Shattered Legacy (22 page)

Tyler smiled at the recollection. “I’d spent all summer reading the case notes and study guides. I had the entire semester outlined before the first day of classes. It gave me a huge advantage that first year.”

“It sure did. You were twenty-two years old, and the sharpest, most arrogant son of a bitch I ever met.” Dusty laughed. “And then there was me - an overweight, shy, thirty-four year old family man with two kids, living in a tiny dorm room four hundred miles from home. Man, I hated you. You spoke up in class and even challenged the professors. That was why after that first week, I knew I needed you for a study partner.”

Tyler grimaced. “At the time, I thought you were the older and wiser one.”

“Older, yes. Wiser? Not so much. Remember when you came to me near the end of the second semester? You were worried that property law was going to blow your class ranking. You asked me to tutor you.”

“What about it?”

“At least back then you were smart enough to know when you needed help.”

Tyler sensed where the conversation was heading. “Dusty, I'm fine. Really.”

“My friend, you could be dying of thirst in the desert, and you’d still be too proud to ask for a drink.”

Tyler considered that. He shook his head slowly. “You know what really bothers me?”

“The hours? The stress? The never-ending government problems?”

“Dusty, I’m thirty-one years old, and no one takes me seriously. No one. They look at me, and they think I’m just a kid. I’ve had people laugh when I’ve handed them my business card, thinking that the position listed on it was a joke. Sometimes I think the secret of my success is that people simply underestimate me.”

“Look, Samson, you’re most driven person I’ve ever met. That’s the
only
reason why you’ve come this far. It’s not your age or your looks or your overpriced wardrobe. In this profession, you can’t fake success for long. And wallowing in self-pity isn’t going to do a damn thing to help us, so snap out of it and focus on the problems at hand. And if you need help, well, you’re old enough to ask for it.”

Tyler was about to answer when his phone buzzed. He punched the button, keeping a wary eye on his assistant general counsel. “Ms. Taber from the Justice Department on line one,” Cindy told him.

“Want to tag-team this one?” he asked Dusty. “Nice lawyer, mean lawyer?”

“Which one am I?”

“Why don’t you give mean a try?”

“This going to be a friendly chat?”

“Just follow my lead.” Tyler reached over and stabbed the intercom button with his finger. “Good morning, Ms. Taber. You are on speakerphone. I have my Assistant General Counsel Dustin O’Dell here with me.”

“Hello, Mr. O'Dell,” Taber replied pleasantly. “I also have you on speakerphone. Walter Calloway, United States Attorney, is sitting across the desk from me.”

Tyler and Dusty exchanged surprised glances.

“Good morning, gentlemen.” Calloway's voice was strong and smooth. The fact that the U.S. Attorney was willing to talk was a signal that the government was either willing to negotiate over a weak case, or they were going to announce that they had enough to go forward. Tyler bet it was the latter.

He took a deep breath. “You have word for us, then?”

“What do you mean, Mr. Tyler?”

Dusty glanced up; Tyler gave him a slow nod.

“We want to know when you’re ready to drop this investigation,” Dusty said to the phone. “Besides the questionable constitutionality of your investigation, the constant intrusions in our offices are becoming a real bother. We're getting tired of cleaning up after every FBI visit.”

“I don’t understand,” Taber said. “How does this investigation involve constitutional issues?”

Dusty continued as Tyler looked on. “Your warrant was vague as to the extent of search and seizure of our computer records and hardware.”

“I would disagree, but enlighten me, Mr. O'Dell. Please.”

“Warrants for computer devices should list only those components for which they can articulate a basis for search or seizure. In other words, the item itself must be contraband, an instrumentality, or evidence.”

“The independent component doctrine,” Tyler broke in. He nodded at Dusty, impressed with his argument. It would make the basis for a strong motion before a court, one that might be necessary if negotiations went poorly. “If you haul away our equipment, the law requires that you articulate a reason for taking each item you seize.”

“Interesting theory,” Taber admitted.

“As Mr. O’Dell said, we don’t want to pick a fight every time your people make a legal blunder,” Tyler added calmly. “I think we can work out our differences without a paper blizzard.”

