Lewis finished his coffee without tasting it, refused a refill and strolled out of the cafeteria. The question of Suzanna Oxenburg still nagged him. Anderson’s input had done nothing to clarify the possibilities. It didn’t work to attribute her actions with him to some unrelated experiences with her husband. It was convenient but he was unconvinced. He’d gone into the review looking for her complicity and come out doubtful.
The intensity of his feelings surprised him. Just because a stranger claimed she wanted to help him, and repeated it every time he threatened her. Had she used whatever was easy and obvious or was it the truth?
His reservations about Arnold had never extended to the man’s professional abilities. Arnold had many successes on his record. But Arnold had never looked at Suzanna Oxenburg over a gun, listened to that polished voice, or been relieved from gasping for air by her quick action with foil and tape.
He sensed something important hovering on the rim of his memory. It was close enough to smell but not touch. Like a black speck in the corner of his eye, it free-floated, unidentifiable but persistent. Perhaps it was merely the cumulative weight of the details he’d forgotten: how he’d arrived inside her house, what he’d said to provoke the words he clearly remembered her saying, why he’d pulled her backwards and held her so her hair covered the floor tile. Possibly it was merely his craving for a complete recollection. He’d been there; he wanted to remember it. That was what he told himself: the persistent nag was craving the whole pie, recollecting everything.
Whatever it was, the woman was the key and there was no straightforward explanation for her. Anderson had warned him not to expect he’d ever remember all of it. Why not let it go? Take one more look through the documents, one more shot in the dark, then walk away. His reports were still in the conference room. When the elevator came, he rode it all the way up and had the director’s secretary unlock the room.
The Christmas card was lying on top of Jamieson’s reports. He was reaching for it when he noticed the secretary’s watchful gaze. He casually lumped Jamieson’s reports on top of Arnold’s, added his own and placed the entire stack in his open briefcase. The secretary tidied the director’s set and helpfully added them to his stack.
Back at the desk in his room, he emptied his briefcase and retrieved the card to study Suzanna’s face. His gaze flicked over Richard Oxenburg’s expression, then back to Suzanna, looking curiously alone in the festive crowd. He thought about the bruises he’d left on her throat, the marks of his grip on her arm. Frowning, he remembered her saying she didn’t have the clothes to cover bruises. Yesterday, when Jamieson had given him the hundred and forty thousand dollar trigger, he’d remembered her tears. Had she acted like a woman accustomed to abuse?
It would only take a minute to check the car story. He called Research and ordered a car trace: Jaguar E-type, roadster, Arizona registry, Richard or Suzanna Oxenburg. He spent half an hour flipping through the four sets of reports. There was nothing new in the margin notes but Arnold’s reports included her medical records. Suzanna Oxenburg was healthy, not prone to sprains, concussions, or broken bones. As unfathomable as ever.
* * * *
He was prone on his bed, eyes closed, his jaw clenched to contain the headache when Jamieson interrupted his thoughts. Lewis grunted by way of acknowledgement but didn’t bother to open his eyes as Jamieson edged into the room. Carl’s problem had grown. Arnold and the D would not be back in time so today’s review session was rescheduled, but dinner was on.
“Dinner?” Lewis said.
“Forget it. It’s sort of a wake, for Gerald. And we all know how you feel about funerals.”
Lewis opened one eye. “Right, you know me.”
“Another thing, I had MacIntyre check for a second line into the Oxenburg house. You were right, but it’s no help. Here, I brought the printouts. You can see for yourself. Last calls to Brazil were made five months ago, in December.”
Lewis pointed at the desk. “Leave them,” he said, although he didn’t see any reason to look through them. If there were anything to find, Jamieson would have found it. He did have a question, though. “That second video clip — that from Rio or Brasilia?”
“Rio. Suite at the Royalle.”
“He’s not in Brasilia?”
“He’s got an apartment there but he hasn’t been there much lately. Spends most of his time in Rio apparently.”
