The Brass Statuettes Ch. 12

"Dr. Lowell, it's reported that you're unhappy in your position."

"No—no," Jason said. He wondered how anyone might know that. He'd only spouted off to Frank and Alvin—and Darlene, but she'd never say anything. "Well, yes—but not the way you mean," he corrected himself.

"How do you know what I mean?" Henderson shot back.

"I don't really know," Jason admitted. "I just meant that I want the funding I was promised."

"Funding?" Henderson asked. "Someone promised you money?"

"Not exactly—not to me," Jason stammered. He just couldn't put the right words together. "You know, it all had to do with the stock."

Henderson sat back and nodded slightly. He opened his suit jacket and rubbed his index finger over the top of the set of handcuffs that were mounted on his belt. Jason saw him do it; fear coursed through him.

Jason wasn't listening to Henderson, but thinking his own thoughts. "What can I tell this guy that will get him off my back? He really thinks I'm guilty." He thought of Darlene, unsuspecting at home. She would be so displeased if he were arrested—possibly beyond the point of no return. She might even leave him. "I've got to think of something. Damn that Frank! He set this guy on me."

"And you were at that meeting, so you knew all about the stock registration being shelved." It was Henderson speaking to him. Jason tried to force himself to stop thinking of Darlene. He wondered if he had been in bed with her, and her flawless body, for the last time. If he got into trouble, it was for sure that she would leave him. "Dr. Lowell?" In one ear Jason heard Henderson trying to get his attention. He loosened his tie.

"Huh?" Jason grunted. He peered at Henderson waiting for his answer. He wondered if he had heard the whole question.

"Wasn't that true?" Henderson repeated.

"You know," Jason said as though he had actually just discovered the new polymer, "there's another person who knows everything and you seem to have forgotten him."

"Oh yeah? Who's that?"

"An accounting guy," Jason answered. "One of Frank's people; a guy by the name of Fish-something—Aaron Fishberg, I think. You should ask Frank about him. He was using the office that you guys are in now. Frank let him; now he's moved back downstairs."

"Why—what's with him?" Henderson asked.

"You know," Jason said, being as patronizing as he dared.

"No, I don't," Henderson replied.

"Those people always think about stocks, money, that sort of thing. They have a knack for it." Jason held up his hands and rubbed the pads of his thumbs over his fingertips. It was the code; he assumed Henderson would finally get it.

"You mean because of his accounting knowledge?" Henderson asked.

"Well, yes that," Jason conceded. "And there's the obvious."

"I'm not getting your meaning," Henderson said.

"Besides, he had all the information on the forecast. Frank put him in charge of compiling it."

"Now you've said something interesting," Henderson told him. "We'll talk to him." He thrust his hand into his briefcase and pulled out a sheet of paper. He set it on the desk and shoved it in Jason's direction. "I'd like you to sign this," Henderson said. "It's a release; it allows us to look at your financial records without a warrant."

Jason looked at the paper lying on the desk before him. He hesitated to pick it up. ""I suppose so," he said. "After all, I have nothing to hide. He picked up the single sheet, held it in one hand as he took a pen from the holder on this desk. He grimaced.

"Is there a question about it?" Henderson asked.

"I'm just wondering if my lawyer should see it first."

"That's your right, of course," Henderson said. "Are you saying you want your lawyer?"

"I know it's a formality," Jason said. "I just think..."

"If you want your lawyer present, all questioning stops as of right now." Henderson snatched the release form from Jason's hand. "We'll be in touch, Dr. Lowell. Probably the FBI office downtown would be a better place for our next meeting. You can have your lawyer with you."

All at once Henderson stood and walked out of Jason's office.

"Wait! I changed my mind. I'll sign," Jason called after him. It was too late; Henderson kept walking as though he didn't hear him—and then he was gone.

*****************

After Henderson's departure Jason called his attorney. He wasn't in, so he left a voice-mail. Alone behind his desk, he tried to deal with the day's events.

"I think Frank set me up. It didn't seem that way when I was in his office. If it wasn't him, who was it? Maybe I should have signed that release. But what if I had?"

It was all so confusing. He reminded himself that he had no guilt in the matter. "But there are other things. Maybe it's all catching up with me." He shook his head, reminded himself that he had to stop thinking like that.

"At least, I set Henderson on to the little Jew from downstairs." He set about convincing himself of the propriety of the bad deed. Of the strategic deftness of the move, Jason had no doubt. It may, or may not have been true that Aaron was involved. It would be best to put him to the test. "He might confess if they squeeze him hard enough." At best case, Henderson would forget all about Jason and that was the most important thing; at worst, the little beancounter would think twice if he ever thought of pulling something sneaky. And, as Jason knew, all of them were thinking of sneaky things all the time.

"I'm too upset to work any more today. I'm going home." He thought of Darlene, who would be there. He thought of her in the nude, as he always did when he was upset and need of what only Darlene could give him. It was a soothing sight in his mind's eye and lifted his spirits because it reminded him of who he was.

He thought about how the encounter with Henderson had threatened what he had with Darlene; it was the ultimate justification of what he'd done. It was defending what he cherished most of all the good things that had come to him in his rise to the top of the pyramid. More than power or wealth, or the satisfaction of accomplishment, it was his right to go home and lie between those beauty queen thighs; to bury his face in her perfect breasts; to ask for anything he wanted, whenever he wanted to. She was second to none, if somewhat demanding at times; it almost made this corporate life bearable.

She would be surprised to see him. Maybe some of her special consoling would be just the perfect thing to hit the spot before dinner. Perhaps they wouldn't even bother with dinner. Then, it would be up to her to do what she had to do.

*************

TO BE CONTINUED

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