans to visit all the properties you own to figure out what to do with them, and she’s already started on the buildings in Vancouver by talking to the contractors to make sure the refurbishment is completed on time and done extremely well. I don’t wish to speak out of line, but I can’t tell if she’s brilliant or somehow faking it. I asked if I could go with her on a few visits, and she agreed. She’s also going to help me with the project in Salem, which I admit has stagnated since I visited.

I’ve sent invites out for the end of summer party, although we need a location now that Charles isn’t hosting. I was thinking we could rent a resort on the coast or maybe use Timberline up on Mt. Hood. Let me know what you think. Everyone has accepted except for Ted. If you have a chance, you might want to remind him.

Moon Landing sent through the quarterly financials for the meeting, and they looked better than what we saw before. Not a lot better, but there is improvement. Just thought I’d mention it.

That’s everything. Hope you had a good time in Medford. Maybe one of these days I’ll get down there to check it out for myself.

Wendy

The next email was from the contractors next door, with an estimate on what it would take to renovate and update Martha’s house. Wendy had forwarded it to him just minutes ago.

He read through it twice as he did his best to understand the new blueprints. They were expanding the attic so it could accommodate a master bedroom with attached bathroom and a walk in his and hers closet, and he checked that they were adding the large fireplace. They would also be putting a new roof on the place.

They were. They also planned to completely rebuild and expand the detached garage, which gave him an idea.

He sent a quick note back to her approving the plans and asked if they could renovate his garage too so it could fit his truck and his car.

That done, he opened up the financial presentation for tomorrow morning. The banks hadn’t contributed much yet, nor had Donnehy. Lyon and Hudson had a good quarter, but as far as he knew the firm was no more. Only the building remained.

Yawning, he closed the report and his laptop a moment later. Despite getting a full eight hours this morning, he was still tired from the grand reopening party.

He wandered into the bedroom and lay down for a short nap. An hour or two would see him right as rain.

* * *

He woke up five hours later, the clock on the bedside table reading 4:55pm. He knew he’d been tired, but not that tired.

The phone rang, and he sped up to get it before it went to voicemail just in case it was Barbara. His old push button phone didn’t show who was calling like the modern phones did, so every call was a mystery. He preferred it that way.

“Hello, this is Carl.”

A soft, feminine voice came through from the other end of the line. There was a flutter of nervousness before she found her confidence. “Carl, it’s Marjorie. How are you?”

Carl’s first emotion was a flare of anger, but that faded quickly to resignation, and then intrigue. “I’m fine, Marge. How are you?”

“I… I’ve seen you in the paper. You’ve been busy.”

He smiled despite his brain telling him he should be angry again. He didn’t hate his ex-wife anymore. He didn’t like that she’d divorced him but could admit it had done them both a world of good. “It all just sort of happened. I certainly didn’t plan for any of it.”

He sat down in the recliner. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you calling me now?”

He heard a deep sigh come through the phone. “You’re just as direct as you always were. I’m calling about Thanksgiving. I heard from the boys that they’re coming out to visit, and I wondered… well, could I join too?”

He tried to work out an answer, finally settling on, “I won’t say no, but I’ll need to ask my girlfriend. I imagine she’ll say yes but let me ask first.”

Her surprise was authentic. “You-your girlfriend?”

Apparently, his sons hadn’t passed that piece of news along to their mother. “Yes, I’ve been seeing someone for a while now. She’s a nurse. Well, she used to be a nurse at Portland General.”

His ex-wife’s voice was more tentative this time. “I see. I wasn’t aware and, well. Okay. I understand. Maybe this isn’t a good time to visit, so—”

Carl interjected. “Hold up. Let me ask her first before you jump to any conclusions. It wouldn’t be fair to spring that on her without informing her in advance. For what it’s worth, my vote is yes. I think it would be good to have us all together again. We may not be married any longer, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

He quickly added to himself, distant friends.

“Good. I’d like that. I have to say that your success this year has been more difficult for me than I expected, and… I think this would help.”

That didn’t surprise him. He would have felt the same way if the tables were turned. “Are you at the same number or have you moved?”

Her voice held a tone of resignation. Or maybe it was the realization that she’d been a little impudent in her desire to divorce him. “No, I’m at the same number.” She paused. “Congratulations on all your success, Carl. Maybe I was hasty, but I didn’t see a different way out at the time.”

“No, you were right even if I didn’t like it at the time. I’m going to try and talk the boys into moving out here. I have a few business ideas lined up and I could use your help in swaying them in the right direction.”

She brightened. “Oh, I would love that. I don’t get enough time to spoil those grandkids as it is.”

“Me either.”

They talked a bit longer as the conversation wound down. He had the impression, however briefly, that Marge wanted to do more than visit for Thanksgiving but pushed that thought aside. He could no more return to his past than anyone else could, despite the blue boxes.

Even more, he didn’t want to. He was happy with where his life was at right now and had a feeling it would only get better from here.

Chapter 51

Barbara didn’t show up that night or the next morning. He thought about calling but trusted that she would call if she needed help.

He went for a long run the next morning, the scent of wood smoke from wildfires in the Cascades lingering in the pre-dawn air. He sprinted every few blocks, then took it down to his normal pace. He could tell he was getting faster, even if he couldn’t prove it. He regularly passed younger men out for their morning runs, a few of them peeling off in different directions when they saw him coming.

A quick shower later and he was on his way to the diner. He bought a paper instead of taking a chance that one would be set down, reading through the financial section as he ate. There wasn’t anything of interest and there were no articles about his businesses, but it kept him in touch with what was going on in and around Portland.

Instead of donuts, he purchased a box of muffins from Olivia’s coffee shop. She made them fresh each morning and they never lasted very long. A few people behind him grumbled that he was buying them all up.

Olivia shushed them. “I’ll make more if you stop whining about it. It only takes a short while to make a batch.”

“How’s the café coming along?”

She blushed as she smiled. “We just got our liquor license. We’re planning to open up at the end of the month. The pierogis are fantastic, and she makes a jam-filled donut called pączki. I’m so excited!”

“That’s wonderful, Olivia. I’m looking forward to it.”

