When The Devil Whistles (43 page)

“Good, good. I’m glad to hear it.” Allen shook his snowy head with concern. “It’s terrible what happened.”

“What exactly happened, to your knowledge?”

Allen cocked his head to the side, as if he didn’t quite understand the question. “Why, it was all over the news. It came out that Deep Seven was killing people and working with terrorists.”

Max frowned. “Let me try again. What
exactly
happened, to your knowledge? How did the investigation of Deep Seven start? Did you or your company play a role in that?”

Allen smiled like a modest grandfather whose grandchild has just been praised. “We may have played some small role. I’ve heard that one of our former temporary employees helped uncover Deep Seven’s crimes. As for me personally, I encouraged her to look around if she ever took a job at Deep Seven.”

Max leaned back and folded his tree-trunk arms atop his massive stomach. “Did you give that advice to all your temps?”

Allen’s smile faltered. “Ah, no.”

“So why did you say that to this temp?”

“I… I’m not sure exactly why. She seemed curious.”

“She wasn’t the only one, was she?”

“Excuse me?”

“You were curious about her, weren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Max snorted. “Yes, you do!”

Blue Sea’s general counsel gave Max a stern look. “Counsel, please don’t badger the witness.”

Max ignored him. “Is it Blue Sea’s practice to have a private investigator do a report on every temp they hire?”

Allen sat frozen. “A report?”

Max plucked a document out of the pile in front of him and slid it across the table. “A report like this one. Is that standard practice at Blue Sea?” He handed a copy to the court reporter. “Exhibit one.”

Allen went pale. “Where did you get this?”

Max’s face darkened. “Answer my question!”

Allen looked to his lawyer. “I thought we were here to talk about Deep Seven.”

McDonnell nodded. “That’s right. We’re here voluntarily. You don’t have to answer any questions you don’t want to.” He looked at Max and thrust out his chin. He was a big man. Not as big as Max, but he looked like he’d been in more bar fights.

Connor turned to Max, waiting for the inevitable explosion—but Max didn’t explode. Instead he lifted another document off his stack of paper and flipped it across the table into Allen’s lap. “All right, you’ve just been served with a subpoena. Answer my question or go to jail.”

Max was taking a calculated risk. In reality, refusing to answer his questions—even if asked pursuant to a subpoena—wouldn’t result in jail time unless Max got a court order enforcing the subpoena, Allen ignored the court order, and the court held Allen in contempt. But there was a good chance that McDonnell didn’t know how the process worked.

McDonnell took the subpoena from his client and looked at it for a moment. Then he glared at Max. “This is dirty pool.”

Now Max exploded. “You want to know what’s
really
dirty pool?” he boomed. “Blackmailing temps to plant false evidence at a competing bidder to get their bid disqualified!”

Allen and McDonnell both jumped to their feet. “That’s a lie!” shouted Allen. “We never did anything like that!”

Max stood and shoved a finger in Allen’s face. “Be careful, buddy!” he bellowed in a voice that made Connor’s teeth rattle. “Perjury is a felony, and you’re under oath!” He dialed it back a few decibels. “But I’m a nice guy, so I’ll give you another chance: did you or anyone else at Blue Sea blackmail Allison Whitman in order to get her to plant evidence at Deep Seven so that their bid would be disqualified?”

Allen looked at the stack of paper in front of the DAG, as if wondering what else might be in there. “Don’t I have the right to remain silent?”

Max sat down and leaned back, making his chair groan. “Only if your answer might implicate you in a crime.”

Allen’s eyes stayed on the pile of documents. “I think I’ll remain silent.”

Connor wanted to let out a whoop of triumph. Exercising the right to remain silent couldn’t be used against Allen in a
criminal
case, but in a
civil
case (such as a false claims case) it was fair game. Allen had just done the next best thing to admitting guilt. All that was left to talk about was money.

Max flipped through his notes. “All right. Well, if you’re going to invoke the Fifth Amendment rights, I guess we’re done for today.”

Allen and McDonnell walked out as the court reporter and videographer began to pack up. They left a few minutes later.

Once they were alone, Connor stuck out his hand. “Nicely played, Max. They’re dead men walking after Allen’s performance today.”

Max shook the proffered hand. “Thanks. Looks like Allie brought us another winner.” He paused and looked Connor in the eye. “Might be the last one for a while, huh?”

Connor let out a sigh. “Yeah. The DA in Kansas is taking a really hard line. He wants her to testify against her ex-boyfriend next week
and
do at least a year in prison.”