“That’s the system, Mr. Tyler.”

“I see. Speaking of paperwork, I haven’t heard a word from anyone regarding the fire in my apartment or the death threat that was sent to my office. I know the FBI is investigating those matters. Any reason why they can’t talk to me about it? The only thing they’ve done so far is take advantage of the confusion to harass the company. I expect better from my government, Ms. Taber.”

“We are all doing our jobs, Mr. Tyler.”

“Well, the notion of this company being involved with weapons dealing is silly.”

“And if we have proof showing otherwise?”

“Then take it to a grand jury already!” Tyler sounded exasperated. “You claim that we’ve purchased illegal government equipment. So what have you found? Yes, we legally purchase surplus military material through a number of agents. We do it to save money. Like anyone else, we’re in business to make a -” He paused in mid-sentence.

“We’re still investigating your purchases,” Taber said.

Tyler did not reply. He stared ahead, thinking.

“That may be true,” Dusty said, picking up the conversation. “But if you think for one moment that -”

Tyler held up his hand to silence Dusty. He picked up the receiver. “Mr. Calloway, may I speak to you privately?”

There was silence on the line for a few seconds. Then he heard the receiver pick up. Calloway’s voice was closer and clearer. “What is it, Mr. Tyler?”

“Call me Samson.”

“All right, Samson. What do you want?”

“I’d like to appeal to your sense of patriotism.”

“That’s a new one.”

“I’m sure you can appreciate the fact that if Templar Enterprises goes down, it could set back private - and American - space industry by years. It’s obvious that someone wants to shut us down.”

“That’s not our goal, Mr. Tyler.”

“FBI Special Agent Lowell suggested otherwise. Rebecca Taber appears to be acting with the same intent.”

“Is she, now?”

“Perhaps individuals in your organization have personal agendas. Perhaps it’s all politically related. I don’t know.”

Calloway seemed to consider that. Tyler heard some muffled whispers on the other end of the line. Then Calloway said, “Can you visit our offices this afternoon?”

“Certainly. What time?”

“Three o’clock?”

“I’ll see you then.”

Tyler hung up, and Dusty exploded in a mix of anger and shock. “Are you
insane
, telling them to put up or shut up? Why are you antagonizing a U.S. Attorney?”

Tyler swiveled around to face his friend. “I’m just dropping a little dissention into their ranks. And I told them the absolute truth - that to the best of our knowledge, we’ve done nothing wrong. Their burden is to prove otherwise.”

“And you think this whole thing is politically motivated?”

“Let’s just say that I’m not sure what we’re dealing with here. I want some face time with the other side so I can get a sense of what cards they’re holding.”

“You’re going alone?”

“It’s better that way.”

Dusty grunted.

Tyler's phone buzzed. He picked up. “Hello?”

Ramona Vargas asked, “Is Dusty around?”

“Yes, he’s with me.”

“Good. I want to see you two in my office.”

“Is there a problem?”

“You'll find out.”

Tyler looked over at Dusty and raised his eyebrows. “We'll be right there, Ramona.”

“What does she want?” Dusty asked as Tyler hung up.

“I don't know,” Tyler replied as he pulled on his jacket. “But I doubt its good news.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Ramona Vargas was already standing against the edge of her desk, her arms folded across her chest. Jacob Jackson stood beside her, an unlit cigar stump in one hand, the other in his pocket, smiling faintly as Tyler and Dusty entered the office.

Tyler felt his stomach tighten. Both Ramona and Jackson looked too smug for this meeting to be anything but bad news.

“You wanted to see us?” he asked.

Ramona exchanged a long glance with Jackson. “Actually, Jacob called this meeting.” She moved behind her desk and settled into her seat.

Tyler and Dusty sat down in the chairs facing the desk. Jackson remained standing.

“I want to talk to you about this quarter’s financial statements,” Jackson explained as he handed the others thick black binders. “We finished our draft reports this morning. Here’s a summary preview.”

“And then some.” Tyler leaned back and flipped open the booklet. “I just want to know what we've been spending on surplus supplies, and exactly who we’ve purchased these materials through. Is this going to give me any answers?”

