Touch & Go (12 page)

Lopez didn’t draw any more boxes. He pushed the org chart back and Tessa frowned.

“That’s a pretty small corporate structure for a hundred-million-dollar company,” she observed.

He shrugged. “First rule of construction: It’s all about the subs. Especially these major projects, no way you can provide all the boots on the ground, not to mention it’d be too expensive to maintain that kind of overhead in down cycles. We partner. Think of Denbe as being the head of a centipede. We develop the RFP—”

“RFP?”

“Request for proposal. How these big jobs start, especially if they’re government funded. The agency involved—”

“Agency involved?”

Lopez sighed. He leaned forward, placing his forearms on the tiny table while explaining: “Say we’re bidding on a hundred-million-dollar project to build new barracks for the navy. Obviously, that RFP is generated through military channels. Then there are hospitals, which can come through private or state channels. Or prisons, which might come through the Bureau of Prisons, depending on whether we’re talking a county, state or federal facility.”

“But it sounds like you mostly do government work?”

“True. There are firms out there who specialize in major hotel projects, conference centers, casinos, that sort of thing. The hospitality industry. In comparison, we’re the opposite end of the spectrum—the institutional industry.” Lopez chuckled, pleased at his own irony.

“Why?”

“Government game is connections, and Justin has connections. That’s one of his strengths. The man knows how to work a room, and
when you’re competing against a dozen other firms for an RFP worth hundreds of millions of dollars, personally knowing the senator on the appropriations committee, or having had the head of the Bureau of Prisons over to your house for dinner, isn’t a bad thing. Some firms even employ lobbyists. We attend some key conferences, get to know the major players and Justin will take it from there.”

“So you get to know the key people who are issuing RFPs for these major projects. In New England?”

“We build nationally.”

“Okay, national building projects. But these projects are for hundreds of millions of dollars, and must take, what, years to complete?”

“Just the on-site build will tie up a couple of years,” Lopez clarified. “But take a major prison project we just completed. Took us ten years, start to finish. Our client’s the government, right? And governments don’t move fast.”

“I get it. So, on the one hand, you’re landing projects in the hundreds of millions, but on the other hand, it’s taking you up to ten years to complete them. Big money, big risk, like you said. But Denbe’s a second-generation firm, right? Started by Justin’s father. Meaning you guys have longevity on your side.”

“We are not the new kids at the party,” Lopez agreed, “but nor are we resting on our laurels. When Justin took over after his father’s death, he became obsessed with growing the firm. Way he saw it, the industry was at a major turning point, where the big were gonna get bigger, but the small, smaller. He didn’t want to get smaller. Of course, the challenge in construction is how to grow a company without growing your overhead. We’re a boom-and-bust industry, right? We increase our staff, double our costs during the boom, and suddenly, we can’t survive the bust. Hence, Justin’s centipede model: Denbe Construction provides the leader for each segment of the build process—the best project manager, the expert tradesmen, et cetera, for guidance and troubleshooting. Basically, we provide the generals,
our subs provide the troops. Meaning Denbe can staff lean, while still being a leader in the industry.”

“So does that make you the expert on the experts?” Tessa asked Lopez. “After all, if your guys are the best of the best, and you’re the overseer of the best of the best…”

Lopez rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if I’d say I’m that smart, or just that stubborn. Look, I can draw you all the pretty pictures you want, but basically large-scale construction means large-scale headaches. First, I gotta hand-hold dozens of subs to put together one coherent RFP. Except putting together a building proposal is a lot like a political campaign. All the subs put on their best faces and make their brightest promises, hoping you’ll pick them for your winning team. But maybe, when the HVAC subcontractor was campaigning that hard, he forgot to read the fine print on the spec sheet. Or he mistook the number seventy for, say, the number seven, so he underbid the project by quite a lot. Most subs will try to weasel out of such mistakes. My job, three years later when we’ve actually started building, is not to let him. On a good day, that can mean forcing a sub to eat an error worth tens of thousands of dollars—no big deal when the sub’s total contract is for fifty million. On a bad day, however, when the error runs into the tens of millions, meaning the sub is now losing money on a project I’m not letting him quit—a quote is a legally binding contract—that can mean threat of lawsuits or even death. Hey, it happens.”