Lewis was silent while he thought about that.
Jamieson did not stir from the door. “The D told me to ask if you wanted to use the jet when she gets back. She thought you might like to hit the Mediterranean for a few days. You could leave tomorrow afternoon.”
“Right. Never had so many people telling me to go on vacation.”
“So go. Line up some of that expensive pussy and go get your oil changed. Make life easier for all of us.”
Lewis opened both eyes. “I’m in the middle of a review, plus I have a job to run. Don’t you have anything to do?”
“Look, I came up here to tell you about the review and dinner. I’d think you’d be interested in those phone logs, if you were hoping to prove this woman is your normal, happy little homemaker, which she is not. I don’t really need this from you, I’ve got a dozen people on my back already.”
“Amen to that.”
“It worries me when we agree on something,” Jamieson said. He tossed the printouts onto the desk beside the stack of reports.
“Take those with you,” Lewis told him. “I went up to the conference room for mine, the secretary gave me the whole set.”
“I’ll bet,” Jamieson said. “You get to MacIntyre while you were doing research?”
“I already know too much about MacIntyre.”
“Know this: the D’s keeping him in Arizona. You’re never going to run into him.”
“When’s she coming in? I want to see her.”
“In time for dinner. And she wants to see you, too. So be here.”
“Make up your mind, Jamieson. Am I staying or going?”
* * * *
The files from the archives arrived as Jamieson was leaving. They were delivered in a rolling cart with a locked cover, accompanied by security. The guard said he couldn’t leave them except in a secured room. Jamieson obliged with the security codes for the conference room down the hall.
Lewis was still there three hours later. The files were scattered along the table with their paper seals broken open. The reel of eight-millimeter film from the bottom of the bin Lewis had saved for last. He was watching it, absorbed in the pictures.
It must have been a Sunday because he was playing. By the looks of the baked dirt of the stadium and the shabby perimeter walls, it was the practice field behind the Plaza. He had no recollection of being filmed. He wondered if Gerald had been aware they were being monitored.
He felt a little thrill of vanity, immediately replaced by depression, confronting his younger, faster, and fitter self. He would never be in that kind of shape again. While he watched, fascinated, an opposing player caught his shirt and tore it open. On the screen he shrugged off the remnants, left it in the man’s hand, took the ball effortlessly and maneuvered it into the open where he shot a pass to a teammate.
“Hey, Defense,” Rick startled him from the door, “that’s you. You used to be pretty good,” he added, eyes on the screen.
“In or out,” said Lewis. “And what do you mean used to be?”
Rick closed the door and leaned on it. “Love the hair,” he grinned while his gaze followed the game.
Lewis looked critically at the sun bleached, shoulder-length curls that had earned him the soccer nickname Blondie. The bronzed young athlete dwarfing the dark Brazilians on the field was almost a stranger. As the action swept down field, the lens transferred to the bleachers. Lewis felt a jolt at the vibrant, familiar faces. Gerald lounged with his elbows on the bench behind him and his long legs extended. The camera focused and held on the woman beside him. Definitely a male behind the lens.
“God,” Rick exhaled, “Who is that?” He moved closer to the screen, “Oh, that’s old Gerald. So this has got to be Brazil. Of course, the babe he’s with, that must be Angel.”
“That’s her.” Lewis said, without turning his head, “And nobody’s with her, she was just on the team.” He was hooked too, all over again. There had been a time when he’d enjoyed the way men looked at Angel but Rick was too easy. Lewis had the feeling he’d probably once had the same reckless, hungry look.
“Oh man, I heard she was really something.” Rick’s voice was almost reverent. Then, because he was young and Rick, he added, “If you go for that pudgy Marilyn type.”
Lewis looked at him then. “She would’ve had you for breakfast,” he said.
Rick’s attention was fixed on the screen. “Probably, but what a way to go. What was it like, working with her? Was she any good?”
