The Trojan Sea (25 page)

Newport News

Stuart and Jane worked at the kitchen table on Sunday morning, transferring the ownership of
Temptress
to Jane. As usual, Stuart had everything organized—a detailed inventory, an equipment list, the location of all the spare parts, instruction manuals, and all the necessary documentation that went with a long-range cruiser. “I feel guilty about what you’re paying,” Stuart said.

“Forty-two thousand is a fair price for your equity,” she told him. “Trust me, with the way you equipped
Temptress,
I’m getting a good deal.”

“It does get me off the hook. Thank goodness the Air Force is still paying me. I just might survive all this—if they let me retire. Until they make a decision, I’m on administrative leave. It’s almost like house arrest, since I have to call in every day and can’t go anywhere.”

“That’s too bad. I’m starting a charter business, and you could help. There’s a couple who wants to sail to Bermuda and see if they’re cut out for cruising. They want to leave next week. We’re shooting for Wednesday.”

“Isn’t December a bad time to make a Bermuda run?” he asked.

“It can get rough, but they want to see if they can hack it.” She touched his cheek. “Just like you wanted to see if you could do it.”

“Will you be back for Maggot’s wedding?”

“I plan to,” she said.

Behind them, Martha and Eric did the breakfast dishes. “I really liked it, Grandma,” Eric said, still bubbling over with excitement from Friday’s flight in the Lightning.

“Well, I don’t know,” Martha said hesitantly. “It seems like that plane is a lot of trouble.”

Chalky Seagram wandered in from the family room to refill his coffee mug and heard her comment about the Lightning. “I wouldn’t call it troublesome,” he said. “It certainly requires expert maintenance, but given that, it’s probably no better or worse than any other complex military machine.”

Eric joined in. “And we’re getting better at maintaining it, aren’t we?”

“If you mean the Gray Eagles,” Seagrave said, “you’re absolutely right.”

“A bunch of silly old fools, if you ask me,” Martha mumbled under her breath. A loud shout echoed from the family room. “What’s upset him now?” she asked.

“He’s watching one of your Sunday-morning talking-pundit shows,” Seagrave said. “Some discussion about President Turner’s new gun-control legislation.”

“Oh, Lord,” Martha said. “That will set him off.”

“Why does Gramps hate President Turner so much?” Eric asked.

Another shout from Shanker. “You dumb bitch! Didn’t you read the Constitution!”

“I’m not sure why,” Martha answered. “And I’ve been married to the man for forty-six years.”

Shanker stomped into the kitchen, his face beet red. “That crazy woman,” he growled. “She wants to outlaw all semiautomatic weapons.” He poured himself another cup of coffee. “Congress will hand her her head on this one.”

“We’re going to church,” Martha announced. “All of us. You go get dressed.”

“Ah, what for?” Shanker groused as he headed for the bedroom to change.

“To pray for a little understanding,” Martha said to his back.

Jane held Stuart’s hand. “Can I come, too?”

“When Mom says ‘all,’ she means ‘all,’” Stuart said. No one disobeyed Martha Stuart in her own home.

“You Yanks do take command and control seriously,” Seagrave mused, also going off to change.

A man was waiting in a parked car in front of their home when they returned from church. He got out as they did and walked directly up to Stuart. “Michael Stuart?” he asked as he handed him a white envelope.

“What’s this?” Stuart asked.

The man walked rapidly away, looking over his shoulder at Shanker. “I believe it’s a subpoena,” he said, thankful when he reached the safety of his car.

Shanker rushed up. “You step on my property again and I’ll blow your ass away!” he shouted.

“So much for church,” Seagrave muttered.

Stuart read the subpoena. “It’s a summons to appear in family court and show cause why Eric should not be immediately returned to his mother’s sole custody.” He looked forlornly at Eric. “What do I do now?”

“Honor the threat,” Shanker said.

“And how do I honor the threat here?” Stuart grumbled.

“You can start by getting in her face,” Shanker shot back.

Annapolis

Stuart and the marina’s manager cast off the dock lines and watched as Jane backed
Temptress
out of the slip. The middle-aged couple chartering the boat stood in the cockpit and waved at the friends and family who had come to see them off. As usual, Jane was all business and only turned to wave good-bye at the last moment. An inner voice warned him that she was a sea gypsy and now she was gone, returning to the sea and following her heart. A loneliness welled up inside of him. “Damn,” he whispered to himself, certain that he would never see her again.