She beamed at him as she handed him a paper box filled with sweets. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“You’re very welcome.” He handed her two twenties, which she held in her hands. She debated giving it back to him for a split second before stuffing them in the cash drawer.

They said their goodbyes. He walked out the door, then across the street and past the bank before arriving at the former Lyon and Hudson building.

He was fifteen minutes early, but so was everyone else.

Charles and Rebecca were talking, while Sue chatted with Wendy. He looked around for Randy, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Rebecca was the first to notice him, walking over to give him a hug.

She released him just as quickly as she’d hugged him.

He straightened his suit jacket. It was one he’d worn as an engineer a few decades ago, although back then he’d had a short sleeve shirt on underneath, just like all the other engineers. “What was that for?”

She grinned. “A way to say thank you. I invited Randy but he didn’t think it was his ‘scene’, as he put it last night. I don’t think he really cares about money one way or the other now that you bought the building. It doesn’t hurt that the mint is sending him as many coins as he can take. His online sales have gone through the roof.”

Charles held his hand out. There were stress lines around his eyes, but he looked happy. “Carl, it’s good to see you. I invited Ted and Dean, but they declined. Dean said one trip a year to Portland was as much as he could tolerate, and he’s saving that for the picnic. Ted didn’t give an excuse, although I think the bar is keeping him hopping.”

Carl laughed. “Yeah, that sounds like Dean.”

They made their way into the conference room while Wendy put out carafes of coffee, tea and water along with a platter of muffins and donuts.

Charles handed out printed copies of the report to everyone. Sue waved at him from the other side of the table, and he waved back. “Can we talk after this is over?”

He nodded.

Charles cleared his throat as he sat down. “Welcome, everyone, to our second quarterly financial meeting. I invited Sue since a portion of her profits wrap up into the LLC, and for other reasons we’ll get into. Randy, Evan, Ted and Dean all declined for various reasons, so I’ll send them a summary by email later today. I didn’t invite the newest members of the LLC such as the banks and Carl’s two new employees, and I’ll mention why later. Let’s start by turning to page two. Assets have grown by an astounding twenty-two million dollars this quarter, while liabilities have grown by five point four two million, almost all of which comes from Vancouver Life. While their P&L is separate from the LLCs, I’m reporting everything in aggregate here. You can view the summary by business in the appendices.”

Heads nodded around the table. More than a few hands reached for the muffins over the donuts, telling him he had made the right choice.

Carl looked up from his presentation. He’d already skipped ahead. “Are you saying that it would take five and a half million to forestall the bankruptcy filing.”

Charles looked up from the presentation. “We’ll get into that later because I know that’s one of your questions, but the answer is not exactly. The liabilities aren’t the same as what caused the bankruptcy.”

Sue asked, “Why the big increase in assets? I know Carl bought Vancouver Life, but that can’t account for all of it.”

Carl took that as his cue. “It’s not. I bought the insurance company as part of package. It included two small banks, a bunch of apartment buildings and some undeveloped land.”

Wendy added, “And a restaurant in Battle Ground.”

Carl nodded. He forgot about that more often than not.

Sue jotted notes down along the margin of her report. “That makes more sense.”

Charles continued, “If you turn to page three, you’ll see the P&L for the quarter and year to date. Profits are up by over six hundred percent, most of which is attributed to the gold mining operation Dean is leading and coin sales at Randy’s shop. A little over twenty percent of that number is attributed to property value increases.”

Carl could only grin. Six hundred percent wasn’t a number his brain could wrap itself around, but it sounded very impressive.

“We made just over four and a half million dollars in profit, most of it related to precious metals. I’m sure the other businesses will catch and contribute equally in the coming years.”

Carl furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to calculate the numbers, something that he wasn’t very good at. “How did we make that much money in profits? Did Randy sell that many coins?”

Charles shook his head. “Not exactly. I took everything he sold of the minted coins, which was sizeable in and of itself. The profits of the store will be split between the LLC and Randy based on your ownership shares. The earnings came from the gold you had in storage that hasn’t been sold yet less the cost of mining plus the amortization cost of the equipment Dean purchased. That also includes the former Reeves brother’s business. I listed three quarters of it as an asset in the accounts, which it is, and paid out the remaining quarter as profit using commercial rates. The gold that hasn’t sold still represents a profit to the company as it’s easily convertible with US dollars. It’s an odd accounting area and took me many nights of research before I came to that decision. In addition, I increased the assets to reflect the mines that haven’t yet been drilled. It’s an estimate that will be amended as each mine begins production.”

Carl nodded as if he followed along, which wasn’t entirely true. He sort of got it, and he sort of didn’t.

Rebecca asked, “What does that mean for bonus payouts?”

Carl wanted to know the answer to that question too.

“It’s not that simple. Some things roll up to the LLC and others don’t. The coin shop, Fastcycle, and Beacon Advertising partially roll up to the LLC, as Randy, Evan and Sue each own a portion of their respective businesses. And some of the profits are already allocated based on deals Carl had made with certain individuals.”

The way Charles said this made it clear he didn’t agree with that decision.

Carl clarified for the group. “I promised Dean 1% of everything we mine as a bonus on top of his pay.” He turned to Charles. “I believe that’s what you’re referring to?”

Charles nodded. “That one percent is based on gross profits and comes out to just shy of fifty thousand this quarter alone. Or over half of his salary.”

Carl shrugged. “He’s doing good work. I stand by that deal.”

Charles sighed the sigh of a frustrated accountant. “I agree, this quarter it’s not much. And it won’t be much more next quarter. What I’m thinking of is two or three years from now, when you have multiple mines going. He’ll make hundreds of thousands of dollars a quarter with that deal. Hell, he’ll make more than Rebecca and I combined with that deal in a year.”

Rebecca glanced up, surprise in her eyes. “Really? Both of us?”

Carl folded his arms in front of him, feeling slightly defensive. “For sake of argument, say that’s true. How much will you make if that happens? If he’s making hundreds of thousands based on one percent, that means we’re making tens of millions from mining. Maybe more.”

Sue looked around the group, confusion on her face. “Tens of millions? You can make that much from mining?”

