Deep Down, page 24
His office phone rang. Wife maybe? Lydia? Maybe it was Ian! He grabbed the phone. “Yates…”
“Mr. Yates, this is Special Agent in Charge Jay Walters. I have a no-knock warrant for your office. We’d prefer that you just opened the door for us. We’re outside. You have sixty seconds before we remove the door from its hinges.”
Herb took a second to find his voice. “I’ll open the door. Give me a couple of minutes—I don’t move that fast.” He hung up and threw back the scotch, then walked out to the main office floor. He unlocked the large door and opened it to face several large men in blue windbreakers with FBI printed in bright yellow.
Agent Walters walked Herb back inside and asked him to sit at the nearest desk chair.
“Mr. Yates, at seven this evening, Federal Agents in Atlanta arrested Mark Robbins from Globalvision Energy for extorting Congressman James J. Mistretta. Mr. Robbins has been most cooperative, implicating this law firm in the process.”
Herb felt his heart beating faster. “That wasn’t me. That was Ian Riley…”
“Mr. Riley was killed this afternoon when attempted to murder a dairy farmer in Pennsylvania. I’m sure you’re very familiar with the class action suit—at every level.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ll be seeking legal representation immediately,” mumbled Herb, now feeling physically ill. Ian was dead.
“Mr. Yates, your daughter has been detained this evening as well, for questioning in connection with Doug Wyeth. I’m sure your cooperation would help her out, but that’s your call. In any event, Federal Agents will now be seizing all documents related to the class action law suit. Your legal office is temporarily closed.”
“You can’t do that!” He yelled, his voice cracking. The room began to spin.
“Actually, we can.” Special Agent in Charge Walters pulled court documents from his jacket and placed them on the table. “I’m sure you know how to read these. Oh, by the way, we arrested a man named Charles Davis this afternoon outside of Ed Woodward’s family home. Clearly a parole violation. He was also very cooperative. I guess he didn’t want to go back to jail. The Woodward family is now safely in Protective Custody. Mr. Woodward has a lot to say about you, as well. Based on your age, I’d say you’re looking at a life sentence, Mr. Yates. You can be sure we’ll try our best to put Lydia away as well.”
Yates felt like he might vomit. He grabbed the side of the desk as his face began to sweat.
“It’s over, Mr. Yates. You can’t save yourself. How about your daughter? Maybe you can spare her a few years in jail. She’s very attractive. She won’t do well in a maximum security federal penitentiary.”
Herb leaned forward and vomited into a trashcan. He clutched his chest and tried to breathe as a wave of pain seized his arm and chest. As he fell forward, he heard the agent say, “Call an ambulance. Looks like cardiac arrest…”
Sixty-Five
· · · · ·
The smell of turkey permeated the house. It was so strong that Bear and Max had to be kept outside to keep them from whining. Bear had healed perfectly, and could once again keep up with Max and Cody. Cody sat on Zeke’s lap by the fireplace, the two of them watching the Thanksgiving Day football game with Uncle George and Aunt Margie. Mrs. Hatcher had come by with a pumpkin pie, which she traded for one of Anne’s Apple pies—a long standing tradition I had just happily found out about.
The two women stood in the kitchen for a while, discussing Anne’s new starter herd. Hank Hatcher had given Anne one of his own cows as a present. So had the Murphys. And the Cooks. And the Smiths, Wileys, O’Haras, Johnstons, and a number of other dairy farmers in the valley. The small dairy farm community had pitched in and helped one of their own. Dr. Lynch had saved more than one cow in the area over the years, and these folks didn’t forget. The news stories even resulted in two anonymous checks arriving in the mail. While the herd was still small, bills were getting paid again.
I had called an old friend of mine, an attorney in Jersey. Anne would have a long time to wait, but she was one of several parties suing the now defunct law firm of Yates, Riley and Johnson for damages. The federal government had seized all of the firm’s assets pending the outcome of the investigation. Almost the entire firm jumped ship the second Herbert Yates the Third was indicted on too many charges to list. A few lawyers hung in there with Yates’ partner, Robert Johnson, but for all intents and purposes, the firm was vaporized with vultures circling to divvy up the firm’s bank accounts.
