Over the course of the evening Steve tried to shove his thoughts about the mystery that was Ann to the back of his mind. Mostly they stayed there, but every now and then some question would arise – there was a lot about her that didn’t make sense, and he suspected he hadn’t done more than scratch the surface.

After finishing his plastic-tray dinner – which tasted a little of turkey and mostly of cardboard – he turned to packing up some clothes and loading them in the car. It didn’t take long, since he didn’t have much in the apartment. It wasn’t clear if he would be living in it again soon, since there was little to keep him there, but the future seemed especially uncertain at the moment.

As he was packing, he happened to think of the message he’d left for Craig Markham a few days before. He thought he really should drop him an e-mail to let him know things were all right – but he’d left the computer in his room at Uncle Homer’s.

Oh, well, no big deal, he thought. That’s what they make telephones for. He went to his land-line phone – not the gadget-filled little box that Uncle Homer and Ann had given him – and gave his friend a call.

“It didn’t turn out to be anything like I suspected,” he told Craig once he got him on the phone. “Just an elderly distant relative who needed a few things done for him. Since I don’t have anything better to do, I’m going to be helping him out for a while.”

“That’s good to hear,” Craig replied. “You sort of got me wondering with that message you sent me.”

“Well, I was wondering, too, but like I said, it didn’t turn out to be anything like I was suspecting. So what’s happening around here?”

“Not a whole hell of a lot. I’m still looking for work myself, but I think I have a couple of leads. Maybe they’ll pan out, and maybe not. Has Phil Crocker gotten hold of you?”

“Haven’t heard a word,” Steve replied. “Does he have something going?

“He’s still pretty damn burned over the deal Shawtex pulled on him. He thinks maybe he may be able to get a couple of contracts back when they expire, which I guess is pretty soon.”

“That’s interesting. Shawtex doesn’t exactly have the best reputation in the industry. You know their policy, screw everybody and run.”

“No shit, we sure learned about that. Anyway, Phil is talking about maybe getting a new company going if he can get the money together. He got his ass burned big time by Shawtex, but he thinks there’s a chance he can get going again. It won’t be on the same scale, but you have to give him points for trying.”

“I sure hope he can do it,” Steve replied, thinking about the way the whole RELI-Shawtex deal came down. “I don’t know if I could help him out, though.”

“There’s not much I can do to help him, because I don’t have the kind of money contacts he has. Maybe it’ll turn into something, but I doubt it. So what are you going to be doing for this old relative of yours?”

“Really not a lot, but he can’t get out of the house easily and he has some loose ends to tie up. Like I said, I don’t have anything else to do, so I might as well help him, especially since he’s going to be paying me for it. It’s up north, though, so I don’t expect to be around town here very much and I don’t know for how long, maybe the next few months.”

“Well, take care and have fun. I’m not doing much myself, so if you need a hand, let me know.”

“Good enough. I doubt there’ll be anything, but you never know.”

The conversation drove the vague musings about Ann from Steve’s mind for a while. Once he stopped and thought about it, the whole deal with Shawtex seemed like it bore a little bit of resemblance to the HMH-Hardin deal he would be involved with the next day. While Steve didn’t have any idea how much money Uncle Homer had, he knew it had to be a lot. On the other hand, Uncle Homer was clearly pulling back from long-range investments that would take massaging over years, and with good reason. Therefore, it seemed unlikely that he could help Phil out from that direction.

On the other hand, it sure would be nice to take a chunk out of Shawtex’s ass the way Uncle Homer was setting this Hardin character up for. He had no idea how to do it, but maybe someone could show them what goes around comes around. They’d certainly done a dirty deal to Phil and the RELI employees, so it would be nice to see a dirty deal done to them in return.

It was just useless mental meandering, and he knew it. He knew and liked Phil, had good hopes for him, but there was little likelihood he could do anything to help.

The sun wasn’t up when Steve got up the next morning. It was about a four-hour drive and he wanted to leave himself a little padding. He checked in with Ann, who was as cool as ever, and reported that there were no new developments that she and Uncle Homer were aware of; she told him to check in again to report what had happened.

With that, he got on the road, making a quick drive-through stop for a breakfast sandwich and a foam cup of coffee. It was mostly humdrum Interstate driving to get to Cookeville, and it turned out he’d left himself plenty of time. The lawyer’s office was easy to find; he was still plenty early. He figured it probably wasn’t the best idea to appear too eager, so he subjected himself to another drive-through cup of coffee; it was a different corporation, but the coffee still left much to be desired.

