She folded her hands and put them in her lap. Peck kept his head down and scribbled notes, Lord knew on what. Myron's decor maybe. 'What we say here cannot leave this room. It is classified to the highest—'
'Skipping,' Myron said with an impatient hand roll. 'Skipping.'
Green slid her eyes toward Ford. He nodded again. She took a deep breath and said, 'We have Stan Gibbs under surveillance.'
She stopped, settled back. Myron waited a few seconds and then said, 'Label me surprised.'
'That information is classified,' she said.
'Then I'll leave it out of my diary.'
'He isn't supposed to know.'
'Well, that's usually implied with words like 'classified' and 'surveillance.''
'But Gibbs does know. He loses us whenever he really wants. Because when he's out in public, we can't get too close.'
'Why can't you get too close?'
'He'll see us.'
'But he already knows you're there?'
'Yes.'
Myron looked up at Win. 'Wasn't there an Abbott and Costello skit that went like this?'
'Marx Brothers,' Win said.
'If we were out in the open about tailing him,' Green said, 'the fact that he's a target could become public knowledge.'
'And you're trying to contain that?'
'Yes.'
'How long has he been under surveillance?'
'Well, it's not that simple. He's been out of range a lot—'
'How long?'
Again Green looked at Ford. Again Ford nodded. She balled her hands into fists. 'Since the first article on the kidnappings appeared.'
Myron sat back, feeling something akin to a head rush. He shouldn't have been surprised, but damned if he wasn't. The article came flooding back to him— the sudden disappearances, the awful phone calls, the constant, eternal anguish, the picket-fenced lives suddenly bulldozed over by inexplicable evil.
'My God,' Myron said. 'Stan Gibbs was telling the truth.'
'We never said that,' Kimberly Green said.
'I see. So you've been tailing him because you don't like his syntax?'
Silence.
'The articles were true,' Myron said. 'And you've known it all along.'
'What we did or did not know is not your concern.'
Myron shook his head. 'Unbelievable,' he said. 'So let me see if I got this straight. You have a serial psycho out there who snatches people out of the blue and torments their families. You want to keep a lid on it because if word got out to the public, you'd have a panic situation. Then the psycho goes directly to Stan Gibbs and suddenly the story is in the public domain…' Myron's voice died off, seeing that his logic trail had hit a major pothole. He frowned and forged ahead. 'I don't know how that old novel or the plagiarism charges tie in. But either way, you decided to ride it. You let Gibbs get fired and disgraced, probably in part because you were pissed off that he upset your investigation. But mostly' — he spotted what he thought was a clearing—'but mostly you did it so you could watch him. If the psycho contacted him once, you figured, he'd probably do it again — especially if the articles had been discredited.'
Kimberly Green said, 'Wrong.'
'But close.'
'No.'
'The kidnappings Gibbs wrote about took place, right?'
She hesitated, gave Ford an eye check. 'We can't verify all of his facts.'
'Jesus, I'm not taking a deposition here,' Myron said. 'Was his column true, yes or no?'
'We've told you enough,' she said. 'It's your turn.'
'You haven't told me squat.'
'And you've told us less.'
Negotiating. Life is being a sports agent — constant negotiating. He had learned the importance of leverage, of doling out, of being fair. People forget that last one, and it always costs you in the end. The best negotiator isn't the one who gets the whole pie while leaving scant crumbs behind. The best negotiator is the one who gets what he wants while keeping the other side happy. So normally, Myron would dole out a little something here. Classic give-and-take. But not this time. He knew better. Once he told them the reason for his visit to Stan Gibbs, his leverage would be zippo.
The best negotiator, like the best species, also knows how to adapt.
'First answer my question,' Myron said. 'Yes or no, was the story Stan Gibbs wrote true?'
'There is no yes-or-no answer to that,' she said. 'Parts were true. Parts were not true.'
'For example?'
'The young couple was from Iowa, not Minnesota. The missing father had three children, not two.' She stopped, folded her hands.
'But there have been kidnappings?'
'We knew about those two,' she said. 'We had no information about the missing college student.'
'Probably because the psycho got to her parents. They probably never reported it.'
'That's our theory,' Kimberly Green said. 'But we don't know for sure. Still, there are major discrepancies. The families swear they never spoke to him, for example. Many of the phone calls and events don't match what we know to be true.'
Myron saw more clearing. 'So you asked Gibbs about it? About his sources?'
'Yes.'
'And he refused to tell you anything.'
'That's right.'
'So you destroyed him.'
'No.'
'The one part I don't get is the plagiarism,' Myron said. 'I mean, did you guys somehow set that up? I can't see how. Unless you made up a book and… no, that's too far-fetched. So what's the deal with that?'
Kimberly Green leaned forward. 'Tell us why you went to his apartment.'
'Not until—'
'For several months we couldn't find Stan Gibbs,' she interrupted. 'We think maybe he left the country. But since he's moved into that condo, he's always alone. As I said before, he loses us sometimes. But he never accepts visitors. Several people have tracked him down. Old friends even. They come to his door or they call on the phone. And you know what always happens, Myron?'
Myron didn't like her tone of voice.
'He sends them away. Every single time. Stan Gibbs sees no one. Except you.'
Myron looked up at Win. Win nodded very slowly. Myron took a look at Eric Ford before going back to Kimberly Green. 'You think I'm the kidnapper?'
She leaned back with a partial shrug, looking satiated. Turning the tables and all that. 'You tell us,' she said.
Win started for the door. Myron rose and followed.
'Where the hell are you two going?' Green asked.
Win grabbed the knob. Myron headed around the desk and said, 'I'm a suspect. I'm not talking until I have an attorney present. If you'll excuse me.'
'Hey, we're just talking here,' Kimberly Green said. 'I never said I thought you were the kidnapper.'
'Sounded that way to me,' Myron said. 'Win?'
'He snatches hearts,' Win told her, 'not people.'
