Were it not for the clicking of her high heels, Ann would have been as silent as a ghost as she walked back into the living room and took a seat in an easy chair near Steve and Uncle Homer. “All right, Ann,” Uncle Homer said. “Now that you’re here, I guess we can get started.”

“As you wish, sir.”

Uncle Homer turned to Steve. “There are two ways we can go about this,” he began. “The first is to give you exact instructions about what I want you to do and depend on you carrying them out without knowing the background. The other way is to give you part of the background so you’ll have some idea of what I’m trying to accomplish, rather than you just being a robot. Under the circumstances, I think the second way is better, because there are a number of lessons to be learned along the way that will apply in other situations.”

“Whatever you think best,” Steve replied. “You’re the one who knows what you’re trying to do.”

“I probably ought to point out that Ann knows as much about this one as I do. More, in some respects. However, I asked her to not discuss it with you up until now since I wanted to make sure things were presented to you in the right way. It’s important that you know what you need to know, but at the same time it’s important to avoid distractions.

“Now, that much said, at ten in the morning the day after tomorrow there will be a real estate auction in a lawyer’s office in Cookeville, Tennessee. I want you there to bid on the one parcel of property that will be at auction. There will most likely be several other bidders. I want you to run up the bid as high as possible, but not win it.”

“Not win it?”

“Exactly. You’re going to be the Judas goat in this deal. Very indirectly, through a couple of offshore corporations and a couple other cut-outs, the seller is me.”

“I get it,” Steve smiled. “I think I see what you’re up to. That’s a little sneaky.”

“More than a little sneaky. It’s not illegal, but I think there probably would be those who would consider it on the immoral side. However, it’s not uncommon in auctions of this nature, which is why your not having any known connection to Ann and me is important. In actual fact, this is also payback, but we’ll get to that in a minute. Ann, if you would be so kind.”

In the semi-darkness of the room, Steve could see her move a mouse on a mouse pad at her side and click on an icon on the computer screen on the far side of the room; a man’s picture came up on it. “This gentleman’s name is Jerome Hardin,” Uncle Homer explained. “There may be others at the auction, but if they are they’ll most likely be bargain hunters and will probably drop out of the bidding early. My intent is that Hardin win the bid, but as expensively as possible. If he is present, he will be prepared to go to two and a quarter million dollars on this property. It would be best if you were to let him win the bid near that figure.”

“That sounds easy enough. A touch on the risky side, but easy enough.”

“It is in fact very simple. If it weren’t for the fact that Mr. Hardin met Ann some time ago and might remember her, I would willing to let her stand in for me. If he were to recognize her, though, he’d smell a rat and the deal would be busted. There should be no way he would recognize you as our Judas goat. Ann, I know there are other pictures of Mr. Hardin.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and flicked through several pictures of the man, leaving each up on the screen for a few moments. “Do you think you will be able to recognize him if you see him, sir?” she asked after a moment.

“I should be able to, unless there is a crowd of lookalikes there,” Steve replied.

“Good enough,” Uncle Homer said. “If by some unlikely circumstance he isn’t present, just go ahead and bid the price up as far as you can. I would be satisfied at anything over seven hundred and fifty thousand, but more is better, of course.”

“I have a really stupid question. What happens if I screw up and win the bid?”

“Then we’ll have to buy the property,” the old man shrugged. “Since we’re the sellers, it’s just a case of moving the money from one pocket to another, less a two percent fee to the lawyers, of course. I would really rather that not happen, since that fee could be on the far side of forty thousand dollars and we’d still have to find another buyer. But it’s an acceptable risk considering the potential gain. In any case, you’ll have a cashier’s check for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to serve as earnest money should it be needed. I hope you’ll be bringing that check back here with you.”

Yes, it was a risk, Steve thought. Forty thousand dollars might not have been a heck of a lot of money to Uncle Homer, but it was to him! That was a little bigger scale of risk than he was used to in his life so far! On the other hand, the risk seemed to be worth the reward, or at least Uncle Homer apparently thought so. “Can I ask what this is all about?”

