this marriage class at the church. You know, ‘It’s not a contract, it’s a covenant with God.’ That kind of stuff. Naive. She says I’m naive. She never liked Matson. She thought he was slick. And Madge. My wife saw through her the first time they met. But you can’t blame Matson. He looks at his wife, he still sees what she was like when they first got together. We’re all that way.”
Gage had come to the restaurant ready for psychological combat with an accountant constantly calculating his position, but what he saw before him was a fragile, flailing man.
“It’s called being human.”
“I guess so. But you didn’t come here to listen to me ramble on.”
“It’s okay. You’ve had a tough couple of months.”
“I wasn’t sure whether to blow my brains out or Granger’s or Burch’s.”
Gage’s eyes went dark.
Milsberg pulled back and held up his hands. “I didn’t shoot Burch. It wasn’t me.” He shook his head. “I haven’t the stomach for any kind of violence.” He hunched forward again and stared down at this chow fun. “I can only eat this stuff because I don’t think about how cow becomes beef.”
Gage glanced toward the door. “How about we go for a walk?” he said. “Get some fresh air. Talk a little more.”
“Sure. I got nothing much to do at the office. What about your lunch?”
“She can pack it up. I know somebody who’ll eat it.”
Gage drove Milsberg to Coyote Creek Park. They entered the Japanese Friendship Garden, bought fish food pellets, and walked to the crest of the bridge over the koi pond.
“You don’t know me,” Gage said, as he tossed a few pellets to the koi schooling below, “and I don’t know you.”
“That’s not quite true.”
“How do you figure?”
“I’ll bet you’ve met a lot of Robert Milsbergs in your career and you take them to comforting places like this for a little heart-to-heart.”
“You’re an insightful guy.”
“Sometimes too much. You know what I wanted to be when I was in college? A poet. I wanted to be a poet. And I could write, too.” Milsberg tore open his bag of pellets. “There was something heroic about being a poet. Now look at me. I’m as broke as if I was one. But I ain’t no hero. I’m a middle-aged guy who screwed up his life.”
Milsberg leaned over the wooden railing and stared down toward the water, his eyes losing focus, then he blinked hard and tossed a few pellets to the koi.
“You know haiku?” Milsberg asked, watching the fish vacuum them up.
“Of course.”
“Try this one: The somber wind stills, the dark river of pain speaks, of what might have been.”
“That could be anyone.”
“But it’s me. I write haiku to keep from jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge.” Milsberg sighed, still staring at the koi. “What do you need?”
“Look at me,” Gage said, as if a father to his son.
Milsberg turned to face him.
“You tried to ride this scam, didn’t you?”
Milsberg glanced away, then returned his eyes to Gage’s.
“I shouldn’t have. But I did. Everybody said we had great products, ones the country really needed. And I thought everything would work out in the end.”
“But it didn’t. And a lot of people suffered, not just you.”
“Maybe I’m lucky. I’m still young enough to earn it again.”
“But not the old folks who lost all of their retirement money.”
Milsberg hesitated, off balance, as if for the first time seeing the victims in his mind’s eye. “No. Not them.”
“And you knew Matson was in on it?”
“Yes.”
“And you did what he told you?”
“Yes. And my name is all over the paperwork. Even the SEC filings.”
Gage pulled a photograph out of his suit pocket, holding it by the bottom center between his thumb and forefinger.
“You know what building this is?”
“Sure.” Milsberg shrugged. “It’s the Federal Building in San Francisco. I went there a few times to pick up tax forms, back when the IRS had an office on the first floor.”
“And what’s in the Federal Building now?”
“Courts, U.S. Attorney, FBI.”
Gage moved his thumb.
Milsberg’s head jerked forward. Eyes riveted on the small figure walking toward the entrance. “That son of a bitch!”
CHAPTER 27
M r. Gage, this is Robert Milsberg.”
Gage glanced at his watch. 9:01 A. M. He was surprised by the call so soon after their talk the previous day.
“What’s up?”
“I’ve been thinking about our conversation. And I talked to my wife. She reads situations pretty well. For her everything is basically black and white. Maybe that’s what religion does for her. She doesn’t think the U.S. Attorney will believe me if I tell him that I was just doing what Matson told me to do. And she figures since they made the deal with him first, he’s their guy. She says they’re invested, no pun intended. They’re invested in him.”
“She’s right. That’s exactly how it works.”
“And I’m thinking, they don’t need me anyway, except to make their indictment longer and pump up their stats.”
“I think so, too.”
“You know, there’s a rule in writing. It’s called show, don’t tell. And if they won’t believe what I say, then I’ll just show them who Matson really is.”
Gage held his breath. He was a heartbeat away from getting inside SatTek, but he couldn’t risk Milsberg later finding out the truth and bailing out when Gage needed him most. “Robert, there’s something you need to know before you tell me anything else.”
“About Jack Burch?”
“Yes.”
“I was wondering if there was a connection. I saw the look on your face when I talked about wanting to shoot him. His wife hire you?”
“No. I volunteered.” Gage knew that he had to give Milsberg a picture of Burch that would give him confidence that he was doing the right thing. “This isn’t about money. I’ve known him half my life. The worst he can be accused of is negligence, not realizing what Matson was really up to-but there’s mitigation. Matson showed up right after Burch’s wife was diagnosed with breast cancer. We didn’t know if she’d survive. He just stopped thinking, his mind followed his heart and his heart was with her.”
“Until just now all I knew about Burch was what that asshole Matson told me.” Milsberg paused, then said, “I won’t help you try to get him off, but I’ll do what I can to make sure he gets his day in court. He at least deserves a chance to clear himself.”
Gage clenched his fist. “That’s enough for me.”
Milsberg exhaled. “Now it’s time for show, don’t tell…Get this. Matson’s flying to London tomorrow.”
