Richard Greener - The Knowland Retribution

“Never liked it, huh?”

“Never did.”

“Well, Walter-and please do call me Nick-who are the folks you work for, and what kind of work is it you do?”

“I work for some people in New York. You wouldn’t know their names …”

“Try me. I’ve been to New York.”

“My client is a prominent person. Let’s leave it at that,” Walter said. “I don’t divulge names. I’m sure you understand.”

“I do. And I respect that. But I don’t talk to people when I don’t know who they are. I’m sure you understand.”

Walter had no response. He just sat there. In a moment, Nick rose, extended his hand, and said, “Nice meeting you, Walter.” In the next moment Walter made a decision completely foreign to his experience, one he’d never even considered. Nick Stevenson had information that could very well be critical to finding Leonard Martin. Walter’s best guess was Nick wouldn’t talk to him, not about Leonard or anything else, without knowing who he was really speaking to. He judged Nick as a man who could be trusted, and said, “I work for a New York businessman named Nathan Stein.”

“He wouldn’t be the Stein of Stein, Gelb, Hector amp; Wills, would he?”

Walter smiled again. “More than once, I see.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’ve been to New York more than once.”

“I have. Yes, indeed. Bought some stock too. Made a few deals, you know. Met a few fellas down on Wall Street.”

Walter saw the mischievous streak in Nick, and he liked it. It reinforced the judgment he’d just made on which he’d risked so much. He liked Nick Stevenson too. He was more than just a closing attorney. “You handled the case against Knowland, didn’t you?” Walter said. “I’ll bet you did it all by yourself.”

Now it was Nick’s turn to be surprised.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” he said, but obviously he did. His demeanor gave him away, and he knew it too. After an awkward pause he finally said, “What else do you know?”

“You can assume that everything that can be openly discovered, I’ve got-and perhaps some things that can’t.”

“Like Knowland?”

“Like Knowland.”

“What are we trying to talk about here?” Nick said.

Walter asked if he could have something cold to drink. “Diet anything,” he said. Nick buzzed his secretary, and almost immediately she produced a cold can and a glass with ice. “Thanks,” said Walter. “My clients-and Nathan Stein is one of a group-believe your partner, Leonard Martin, is going to kill them.”

“You never said what it is you do, Walter.”

“I find people. I find people who can’t be found or don’t want to be found.”

“A private investigator? Bounty hunter? You’re surely not law enforcement.”

“None of those. I’m no PI, no license, not for hire for that. I’m no bounty hunter either. I never work on commission. And I don’t go around hurting people. I’m not a hired goon. I just find people.”

“I didn’t know Leonard Martin was missing.”

“Nick, we can go round in circles for as much time as you’ve got. I’ve got nothing else to do today. But I’d rather get serious. I’m not an adversary, not to you or Leonard Martin, not to anyone. That’s not what I do. Nathan Stein wants to find Leonard. He can’t do it himself so, he hired me.”

“Why?”

“Why did he hire me or why does he want to find him?”

“The latter.”

“Stein and his crew,” Walter began, leaning forward in his chair to be closer to Nick, who reclined as far as he could behind his desk, “they believe that the same person who’s already killed other people, including Christopher Hopman and Billy MacNeal, will try to kill them. They don’t know yet who this person is. They came to me. Long story short, that person is Leonard Martin.” Walter looked closely for any reaction at all from Nick Stevenson, anything that might tell him if he knew about this already, might even be part of it. He saw it: a quick halt in Nick’s respiration, then a return to normal. Not enough by itself to draw a meaningful conclusion, but enough to raise certain questions. Perhaps he knew what Leonard was doing. Perhaps he was part of it. Perhaps he was worried he might be found out. Perhaps, also, he knew nothing and was shocked to hear the allegation, but careful enough not to give himself away. Perhaps only Walter’s experienced eye caught the momentary change in Nick’s breathing pattern. He probed further.

“He’s not in the Bahamas-you know that?”

“I know about Hopman and MacNeal down in Texas. I read the papers too. Now you’re telling me Leonard Martin is a killer, a cold-blooded murderer? That he shot these men? That’s not possible.”

“Nick, I’ve been doing this kind of work for more than thirty years. Take my word for it-anything’s possible. When Leonard Martin left here, more than two years ago, you say he went to the Bahamas.”

“No, I didn’t say that, but you seem to know anyway. Leonard said that.”

“Yes, he told you he’d bought a place there-a boat too, I believe-and left. Is that right?”

“Yes. That’s what he said.”

“And you probably got a letter from him some time later, perhaps even an address, and my guess is you haven’t heard from him since.”

“What is it you want, Mr. Sherman?” Nick Stevenson was getting a bit testy.

“Hey,” Walter said, holding up both his hands in mock surrender. He most certainly did not want this meeting to spiral into distrust and anger. “Please, it’s Walter. I’m only trying to let you know there are things I already know. We don’t have to do this this way. I’ll tell you straight out that I do not know what you know, if you know anything, about Leonard Martin’s whereabouts and activities the last few months or the past two years. All I’m looking for is to communicate with him. I have to find him before I can do that. If you can help me contact him, or do it for me, that would more than satisfy my needs. That’s all I want. Will you help me?”

Nick buzzed his secretary. When she picked up he asked her to bring him some tea. They waited in silence while his tea arrived, and Walter said nothing until Nick had taken a sip.

“I mean no harm to him, Nick. You have to believe that. That’s not what I do. I need to talk to him or with him. It’s in his best interest. Will you help me?”

Nick Stevenson shook his head, grimaced, and took another sip of his hot tea. “No,” he said. “I can’t.”

“You haven’t-”

“No, I haven’t. I haven’t seen him since the day he said goodbye, haven’t talked to him since the day he left, and haven’t communicated with him since then-except for the note I received, as you said, with Leonard’s address in the Bahamas. Are you sure he’s not there anymore?”

“Never was. It was a decoy. You’re a real estate lawyer. You must have seen these kinds of purchases before. With his expertise my guess is that he flew in, closed on the property and the boat-if you can call it that-and flew out. Might not have spent even one night there.”

“You’re sure?” asked Nick.

“I live in the Caribbean, Nick. I know the area he bought in. I’ve checked thoroughly. He was never there.”

“It’s all Knowland, isn’t it?” Nick said. “Knowland and your clients too.”

“Yeah, it certainly is,” Walter said. “At some point, probably shortly before he left Atlanta, Leonard came across information about the people who were involved in that sorry episode. He fashioned some sort of list of those he felt knew about the scope of that disaster, understood the danger in advance, and now he’s killing them, one by one.”

“Because they didn’t stop it?”