Everyone except Charles and Sue nodded, including Carl. “Give us a few more years and a lot more equipment, and we will.”

She grinned. “I agree with Carl. So what if he makes that much? You can think of it like a production bonus: the more he brings in, the more we all make, including him.”

Carl turned to Charles. “You may not like it, but you need to let this one go. He’s working hard down there, and we’re all going to profit off his work.”

Charles folded his hands in front of him. “Fine. It’s your decision, and I’ve voiced my case. Moving on to the actual bonus amounts, I am proposing we reserve half the profits for investment into the company and pay out the other half this quarter and for the remainder of this year. Next year we’ll revisit it based on performance. Because the LLC is so new, I think that’s a prudent approach that covers us should the economy change. I’ll adjust the LLC ownership to reflect everyone’s investment.”

Sue raised her hand, but Rebecca spoke before Sue could. They both looked eager to comment. “I’d like to look at the legal filing again since so many people are investing. I put money in, as did Mack. If we’re reinvesting profits, that adds to the list and will affect payouts.”

Charles took a note. “I meant to ask you about your investment, Rebecca. It was quite sizeable. By the way, neither your nor Mack’s investments have earned anything this quarter, but that will change next quarter. Right now, we’re paying bonuses equally per Carl’s request, but in the future, I’m proposing that we set aside a pot of money to be shared with non-owners, while owners will receive the majority of any bonus. That bonus can either be taken in cash or retained and invested in the company.”

Wendy took notes on the notepad in front of her. Not only was she making more money than she’d ever imagined, but it also seemed that she would soon be a part owner of the company.

Her mind boggled.

Rebecca looked at Carl before she turned her attention back to Charles. “Regarding my investment, I’m afraid neither of us can discuss that. We have an NDA with a powerful… individual that precludes us from discussing any of it.”

Carl nodded to confirm her statement.

Charles paused as he looked at Rebecca. For such a small company, there were a number of secrets within it. Then again, one secret was too many by his count. “I think that’s for the best. You might look into selling shares when people invest their money, which will make it easier on the accounting side.”

Rebecca jotted down a few notes. She planned to hand it off to an associate at the firm instead of doing it herself. She simply didn’t have the time any longer.

Sue refilled everyone’s coffee while Wendy took notes.

Charles nodded his thanks as he took a sip of coffee. “The payout per person this quarter is two hundred and ninety-seven thousand dollars, or fifty percent of the full bonus. Full payouts will be given to Rebecca, Randy, Evan, Carl, Gene, Sue and myself, with half payouts to Ted, Dean and Wendy. Kerrie and Kelly aren’t eligible this quarter but will get full payouts next quarter, and the same is true for the bank managers.”

Wendy did a quick calculation on her iPhone of what fifty percent of two hundred and ninety-seven thousand might be.

She pumped her fist under the table when she got the answer. It was a cool one hundred and forty eight thousand less whatever taxes would be and would go a long way to putting a down payment on a house. She hadn’t expected to buy a house for several years, but if she had the money, she’d do it sooner.

Much, much sooner. Her dad would be crazy impressed and probably a little bit jealous. She couldn’t wait to invite the whole family over so she could host a barbeque.

Sue was the first to clap, quickly followed by everyone else. Rebecca let out a ‘woo-hoo!’. Charles waited for the noise to die down before calling out names on what they wanted to do with their money.

He started to his left. “Sue, do you want the cash, or do you want to invest?”

She smiled her practiced smile. “I’ll take the cash this time and I’ll invest next time.”

Rebecca grinned. “Same.”

Carl shook his head. “Invest.”

Wendy looked like she was about to burst in excitement. “Cash. I want to buy a house.”

Rebecca beamed. “I plan to do that too. Great minds and all that.”

Charles grinned. “And I’ll take the cash too. I need to pay for an upcoming vacation which I have a feeling will be quite expensive. My daughters want to visit Capri, which isn’t cheap. That leaves Randy.” He turned to Rebecca. “Can you follow up with him?”

She nodded, and not nearly as sheepishly as she would have done a few months ago.

Carl took a note. “I’ll call Ted and Dean to find out. And I’ll talk to Gene.” Which reminded him: where was Gene?

Wendy jotted down a reminder. “I’ll call Evan. Out of all of us, I think he’ll be the most excited.”

Carl wasn’t so sure that was true. Ted would likely take it in stride, but Dean wouldn’t. He still remembered his comments about money and how some people were meant to have money and others weren’t.

Whether Dean liked it or not, he would soon have more money than he would know what to do with. Maybe not this time around, but next quarter he would for sure.

Rebecca peeled the wrapper off her second muffin. Today was a day worth celebrating. “Is there anything else?”

Charles nodded. “For the report, I think that’s all we need to cover today. Carl and Rebecca, if you have any questions let me know. Now, I do have a few other items I’d like to cover while we’re all here.” He took a sip of coffee. “Carl asked me how much it would cost to stop the bankruptcy filing from going through. When he asked, I hadn’t yet joined the company, so I couldn’t answer.”

He turned to face Carl. “The financial need isn’t that large, just over a two and a half million dollars. That isn’t the real problem, though. I think everyone has heard about the bad pricing on certain policies made back in the 90s, and while that added to the bankruptcy issue the main reason was real estate investments the company made to back some policies a few years ago. Those investments went bad, and that was what forced Neils’ hand.” Bostrom

Carl leaned forward on his elbows. “What did they invest in?”

Charles shook his head. He’d been dumbfounded when he finally clawed the information out of the jackass CFO’s grasp after a tedious game of twenty questions. “They made offshore investments in the Caymans and the Bahamas. One was a partial stake in a resort, which I believe but haven’t confirmed that certain executives were using for free or at a reduced rate while on vacation. Another was with an offshore bank, but I don’t have sufficient details to go over it with you on that yet.”

Carl clenched his fists. He’d never liked Neils, but this? This was by far the worst thing he’d done during his tenure.

That he knew of, at least.

“Can we sue him?” It was the first thing that came to mind.

Charles looked to Rebecca, who shrugged. “I have no idea, and I’m not the person to decide that anyway. Offshore banks are messy, that’s all I know.”

