A World Without Secrets (15 page)

I nodded.

"I don't think the board would approve that."

"I understand. I'll try to come after I've wrapped up whatever other cases I'm working on. This way I won't have to drop everything and come running."

"Let me put it to the board. We'll see what they say— but I don't feel hopeful."

"Then we can just stay with the present arrangement, and each case will be negotiated separately. That works for me." I stood up to leave. "Thank you, Mr. Fodor."

"Thank
you
, Mr. James."

* * *

The young teller at my bank was clearly stunned when she saw the amount on the check I tried to deposit into my two accounts. She looked at me and then excused herself while she hurried over to the manager's desk. He returned with her to her window.

"Good afternoon, Mr. James. I'm Mr. Teseler. I'm sorry for the delay."

"Is there a problem with the check or with my accounts?"

"Oh, no, not at all. It's just a bookkeeping thing because you're depositing to two different accounts. You see, there's normally a five-day hold on large checks drawn on out-of-state banks. Since you're not depositing the full amount into one account, it makes processing the transaction a little more complicated from our end. I've explained to Lillian how to proceed and it'll be just a few more seconds. I only came over because I wanted to meet you. We offer a full range of investment services that will give you a greater yield than what you're presently earning in your accounts. If you'd care to step over to my desk, I can show you what I mean."

"Thank you, Mr. Teseler. Perhaps another day."

"Fine, Mr. James. I'm at your disposal whenever you have the time. Have a nice day."

"Thank you. You also."

The young woman finished the transaction, passed two receipt tickets to me, and smiled. I wished her a nice day and left.

As I walked back to my apartment, I was on top of the world. In just a couple of months, my entire world had turned completely around. It was like a fairy tale come true and I wondered if this was the point where music should start playing in the background as someone says, 'And he lived happily ever after.'

As I approached my apartment building, a black SUV drew my attention. It was parked across the street by the new plywood fence that surrounded the cleared building lot. Normally, a shiny new car wouldn't have made the hairs on my neck rise up, but there were two men wearing sunglasses sitting inside, and both heads seemed to be following my movement. I wondered if I should be nervous. The chance that they represented a criminal I was responsible for putting away was remote but still a possibility. I decided to remain calm and pretend not to have noticed them. I supposed that if they simply wanted me dead, they could have already taken me down in a drive-by. I didn't like guns, but just then I would have paid ten thousand dollars for a 9mm pistol.

As I reached my house and began to climb the outside steps, I heard a voice call out, "Mr. James?" I stopped on the first step and turned to face the two men as they waited for a car to pass, then crossed the street. Both men, like me, were wearing inexpensive, off the rack suits and inexpensive ties. They were quite a contrast to the impeccably dressed Mr. Fodor with his five thousand dollar suits and five hundred dollar ties. From their look, I surmised they must be cops. Criminals would either be better or much worse dressed.

"Mr. James?" one of them asked again.

"Yes, I'm Colton James."

"I'm Special Agent Osborne, and this is Special Agent Snow."

Both men produced identification that showed them to be FBI agents. Osborne was Caucasian with eastern European facial features, and Snow was African American.

"Could we talk with you for a few minutes?" Osborne asked.

"Sure, what do you need?"

"In private, please?"

I looked into the face of each man, but there was nothing there I could read. I wondered if they had something of some delicacy to discuss, or if they simply didn't like my towering over them. They were no more than two inches shorter than myself, but the step on which I stood gave me another seven inches or so. I decided it didn't make much difference where we spoke, so I said, "Sure, come on up."

The two FBI agents followed me to my apartment and sat down in the kitchen when invited. I would have been concerned if they had insisted on standing while I sat.

"Beer?" I asked casually.

Both men shook their heads but that didn't stop me from getting one for myself. The size of my kitchen had dictated that my table be on the small side. I had purchased it used, and it had only come with three chairs, so it was pushed against the wall to further conserve space. That left just one chair vacant, and I plopped into it.