Irritation crept into Jackson’s voice. “No. And before you throw a fit, Samson, let me remind you that my department has already given you everything you’ve requested.”

Tyler flipped through several pages before looking up. “When do these go through?”

“We file our 10-K next week.”

Ramona ran her fingers down the list of numbers. “So now we’re hemorrhaging
eighteen
million? That’s more than we projected last quarter.” She shook her head. “Orbital maintenance costs rose four million over this quarter a year ago.”

Jackson shrugged. “Cost reductions have gone nowhere. Our revenue projections aren't panning out, either. Remember when we put up part of the space center for rent to commercial airlines? No takers so far. It’s been nine months.”

They continued to discuss the report. Merchandise and royalty revenue had picked up, but that was the one bright spot in an otherwise gloomy statement. It was unlikely that Templar would be able to secure a secondary line of credit should the cash flow dry up. Most of the company's assets would be difficult to sell. The current
Naiad
mission was slightly over budget, and the expected revenue from future launch contracts had not yet materialized. Though Jackson tried to put an optimistic slant on the numbers, the truth was that Templar Enterprises was in deep trouble.

“How much longer can we absorb these types of losses?” Dusty asked. He did not usually sit in on these meetings.

Jackson sighed. “At best, we’re six months from financial collapse. When these numbers hit the street, our stock will get smacked. Hard.”

No one said anything for a long moment.

Then Tyler asked, “Has Sinclair seen these figures?”

“I broke the news to him this morning,” Jackson said. “He thinks our fortunes will turn once we complete this first orbiter flight. He thinks that will legitimize us. In the short term, he suggests issuing a new class of stock to raise more cash.”

Tyler could barely hold back his derisive snort. “Another IPO? No one in their right mind is going underwrite the deal, much less
buy
more of our stock.”

He immediately regretted the comment.

“I disagree,” Jackson replied quietly. Only Sinclair Dorian himself had a greater stake in the company. Jackson owned several hundred thousand shares of stock, and he was vested for tens of thousands more. Templar stock options made up a large part of Ramona Vargas’ compensation as well. Samson Tyler was only person in the room without a real financial stake in the company.

Ramona leaned forward. “From what I hear, Samson, you could probably bail out half the company all by yourself.”

Tyler ignored the dig and looked over at Jackson. “You should have told us bad news was coming.”

“You knew.”

“I didn't know it was going to be this bad.”

Jackson returned a shrug. “You knew that we were in for another shitty quarter. I'm just giving you the details.” He planted his cigar stub between his teeth. “Look, we may as well get all our dirty laundry out in the open when this is released. A day of horrible news is better than a slow week of leaks.”

Ramona set down her report and looked at Tyler. “How is your internal investigation going?”

“We’re moving along.” Tyler glanced over at Dusty and shifted in his seat. “Unless my investigation proves otherwise, I plan to keep on the offensive.”

“Is all this really worth a fight?” Jackson asked. To Tyler’s angry frown, he added, “I’m just asking…”

Ramona shook her head. “We need to get past these investigations, one way or another.”

“I agree,” Jackson said. “The faster we have the feds out of our hair, the better.”

Tyler looked at each in turn, feeling that sinking feeling creep back into his gut. “What do you want me to do? Roll over on this?”

“No,” Ramona said. “But if the U.S. Attorney offers you a settlement, take it. If they don’t offer you one, offer
them
one.”

“I’m meeting with them this afternoon,” he told them. “I’m prepared to offer concessions to buy us some time, but opening up with a settlement request this early will only give them leverage against us.”

“Not if the offer
works
.”

“That strategy is not in our best interest,” Tyler shot back. “We could open ourselves up to future problems, possibly government oversight. Strategically, we need the right timing. Settling now is just not a good idea.”

“And that’s your final opinion?” Ramona asked.

“As this company’s advocate, yes.”

“Fine. Then I’ll get someone else to do the job.”

“What?”

“Turn the matter over to Dustin.”

Both Tyler and Dusty looked at her in astonished disbelief.

“Are you firing me?” Tyler asked.

“No. I'm authorizing you to have Dustin work toward a settlement. That’s all. If you won’t go to them -”