Found Money - James Grippando [95]
“I believe so.”
Norm said, “Your Honor, Dr. Duffy will certainly be there. But if Mr. Jackson intends to question Mr. Langford, I can’t guarantee he will attend. I have no control over him. He’s not a party and he’s not my client.”
“Mr. Klusmire, if you know what’s good for you, your client will make sure that his own brother-in-law is in my courtroom tomorrow morning. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Judge,” said Jackson.
“Good day, gentlemen.” The judge disconnected, leaving only the lawyers on the line.
Norm shook his head. “You’re everything people say you are, aren’t you, Jackson?”
His face hurt, but Jackson managed a smile. “Everything—and then some.”
“This hardball stuff really isn’t necessary.”
“But it is,” he said, his smile fading. “This isn’t the Liz and Ryan Duffy soap opera anymore. This is personal. I’ll see you in court.”
44
The wait was going on two and a half hours. Ryan took it as a good sign that he hadn’t been thrown out of the building yet. Even better, he hadn’t been thrown off it. He could wait all day, if he had to. The visitors’ lobby was certainly comfortable enough. The leather couches weren’t the stiff grade found in family rooms. These were as soft and supple as driving gloves.
Ryan had thought hard before coming directly to K&G headquarters. Last night, Amy’s reaction had convinced him of one thing. He couldn’t live with the money without knowing the truth. There was no honor in profit at the expense of a raped woman. He had to know how the rape was connected to the extortion.
Ryan’s father was dead. Amy’s mother was dead. The only living person who could possibly hold the answer was the man his father had blackmailed. Ryan couldn’t be a hundred percent sure that it was Joseph Kozelka, but Norm’s investigator had not identified a single other person in the Boulder High yearbook who had acquired the financial wherewithal to pay that much money. True, he and Norm had agreed they would talk to the FBI before moving on Kozelka. Waiting, however, would deprive Ryan of his leverage. The threat of going to the FBI and dropping Kozelka’s name seemed like the only way to get Kozelka to tell him if he in fact had paid the money to Frank Duffy—and more important, why.
He knew what Norm would say. It was risky, maybe even dangerous. Somehow, however, his father had managed to keep the scheme going and keep himself alive for some twenty years. Ryan would take those odds. Still, he couldn’t tell Norm in advance and give him the chance to talk him out of it. This time, Ryan was on his own.
“Dr. Duffy?”
It was a baritone voice from behind. Ryan rose from the couch and turned. The sheer size of the man suggested he was from corporate security.
“Yes,” said Ryan.
“Come with me.”
They walked side by side down the hall in silence. Ryan stood over six feet, but he felt small next to this guy. He was easily six-five and solidly built. Not like those upper-body freaks at the gym with Herculean chests and legs like Bambi. This man’s build was proportional, more athletic. Ryan suspected a military background.
“Where are we headed?” asked Ryan.
He stopped and opened the solid oak door to a conference room at the end of the hall. “Inside, please.”
It was an interior conference room, no windows. Eight leather chairs surrounded a rectangular walnut table. The lighting was soft and indirect.
He directed Ryan to the other side of the table. “Sit there.”
Ryan noted how evenly his voice had carried. The sound in the room was like Norm’s media room—acoustically perfect. The room had that sleek look of those counterespionage corporate conference rooms he’d seen in magazines, with cameras hidden in wall clocks and anti-bugging devices throughout. Ryan was glad he hadn’t come wired. It surely would have been detected.
The guard sat across from him. “Why did you come here?”
All doubts as to whether he