Fifteen minutes before the auction was due to start he parked his car on a side street a couple of blocks away from the law office. He walked into the place carrying a briefcase which contained the check, some paperwork identifying him as a representative of a law firm he was pretty sure didn’t exist, and a couple of technical manuals for sheer weight. Neither the receptionist who greeted him nor the attorney handling the sale asked for his credentials, nor did he offer them. Better to have them and not need them than to need them and not have them, he thought.

The auction, such as it was, wasn’t much like any that Steve had ever thought about. It was just in the law firm’s conference room, with several people sitting around in comfortable chairs. He recognized Hardin right off; he seemed confident and joking, as though he was sure he had a done deal in his hands. Steve didn’t say anything to anyone, not even identifying himself. He actively avoided inquiry by intently studying what looked like a document on the tech-heavy phone he’d been given, without revealing what he was actually looking at – it was actually an ebook version of a potboiler murder mystery he’d already read.

The auction started precisely at ten. “We’ve been asked to administer the sale of the partial ownership of this property,” the elderly lawyer said. “This is not normally how the sale of this sort of thing is handled, but it’s at the request of the seller.” He went on to describe the motel and the degree of ownership involved.

After a couple minutes of folderol, the lawyer said, “With that, the bids are now open. Does anyone have an opening bid?”

“Three hundred thousand,” Hardin piped up.

That was way too low and Steve knew it; he was not about to allow that to happen, but before he could open his mouth another one of the anonymous attendees of the auction spoke up, “Four hundred thousand.”

The bids went up in hundred thousand dollar increments without Steve having to open his mouth, with the others around the table bidding. In only about half a minute the bid was at eight hundred thousand, over the seven hundred and fifty thousand Uncle Homer had specified as a minimum.

The bidding went up from there a little more slowly as the bargain hunters were getting beyond their range; the last one dropped out at one point two million, and Hardin looked a little more relieved.

“Are there any more bids?” the attorney asked.

Steve gave it another couple of seconds and, not glancing up from the tiny screen on the phone, said clearly, “Yeah, one point three million.”

While Steve may have been looking at the story on the screen – a routine interrogation where he knew a small but vital clue would emerge – he was watching Hardin over the top of it. Hardin’s face fell; victory had been only seconds away, and now this new and unknown bidder had entered the challenge. He wasn’t about to let it get away, either. “One point four,” he came back in an instant.

Steve thumbed to the next page of the story, frowned, and after several seconds said, “Million and a half.”

“One point six,” Hardin shot back.

Once again Steve appeared to be studying the screen intently, but was actually keeping his eye on the other bidder, who was now starting to look a little nervous. After a few seconds he said nonchalantly, “One point seven million.”

Hardin was starting to look both nervous and mad, now. “One point eight.”

Steve looked at the screen again, yawned, and said, “One point nine.”

“Two million.”

Steve could just about see Hardin feeling the deal slip through his fingers. Steve knew he was risking forty thousand dollars, but at least it wasn’t his money. This was the decision point, knowing that Hardin was good for one more bid at this rate. He glanced at the screen again and nonchalantly replied, “Two point one.”

“Two point two,” Hardin shot back, sweating now – Steve knew he was near his limit, and Hardin did too.

“It’s yours,” Steve smiled.

“Are there any more bids? Going once? Going twice? Congratulations, Mr. Hardin, you won the bid. I’m afraid there will be some paperwork to deal with.”

“Good, let’s get on with it,” Hardin said in obvious relief.

Steve thumbed off the book he was reading and went back to the main screen on the little phone, then shoved it into the pocket of his suit coat. The early bidders were standing up and leaving the room now, so Steve joined them. In a minute he was outside, walking up the street to his car. He tossed the briefcase on the passenger side, started the car, and drove a couple miles to a supermarket parking lot, where he pulled in and left the engine running.

Only now did he dial Uncle Homer’s number, which Ann usually picked up. This time she didn’t; it was Uncle Homer himself. “How did it go, Steve?”

“Two point two was all I could get out of him.”

“Two point two? That’s more than I was expecting. I figured you’d have to get real cheesy around one and a half, maybe a little more than that.”

“No, he blew right through it without taking a breath. I think he kind of got the wind up and wasn’t going to let it go.”

“Good. With any kind of luck it’ll be a while before he realizes what kind of a goddamn fool he was. Are you calling from the lawyer’s office?”

“No, I’m several miles away. I may be new at these kinds of shenanigans, but even I know to clear the scene before reporting in.”

“Good enough. Do they know who you are?”