"You don't live very high on the hog for a multi-millionaire," Osborne said, looking around the apartment.

"I'm a man of simple tastes," I said, after taking a long pull on the beer bottle. "Now, what can I do for you? If it's about my taxes, I always set the government's half of my earnings aside in a special account to send in at the appropriate time."

"We're FBI, Mr. James," Snow said, "not IRS."

"It's all one big family, isn't it?"

Snowed frowned. "We pretty much each stick to our own turf."

"Okay, so then what can I do for the FBI today? Did you lose something you want me to recover?"

Snow gave me another look that indicated he didn't appreciate my sense of humor.

"You have no staff that we're aware of," Osborne said, "yet you've been swooping in, finding skips nobody else can while solving art theft cases that professional law enforcement agencies have all put on a back burner due to lack of leads. We'd like to know how you're doing it."

"Well, gee fellahs," I said in the phoniest hillbilly drawl I could manage while grinning widely, "if ah told you all ma secrets I'd be plumb outta a job."

Osborne proved that he didn't care for my sense of humor either or at least didn't see any humor in my last response. His stare seemed to indicate that he'd like to take me out back and beat the bejeezus out of me. "We're serious, James. We want to know where you're getting your information. And don't tell us it's just good police work. We know you've never been a police officer or taken any criminal justice courses. We're beginning to suspect mob ties. We're giving you the opportunity to come clean before this moves to another level."

I noticed we had gone from Mr. James to just James. "Special Agent Osborne, I've spent
years
doing detective work," I said smiling. "I've searched out clues and followed leads throughout my entire working career." I paused to take another pull on the beer bottle and purposely forced a belch. "Of course, I wasn't trying to find criminals. I was trying to resolve difficult computer problems. But logic is logic. I didn't realize how closely aligned our thought processes were until I started writing fiction. The solution is always in the details. Don't you agree?"

Osborne was now looking at me like I was nuts.

I didn't let the look bother me and continued with, "I guess it doesn't really matter to me whether you believe me or not. Is there anything else?"

Osborne scowled and stood up. He was obviously the senior partner. "We can continue this downtown at the office. Let's go."

"Downtown? What's the charge?"

"No charge yet. We just want to talk to you in our backyard since you seem so uncooperative in yours. Let's go."

I polished off my beer, put the bottle down, forced another belch, then followed Snow out of the apartment, with Osborne bringing up the rear. I paused to make sure Osborne pulled the apartment door hard enough to engage both locks before I resumed my walk down the stairs.

Osborne could have been a former New York City cab driver for the way he wove in and out of traffic lanes. I just sat and relaxed in the back seat, my seat belt tightly cinched.

After being led to an interrogation room, I was grilled repeatedly. I assumed there was a voice recorder operating and possibly a camera because Osborne seemed much more formal now than earlier. He'd started the session off by asking me my full name, address, and date and place of birth. He seemed angry that I remained as apathetic as I had been at the apartment. I knew I hadn't broken any laws and owed no explanation of my unique talents to the FBI or anyone else. I also had enough money now to get the best attorneys in the country if I needed them. Wealth and celebrity can give one a tremendous feeling of security in numerous circumstances, false arrest being one of them.

After an hour of questioning by Osborne, during which time I revealed nothing he seemed to be seeking, he left the room. Snow, who had been standing in the corner frowning at me for the entire hour, continued his silent stare.

Osborne returned shortly with another man who had a decidedly angry look on his face. If Snow and Osborne were bad cop and worse cop, this had to be worst cop. He was wearing a much better suit, and I immediately assumed him to be a superior. As soon as he began to speak, I knew my initial impression had been wrong.

"Mr. James, I'm Harv Sobert," he said as he extended his hand. "Would you come to my office please?"