“She was a prostitute. Look at her. What do you think?”
“Well, what the hell, everybody’s got a cover. You’re a soccer player. Right?”
“Wrong. I play soccer. It’s something I do, not what I am. Being a whore was all she was. She was selling herself to the highest bidder every minute of her life. She enjoyed it.”
“All right man, if you say so. But I’m not the one sitting around watching movies of her.”
“Did you want something?”
“It’s time for your workout.” Rick straightened against the door. “Maybe I can fit you in later, I mean, if you’d like to be alone with her?”
“Sit. I’m about finished with this.”
Rick watched the remainder with eager curiosity. He asked about Gerald: how old was he? Lewis had to think about that. Gerald looked so young and invincible with the sun in his ginger hair and beard. And Ray, why was he wearing a collar. Was he really a priest? No, but he’d almost forgotten he wasn’t and become his cover.
Lewis answered his questions briefly and Rick said nothing further about Angel, though Lewis felt their mutual intensity when she filled the screen. He wasn’t at all sure that watching this had been a good idea.
The final ten seconds of film gave him the answer to a question he wished he had never asked. The camera had just recorded a goal for the Plaza team. Spectators along the perimeters and in the stands were on their feet, wild with the uninhibited Brazilian glee Lewis remembered well.
In the midst of the furor, Gerald’s arm encircled Angel and pulled her close. She turned to him with a smile of such sweetness that Lewis held his breath. He almost groaned aloud when Gerald lifted the heavy sweep of her hair and touched his lips to her bared neck. For the briefest moment they were joined in the unmistakable intimacy of lovers. Then Gerald’s arm fell away and he leaned over the rail to join the cheers.
“Whoa!” Rick exclaimed. “Just part of the team, huh? I’d like to get on a team with someone like her. Was that for real or were they working somebody?”
Lewis wanted to say, I don’t know, for Christ’s sake. How the hell should I know. I was the same age as you and just as dumb. I used to look at Gerald the same way you’re looking at me.
Instead he froze the tape and hit the rewind button. And then he lied. “I don’t remember. It was a long time ago, kid. I was working, I had other things on my mind.” He stood and stretched, rubbed his chest carefully. “Let’s get to that workout. I’ve got things to do.”
* * * *
He was facing the inside corner of the room with his back braced against a slant board. For an hour he had repeated one motion, swinging his right arm in a slow, controlled arc across his body. The arm was strapped to the paddle of a resistance machine while a serious Rick evaluated the recovery of his damaged pectoral.
Every few seconds Rick would mutter, “No arm, dammit,” prompting Lewis resented, partly because of the tone and partly because he couldn’t prevent the involuntary compensation from his biceps each time the pain took too big a bite in the right side of his chest.
He recognized Beth’s voice immediately though she said his name only once and nothing else.
“Hello Beth,” he said, striving to maintain an even motion. Then Rick stepped back and he gave up straining against the machine because Beth was inside his left arm and hugging him. “Oh Lewis,” she said, “You and Gerald, it’s unbelievable. Why haven’t you called me back?”
He rested his left arm on her hip and the back of his head against the padded board. Sweat trickled down his neck and under his arms while he held her and waited to catch his breath. They looked at each other, neither smiling. She made no move away from his steaminess. Once they had been lovers and now for a long time, friends. He still liked her as much as any woman he knew, though he no longer wanted to sleep with her. There was a core in Beth where it was always cold. Despite that or maybe because of it, he trusted her.
“I never call you back,” he said. “You’d think I was easy.”
“You’re never that,” she said seriously.
He released her. As she pulled back her silk shirt peeled off his chest and applied itself to hers. “You look all right,” she said. “Is he?” For the first time she looked at Rick.
“Yes,” Rick said soberly, “he is. Bit of a slob, though.”
She looked down at the ruin of her shirt. “Just desserts for interrupting. When can I have him?”
