The Millionaires

53

“Everything okay?” Katkin asks, confused by our silence.

“Of course,” Charlie insists as we try to pull it together. “That’s just… Jim Gallo isn’t the guy we know…”

“It’s a big office,” Katkin admits.

“So my dad took the idea with him when he left?” Gillian asks, anxious to get back to the invention.

“Happens all the time,” Katkin answers. “Entrepreneurs come in, they talk it up, and when a better offer gets slapped in front of them, we never hear from them again. That’s the business. And with a moneymaker like this – I mean, some of those things he was working on… I don’t know how he pulled it off, but – I just assumed he found a new partner and moved on.”

“See, that’s what we’re hoping you could help us with,” I interrupt. “With the lack of documentation in Mr. Duckworth’s estate, we’re having a hard time putting a valuation on his inventions…”

“We just want to know what he made,” Gillian jumps in.

Charlie twists in his seat. Goodbye patience; hello desperation, he glares.

“I’m sorry,” Katkin begins. “I’m not permitted to give out that information.”

“But she’s Mr. Duckworth’s only heir,” I insist.

“And that’s a nondisclosure agreement,” Katkin shoots back.

“We’re not asking for schematics…”

“No, you’re asking me to violate a binding legal contract – and in the process, open our company up to a mess of liability.”

“Can you at least tell us what it has to do with the photos?” Gillian pleads.

“The what?”

“These…” From my jacket pocket, I pull out the strip with the four side-by-side headshots.

Katkin’s face is blank. He has no idea what he’s looking at.

“We found it with the agreement,” Charlie explains.

“Do you know who they are?” Gillian asks.

“Not a one,” he says in full Minnesota drawl. “Never seen them before in my life.”

“So it doesn’t have to do with the invention?” I ask.

“I already told you…”

“I know – but this is far more important than a dead man’s gag order,” I push. It’s one push too many.

Katkin stands from his seat and stares down at all of us. “I think we’re done here.”

“Please… you don’t understand…” I beg.

“It was nice meeting all of you,” Katkin says coldly.

Hopping up, Charlie heads for the door. Gillian follows. “Let’s go,” Charlie calls.

“But it’s extremely urgent that we-”

“Oliver, let’s go!”

Katkin looks my way and the oxygen is sucked from the room. Crap. Fake names.

I freeze. Gillian and Charlie just stand there. Katkin drills us with a stare that’s so bitter, it actually burns.

“Son, I don’t know who you think you are, but let me give you a nugget of advice – you don’t want to pick this fight.”

Charlie puts a hand on my shoulder and pulls me toward the door. In four seconds, we’re gone.

“What did he make? What did he make?” Charlie moans from the backseat of Gillian’s vintage blue Beetle. “Why’d you have to start blabbing like that?”

“I blabbed?” Gillian blasts as she stares him down through the rearview mirror. “Who’s this? Oliver… Oliver – Oops, did I just get us escorted out of the building? I’m sorry – I wasn’t thinking. In fact, I wasn’t using a single brain cell.”

“Can both of you please stop?” I beg, sitting shotgun as we ride back across the causeway. “We’re lucky we got as much as we did.”

“What’re you talking about?” Charlie asks.

“You heard Katkin – the story about Duckworth… bringing in Gallo – at least now we know what we’re looking at.”

“So you think Gallo came in and made dad a better offer?” Gillian asks.

“You tell me,” I begin. “Act One: Your dad scrounges around for VC money to help with his invention. Act Two: He brings the idea to Five Points Capital, arm of the Secret Service. Act Three: Gallo is brought in. Act Four: Your dad suddenly changes his mind, falls off the face of the earth, and rents a crappy place in Gallo’s hometown. What do you think is most likely, Miss Marple?”

“So Gallo was called into Five Points Capital to consult, but when he saw the invention…”

“… he realized he could take it to the black market and sell it on his own. From there, he approaches Duckworth: Why split it with the VC, when we can keep it for ourselves?”

Charlie leans forward between the bucket seats. “But if they were working together, why would Gallo turn on him?”

“Because keeping the profits for himself is better than splitting it in two: Sure, Marty, we’ll help you build the prototype… Yeah, Marty, it’ll be better if you work directly with us… Thanks for the help, Marty, now we’ll take your idea, stuff all our cash in an account with your name on it, and you can play fall guy. The moment Duckworth realized what was going on was the same moment they took him out. Only by then, they already had their hands on his baby.”

Gillian stares out the window, completely silent.

“You know what I mean,” I add.

She doesn’t respond.