I stood up and followed Sobert, with Snow and Osborne tailing along. I had expected to be taken to a cubicle, or perhaps a room the size of respectable walk-in closet, but Sobert's office was sizeable, indicating he was obviously much more than just Osborne's and Snow's immediate supervisor. The title on the door revealed him to be the Assistant Director in Charge, or ADIC. I knew from research I'd performed while writing a story that the top cop in almost all FBI field offices was a Special Agent in Charge, or SAC, and only the three largest offices in the U.S. were supervised by an ADIC.

"Please have a seat, Mr. James," Sobert said, indicating a comfortable chair facing the desk. As I sat down, he walked around the desk and sat in his chair. "I have to apologize for your treatment here today. I gave orders to invite you down here, but the intent was clearly misunderstood. I wanted to talk with you, not question you."

I wondered if the statement was genuine or if this was another tactic. Snow and Osborne were still in the room but hadn't been invited to sit, despite the fact that there were several other chairs available. I looked on dispassionately without saying anything.

"You first came to our attention after you solved the case in Philadelphia. I'm sure you're aware that the FBI maintains the national database of stolen art objects. I was curious about an unknown who had quickly solved a case that had baffled all the experts, so I ordered a standard background check. I was a bit shocked to find that you had begun your career in law enforcement only very recently."

"I'm not in law enforcement. I leave that to you guys and the other government agencies. I have
never
represented myself as anything other than a private citizen. I simply find things that other people are looking for. If it pays well, I'll track down people, paintings, or— whatever."

"And you're very good at it. I understand you have a perfect record. It's a small record, to be sure, but it's impressive when one considers what you've been hired to locate. What's more, you get results quickly. That's
extremely
impressive."

"As you said, I haven't been at it very long. I'm sure my perfect record won't last as my number of cases grows."

"Perhaps, but right now you're being touted by all my insurance company contacts as the greatest sleuth since Sherlock Holmes."

I grinned. "He was a fictional character who could do no wrong, other than having a serious drug habit. I'm just flesh and blood, ADIC Sobert, but I admit to having a minor weakness for a cold beer on a hot day. And I've never claimed to be anything more than lucky."

"It's not luck."

With a slight smirk, I said, "Well, I suppose that, like Holmes, I have excellent powers of deductive reasoning. It's a skill that was highly prized in my previous career in the computer field, as I told Special Agents Osborne and Snow. I doubt I'd be very good at the law enforcement activities you folks undertake."

"Yes, well, that's what I wanted to speak with you about. I wonder if you would consider working for
us
?"

"What? You want me to join the FBI?"

"I've spoken to the director, and he's authorized me to recruit you."

"I'm honored. I really am. But…"

"But the pay doesn't come close to the multi-million dollar recovery fees you can collect as an independent recovery expert?"

"Yes. I hate to appear mercenary— but I am. I only started doing this for the money. I needed money to support my insatiable writing habit."

Sobert was quiet for a few seconds as he contemplated his next advance. He chose flattery. "I saw a list of free stories you've posted on the internet. I read a few and found the plots very imaginative."

"Thank you. I would rather write than eat, but eating is an absolute necessity."

"We thought the pay disparity might be an— impediment, so we've decided on a special arrangement. We won't put you on the payroll at all."

I smiled. "Non-payment for services rendered is certainly a novel approach, but hardly much of an inducement to work here."

"I hadn't finished. Instead of being on the regular payroll, you'd receive remuneration on a sliding scale for each successful case you solved or each wanted person you delivered. We'd like you to work on cases where our active investigation has stalled because we've run out of leads or where the trail on a wanted individual has grown ice cold."

"You mean like the X Files?"

Sobert grinned. "No. More like the CC Files, where the CC stands for cold case instead of carbon copy."

I smiled as well. Unlike what I'd observed so far with Osborne and Snow, Sobert had a sense of humor.

"We've put together a special payment schedule for different types of cases." Sobert paused and held out a sheet of paper. "If a reward is being offered, such as for the individuals on the most wanted list, you may opt to collect the bounty instead of the amount quoted on the schedule. The incentive for searching for people while working for us is that you'll have access to all the information in our databases. Our advantage is that we get to claim it was solved through an FBI investigation."