“Well,” said Rick, “I’d imagine just about any time.” He glanced slyly at Lewis, “Though you might have to take a number.”
“Shut up, Kid,” Lewis said. “She’s not talking to you.” And then to Beth, “Half an hour all right?”
“Rick’s the boss.”
“Leave me out of this,” Rick said. “I’ve already been adjusted.”
She smiled at him. “How’re you doing on the range these days?”
“Expert,” he said casually.
“Oh.”
“Beth,” Lewis said, “quit recruiting. He’s already got a job.”
Beth smiled. “See you upstairs? I want to hear everything.”
“Grab the meeting room on the medical floor. I’ll be right there.”
Lewis was waiting in her office when the director returned from Montreal. She looked ten years older. He abandoned the newspaper he’d been working his way through and stood up from her couch, offering to get her coffee. She looked like she needed something. Maybe brandy would be better.
“Tea,” she said, dropping her case on the desk and herself into the high-backed chair behind it.
Although it was after seven her secretary was still outside so Lewis sent her down to get the tea and coffee for him. When he went back in, the director was removing and sorting the files from her case, some into the bins on her desk, others into her cabinets. She seemed to need to sort out the paper, perhaps to finish the business with Carl before she began with him.
“What’s up with Carl?” he asked. He had talked with Carl that afternoon and knew the essential facts. What he needed now was insight into her attitude.
“Carl,” she said sitting down, “has succeeded in putting the icing on my week. He has somebody in jail.”
“It happens,” Lewis said. “And if it was one of my people, Canada’d be my first choice.”
“Yes,” she said thoughtfully, “there is that.”
Lewis had spent the previous two hours on the telephone with his peers. Carl had been delighted to talk to Lewis about his conversion to the Arizona center. His section had been one of the first to cutover from using the DC data center to the new secure Arizona center and protocols. Carl had spent a week in Arizona with Gerald during testing and parallels. He’d been live on the Arizona systems for more than a year. For that reason, Lewis had called Carl first and taken his time with the call.
So he knew the nature of Carl’s current job and the details of Carl’s problem. Carl had a contract with the federal government of Canada to find out if bribes or kickbacks were being paid to grease the transfer of nuclear reactor parts, hostages, refugee visas. With the job almost wrapped, Carl had been seduced by a stroke of phenomenal good luck. He’d lamented that luck to Lewis.
“Did you need it?” Lewis had asked. “Were you coming up short on the job?”
“Hell no,” said Carl. “There’s money changing hands all right. This was just a chance to actually video a cash transfer. I had enough without it, it was just one of those things, just too easy. You know, if I paid taxes or voted, bureaucrats and politicians would really piss me off.”
“Well you’re not Canadian anyway,” Lewis pointed out.
“No,” Carl agreed. “I sure as hell wouldn’t want to live here. This is one cold mother of a country in the winter. The women are hot, though.”
“What happened with your camera man?” Lewis asked, taking note of Carl’s mood. He knew the mood. It was the atmosphere that overtook a team when a job came together and the sweat and the grind and tension paid off and everybody could feel the end shaping up and they were going to make bank and go on vacation. The condition seemed slightly premature in Carl’s case.
“I got him inside a political dinner party in some mansion to film the money exchange. It shoulda been slick, but at the last minute, it wasn’t just the foreign agent for Senegal who showed up at the party but the bloody ambassador, too. Flew in from Ottawa on a private jet, complete with diplomatic security. They checked IDs on everybody, even the catering staff. I only had an hour’s notice — my guy’s papers didn’t pass muster.”
Lewis had sympathized, although it didn’t sound too bad. He could tell that Carl, while impatient about the last minute glitch, had all the pieces of the job lined up.
Lewis saw that the director, despite looking exhausted, was watching him closely. “How bad is Carl’s problem?” he asked as though he was hearing this for the first time.