“They didn’t ask and I didn’t tell them.”

“Better and better. The report from the lawyer will have to go through a couple of different hands, so I expect it’ll be a while getting to me, probably tomorrow sometime. Good work, Steve. I’m glad to have that one out of my hair, what hair I have left. There are a couple of other things we need to talk about, but I don’t want to get into it on the phone. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you when you get back.”

“At this point I think I’ll stop for the night somewhere around Lexington or Cincinnati, so it’s probably going to be tomorrow afternoon, maybe tomorrow evening. Sometime around your breakfast time, I guess.”

“That’s fine, there’s no point in driving all night and arriving tired when we’re asleep. Call Ann when you’re a couple miles out and she’ll open the gate for you. Drive safely and take your time, Steve. You did well.”

The sun was low in the west the next day when Steve pulled up to the gate at Uncle Homer’s. The GPS unit in the phone had taken him there like it had eyes, and after he’d called Ann the gate was waiting open for him. He drove right up to the house and parked next to the garage where he knew the Lincoln was kept. The house still looked massive and imposing to him, like it still held plenty of secrets. He grabbed his briefcase and walked up to the door he’d used before.

Ann was waiting for him inside the door with a big grin on her face; she didn’t have sunglasses on, and her red eyes were prominent. “Mr. Taylor is quite pleased with the way you handled that, sir,” she said by way of greeting.

“It wasn’t that big a deal,” Steve shrugged. “I just had to keep my cool while Hardin was losing his.”

“Sir, I think Mr. Taylor would tell you that’s how such things often work. Nevertheless, we are both quite pleased with you. In any case, Mr. Taylor is not up yet, although he left instructions for me to call him when you arrived.”

“I’ve got several boxes and bags that need to come in. I could work on that while you get him up.”

“Why don’t you let it go for now, sir? You’re probably tired from driving all day. Once we’ve had breakfast – I mean dinner in your case – and Mr. Taylor has had a chance to speak with you, I can probably help you with that chore.”

“It’s no problem, Ann. I’ve been sitting in the car all day and I could use the exercise.”

“Very well, sir, if you desire. However, there’s no reason to fill your room with your things with all the empty space there is in this house. I’ve dusted and vacuumed the room right across the hall from yours, so why don’t you put your things in there? You can sort them out at leisure.”

Steve pretty well had the car unloaded when Ann caught him while he was going through the kitchen. “Sir, Mr. Taylor requests that you join us for breakfast in the dining room,” she said. “I will still be willing to assist you when he has concluded.”

“It’s pretty well done now, Ann. I take it you’re ready for me?”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Taylor is waiting for you.”

“Can I help you with anything?”

“No sir, I have things under control.”

“You always seem to, Ann.”

“Thank you, sir. I try.”

Steve followed Ann into the dining room, to find Uncle Homer already sitting at the table. With the efficiency of an experienced waitress, Ann quickly served plates of sausage gravy and biscuits, along with the normal sides, then sat down at the table across from him. “It looks good as always, Ann,” Uncle Homer said, then turned to Steve. “It’s our custom to not discuss business at meals, but I think you already understand that. However, I will break with custom enough to give you another ‘well done’ on that one, Steve. So how was your trip?”

“I’ve had worse,” Steve said. “A lot of driving, but I don’t mind that. For breaks I had time enough to stop off and look at a couple of places I’ve always wanted to see. When I’ve come this way before I’ve always been in too big of a hurry.”

“It’s always good to stop and take your time like that,” the old man replied. “You never know when you’re going to learn something that would be useful to you at some point in the future. Did you find anything interesting?”

“I don’t know how useful it would be but I stopped off at a place where there’s a pre-Columbian Indian mound. It’s one of those things I’ve just never taken the time to do. I’m afraid I haven’t done as much traveling as I would have liked.”

“I’ve been all over the world, Steve. I’ve probably spent a third of my life out of the country, and I still haven’t seen enough. Don’t miss the chance when you have it.”

While they ate, they talked for several minutes about some of the adventures Uncle Homer had had in various parts of the world; it was clear that he had led an interesting life. Eventually they finished; Ann moved Uncle Homer into his familiar chair in the living room, then went to pick up the dishes and get them in the dishwasher while Uncle Homer finished a long and involved yarn, one that Steve suspected contained a moral or a lesson.

After a few minutes, Ann served them coffee and sat down in a chair nearby to be a part of the conversation. “As I told you earlier, Steve, well done,” Uncle Homer said, getting down to business. “I think we robbed some bank pretty good on that one.”