Max shoved his stack of paper—most of which was blank sheets intended to make the pile look bigger—into a box. “Can’t say I’m surprised. DAs get elected for being tough on crime, especially crimes that get kids killed.”

“I know. I thought they might be more reasonable because she came forward voluntarily and she’s a hero for what she did out here.”

Max scratched his jowls. “That earned her a get-out-of-jail-free card with our office, but we were only looking at stuff like perjury and obstruction of justice charges. Not murder or manslaughter.”

Connor nodded. “Yeah, I see the difference. So does she. But a felony guilty plea, a year in jail, and a lifetime as an ex-con? There’s got to be another way.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “A year is a long time though.”

70

B
EST BURGERS IN THE
US
OF
A,” E
D DECLARED AS HE PUT HIS TRAY DOWN
next to Mitch’s.

Cho gave the bacon-guacamole Ed had recommended a doubtful look. “I have eaten McDonald’s before. Is Carl’s Jr. so much better?”

“Take a bite and find out.”

When Cho continued to hesitate, Mitch chimed in. “You can trust Ed on two things: burgers and coffee. Not much else—and never let him set you up on a blind date.”

Ed chuffed. “That was five years ago!”

“I still have nightmares. Anyway, he knows his burgers.”

With that reassurance, Cho took a bite. A dollop of green goop came out of the other side of the bun, landing on his tray with a plop. His eyes lit up and he nodded. “Mmmm.”

“Told you!” Ed crowed.

Cho swallowed and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “This is very good. Thank you.”

Ed inclined his head. “Don’t mention it. You saved our lives. The least we can do is buy you dinner.”

“I am sad I am eating here for first time at the end of my trip. There is no Carl’s Jr. in South Korea.” He took another bite.

“Or in North Korea, I’ll bet.”

Cho shook his head. “I think not,” he said around a mouthful of burger.

Ed grinned and winked. “Oh, I’m guessing that you
know
not.”

Cho stopped chewing and stared at him.

Ed turned and picked up a shopping bag. “That reminds me.” He put the bag on the table. “Here’s a little gift from Mitch and me.”

Cho looked in the bag and lifted out a used video game console and a package of old games. He looked at them quizzically. “Thank you.”

“Our pleasure,” said Ed. “We thought you might want to practice your Nintendo skills. See, I was on a lot of jobs in South Korea in the eighties and nineties, when you were growing up. All the kids had Nintendos back then. You’d see ’em playing Gameboys on the bus, and when I went over to a coworker’s house, you’d always—and I mean
always
—see a console by the TV if they had kids.”

Cho nodded. “I remember.”

Ed’s eyebrows went up. “Really? You didn’t act like it on the ship. Remember when we were playing Super Mario Bros. together? You acted like you’d never played a Nintendo before.”

“I was acting North Korean.”

“It was a good act. Really good. So good that people might think you really were North Korean. ’Cause, you know, that would explain a lot.”

“I am happy my acting convinced you.”

Ed nodded at the console. “My apartment is just a block away. What do you say we plug that thing in and you can show me how good you really are? I’ll play Luigi, and you can have Mario.”

Cho looked down at the console. “I must prepare for the flight to Korea. I have much to do. I am sorry.”

Ed reached across the table and clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t be, comrade. Your secret is safe with us. You stopped a nuclear war and saved our lives. What do we care if you infiltrated the South Korean Navy while you were doing that? You think we’d turn you in?”

Cho stared at him for a second, then tossed back his head and laughed. “You are a funny man, Ed Granger!”

Kim Tae-woo sat in his hotel room near the Oakland Airport, staring at the Nintendo console Granger and Daniels had given him. What if one of the South Koreans had been paying attention when Granger had been teaching him to play Super Mario Bros.? What if Granger and Daniels had talked to the CIA rather than him?

He shook his head. Future agents would need to be better trained. In the meantime, he needed to fill this hole in his knowledge.

He plugged the console into the hotel room TV set, inserted the Super Mario Bros. cartridge, and set out to rescue Princess Peach.

71

A
LLIE AND
C
ONNOR DANCED THROUGH A SPARKLING SEA OF BLACK AND
white. They whirled, dipped, and swayed in perfect rhythm with each other and the music played by the excellent salsa band a few yards away. Connor expertly navigated them in and out among the couples on the crowded outdoor dance floor and kept Allie’s feet safe from the governor, who was stomping away nearby.

She had never been to San Francisco’s Black and White Ball, which took place in the Civic Center plaza every May. She hadn’t planned to go this year either, but Connor surprised her with a ticket after a particularly rough negotiating session with the Salina, Kansas, DA’s office.