“It’s only a document problem but the police claim they got a tip and that’s the worst possible scenario right now.”
“No,” Lewis said. “The worst possible scenario would be if they got a tip about more than one guy on a caterer’s roster. Carl must be close to wrapping up. He should be able to drop one resource.”
He wasn’t trying to shake her policy against discussing another section head. He just wanted to drag out the Carl discussion until he got an opening. She had a tendency to ambush him when he allowed himself to focus too hard on what he wanted.
“Probably,” she said, “but that’s not your concern. Your problem is that I left Arnold up there to help Carl and that means I have to delay your review. I don’t want to hold you here. I’m releasing you.”
Pretty smooth, he had to admit. That might have gone right past him if he hadn’t been expecting it. The secretary brought the tray and that gave him time to suppress the fresh anger at being manipulated. If Beth hadn’t sought him out in the therapy room, he’d be relieved and looking forward to washing his hands of Arizona, a few days on the beach and then resuming control and command of his team and his project. “Thanks,” he said. “Before I go, we need to talk about a couple of things.”
The director’s face regained its color and sharpness with the first swallow of tea. “What’s on your mind?” she asked.
“Brazil. Angel and Gerald. Did you know?”
“Did I know what?”
“Come on, don’t do this. I saw a very interesting film today. It showed me what he was talking about in that letter.”
“Why would you want to reopen Brazil after all these years?”
“It appears I missed some things. Maybe a lot of things. Why wasn’t Gerald told I killed her?”
“We never certified her death. But you could have told him any time.”
“We never talked about her. It never occurred to me that he wouldn’t know. I was working for him; it was his job. How could he not know?”
“You were reviewed independently because you acted without orders. Reviews are sealed, as you well know. The only way Gerald could have seen the transcript was if he’d put you on his team for a new project. You never worked for him again.”
“Oh bullshit, I was with him in Manila. And then in Chile for a year, too.”
“You were both in the Philippines but you were technically working for Santos. And at one time I think almost all of us went to Chile. You and Gerald blurred the lines, but you were never officially assigned to him after Brazil.”
“You know what I’m asking. Why did Gerald think I was fined? This is important to me.”
“Yes, I can see that. It amazes me that two strong men like you and Gerald could be so willfully blind to each other.” She set down her cup. “I presume that Gerald, like others, thought you were reprimanded for New York.”
Her exasperation broke the check on his anger. “Christ, I’m never going to live that down, am I? Reviews may be sealed but everybody knows something about that hour in New York. I got tangled up in an unauthorized assault and people like Arnold can always find a way to use it. I’d rather we published that bloody review and be done with it.”
“That’s never going to happen. Besides, your reputation isn’t based on one event. You have a tendency to be blunt, harsh even. People think that defines you. It works to your advantage more often than not. The details of the Brazil job are sealed and everyone who was there with you is dead now. Let it rest.”
“The people are dead but the rumors are alive and well.”
“Maybe but it was long ago. You and I know that what was done in New York was brilliant even if it was totally out of bounds. Angel cracked that arms dealer’s organization by finding a way to get to his wife. She moved that job forward when it had been stuck at baseline for a year. She shouldn’t have used you, no argument there. But you survived. Listening to you now, I wonder what kind of a triangle the three of you were in.”
“Oh, it was bigger than a triangle. Angel got what she wanted. She used me, she smoked Gerald, she broke the dealer, then she sold us down the river. That’s what happened and you know it.”
“We’ll never know for sure, thanks to you. We could have expanded that contract. We still had Gerald and with what you knew and what Angel could have told us, there was more opportunity there.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “You see, that’s the difference between you and me. Expanding a contract isn’t a priority for me after I’ve watched a man ripped apart. Finding Ray hanging in that damned church, two men with their throats cut. I hope I’m never so far gone that wouldn’t make me step back.”
The director raised her hands wearily. “It’s done. We reviewed it, we closed it. It’s over, Lewis. You’ve delivered dozens of successful jobs since then.”