“I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t,” Uncle Homer laughed. “Ann, the motel picture, please.”

The view on the screen changed, and a picture of a boxy-looking motel came up on the screen. “The franchise on this motel is held by the HMH-Hardin Corporation. The minority share is owned by Hardin, as you might guess by the name, and partly owned by me through a series of offshore cutouts. The visible one to him is a Delaware corporation by the name of Halston, McFadden Holdings, which is nothing but a cutout. To make a long story short, Hardin has been managing it and thinks he’s been stealing me blind thanks to some funny bookkeeping. He would like to buy out the Halston, McFadden share, and has been doing his best to drive the potential sale price down by deferring maintenance, and again, funny bookkeeping. To describe this simply, I’m perfectly willing to let him have it to get it out of my hair, but not at the price he hopes to get it for. In fact, I want to get it at a price that would hurt him.”

“It seems to me you could accomplish that by setting some auditors on him,” Steve observed.

“You’re probably right, but it would take time, and at my age I don’t feel I dare to invest that time. This is one of those loose ends I just want to get cleaned up while I still can, hopefully at a preferential price. If we can take a bite out of Hardin’s backside in the process, so much the better.”

“That explains a great deal,” Steve replied thoughtfully. “I take it you have some other things like that you want to deal with?”

“Not quite like this. As I said, this one is pretty simple, but it’s taken a while to set up and now the time is ripe for harvesting. The date of the auction is obviously why we wanted to get you involved, and this will be a good learning experience for you. Some of what you will learn will apply in other circumstances.”

“I take it you don’t want to buy him out, mostly because it would involve more work than you want to go to at your age.”

“Precisely, Steve,” Uncle Homer replied. “At one time it was not a bad investment. In fact, it was a pretty good one. But the motel is getting a little long in the tooth and needs major maintenance and remodeling, which is expensive of course. I’m perfectly willing to let Hardin have it, and the headaches that go with it. If you can drive the price high enough it will be a reach for him, at best. There are several ways in which he can lose his shirt, and I don’t care which one of them actually happens. It’s going to be his problem, and not mine any longer. So drive him as close to that two-and-a-quarter-million-dollar figure as you can.”

“How do you know that figure?”

“We have our ways,” Uncle Homer grinned. “Ann?”

“He e-mailed a friend a few days ago and stated he’d arranged for a letter of credit of that size, sir,” she replied in a businesslike manner, as cool as the lawyer Steve had taken her for initially.

“You wouldn’t happen to be that friend, would you?”

“Oh, no, sir,” she replied demurely.

“You’re telling me you hacked his e-mail?”

“No, sir,” she smiled. “I know how to use a computer, but I have to admit that’s beyond my capabilities. As luck would have it, they’re not beyond Chipperdude’s.”

“Chipperdude? Who’s that?”

“I have no idea, sir. As far as I know he’s a young man – well, I believe he’s a young man, although I could easily be mistaken – who considers himself to be something of a hacker. He’s really not that good, but his skills are adequate to accomplish what we have asked him to do, which has not been complex. He has been reasonably reliable in the past.”

“Umm-hmmm,” Steve grinned broadly, “and I suppose he has no idea of who you are?”

“I believe not, sir. My contacts with him have been quite circumspect, and never on a computer belonging to us or within fifty miles of here. In addition, he has been adequately rewarded for his efforts in the past.”

“I think we’ve pursued that line of inquiry enough for now,” Uncle Homer said. “Let’s just say that when you’re playing poker it helps to know what your opponent’s hole card is, or in this case, what your opponent’s betting limit is.”

“One more question,” Steve smiled. “Did those pictures of Hardin come from a detective, or something?”

“Oh, no, sir,” Ann giggled – a strange sound, coming from her. “They came from his Facebook page. Even I can hack that.”