Tessa was impressed. “So you’re the company bad cop. Does that make Justin the good cop?”

“Pretty close. Justin is strategic. When a sub sends us twenty sets of boots on the ground, but the overall timeline of the project clearly demands forty, he sorts it out. When the electrical plan manages to violate four basic codes, he’ll get on the phone and hash it out. When an RFP gets tied up in a committee, he does some schmoozing and pulls it out. Justin’s not just smart, he’s
useful
smart. He not only gets
things done, but makes you happy to have done it. Guys like me, we respect that.”

“Guys like you?”

Lopez shrugged. “Army ranger.”

“Lot of former military on the payroll?”

“You could say that.” He held out his hand for her notepad. When she handed it over, he drew a line down from his name on the org chart and added four horizontal boxes beneath. Design Manager; Structural Engineer; Superintendent of Security; Quality Engineer.

“This is the core build team,” he explained. “Design manager oversees the architects. That’s Dave, only one of us whose misspent youth wasn’t funded by Uncle Sam. Now, the structural engineer, Jenkins, is former air force. Everything is funneled through him, including layers and layers of plans. You think I like details? Jenkins dreams in blueprints. He’s also an antisocial son of a bitch, probably has some kind of Asperger’s, but the man is scary smart and not too bad with a forty-five, so we forgive him his other sins. Let’s see, that brings us to Paulie, the superintendent of security. Now, security systems have two components, electronics and hard line. Paulie handles both and is the craziest mother you’ll ever meet. Former Navy SEAL, and how Justin ever gets him through security clearance, I’ll never know. Especially after that last incident, involving two bars, the entire town’s PD, and Paulie’s new court-mandated anger-management classes. But Paulie’s not really too bad, just as long as you keep him off the sauce. That’s my job, and Justin’s. Which brings us to our quality engineer, Bacon. His real name is Barry, but call him that and he’s liable to hurt you. Bacon is ex-marine, Force Recon. He wears a spoon around his neck. Claims he used it once to kill a guy. We don’t argue much with Bacon.” Lopez looked her in the eye, his voice dead serious. “This team, we’re the ones who work with Justin the most. We work close, we work well. And I can tell you, to a man, we have his back.”

“Interesting circle of friends.”

Lopez just shrugged. “These aren’t projects for the faint at heart. It’s a tough job, moving around the country to follow the work. It’s a rough job, spending the first year living in a trailer, pissing in a pot. Us military types—we’re used to it. We don’t expect indoor plumbing. We can fix three squares with a hot pot. Not to mention, for most of us, these paychecks are a nice step-up. Justin’s good to us. Pays well, respects us. Construction’s a shitty industry these days. Firms are folding all around. But Justin’s kept doors open, jobs secure, paychecks coming. Even a muscle head like me is smart enough to appreciate that.”

“Justin is a good boss,” Tessa stated.

“Yeah. And we’re terrible employees, a bunch of disrespectful, drunken, wiseass personal fuckups. So that’s saying something.”

“You mentioned Justin had to get the crazy former SEAL through security clearance. Does everyone on your crew have to pass background checks to work these sites?”

“Basic CORI Criminal Offender Record Information check,” Lopez supplied. “Looks for outstanding warrants. Frankly, if a building is new and unoccupied, they often waive even that. The trades, we’re not the noblest bunch. Even the government understands that if you set the security standards too high, there’ll be no one left to work the site.”

“Rough-and-tumble crew, to go with the rough-and-tumble management team?”

“The kind of guys who know how to show a girl a good time,” Lopez assured her. He had his smile back.

Tessa switched gears: “If the employees at Denbe Construction love Justin so much, who would hate him?”

“Every rival that lost a job to him. And every sub we awarded a contract to, who then lost his shirt on his legally binding bid he completely fucked up. Priced out seven items instead of seventy, remember? Couple of times, we’ve had angry subs show up on site, packing
heat. ’Course, we’re not the kind of guys you want to draw down on. And I include Justin in that category. He shoots with us at least once a week, and he gets his slug through the center of the dime just as often as the rest of us.”

Tessa blinked her eyes. “You are a crazy crew.”

“Hell, it’s a crazy business. Got a fresh piece of paper? I’m gonna need the whole thing if you want a proper enemies list.”