“I’ll never have enough wins to bury Brazil.”
“You accepted an order for sexual assault. Why? I’ve often wondered.”
He ceased pacing. “You can’t guess? Knowing Angel?”
“You wanted her, too?”
“Didn’t everybody? She was like a sugar coated wrecking ball. I just didn’t get out of her way.”
“Why this obsession with the past, Lewis? It’s not healthy. Gerald went too far this time.”
“Don’t blame this on Gerald. He’s been through his own hell. He paid more for Angel than I did.”
“Gerald should have kept you in the bank, doing the work we recruited you for and kept a tighter rein on Angel. Don’t argue with me, Lewis. It was his job and he lost control.”
“He only lost control of her, just her not the job. Gerald trusted her too much, gave her free rein to engage in unreported activity. She switched sides, tried to wipe out her own team, that cold blooded bitch.”
“She didn’t fool you, Lewis.”
“Sure she did. Right up until I was ankle-deep in blood. She didn’t need to waste time on me, I wasn’t important.”
“In the end you were important. You stopped her. To answer your original question, yes, I knew about them. It all came out in Gerald’s testimony for the review.”
“I’ve read all the files from that job. There’s nothing about them having a relationship, not one sentence, but every time I worked with her it was recorded. What kind of documentation do you call that?”
“Selective.”
“Since when? When I sit boards, interviews are recorded and every detail is documented before I sign off. That’s our protocol. You chaired the Brazil review. Why didn’t you document their relationship given it was probably the single most important element?”
“Because Gerald was Gerald and one more woman in his bed was hardly news.”
“What? Gerald was Gerald, and you decided which facts were significant?”
“When you chair boards, you have the same authority. There is another check point, the sign-off from the director. It’s usually a formality but Thomas was director then and he was certainly aware of all the circumstances. He could have questioned my report but he didn’t. He obviously agreed that some information was less than useful.”
“So you can decide that information on Suzanna Oxenburg isn’t useful when Arnold gets back here to finish my review.”
“Suzanna Oxenburg is a stranger to you. She interfered with you for no apparent reason, of course she’s significant.”
“Is that what she did? Interfered with me? Well, that’s a hell of a lot more than your pet idiot MacIntyre did for me. At least she hauled me in out of the rain. He couldn’t even find me in his own front yard. Have you got a new word for what you were planning to authorize Beth to do to that woman?”
Her eyes were lowered as she finished her tea. “You’ve spoken with Beth?”
“She looked me up. Seemed to be having some trouble getting me on the phone like everybody else. I called most of them today. You’ll find them considerably cooled off next time you contact them about their migrations to the Arizona center.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That I’m going out to do a security audit of the Arizona center and if it’s solid, I’ll convert.”
“In your condition I’d rather you don’t go anywhere near that center. I’ve already assigned this.”
“I’m considerably more qualified to audit a data center than Beth. Anderson released me today. I’m ready to go tonight.”
Rather than answer, she swung her chair away from him and gazed out at the spot-lit memorial framed in her corner windows. “Why do you want to do this?” she asked.
“I’m sick of the secrets and the speculation. That facility will be what people associate with Gerald from now on, not Brazil. He deserves that. Did you really think I’d let you release his letter?”
“You can’t stop me. I may still.”
“If you do, I’ll have you in front of the governors for those Brazil files. I don’t want to waste time on that kind of political BS but I will if you leverage Gerald’s letter like this. What he wrote was for my eyes only. If you don’t respect that I can’t work for you.”
“Are you sure the drugs aren’t still influencing you? Is Gerald’s reputation the hill you want to die on because one of us would have to leave. Is that what you want?”
