Final Target

CHAPTER 27

M r. Gage, this is Robert Milsberg.”

Gage glanced at his watch. 9:01 A. M. He was surprised by the call so soon after their talk the previous day.

“What’s up?”

“I’ve been thinking about our conversation. And I talked to my wife. She reads situations pretty well. For her everything is basically black and white. Maybe that’s what religion does for her. She doesn’t think the U.S. Attorney will believe me if I tell him that I was just doing what Matson told me to do. And she figures since they made the deal with him first, he’s their guy. She says they’re invested, no pun intended. They’re invested in him.”

“She’s right. That’s exactly how it works.”

“And I’m thinking, they don’t need me anyway, except to make their indictment longer and pump up their stats.”

“I think so, too.”

“You know, there’s a rule in writing. It’s called show, don’t tell. And if they won’t believe what I say, then I’ll just show them who Matson really is.”

Gage held his breath. He was a heartbeat away from getting inside SatTek, but he couldn’t risk Milsberg later finding out the truth and bailing out when Gage needed him most. “Robert, there’s something you need to know before you tell me anything else.”

“About Jack Burch?”

“Yes.”

“I was wondering if there was a connection. I saw the look on your face when I talked about wanting to shoot him. His wife hire you?”

“No. I volunteered.” Gage knew that he had to give Milsberg a picture of Burch that would give him confidence that he was doing the right thing. “This isn’t about money. I’ve known him half my life. The worst he can be accused of is negligence, not realizing what Matson was really up to-but there’s mitigation. Matson showed up right after Burch’s wife was diagnosed with breast cancer. We didn’t know if she’d survive. He just stopped thinking, his mind followed his heart and his heart was with her.”

“Until just now all I knew about Burch was what that asshole Matson told me.” Milsberg paused, then said, “I won’t help you try to get him off, but I’ll do what I can to make sure he gets his day in court. He at least deserves a chance to clear himself.”

Gage clenched his fist. “That’s enough for me.”

Milsberg exhaled. “Now it’s time for show, don’t tell…Get this. Matson’s flying to London tomorrow.”

“Did he say why?”

“He didn’t say anything. I got a peek at the receptionist’s message pad.”

“What’s the flight?”

“United 930. First-class. Can you believe it? The company is in the tank and he’s traveling first-class, 12:50 P. M. out of SFO.”

“Good work. Maybe you should’ve been a private eye.”

“No. I should’ve been a poet. Then I wouldn’t have ended up in this mess.”

Gage hung up, checked his contact list, then dialed a London number.

“Mickey, it’s Graham.”

“You old gaffer. How’s work?”

“Complicated. How’s retirement?”

“Bloody boring. I couldn’t wait to get out of police work, now I miss it like my best chum.”

“What’s your schedule like for the next few days?”

“The same as always-except when you call with a little job. Cheap tea and the Times crossword.”

“You ready for another one?”

“Willing and still able. What’s the topic?”

“You on the Internet?”

“Only through my grandson.”

“Have him do a search on a company called SatTek. It’s a stock scam. My friend, a lawyer in San Francisco, is being set up to take the fall.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Help me tail the company president. Two hundred pounds a shift for each guy you need to bring in. I’ll be coming in on his flight into Heathrow.”