“Robbed a bank?” Steve frowned. “I wasn’t anywhere near a bank.”

“Oh, that’s what we did, but indirectly,” the old man smiled. “Let’s face it; it was a bank’s money that Hardin was playing with. Seven-fifty was pretty much our break-even point on that deal, and anything above that was gravy. Realistically, something around a million would have been a reasonably fair price, knowing that the property was going to need something around a million dollars worth of repairs, give or take.”

“That seems realistic,” Steve nodded.

“I knew that, Ann knew that, Hardin probably knew that, and I think you understood it even if you didn’t know the numbers. Hardin’s two-and-a-quarter line of credit wasn’t supposed to be entirely for buying out my interest, it was also supposed to go toward the building maintenance and upgrades. I honestly didn’t think he’d go much over one and a quarter if he’d been thinking about what he was doing. Instead, you stuck him for two point two million, and the balance of that money has to come out of what he’d earmarked for improvements.”

“Well, yes, I knew that, or at least figured it out.”

“So now he’s stuck with paying over two million for a property that was in real terms only worth about a third of that and he still has to do the upgrades. I very seriously doubt that throwing an additional million at the property is worth it, and in time he may come to realize that. The only recourse he has is to sell the whole property, which is now his, for what he can get out of it in order to draw even with the bank. Now, a fair market value for the property as it stands in only his name is in the range of a million, maybe a little more. I don’t think he has a hope in God’s creation of getting any two point two million out of it. That means he’s going to wind up owing some bank around a million that he has no way of paying. That means the bank is probably going to wind up eating around a million bucks of write-off. Of course, that will be a gift to them from the Internal Revenue Service, but that’s their concern.”

“So you’re saying that thanks to Hardin’s stupidity, and probably some banker’s, you took the bank indirectly for around a million, right?”

“See, I knew you weren’t stupid. Now, we’re in the clear on that, since it was his stupidity, but in practice we robbed that bank of a million. There’s a line in The Godfather, the book, not the movie, where one mobster says, ‘One lawyer with his briefcase can steal more than a hundred men with guns.’ That is so true it’s unbelievable.”

“But neither of us are lawyers.”

“True, but there were some involved along the way. The point to all this, Steve, is that it took doing our homework to get everything ready for plucking the chicken. I did a lot of it, Ann did even more, and we had to farm some of it out to lawyers and other assets like Chipperdude. But we sent you in there knowing what we were doing. Hardin presumably thought he knew what he was doing but didn’t expect what happened to him. He may not have figured it out yet and may not for a while. When he does, I doubt if he’ll understand what really happened to him. That was as neat of a deal as I’ve pulled in a long time, and since your cool was the key to bringing it off, you get a share of the proceeds.”

“Me?” Steve replied, truly surprised. “I was just the errand boy on that one.”

“A very important errand boy, especially in that you were an unknown to Hardin. I mentioned to you before you left that it would have been counterproductive to send Ann to do that little chore, since he most likely would have recognized her and realized what was going on. That kind of anonymity is going to be important in the future. We have other projects in the works, but they’re not quite ready to harvest yet. But, considering the timing on this one, it was important to bring you on board when we did.”

“All right, I think I see that.”

“Very good. Now, you’ll agree that this was a legitimate business deal where we’d taken care to get all of our ducks in a row, right?”

“As far as I can tell,” Steve shrugged. “It seems to me that Hardin was the one who did it to himself. He was a fool to go over that million and a quarter figure you mentioned earlier.”

“I suspected that was right, although I knew he was a fool from having dealt with him before. There is another proverb, ‘a fool and his money are soon parted.’ You just managed to make him part with more than he can afford. In fact, he had it coming. I’ve written off the losses he caused so have already made the money back from the IRS, but there was no point in letting him get away with it. I’m sure you agree with that.”

“Having heard what he did to you with his funny bookkeeping, yes.”

“Very good, Steve. You’re smarter about this kind of thing than you think you are. Now, the break-even point on this was the seven hundred fifty thousand dollar figure, and there were a few extra expenses, like the fee that had to be paid to Chipperdude, so the net profit comes out to a shade over a million, four hundred thousand. Does ten percent sound like a fair share to you?”

“Ten percent?” Steve replied in shock. “Do you actually mean a hundred and forty thousand dollars?”

“Of course I mean it. You earned it, just as Ann earned her ten percent for the work she did too. Steve, need I point out that a million and a quarter was a reasonable figure for Hardin to pay? You pushed him for another million, so of course you deserve to get your fair share.”

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