Carl clarified. “What I mean is sue him for making such a dumb investment. For mishandling the company’s money for private gain. Assuming he used the resort.”

This time Charles shook his head. “The board approved it. He didn’t hide it, although I’m sure he didn’t explain it in any great detail before they took the vote.”

Even after the man had left the company, he was still causing Carl and the company grief. “I assume that if we sold the properties, they would only be worth pennies on the dollar?”

Charles nodded. “The original investment in the resort was for thirty three and a half million dollars. I think we’ll be lucky to get half that back. The resort is active now and I’ve already drafted language to preclude any employee from using the resort. The loss is real, but it’s an accounting loss. The two million dollars is due to a cash loss with the offshore bank. They went after the retirement plan to offset the loss and keep it out of the papers.”

Carl nodded. “I’ll pay it unless you tell me there’s a better way to handle it.”

“Thank you, Carl. A bankruptcy would wreak havoc with the business. I’d prefer to avoid that. It will also help me in turning the company around.”

He pulled his checkbook out and wrote a check on the spot, then handed it to Charles. He hadn’t realized he’d done anything unusual until he noticed Sue and Rebecca staring at him in disbelief.

“What?”

Sue laughed nervously. “You can just write a check of that amount without checking your balance?”

Carl felt his cheeks warm in embarrassment. “Well…” He sighed, shaking his head. Then he nodded. “Yes, I can write a check that large without checking my balance.”

Rebecca turned to Charles. “What else do you have?”

Charles shook his head. “That was it. I will mention that I plan to bring on a new CFO for the LLC. For those who don’t know, the man is difficult to work with.”

Carl couldn’t agree fast enough. “He may be good at finances, but he’s insensitive of employees to a large degree.”

He and Charles shared a look. They were on the same page when it came to the CFO. “The lady I’m thinking of was our financial controller at my former accounting firm, and she’s sharp as a tack.”

Reaching into his briefcase, he pulled out a small stack of papers. “This is her resume. I’d like to set up interviews with Carl and Rebecca in the next couple weeks if that works. She hadn’t given notice, but she is excited about the opportunity.”

Carl picked up the paper but didn’t read it. “That’s because you paved the way.”

Charles shrugged. He wasn’t wrong.

Wendy raised her pen. “If the financial discussion is over, we need to decide on a new location for the company picnic. Charles can’t host it, so I’d like to get input from everybody while you’re here.”

Sue was the first to chime in. “What about Timberline? It won’t be snowing yet, but they have a large conference room along with saunas and spas. It could be nice.”

Rebecca nodded. “I could get on board with that. A few days away to relax and enjoy a spa day would be nice.”

When no other offers were forthcoming, Carl spoke. “What about having it on Maui? We could take four or five days in October and have our next quarterly meeting there? It’s not a company picnic, but I don’t think anyone will complain. It will give everyone a chance to relax and get to know people you don’t normally interact with.”

Wendy couldn’t nod her agreement fast enough. “Heck, yes. Maui here we come.”

A knock was heard at the front door, and Wendy got up to see who it was.

Rebecca turned to Charles. “Could you get away for a few days?”

Charles sighed. “I could, but I’d rather not. I’ve had non-stop meetings ever since I joined as I try to wrap my head around all the moving pieces.”

Rebecca nudged his arm. “You could bring the family and work remotely.”

Wendy returned with Gene, the latter panting and out of breath. “Sorry, Carl. Everyone. We had a break-in at one of the mines. We caught it in time and the police have responded.”

He plopped down at the end of the table. Sue poured him a cup of coffee and passed it his way.

“Did they steal anything?” He remembered the reflection from binoculars in the distance, and him stupidly waving at the person. Not a person, a thief, he amended.

Gene nodded. “They had guns and loaded their pockets with rocks, although I think they also managed to snag a few nuggets. One of our workers dialed 911 with his phone, calling it in while he hid behind the drill.” He slurped down a sip of coffee. “I’m going to have to redo the fences, so we have double entries. One entry remains closed until the truck leaves, then the other one opens to let it out while the first one closes behind it.”

Carl nodded. He trusted Gene when it came to security. “What about the security guards?”

Gene shook his head, sloshing drops of coffee on to the table. “They rotate between the active mines and the inactive ones. We have cars following the dump trucks from the separator to the refinery, but not between the mine and the separator. I’m going to have to fix that too.”

Wendy came over with a towel, placing it next to Gene.

“Thanks. I’m sorry I missed the meeting, but this was more important I thought.”

Carl pulled a couple donuts off the platter and passed them down to Gene. “You made the right decision. I can tell you what your bonus is tomorrow after you’ve calmed down.”

A few chuckles went around the room.

Gene blinked a few times. “How big is it?”

Carl shook his head. It was a poor way to phrase the question. “Just under three hundred thousand dollars.”

Gene sat there, blinking but unmoving. “Really?”

* * *

By the time the meeting ended Gene had absorbed the information that he wasn’t rich, but much better off than he had been. Carl could tell he wanted to ask about the house next door but didn’t want to ask in the meeting.

They also agreed to have the next quarterly meeting in Maui. It wasn’t that Carl wanted to see Hawai’i—not that he was against it, either—but it was a means to an end.

As people filed out, Wendy walked over to him. “You want me to get started on planning for the trip?”

Carl smiled. “I’d like that very much. Pick a resort that will hold everyone and give us enough room to meet. Invite the heads of each company, along with all of the LLC employees and their families.”

Wendy couldn’t stop smiling. She had friends who went to Hawai’i over Christmas break, talking about it like it was nothing out of the ordinary.

Now it was her turn, and she couldn’t wait. “Got it. What about meals?”

He noticed Gene waiting patiently to talk to him. “Let’s have one big meal out the first night, then give everyone a stipend to eat on their own. Oh, and before I forget can you send an employment contract to Ted for a man named Cyris.” Carl searched his memory but couldn’t recall a last name. “Ted will know who he is. He makes maps down in Medford. Sorry, but I need to talk to Gene. We can work the details out later I think.”

Moments later Wendy was on her laptop searching for resorts. The meeting notes could wait until later.