Early the next morning Ann and Steve were once again in the Lincoln, heading back to the airport. They’d left late enough that Ann was driving the huge white car; she was obviously more comfortable with it than he was. She was wearing head-to-foot clothes, of course, along with a big, floppy hat, and her mirrored sunglasses as usual. For all of that, she appeared stylishly dressed.

“Well, yesterday was interesting,” Steve said, more with the intent of making conversation than anything else. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but that wasn’t it.”

“Sir, I think it safe to say that Mr. Taylor was quite satisfied with you. He seems to be of the opinion that you will have little difficulty accomplishing what he wants you to do.”

“I hope he’s right. He seems to be putting quite a bit of faith in me.”

“Oh, I’m sure he is. Sir, you realize that this is more than just a learning experience for you, don’t you? I know Mr. Taylor well enough to know that he believes you learn by being tested. If you pass this test, he will have a better idea of how much confidence to put in you in the future.”

“That seems pretty obvious. Look, you know him better than I do. Do you think I can handle this?”

“Sir, my opinion usually corresponds with Mr. Taylor’s. I have the same hopes for you he does, and all we can do is see what actually happens. In addition to the hopes he has, I have the hope that you will be able to relieve me of some of the out-of-the-house daylight chores I have to undertake, such as this one.”

“You really don’t like being out in the daylight, do you?”

“No, sir, I do not. In addition to having to leave Mr. Taylor alone, I have to go to great lengths to protect myself from the sun, especially on bright days such as this one. It can make me more noticeable than I wish to be, especially on warm days. For what must be obvious reasons to you now, neither of us cares to draw more attention than we have to.”

It was not a short drive back to the airport, but the conversation between them was sporadic. The three of them had talked this project out as far as it could go the night before, so there was nothing new to add. Then, Ann had given Steve a new cell phone with several capabilities Steve hadn’t seen before. She spent some time going over its functions with him, until he was comfortable with it; he could see how it could be useful.

The plan was that she would take him to the airport, where he would spend much of the day getting back home. He’d start driving early the next morning with the intent of pulling into Cookeville with only an adequate margin of time before the auction – there was no point in hanging around more than necessary.

Then, assuming everything went all right, he’d load more clothes and things in his car, and drive back to Wychbold. It had been decided to keep his apartment for a while; Uncle Homer had suggested it might be useful in the near future, but Steve figured it could also be because he might not measure up to what Uncle Homer wanted.

As they neared the airport, Steve commented, “The plan is still for you just to drop me off and head back, right?”

“Not quite, sir. I have to stop off and run a couple of errands along the way. One of them is at a library that has Internet access.”

“A message for Chipperdude?”

“Not in this case, sir, but something else where we wish to preserve a significant degree of anonymity. Chipperdude is a resource we only use rarely, but he is nice to have available if we need him.”

“You have other resources like him?”

“Not like him, sir, but with their own specialties. I really should not say more if I have not said too much already. You will be made aware of them if and when the need arises.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “I’m just making conversation.”

“As time goes by, Mr. Taylor, you will find out what you need to know.”

“I guess,” he sighed, “but it would be nice to talk about something. Do you follow baseball, for example?”

“I understand there are baseball teams in Detroit and Chicago, but I am not sure of their names, sir.”

“Well, that’s out, I guess,” he shook his head. “Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”

“Not at this time, sir. I am sure we will find things to talk about in the future, but the time is not right just yet.”

Wow, he thought. Is she being chilly this morning, or what? There were times that he’d seen glints of a human being beneath that cool exterior, but they had been pretty rare. There’s something going on there, but damned if I know what it is. Maybe someday I’ll find out, but then, I know more now than I did a couple of days ago.

Ann finally herded the big beast of a car to a stop in front of the airport departure line. Steve only had a small carry-on with him – it had been decided that his bag and his computer would stay at Uncle Homer’s. “I guess this is it,” he told her. “See you in a few days.”

“Please check in with us when you get home, sir. I don’t know if Mr. Taylor will be up but I probably will be.”

Just a little piqued at the formality – and the iciness – Steve replied, “You have a safe trip back, Ms. Rutledge. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

“Ann, please, sir.”