“You shouldn’t let that one get away,” the marina manager growled.

Dallas

Shugy saw the two FBI agents on the security monitor the moment they entered the Fountain Plaza Building. She immediately buzzed L.J.’s office as her fingers flew over her computer, calling up Marsten’s schedule. “The two FBI agents who interviewed Mr. Marsten on”—she hesitated while she pinpointed the exact date—“Thursday, October third, of this year, are downstairs waiting for the elevator.”

“Why did they talk to him, and where was I?” L.J. asked.

Shugy called up a confidential file on the computer. “They interviewed Mr. Marsten about the bombing of RTX Farm Supplies, and he gave them access to RTX’s personnel files.” She checked L.J.’s schedule. “You left that day on the Sabreliner for Houston and then on to St. Louis for the weekend.”

“Where’s Lloyd?”

“Mr. Marsten is taking Duke to the veterinarian and will be gone the rest of the afternoon.”

“Do a slow roll for a few moments before you show them in,” L.J. replied.

The elevator doors opened, and the two FBI agents stepped out. Shugy deliberately called Marsten’s voice mail and carried on a businesslike conversation while the two agents cooled their heals. “Yes, Mr. Marsten does understand,” she said. “Please tell the senator thank you for his cooperation and we are most appreciative.” She paused. “Yes, I’m quite sure they didn’t mean to overstep their bounds. Yes, I assure you Miss Ellis also understands and is not angry.” Another long pause. “Thank you again.” She hung up and smiled at the two agents. “How may I help you?”

The two agents presented their identification cards and said they were there to see Lloyd Marsten. “Mr. Marsten is out of the office for the afternoon, but I can see if Miss Ellis is free. She’s the president and chairperson of the board, you know.” They said that would be fine as Shugy buzzed L.J. “Please, go right in,” she said, rising to escort them. The two grateful agents trailed along like puppy dogs.

L.J. came around from behind her desk and played the perfect hostess for the two agents. She joined them on the couch and flashed her long legs, distracting the junior agent. Shugy hurried out to bring coffee and tea. “How may I help you?” L.J. asked.

The senior agent dug out his notebook and flipped pages. “Are you aware that Mr. Marsten was in Cuba for four days just before Thanksgiving?”

“Yes, I am,” she said.

“Travel to Cuba is restricted,” the senior agent said.

“Unless I’m mistaken, can’t he travel under his British passport, since he maintains dual citizenship?” No answer from the agents. “Also, Lloyd is an admirer of Ernest Hemingway and has one of the best Hemingway collections in the United States. He has wanted to follow the Hemingway trail in Havana for years. Before it’s too late.” She lowered her voice to speak in confidence. “His health has not been the best, you know, and he
is
sixty-four years old.”

“Are you aware that he also visited a house of prostitution?”

“I didn’t know that,” L.J. said, looking very concerned. Marsten hadn’t told her, and she suspected that was how he had made contact with the Guardians. But if the FBI learned about his physical condition, they might become suspicious and start asking the wrong questions. She needed to get them looking in another direction. “Oh, the poor man. I know he’s very lonely. That must be it, you know.” She made a show of thinking. “I’ll look into it and make sure he hasn’t been harassing any of the staff. You can’t be too careful these days about this type of thing. I would appreciate knowing if there’s anything wrong so I can take action. Lawsuits, you know.”

Problems with sexual harassment were very low on the FBI’s agenda. “There’s another item,” the senior agent said, flipping more pages and turning to a problem worth their time. “Do you know a Dr. Emil Steiner?”

“Of course. He’s one of our independent contractors.”

“What is the exact nature of your relationship with Dr. Steiner?” L.J. never hesitated. “He’s developed a new exploration technique for us.”

The younger agent consulted his notes. “What exactly is Seismic Double Reflection?”

“I’d rather not discuss it. Trade secrets, you know. If our competitors learned of it, we’d stand to lose millions of dollars.”