Carl left the conference room and entered the former waiting room, sitting down next to Gene. “How’re you doing?”

“Good, I guess. The call this morning scared the living daylights out of me. The thieves showed up just as the shifts started, so they caught people unaware.”

Carl waved as Rebecca left. Charles and Sue were talking in Rebecca’s former office. “You’re already thinking of more ways to stop it from happening again, aren’t you?”

Gene nodded. “You know me too well. I have a few ideas, but I need to research them. Make a few calls, that sort of thing.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a minute or two, each lost in their own thoughts. “You can have the house whenever you want. Just say the word and I’ll give you the keys.”

Gene looked over at him. “Really?”

Carl grinned. “Absolutely. I know you’re good for it.”

Gene chuckled. “I guess that makes sense. You pay my salary, after all.”

Carl said nothing. It had been good to have everyone together for the meeting, but he could tell people wanted to get back to their jobs. Back to their companies.

“What’s the kitchen look like?”

Carl snorted. “Like mine. You realize that they were built at the same time. The layouts are almost exactly the same. Sometime over the years she turned the attic into a spare room, but that’s the only real difference. It’s old but it has good bones. Right now, the contractors are renovating the whole thing, and building out the attic to make room for a master bedroom.”

Gene stood up and stretched. “I think I’ll wait until it’s remodeled. Now that the problem down in Medford is over, I’m going to go car shopping.” Gene rubbed at his eyes. “Where’d you get your car?”

Carl stood up as well. “At the rental agency down the street. You know, the one across from Safeway.”

“Really?”

Carl nodded. “Yep. I planned to rent but then changed my mind and bought it. Same with the truck. They set the price so there’s no haggling. The selection is good because they can bring a car to you from anywhere in the country. My truck was originally in Montana, and they shipped it out.”

Gene patted him on the back. “Alright then, wish me luck. I’m thinking something in between what you have. Maybe an SUV with good gas mileage, that sort of thing.”

Carl grinned. “Good luck. Your bonus check will go into your bank account tomorrow.”

Gene headed for the door. “Thanks, Carl. We on this Friday for beers and old movies?”

“You betcha, Gene. You want the same as last time or something different?”

Gene unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Surprise me.”

Turning around, he looked in Robert’s old office, then in Rebecca’s. He found Kelly in the latter. He knocked on the wood frame since the door was open. “Is it okay if I come in?”

Kelly stood up. “Of course. I have my resume if you’d like to read it. Sorry about that. I was so excited that I kind of lost track of things.”

“It’s not a problem. I know this is your first day, but how’s it going so far?”

She sat down behind her desk, and Carl took a seat in front. “Well. Scarier than I thought, to be honest. At Wakefield we had people to print off reports and do research whenever we needed it, and here I have to do all that myself. Not that I’m complaining, but it’s different. I’ll get there.”

“Good. What do you have lined up for this week?”

“The apartments have to come first. I’ve spoken with the contractors you used for the building you renovated down the street, and they’re sending a team out tomorrow to have a look. Just a thought, but you might want to invest in a construction company.”

Carl leaned forward. He’d never considered something like that before. “Really? Why?”

Kelly was just as vivacious as the first time he met her. “You don’t have to, obviously, but as it stands right now that apartment complex needs to be updated with new windows, a new roof, paint inside and out, new appliances, and probably more that I don’t know about yet. If electrical or plumbing becomes an issue, the costs will add up. I wouldn’t consider you to be a major player when it comes to apartment leases, but if you add a few more in the coming years when the opportunity arises, you will be. You could always outsource any repairs or hire a manager who is also a handyman, but that can add up, especially for older complexes.”

Carl had no idea. “You didn’t include the buildings in Vancouver or the gentrification project in Salem. There could be some good synergies there, assuming we purchase the right firm.”

Kelly launched into sales mode. She had ten years of practice as a salesperson, and she knew the world of commercial real estate inside and out. “For most apartment complexes a good ROI tends to fall between eight and ten percent, and a well managed complex can see between twelve and a fifteen percent annual return. I haven’t spoken with the managers for each complex yet but based solely on the condition of what I’ve seen, I’d expect to have to let at least one of them go.”

Carl sat back in his chair. He didn’t like firing people, although he knew it was a necessary evil in business. Not every person was the perfect fit for every job. “Are you thinking of the complex that’s in bad shape?”

She picked up a pen and spun it around her thumb as she nodded. “I am. Now, I realize it had a previous owner not that long ago, but that one in particular will need a full recondition. The top floor for two of the buildings in that complex have water damage from failing roofs and the units haven’t been rented in the past six to twelve months. Again, I’ll know more once I speak with the managers.”

Of everything he’d purchased from Julian, the apartments interested him the least. Which was why he hadn’t been out to visit a single one yet and had hired Kelly perhaps a bit prematurely. He had a good feeling about her, but for any other business he would have stuck his nose in to find out how it was doing first.

“I’ll be honest. I know nothing about apartments. I haven’t rented one since my early 20s, and that was only for two years before we managed to save enough to put a deposit down on a house.” He remembered that time a little wistfully. They had made quite the team back then, and Marge had been a stunning woman in the prime of her life.

“I don’t want to hold you back from doing what you do best, but I’d like to join you when you visit the worst complex. I’d like to learn, and for a while at least you’re going to have to teach me.”

Kelly stopped spinning the pen, something she did when she got nervous. This was her first day on the job, after all. “It would be my pleasure to help you learn. Once you’ve got a few key concepts down, it’s not all that complicated.”

Carl stood up. “I’m looking forward to it. If you need anything, just let Wendy know and she’ll get a hold of me.” He held his hand out, and Kelly stood and took it. “Welcome aboard.”

Chapter 52

He saw Barbara’s car in the driveway when he got home and felt a sense of relief flood his body. Before he went in, he pulled out his phone to make a call after a quick search of his memory for the number.

“Proof Reader, how may I help you?”

“Yes, I’d like a private room for tonight at 7pm.”

The lunch maître d’ grinned. They all shared in the tips and had been warned should this man call and ask for a reservation. “We have the room available at that time. And your name?”

“Carl Thompson.”