Herbert Yates recovered from a mild heart attack and fell on the sword for his now-separated-getting-divorced daughter. The scandal of Congressman Mistretta’s extortion trail was the center of DC gossip, complete with pictures that had been leaked to the press. In exchange for Lydia’s suspended sentence, Herbert Yates agreed to cooperate fully with the FBI. The number of arrests that would follow the FBI’s full investigation broke a hundred in six different states. Not bad. Yates would spend the rest of his life in a small cell in Federal Prison, trying to remember what single malt scotch tasted like.
As I pulled the turkey out of the oven, I thought about how much I had to be thankful for. Only two months ago, I met a woman and tried to learn what fracing was. Now it was Thanksgiving, and Zeke and I were living in Pennsylvania on a dairy farm. Anne had given me a spare bedroom to convert to an office, and Zeke was turning into quite the farm hand. While his mental capacity would never be the same as it was before the injury, I could see the excitement with which Zeke greeted each new task he had to learn around the farm. He was masterful with the dogs and handling the herd, and he could do a job where he really could contribute. Not that “Scary Zeke with a bat” hadn’t been a contribution, but this seemed much more constructive.
As we gathered around the table and toasted Thanksgiving, I guess Zeke said it best. “I love everyone at this table. And the dogs, too. And the cows.” He was never one to leave anyone out, lest they be offended.
Epilogue
· · · · ·
I had been working inside the house, making the bedroom into the world headquarters of Barnes Private Investigations when the doorbell rang. It was the mailman with a registered letter for Anne, but he let me sign for it. I couldn’t help but wonder as I looked at the return address of a law firm in Atlanta, Georgia.
I walked the letter out the milking parlor where Anne and Thom were chatting while watching the cows being milked. We took a walk back to the picnic table out in front of the house and opened it together.
Dear Dr. Lynch,
Our firm represents Globalvision Energy Worldwide, Inc. As we work through the unfortunate events of this past October, we are looking to clear our client’s excellent reputation as a world leader in energy production, mining and exploration. Several individuals, while employed with Globalvision, were found to be negligent in their duties, and, in fact, criminal in their actions. Rest assured that these individuals are no longer employed by our client.
It is the wish of Globalvision Energy Worldwide, Inc. to compensate you properly for the loss of your livestock, interruption to your business and remediation to any soil or water contamination. Experts on site have assured us that proper environmental procedures are now in place to prevent any further problems. Safety for our employees, the environment and the community is of primary concern to Globalvision.
Local appraisers were hired to estimate damages to your dairy operation and livestock. We have taken it upon ourselves to add thirty percent to the appraised value of the livestock to ensure your ability to replace your herd with the finest animals available in your local marketplace. We have also added to that one full year of loss of revenue based on your county’s average dairy sales.
Acceptance of this check will constitute your willingness to accept this payment as final settlement from Globalvision Energy Worldwide, Inc.
As we finished reading, Anne immediately went to page two to find the computer check. We looked at the amount and then at each other. Two hundred forty thousand dollars sounded like a lot of money to me, but what did I know about running a dairy farm?
“Is that good?” I asked.
Anne grabbed me and started kissing me, then crying, and then finally squealing like a little girl. I guess that was good.
After she finished covering my face in kisses, she cried out, “I can even pay you now!”
Also by David M. Salkin
Crescent Fire
Necessary Extremes
The MOP
Forever Hunger
The Team
All titles are available for Kindle and audio as well!
Table of Contents
Deep Down
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Forty-Four
Forty-Five
Forty-Six
Forty-Seven
Forty-Eight
Forty-Nine
Fifty
Fifty-One
Fifty-Two
Fifty-Three
Fifty-Four
Fifty-Five
Fifty-Six
Fifty-Seven
Fifty-Eight
Fifty-Nine
Sixty
Sixty-One
Sixty-Two
Sixty-Three
Sixty-Four
Sixty-Five
Epilogue
Also by David M. Salkin
David Salkin, Deep Down