“It’s not the drugs. I don’t want to waste time fighting you on this. What I want is for Gerald to come back and my chest to feel like it belongs to me but since I can’t have that I’ll settle for being left out of your power plays. Let Gerald rest. It makes sense for me to audit the Arizona center and give it a clean health check after what’s happened. Unfinished business in Arizona is a black eye for Beige, for you, for all of us. Let’s get that center up to speed and fully online. I have a project to run.”
She gave a short nod of acknowledgement. “I thought resistance would fade but it’s growing.” She touched the heavy gold chain at her throat. “I want to be clear about this. Are you offering your time and expertise as auditor in exchange for me destroying my copy of Gerald’s letter? I’ll need your signoff on the audit within a week to recover the migration schedule. The turnaround is tight.”
“Understood. It’s in my interest to look into the security situation myself before I migrate my section. I’m willing to take another week away from my project to handle this.”
“And the Oxenburg woman. What about her?”
“I’ll find out. While I’m doing that, I expect you to hold any preemptive orders for actions against her.”
“How are you planning to verify her status, given that you don’t trust anybody out there?”
“Some things can’t be delegated.”
“Oh no, you can’t approach her yourself. That would be foolish. That woman will either be terrified of you or she will go ahead and carry through with whatever she wanted originally. She might even have an absolute breakdown. Didn’t you hear anything Arnold told us?”
“I’ve considered Arnold’s input. Now it’s on me.”
She sputtered, a small noise of disbelief. “You’re not interested in that woman.”
“Aren’t I? Jamieson been reading my mind again?”
“Jamieson wouldn’t attempt it, but I think I can. This is some kind of reaction you’re having to Gerald’s death. Look, we’re all upset about this, Lewis. But if you insist on affixing blame, put it where it belongs — on Gerald. He always thought he could create his own reality. He wasn’t perfect, Lewis, he caused problems. If he hadn’t kept your visit a secret, McIntyre would have known to look for you right away. But Gerald had to play God. I loved him too, but he was virtually unmanageable, not that he really required managing.”
“No, what he required was some human contact, a damned difficult thing to locate around here.”
“According to my sources, you locate your share.”
He snorted. “Every director has endless recreational opportunities. I was thinking about something a little deeper. Gerald was important to me. I took it for granted that he’d always be there.”
Her face changed. “I know, so did I.”
His anger faded and suddenly he was just tired. “The mess in Arizona feels personal to me,” he said. “I’ll clean it up.”
“For Gerald?” she said.
“For Gerald, for you, for the Group,” he said. “Somebody has to do it.”
“Do it for yourself,” she said. “Take Gerald’s advice.”
“Not that personal. I’m not going to discuss his letter with you. You can justify it any way you like. Say it’s an audit, say it’s for the migration, say I want closure. I don’t care, just give me full authorization and tell Arnold and Beth to stand down.”
She opened a drawer and removed a file. “I haven’t signed Beth’s orders. I can authorize you instead, if you’re sure that’s what you want. But first, I want to go on record with my objections. I disapprove of you seeing the Oxenburg woman. You’ll have to answer for any future problems from that source. So whatever you’ve got in mind, be sure you’ve considered all possible eventualities and are prepared to respond with the necessary action.
“Secondly, MacIntyre is strictly off-limits for you. If you find evidence of wrongdoing you can document it as part of the audit and make recommendations but the board will decide how to proceed. You are not to take any action against him. Completing the data migration out of this building and into the new center is my highest priority at the moment. If I am disappointed in any way by your results in Arizona, I’ll fine you.”
“I think I can afford MacIntyre.”
“Not under my authorization. If you’re going to represent me, I want some assurance that you intend to be professional.”
“Right. My hearing is good. I don’t intend to pay any fines for the privilege of being your janitor.”
“I have a dinner to go to, and I’m late. I can drop you at the airport and on the way, I’ll brief you on the situation in Arizona. That is, if you’re sure about this.”
“I’ll handle it, all of it — the audit, MacIntyre, the hole in our security.”
“The Oxenburg woman?”
“Her too.”