As soon as she hung up, she ran to the kitchen to let the head chef know. A few of the special items they’d created the last time Mr. Thompson had come in had become regular features, improving their online reviews so much that the Oregonian food critic came in for dinner a few weeks ago.

His review? Fantastic, with some minor areas that needed improvement.

* * *

Carl opened the front door. “Hello?”

“I’m in here, Carl.”

He kicked his shoes off at the door, tossing his briefcase on to the sofa. He didn’t really use it anymore as it was more for him having the appearance of a businessman. He kept a couple dozen business cards in it, and when he got hungry, he sometimes put a muffin, or a sandwich wrapped in cellophane inside for later.

“How did your trip go?”

Barbara popped her head out of the kitchen. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe it. I had to find a Vietnamese pot-bellied pig so I could heal severe cases of the flu, and I had to drive up to Spokane to get it. Nice town but a boring drive.”

He came in and gave her a kiss, and she returned it with fervor. She pulled away a short minute later, fanning her face to bring down the heat. “How’d the meeting go?”

He grabbed a piece of cheese off the counter. “Good. A small argument with Charles, but otherwise fine. Most people are getting a good payout this quarter.”

She slid her hand across his butt, causing the cheese to go down the wrong pipe. A bit of hacking later, he was fine.

She smiled. She knew full well how much she was affecting him. “How much?”

He filled a glass with water to clear his throat. “Three hundred thousand for people who’ve been around the last three months, less for Wendy, Ted and Dean.”

Her eyes went wide as she slapped his hand from taking another piece of cheese. “For one quarter? That’s substantial. If every quarter is like that, they’ll make a million dollars a year.”

Setting the glass down, he gave up the fight for the cheese. “That was only half of the payout. The other half gives them ownership in the company. Wendy and Rebecca plan to buy houses, and I think Gene does too although he didn’t have time to think about it.”

He explained what Gene had been through before he arrived at the meeting.

“You should give him a raise. Not everyone would have gone out of their way to stop the thieves.” She tossed the chef’s salad, mixing in slices of fresh red onions, black olives, slivers of salami and a bit of pastrami she found in the back of the fridge along with all the veggies.

She dished up two bowls, setting them on the table.

Carl grabbed the forks and salad dressings. “I will, but not yet. I bought Martha’s house next door, and he wants to buy it from me. I probably should have talked to you about it first, so I apologize that I didn’t.”

She took a fork, waving his concern away with it. “They’ll be fine. Mary is doing him a world of good and having a more active social life will raise his self-esteem.” She poured a small amount of balsamic vinegar and oil over her salad and dug in.

Carl poured an unhealthy amount of ranch over his and did the same. “Maybe. I’ve known him for a long time, and I agree Mary will help when he has his ups and downs. I’m not sure if he is mildly bipolar or just gets depressed, but I’ve seen it happen a few times. He can spiral pretty badly when it gets out of his control.”

Barbara perked up. “Let’s invite them to dinner this Friday. I want to check on him and see what I can find.” She pulled out her phone, the same model that Wendy used as she scrolled to find what she needed.

He poured a bit more ranch on his salad. “He was planning on coming over this Friday anyway. You know, like we used to do before I met you.”

“I need to find two specific breeds of mice. I wonder where I could get them?”

“Did you hear what I said?”

She looked up from her phone, giving him a flat stare. “You shouldn’t be asking questions like that unless you want it turned around on you, mister.”

Carl squirmed in his seat. He’d been guilty of getting engrossed in his old movies and not hearing Barbara calling for him from somewhere else in the house.

“Fine. Look for a pharmaceutical testing facility or a reptile supply store. Either might have them.”

She gave him a warm smile as she tippy tapped on her phone some more. Realizing that carrying on a conversation was pointless, he dug into his salad. It was delicious.

* * *

He was on his laptop when she finished her research. “When’s your next trip?”

“Not sure yet. Oh, and did I mention we’re having the next quarterly meeting in Maui?”

She popped her head out of the kitchen. “You’re kidding.”

He shook his head, a slightly smug grin on his face. “Not at all. Families are invited along with the head of each business. Wendy’s working on the preparations as we speak.”

She left the kitchen, sitting down next to him on the sofa. “What prompted this?”

He closed his laptop, setting it to the side. Ever since Wendy had taken over as his assistant, he had less and less to do with the day-to-day operations of his company. He supposed it was normal, but he missed it more than a little.

“Charles agreed to take over as CEO at Vancouver Life and couldn’t host the picnic, so I volunteered that we have it in Hawai’i. No one argued against it, and I think it will give everyone a nice break. They’ve been working hard, and I might make it an annual thing as long as the business is doing well.”

Barbara’s eyes got dreamy. “Can we have next year’s in Belize? I’ve always wanted to go there, and I never had the opportunity.”

He pulled up a map in his memory, finding the country on the eastern side of central America. “It’s a bit out of the way, but if you’re okay with me searching for gold and businesses for a day or three then I’m fine with it.” He turned so she couldn’t see his smile. “Where should we go after that?”

She leaned back, looking up at the ceiling as she thought. “Greece. Or Morocco. Either one would be fine, I think. I used to watch the travel shows way back when and dreamed of seeing each of them.”

He reached over and took her hand, gently massaging it with his thumb. “If that’s what you want, then that’s what we’ll do.”

She glanced over at him. “You’re in an awful chipper mood. I have a feeling I could say Moscow in the dead of winter, and you’d still agree with me.”

He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous over there. Let’s start with Maui and go from there.”

She glanced at her wristwatch. “I need to head to the grocery store to get dinner. You want anything special?”

“Actually, why don’t you do that tomorrow. I made reservations for us at the Proof Reader tonight. We’ve always had a good time there and I thought it would be a nice way to relax after the last few hectic weeks.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That’s not like you. You like to wait until the last minute and then decide.”

He didn’t want to get into an argument, but he took offense at that statement. “That’s not true. As I recall, I arranged our dates when we first started going out.”

She laughed as she looked at him in disbelief. “You’re supposed to do that. The man does the wooing, and I play the hesitant damsel wondering if you’re my knight in shining armor or not.”