“Only if you call me Steve once in a while.”

“Very well, Steve,” she conceded – though it was a slight one. “Have a safe trip, sir.”

Several long hours later Steve got off the commuter airliner near home. It had been a long trip and the fact that he’d spent part of it in the first class section from Detroit to Atlanta only took the edge off of it.

He’d spent much of the trip thinking about the last couple of days. The surprising thing was that much of it made sense. Uncle Homer needed help with a few things, that was clear. It seemed likely that some of them would likely be sneaky, or possibly borderline illegal, but at least justifiable. He had liked Uncle Homer right from the beginning; he seemed to be a warm, good-natured guy, not the crotchety old coot he liked to say he was. That part of the experience promised to continue to be interesting.

Ann, though – well, the mildest thing you could call her was “different,” and that really was much too mild a word. Although a few things about her now made sense, his impression was that she was a two-legged mystery. Beautiful, yes, in an eerie sort of way, and there was no doubt that she was a smart cookie. But she was so cool, if not downright cold, and so formal it was unbelievable. There may have been a casual side to her – he’d occasionally seen pieces of it, but it was mostly well-hidden. He couldn’t fathom how she could remain so stiff around a guy like Uncle Homer.

That was just one of the many mysteries about her. It seemed likely that he would be working with her for a while, and perhaps some of the mysteries would unravel a little – but then, there was a chance they wouldn’t, either. On the plane, he’d more or less come to the conclusion that he didn’t like or dislike her, but was curious about her. At the same time, he’d concluded that even without her obvious problems she would be a hard woman to live with, although Uncle Homer seemed to manage it quite well.

It was a relief to get into his Caliber again. Everything was where it was supposed to be, not half a mile away like it seemed in the old Lincoln. It may have been what Ann was used to driving, but it would take him some time to come to grips with the huge old boat.

His apartment was familiar; it was home, so different from the huge old Victorian place where Uncle Homer and Ann lived. He pulled a meal from the freezer and got it warming in the microwave; it wouldn’t be anything like the quality of the veal parmesan Ann had prepared the night before but it would be food, and better than airline food, at that. His mind was mainly on what he had to do this evening, getting more clothes packed and out to the car so he would be ready to head for Cookeville early in the morning. While the dinner was being nuked, he remembered that he needed to check in with Ann or Uncle Homer, so he pulled his new phone from his pocket and hit the appropriate speed-dial icon. In only seconds he heard Ann’s voice: “Yes, Mr. Taylor? How can I help you?”

Well, that attempt for familiarity at the airport sure stuck for a long time, he thought cynically. “I’m at home and just checking in,” he told her. “There’s no news beyond that.”

“That’s good to hear, sir. There are no new developments to pass on to you, not that Mr. Taylor or I expected any. Please check in again before you leave for Cookeville in the morning.”

“No problem,” he said, then decided to get a little casual, just to see if she would respond. “So what are you making for dinner?”

“I’m afraid it’s breakfast for Mr. Taylor and me, sir. Poached eggs on toast, with Amish sausage. I have not yet asked Mr. Taylor what he would like for dinner, but I thought I might suggest chicken scaloppini.”

“I have to admit, it’s got to be better than the frozen turkey TV dinner I have in the microwave.”

“That sounds dreadful, sir,” she replied with a slightly lighter touch to her voice; Steve figured that was about the best he was going to get out of her in this conversation. “I shall have to do better for you upon your return,” she added.

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” he replied. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Have a good night, sir. I shall look forward to talking to you then.”

“Take care, Ann.”

He punched off the connection. Irritating though her formality could be, it had been good to hear her voice. Somewhere in his mind he remembered a part of a quote to the effect of “a riddle wrapped in a mystery wrapped in an enigma.” The more he thought about her, the more it seemed like a good description. Despite himself, his curiosity was aroused. But did he want to probe any deeper? There were some hairs rising on the back of his neck that told him he was probably looking for trouble if he did.

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