The senior agent took over. “In conversations with the Department of Energy, Dr. Steiner accused Mr. Marsten of physically threatening his life when he was negotiating with RayTex.”

L.J. leaned forward, letting her blouse fall open to reveal her cleavage.

“That’s ridiculous.” Her soft Texas accent was more pronounced. “Lloyd would never do anything like that. I was involved in those negotiations, and while we had a major disagreement over the dollar value of Dr. Steiner’s process, I assure you no threats were made. Dr. Steiner has an overactive imagination.”

The two agents exchanged glances and, as one, closed their notebooks. They stood up. “Thank you for your time,” the older one said. “Would you have Mr. Marsten call us to set up an appointment? We need to talk to him before forwarding our report.”

“Of course,” she murmured, walking them to the door.

After they were gone, she paced the silk Persian rug in front of her desk. She strode back and forth, her arms clasped to her breast. Her chin was down, her eyes half closed. Suddenly she locked the door and turned to the blank whiteboard that had become a permanent fixture in her office. She quickly filled it with a series of arrows linking information boxes. The final vector she labeled “Steiner.” Then she picked up a red marker.

She kept repeating, “You bastard! You bastard!” as she slashed a series of
X
’s across the vector. Her anger spent, she started drawing new connecting lines, trying to bypass the void left by Steiner. Slowly an idea came to her as she drew in a new vector with a new set of connected boxes. She stood back and stared at what she’d created. “It might work,” she murmured to herself. She called her comptroller, a glamorous CPA she had shanghaied from Sacramento, California. “Marcia, what would it cost to obtain a lease option on every deep-water drilling ship? I want to have the right of first call whenever one comes available.” She listened for a moment. “That’s more expensive than I thought, but it is doable.” She walked to her bathroom and dampened a towel to scrub the whiteboard clean.

She kept thinking about the FBI agents.
They’ll be back
. Then she buzzed Shugy. “Will you please call Lloyd and tell him I need to see him as soon as possible? Then please come in. We need to talk.”

Shugy was in her office two minutes later. “I called Mr. Marsten. He should be here in a few minutes.”

“Please close the door,” L.J. said. They sat down on the couch next to each other. “Has Lloyd ever made an inappropriate comment or suggestion to you or to any other woman in the office? Of a sexual nature?”

Shugy shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. He’s always been a perfect gentleman.”

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that. Those two FBI agents kept asking the most embarrassing questions.” She lowered her voice. “About sex.” Then, angrily, “Those idiots! Sometimes men get fixated on sex just because they’re men.” The two women clasped hands.

“I know.” Shugy sighed. “I could tell you things about Billy…” Suddenly she felt the need to talk, to confide in someone. “He used to beg me to give him, well, you know, use my mouth.”

L.J. suppressed her amusement at the thought of the prim Shugy giving her husband a blow job. “Men!” she consoled. “We’ve got to protect Lloyd from those perverts.”

“I’ll pray for him,” Shugy said through tight lips.

“And I,” L.J. promised. They stood and walked to the door in time to see Marsten get off the elevator.

Shugy brushed past, her head up. She was a ferocious gatekeeper when she gave her loyalty, and as far as she was concerned, the FBI and its agents were now the barbarians at the gate.

“What’s gotten into Shugy?” Marsten asked.

“She’s just chosen sides,” L.J. said. She came right to business. “Those same two FBI agents dropped by today to see you. It seems that when Steiner talked to the Department of Energy, he accused us of some unsavory things.”

“Of which we are totally innocent,” Marsten added in a deadpan tone.

“Exactly. They also asked about Seismic Double Reflection. I imagine everyone in the government knows all about it.”

“Which means,” Marsten said, “the industry will know about it in a matter of days.”

“I don’t care about that,” L.J. said, surprising Marsten with the anger in her words. “I want that concession.”

“I don’t know what we can do,” he said.

“We’re going to make something happen,” she told him.

Washington, D.C.

Jane’s departure had left Stuart depressed, and, certain that he had lost her, he was deep into his beat-me mood when he stopped in at the law offices of Samuel B. Broad. As before, he had an overwhelming impression of a scrawny chicken wearing a suit. He handed the lawyer a check for fifty thousand dollars, the required retainer fee. “I love cases like this one,” Broad said.