detective?”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Alt, with his back to the wall, had listened to McRyan thunder away at Lindsay. He was cocky, intentionally so, which was expected. They knew that he would want to piss the boss off, get him to bite. Lindsay wouldn’t, Alt thought. Too smooth, been through something like this too many times. If the Senate Intelligence Committee never got him to buckle, why would some young Irish detective from St. Paul have any luck? Nevertheless, Alt admired the kid. He was on the right track, more than he even really knew. They had suspicions, good ones for sure, but they had no hard facts, other than the Cross file, and they didn’t have the file. McRyan would ask about the banker’s box full of documents on Cross. They knew he would. They knew his whole strategy. They were ready. This is where Lindsay would end it.
“Is that what this is really all about, detective?” Lindsay said. From where he was standing, Alt couldn’t see the boss’ face, until he turned in his chair to him.
“Webb?”
“Sir.”
“Could you grab that box of Cross documents that Jamie brought in?” Alt went back out the double doors and into Lindsay’s office. The box was sitting next to his desk. This was their cover, recreated to look like the copies Jamie had given them. He picked up the box and brought them back to the conference room and set them down on the table. As he set the box down, the lawyer was whispering in Lindsay’s ear. Lindsay replied out loud. “No, I want them to see it. I want them to see there’s nothing to it.” Then Lindsay looked across the table, “Now gentlemen, this is what Jamie brought to me, what Landy Stephens gave to her. You’re free to look through these documents to your heart’s content. I think you’ll find there’s nothing in here of concern to us.”
McRyan and Riley didn’t show much emotion, but Alt could see the disappointment. It was their body language. Their backs weren’t so straight, nor the shoulders so broad. Their bodies sagged slightly, as if a slow leak had started. Riley grabbed the ledger book and started flipping through it while McRyan thumbed through some binder-clipped documents.
Lindsay went for the jugular. “Now, what you have here is a box of documents that, for whatever reason, James Stephens had at home. They relate to what we were doing a number of years ago at our Cross facility.” Lindsay related how they put PTA surplus out in Cross and then systematically had it destroyed.
“Now, Jamie did raise the issue of why we didn’t try to sell the surplus materials. Since the weapons, communications gear, and things of that nature would be coming from PTA, they would fetch some money. We might have been able to make maybe twenty-five to thirty million if we’d done that. She thought we should have considered it.”
“Why didn’t you?” Riley asked.
“I’m a patriot, Detective Riley. If I build it for the government, they’re the ones who get it.”
“So how did you end up with surplus?”
“Sometimes, it doesn’t cost as much to produce a product as you think. In some cases we were more efficient, and sometimes we manufacture a surplus in case problems or errors arise. It happens in all industries, I think. But I didn’t exactly want to admit this to the government either,” Lindsay answered casually, then turned more serious, “Now, if putting a stop to all of this nonsense you have been engaging in will require me to do that, I certainly will.”
“Of course, we don’t really know if this is what Jamie Jones had, do we?” McRyan stated.
“This is what she brought to me,” Lindsay responded reasonably. “You can believe me or not. That’s up to you.”
“Convenient that she’s not here to verify it,” McRyan accused.
“I think that’s enough, Detective,” Zimmer shot back.
“Shut up, Counselor,” McRyan snapped back, the disappointment now out in the open.
“Would it be unusual for Mr. Stephens to have had these documents at home?” Riley asked.
“It would,” Alt replied. “Our security is very tight here. For obvious reasons, we have strict rules that company-related documents are not to leave the building.”
“So how does Stephens end up with the documents at home?”
“Couldn’t tell you,” Alt replied, although he knew why Stephens had the originals at home-because they told a completely different story. “What can I say. Executives don’t always follow all the rules.”
“Webb is, I think, correct in that statement,” Lindsay added. “That isn’t to suggest we would look the other way, but sometimes those of us who write the rules don’t always follow them to the letter.” A frank disclosure, one to further make the boss appear forthright and reasonable.
“So now, Detective, can I make you a copy of the documents?”
They were at a dead end, and Mac knew it. To save face he’d take a copy of the documents. Problem was they wouldn’t tell him anything, and he knew it, knew Lindsay would never give him anything of value that easy. He knew the documents were fake, a white wash meant to paint the story Lindsay wanted told. There would be no smoking gun in there. “Sure, we’d like a copy to look at.”
“Is there anything else, Detective?” Lindsay asked.
“Not right now. We might be back.” Mac replied.
“I think not,” the lawyer, Zimmer, replied.
“I don’t think that’s for you to say, Counselor,” Riles replied harshly.
“It will be my decision as to whether my client submits to this witch hunt again, Detective,” Zimmer replied acidly, getting on his high horse, pointing at Mac. “This is bullshit, and you know it. You haven’t put one piece of hard evidence on the table.” Zimmer waved his arms wildly. “You have these wild suspicions and have accused Mr. Lindsay, or someone who works for him of murder. Yet you have not one,
“Your client has had weeks to cover his tracks,” Mac replied. “We’re only getting started.”
“You keep going with this garbage,” Zimmer said, hot, standing, fists on the table, “and I’ll take whatever action I deem necessary to defend my client.”
“What would that be, Counselor? Don’t we have enough dead bodies at this point!” Mac said, immediately wishing he could take it back.
“Detective!” Zimmer yelled and then pointed at Flanagan. “Chief, you may want to reconsider this detective’s position with your department.”
“Relax, Counselor,” the chief replied, standing up, putting his hands up. “Everyone just calm down. I think it would be a good idea at this point, if Mr. Lindsay and I had a little discussion in private.”
“Sir?”
“Mac, you, Pat and Peters wait outside with the mayor,” the chief replied, in a tone that suggested he had seen enough.
“Yes, sir,” Riley replied, lightly grabbing Mac by the arm. Mac didn’t say anything, trying to conceal his disappointment and probably doing a poor job of it. Along with Captain Peters, they went back through the double doors and out into the lobby area. Mac and Riles left Peters to the mayor and went into a small copy room.
“Fucking Zimmer. What a piece of shit,” Mac mumbled under his breath.
“Piece of shit got under your skin,” Riley replied.
Mac just nodded and exhaled. He rarely lost his cool. It generally only happened when he lost at something, and he felt like he just lost.