He could keep arguing but he knew he would never win. “Fine, you’re right. If you want to stay in tonight, then I’ll call and cancel. It’s no big deal.”

She leaned down and kissed him. “Absolutely not. You can’t offer me a night on the town and then take it back all of a sudden. And the meal last time was divine. What time do we need to be there?”

“Seven o’clock. I reserved the private room again.”

She clapped her hands lightly. “Wonderful. That gives me plenty of time to get ready. You should wear that light-gray suit. It looks good on you.”

Carl opened his mouth, preparing to say that he could dress himself, thank you very much. He’d been doing so for more than six decades now and had done a bang-up job.

Then he clamped it shut. If she thought it looked good on him, who was he to say no?

* * *

The maître d’ recognized them as soon as they walked through the door. Now that the restaurant was making a name for themselves, she’d found that paying her way through school wasn’t the challenge it had been a few months ago.

Still, that didn’t stop her from putting on an award-winning smile as she greeted them. “Mr. Thompson and Mrs. Tommins. Welcome back. The room is ready is you’d like to follow me this way.”

Carl nodded, releasing Barbara from his arm so they could get around all the other tables. In contrast to the other times that he’d been here, he heard whispers as they walked.

“Yes, he bought Vancouver Life. Paid cash if you can believe that.”

“Word is out that he’s richer than Croesus.”

“Who?”

“Oh, he looks dashing in that suit.”

“He owns banks now, too. I’m younger than he is, and I get tired after nine rounds of golf.”

“You need to exercise. When will you finally listen?”

Carl ignored them all, but he did pick up his pace a tiny bit. He waited at the door for Barbara to enter, then entered himself.

The room had been nice if a bit drab before, but now it had a multitude of different pictures on the walls and it had been painted recently.

“Can I get either of you something to drink?”

He seated Barbara, then walked by the maître d’, passing her a note as he made his way to the other side of the table.

Barbara took a sip of water. “Do you have the same wine you served us last time? I’d like that.”

“Of course, Mrs. Tommins. The sommelier will be in shortly.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t have a sommelier the last time we were here.”

The maître d’ smiled but said nothing as she went to get the sommelier and today’s special menu inserts.

Carl rubbed his hands down his suit legs to keep them from getting too sweaty. “You’re right, they didn’t. It also wasn’t as busy in the main room last time, and that was on a weekend. They’re doing well if they can pack people in on a Tuesday night.”

Barbara leaned forward. “Did you hear the comments as we walked through the main dining room?”

“I did. Who the heck is Croesus?” He didn’t have a memory of that term.

She shrugged. “I didn’t do very well in history.”

A man in a tux entered, a bottle of wine in his hands. He picked two glasses off a side table, placing one in front of each of them. “Your wine, monsieur.”

The cork was pulled, and a small sample placed in his glass. Despite his age, Carl was never quite sure what to do with the sample, so he swirled it around for effect and took a sniff before drinking it down. It was just as good as last time.

He looked back up at the sommelier. “Wonderful.”

The sommelier grinned, both of them knowing full well that there wasn’t a chance in Hades that the wine wasn’t exquisite. He half-filled Barbara’s glass and then his own.

The sommelier half bowed. “The wait staff will be here in a moment.” Then he turned and exited the room.

They held their glasses up and clinked them. Carl took a good-sized drink to quell the growing nervousness he was feeling. The ring was burning a hole in his jacket pocket, but he didn’t want to ask the question until after they took their orders. After that he should have sufficient time to pop the question.

Which, if all went to plan, would be followed by the maître d’ bringing in a bottle of expensive champagne, which was as specific as he could be.

He set his glass down as he focused all his attention on the woman across from him. “I love you, Barbara. I have for a long time now, and I can’t imagine us being apart.”

He cleared his throat again, wetting his whistle with another drink of wine. He stilled his hand from reaching into his jacket pocket too early, letting the moment spool out like he’d planned it in his head so many times before tonight.

“We’re going to be together for a long time, longer than most people get to live their lives.”

She smiled. “I know, and I’m weirdly looking forward to it. I’ve always had a lust for life, but never as strong as it is now. It feels like the possibilities are endless.”

He surreptitiously pulled the ring from his inner jacket pocket and hid it behind his back, pushing the chair back enough so he could slide out.

A moment later he was on his knee, his right hand reaching out for hers. His other hand opened the ring box, a glittering diamond of very large proportions reflecting the light of the room in every direction. Barbara gasped, a strange glint in her eye. “Barbara Tommins, will you do me the great pleasure of being my wife?”

She nodded, a wide smile on her face. “I would like that very much, Mr. Thompson.”

He gently—very gently—took the ring from the box and slid it onto her left ring finger. She held it up to the light for a moment, then got out of her own chair and kissed him soundly. It was the kind of kiss you saw in the old movies, the sort that men whistled at, and women pined to be in her place.

The kiss ended and they hugged. Her eyes were damp, and she had an infectious grin on her face. “I don’t mean to spoil the moment, but I found the ring in your underwear drawer after I folded and put away the laundry a week or two ago. I’ve been wearing it around the house when I know you’ll be out for a while.”

He laughed. “I wondered why it kept moving around even though I hadn’t touched it.”

They both broke out in laughter. “I love you, Carl. If you hadn’t asked I would have very soon. I didn’t quit my job just because I was afraid of getting caught. I quit so we could settle down together. I want more than a date every few days. I want you in my life every morning and every night before we go to bed.”

How had he not seen this? He’d been thrilled when she told him she’d quit, but he’d never put two and two together. His throat choked up. “I want that too. More than you know.”

He took another drink of wine, hoping the alcohol would calm him down a little.

Looking in her eyes, he revealed the truth about where they were going for the next company meeting. “I’m taking the company to Hawai’i so we can leave after the meeting and visit the Orient on our honeymoon. I haven’t made travel plans yet because I wasn’t sure where you wanted to go, but I thought it would be easier if we were partway there when we left.”

This time the tears really did fall, and she pulled him down for a kiss that made the first pale in comparison. When they came up for air, she curled her body into his.

“You remembered. Oh, I can’t wait. I really can’t.”