TESSA WRAPPED WITH LOPEZ an hour later. It took that long to establish the long list of rivals and subs who held grudges against Justin personally, or Denbe Construction generally. The list was further complicated by the complex dynamics of an industry in which firms bought and sold subs and rivals, let alone folded under one name just to reemerge a month later under a new moniker. Lopez highlighted two firms, ASP Inc. and Pimm Brothers, who were longtime Denbe nemeses. The Pimm Brothers were two sons from another family-operated business. When they struck out on their own, they’d assumed Justin would switch his relationship from their father’s company to theirs. When he hadn’t, they’d never forgiven him.

More soap operas here, Tessa thought, than in most Mafia enterprises.

Which brought her to the next topic of conversation. Justin Denbe’s personal life. Lopez, so insightful on the intricacies of the construction industry, immediately turned stupid when it came to the subject of Justin’s marriage.

Best she could get from him was that he respected Mrs. Denbe and had a soft spot for Ashlyn. Apparently, most of the core build team had known Justin’s daughter since she was a toddler. From the time she was three, Justin had often brought her on site and let her run around with power tools. Justin liked to boast she’d take over the
firm one day. Why not? Lopez had offered with a shrug. Girl seemed capable enough.

All in all, Lopez couldn’t think of a single reason the family would willingly disappear. The firm’s finances were a bit thin, but in their industry, that was typical enough. And, no, Justin hadn’t seemed particularly stressed or angry or irrational. Hell, they were working hand in hand on a major RFP to repair an aging nuclear power plant, and Justin had seemed his usual nose-to-the-grindstone self. And, yeah, Lopez had heard talk of a date night on Friday. Justin had seemed in a good mood, looking forward to it. Scampo, right? Swanky place, just right for impressing the missus.

As for who might abduct the entire family…

Lopez had grown noticeably agitated. Sitting up straighter, hand thrumming against the top of his leg. From what Tessa could tell, it didn’t seem to be Justin’s kidnapping that bothered Lopez so much, but the abduction of Justin’s wife and child. Someone possibly harming women definitely pushed Lopez’s buttons.

Tessa gave him credit for that.

“I’ll do some poking around,” Lopez volunteered at last. “I mean, I can’t think of anyone inside Denbe who’d hold a grudge against the family, but… I’ll monitor the mood of my fellow inmates. If I hear anything, I’ll give you a call. We can talk about it over dinner.”

“I don’t date on the job,” she informed him.

“Why? You’re not a cop anymore. Who makes those rules?”

“Basic professionalism. And I can make any rule I want.”

“Hard-ass,” he said.

“Well, I did allegedly shoot my own husband.”

Lopez laughed. Apparently, a suspected murderess only attracted him more.

Very interesting people in construction, Tessa decided.

She wrapped up with Lopez just as her phone rang.

She exited the coffee shop before picking it up, assuming it was Sophie and already feeling guilty she hadn’t taken the time to call. But it wasn’t home. Instead, it was D. D. Warren.

“The eagle has landed,” the detective said by way of greeting. Tessa interpreted that as code for arrival of the FBI.

“Trimming your wings?”

“With a rusty razor,” D.D. replied dryly. “But, turns out Neil gets the last laugh—the New Hampshire cops, some sheriff’s department, has picked up the ball and is now running with it.”

“The GPS beacon?” Tessa asked hopefully.

“They found only the device. Looks to them like the kidnappers must’ve discovered the GPS capabilities of the jacket, so they pulled over at some abandoned diner, cut out that piece of the coat and dumped it in the woods. Tire tracks show the vehicle resuming a northern route.”

Tessa frowned, tried to picture a map of New Hampshire in her head. “They were already three hours north of Boston. How much more north is there?”

“Two hours to Canada. But also twenty minutes from the Maine border, so possibly they veered east at some point, which would really place them in the middle of nowhere. Basically we’re looking at hundreds of square miles of wild mountains, abandoned campsites and boarded-up summer homes. But other than that…”

“Crap,” Tessa said, chewing her bottom lip. “Any word?”

“No. FBI brought with them a Behavioral Analysis Unit agent whose specialty is missing persons. According to her, if this is a ransom case, we should hear by end of day or things aren’t looking good.”