“What about the money itself?” Charlie asks. “Even if the theory’s right, it doesn’t tell us how they hid it in the bank.”

“That’s why I think they had an inside man,” I say.

“Maybe that’s where the photos come in,” Gillian says, suddenly bouncing back. I pull down the mirror in the sun visor just in time to see Charlie make a face.

“Maybe that’s who’s in the photos – that’s who helped Gallo hide it,” Gillian adds.

“I don’t know,” I say, grabbing the strip of photos from my jacket. “I’ve never seen these people in my life.”

“Could they be from another office? Don’t you have branches around the country?”

“A few… but the partners are all in New York. And the way that account was hidden… it takes a bigshot to pull that off.”

Charlie angles his head, once again worming his way into my mirror. He thinks I’m hiding something. He’s right. “You thinking of anyone in particular?” he asks, reading the Lapidus-look on my face. As usual, Charlie nails it. Gallo didn’t just show up to investigate – he came searching for his own cash. And from what we saw back at the bank, Lapidus and Quincy were the only ones he was working with.

“So Duckworth invented it, Gallo and DeSanctis took it over, and somewhere along the way, they found an inside man who helped them bury it in the bank,” Charlie adds. “It’s your call, Ollie – who’s the bigger lowlife, Lapidus or Quincy?”

I shake my head and replay my two seconds in Lapidus’s office. There was one other person there. “It makes sense, but… How do you know it wasn’t Shep? I mean, he is former Secret Serv-”

“It wasn’t Shep,” Charlie interrupts. “Trust me, he wouldn’t do that.”

“But if he-”

“It wasn’t Shep!” he insists.

I stare at Charlie in the backseat. Gillian watches from her mirror. Better not to argue. Still, Duckworth had to have had some help.

“Maybe that’s where the photos come in,” I continue. “Maybe they were the other people who were in on it… from the black market… or other rogue agents from the Secret Service – Duckworth could’ve been keeping their pictures as insurance.”

“Then why didn’t he have photos of Gallo and DeSanctis?” Gillian asks.

It’s a good question. Jerking the wheel toward the exit, Gillian leaves the causeway behind and curves onto Alton Road. I stare back down at the photos. They’re not glossy, like an actual print. They’re flat – like they came from a color printer.

“Any ideas?” Gillian asks.

“Not really. But when you look at them side by side… the stiff poses… don’t they look like ID photos?”

“Y’mean like a driver’s license?” Gillian asks.

“Or a passport,” Charlie says.

“Or maybe a company ID card…” I add.

“At least we saw Katkin’s reaction,” she says. “That alone tells us they weren’t people from the VC.”

“I still think they’re people your dad trusted,” Charlie says. “It’s like the nondisclosure agreement – you don’t safekeep things that’ll get you in trouble – you keep what you want to protect.”

The car bucks at a red light and Gillian nods at Charlie in the rearview. She knows a good theory when she hears it. “What if they’re people who helped him with the original idea?”

“Or people he confided in,” Charlie blurts.

“What’s that game company he worked at after Disney?” I ask, suddenly feeling the pump of excitement.

“Neowerks – I think they’re in Broward…”

“I saw the address on an old pay stub,” Charlie jumps in. “In the file cabinet.” There’s a pregnant pause. All three of us trade glances and taste the adrenaline in the air.

Gillian pulls a hard right down Tenth Street and lurches to a halt in front of her house.

“How far are we from Broward?” Charlie asks.

“Forty minutes at the most,” Gillian replies.

“I’ll make some phone calls – set up an appointment,” I offer, kicking open the car door and helping Charlie squeeze out from the back. Gillian stays put.

“Aren’t you coming?” I ask.

“I should check in and make sure I still have a job – I’ll be back in ten minutes.” She tosses me the house keys, and with a wave, she’s gone.

“Oh, I miss her already,” Charlie says. Swiping the keys, he charges up the concrete path and bolts through the front door. Inside, he goes for the files; I slam the door and head for the phone. But when we hear the locks slide behind us, we follow the sound and spin around. That’s when we notice all the shades are closed. The whole place is dark. And then… in the corner… we hear a click. A lamp flicks on in the living room. Every ounce of air leaves my chest.

“Nice to see you, Oliver,” Gallo says from his seat on the sofa. “Now here’s the part that hurts…”

Back by the door, a shadow arches, pouncing toward us. Charlie turns and tries to run, but it’s too late. An arm slices the air toward him. Behind me, Gallo grabs me around the neck. And the last thing I see is DeSanctis’s fist as it collides with my brother’s face.