The sommelier came in a second later, a bottle of fancy champagne in his hand while a waitress followed with a silver stand to keep it cold.

Tonight, would be a night to remember. The failure of his first marriage had cast a pall over him ever since it ended, but at this moment he could barely remember what it felt like.

The champagne was poured into small, slender glasses, the bubble flowing up to the top. They clinked their glasses together.

“To us.”

Barbara nodded. “And a long, happy future together.”

Interlude 6

“Where do we go now?”

Epistimonas shook his head. “Prepare course for the Ridarte colony after the repairs are completed on the hull and damaged weapons systems.”

The weapons officer hung her head, her mandibles grinding back and forth. She did this when she was stressed. “That colony was never heard from again. What makes you think it is viable?”

The scientist tapped out a long string of commands on the nearest console, a series of results filling the screen. He turned to the weapons officer. “That was the public message. What really happened was that the colonists found not one, but two viable worlds in the same star system.”

He pointed at the console. “You should read this while the repairs take place.”

The weapons officer’s antennae moved, reflecting her lack of understanding. “Why was this hidden from everyone?”

Epistimonas bared his teeth, which translated to a smile. “Think. What would have happened if news of a new, viable world had been released to the general populace?”

Her antennae twitched again. “Panic would have ensued as families tried to escape from the war. Our defeat would have come much sooner, and this ship might not have escaped.”

“Just so. While you read, I will end the search for DNA. We have what we need, and now we can rebuild. It will be a new era for our race.”

Epilogue

Carl carved a slice of off his porterhouse, the smell intoxicating. Barbara entwined her feet with his while they ate, both of them giving loving looks at each other the entire time.

A blue box came to life, distracting him from his meal. He tried to close it, but it wouldn’t shut.

DNA acquired: 95

Unallocated points acquired: 950

Points remaining: 4

ATTENTION: As the recipient of our nanite technology, this test has come to an end. All skills and enhancements will be removed, possibly at the demise of the unit harboring the nanites.

Removal time for all upgrades and changes is estimated at nine months and twenty-two days.

Carl read it twice, glancing at Barbara when he finished. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and she looked like she was about to vomit. Which was particularly disappointing since it had been such delicious food.

Her voice had a strain of panic in it. “What do we do?”

Carl firmed his expression even though he didn’t feel it inside. His mind was spinning circles in his head as he tried to find a way to solve this problem. “We’ll find a solution. I’m not ready to go back to the way I used to be. Not yet.”

Barbara nodded. “I can cure cancer. I can’t give that up yet. Not until I heal more people. A lot more people.” Tears threatened for a split second before they spilled down her cheeks. “I just started. It’s too soon to take it away.”

The waitress paused in the doorway, confusion on her face. “You can cure cancer?”

Carl said nothing. While his mind churned to find a solution, he looked at Barbara. As much as he loved her, he knew part of that love was based in the nano-whatevers and the changes they had made in him, whether he chose them or not. He didn’t understand it, and he didn’t have to, but if he went back to old Carl, he knew in his heart he would end up alone.

Again.

Barbara reached out to take his hands. “Don’t give me that look, Carl. We’re going to figure this out. We’re going to survive, and then we’re going to thrive.”

He wished he could believe her.

Author’s Note

Thank you for taking the time to read this book. The idea for this book came to me a few years ago, and it’s taken until just recently to get the words down on the page.

If you could take time to leave a review, I would greatly appreciate it. Whether it is on Amazon or Goodreads (or both!), all reviews help me as an author in letting others know this might be a book worth their time too.

I will also add that if you’ve ever thought of doing something creative, whether it is writing or painting or playing an instrument, I encourage you to try it. Or start doing it again if you’ve been away from it for a while. This past year and a half haven’t been easy for anyone no matter how you look at it but spending time creating has made this year a little better for me than it would have been otherwise.

Thanks again, and I’ll see you again in book 4 of Biomedical Self Engineering. I have some ideas how Carl and Barbara will keep their skills, but it’s not going to be easy for either of them.

If you feel like dropping me a line, you can contact me on jonbsvenson@gmail.com.

If you would like to learn about new books being launched, updates on artwork, and other book related information, you can stay in touch by joining my email list here: https://forms.aweber.com/form/13/1509939713.htm I am sending out monthly updates that include samples from upcoming books or new artwork, plus book recommendations and a few other things.

My website is JonSvenson.com which doesn’t get updated as frequently as it probably should, but I’m working to get that fixed.

Author Recommendations

Here are a few books I’ve read recently that I thought I would pass along.

Frostworld book 1 by Blake Author Peel https://smile.amazon.com/Frostworld-LitRPG-GameLit-Viking-Adventure-ebook/dp/

This is my first book by this author, but I really enjoyed it. It’s set in a time of Vikings where an infection is quickly spreading over the world, and a lowly mud farmer is the only one who knows it’s coming.

Master Hunter K Initialization by From Hell. https://smile.amazon.com/Initialization-LitRPG-Adventure-Master-Hunter-ebook/dp/

The apocalypse has come, and humanity needs to prove it is worthy of living and retaining Earth. The author is from South Korea, and the translation is well done. The writing style is a bit different, but I thoroughly enjoyed the book and am looking forward to book 2.

The Bygone Dagger book 1 by Joseph Lallo https://smile.amazon.com/Bygone-Dagger-Greater-Lands-Saga-ebook/dp/

Straight up fantasy (not LitRPG or Gamelit) set in a world where a family works on contraptions made by people long gone. The Maskers and their three children all work in the business, but it is Fel who leads the expeditions to find more contraptions for his father to repair. Along the way, they find something so unique that the other families involved in contraptions decide they need it too, regardless of the cost. Book two just came out as well.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jon Svenson grew up in the Pacific Northwest just north of Seattle, on one of the many islands in that area. Along the way he’s lived in Portland, Oregon; Bentonville, Arkansas; London, England, Dublin, Ireland and Philadelphia, along with a few other places in between. He trained as an actuary out of college and has been working in that field ever since. He now lives back in the area he grew up in, turning an old cattle farm into an heirloom apple orchard. He writes with his rescue dog Moby sleeping by his side.