The reception area of the administration building with its wide-open spaces, glass walls, and three-story atrium had the feel of a botanical garden. Kate gave her name to the guard at the reception desk. He made a brief phone call before giving her a clip-on visitor’s pass and telling her to have a seat. As she thumbed through a copy of Sports Illustrated, intense men and women sped by her, obviously on missions of great importance. Everyone, regardless of age, looked terribly fit. Kate made a vow to get back into her workout routine as soon as she returned from the interview. Her interlude of self-castigation was interrupted by the appearance of a stunning brunette in an expensive, tailored business suit, who escorted her to an elevator separate from the main bank.

The car whisked them to the executive offices, where the doors opened on a waiting area decorated with cases displaying medals and trophies won by Mercury-sponsored athletes. The walls were covered with blowups of Mercury advertisements and photographs of athletes in action. Kate recognized most of the featured stars. The brunette ushered Kate past the displays to Tony Rose’s inner sanctum.

The office décor was an extension of the waiting room. Trophy cases lined two walls, and photographs of sports figures hung above them. The rest of the walls were glass and gave its occupant a spectacular view of the Columbia River. Tony Rose got up and walked around the side of a large modern desk made of glass and wrought iron. If he’d aged since the Pope trial, Kate couldn’t tell.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Kate said as they shook hands.

“When my assistant said you worked for Frank Jaffe’s law firm and wanted to see me about Sally Pope and Charlie Marsh, I had to find out what was going on.”

Rose motioned Kate into a chair and perched on the edge of the desk, gaining the high ground. He flashed a disarming, boyish smile and Kate saw why the ladies at the Westmont might have found him irresistible.

“So, Ms. Ross, what is going on?”

“Charlie Marsh is returning to Oregon to face the charges against him.”

“No kidding? Is Frank Jaffe representing him?”

“He can’t. He represented Mrs. Pope, so he has a conflict of interest.”

“Too bad. I always wondered how I would have held up if he’d questioned me. I was looking forward to crossing swords with him. So, if Frank isn’t Marsh’s lawyer, who is?”

“Frank’s daughter, Amanda.”

Rose nodded. “That’s right. She’s supposed to be pretty good, too. So, what can I do for you?”

“I wanted to talk to you because Karl Burdett will probably call you as a witness.”

“About Sally trying to hire me to kill Junior?”

Kate nodded. “You were also at the Westmont when Congressman Pope was shot, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, but I can’t help your client.”

“Oh?”

“I was some distance from the action in the parking lot, almost at my car, when I heard the shot. I turned around but I couldn’t see much because of the people between me and the congressman, and it was dark.”

“Why were you at the club that evening?”

“I probably worked late. I had administrative duties connected with being the club pro. But that’s a guess. You’ve got to remember, this was twelve years ago.”

“I appreciate that. Maybe I can help you. I’ve just been through the file, so a lot of this is fresh for me. There was a report that contained the statement Sally Pope gave to the police on the evening of the shooting. She says that you tried to talk to her just as the limo with Marsh and his entourage drove up.”

Rose shrugged. “If she said that happened I won’t deny it.”

“Why did you want to talk to her? I would have thought you wouldn’t want to go anywhere near her after she tried to get you to kill the congressman.”

“I honestly don’t remember talking to her, so I can’t help you. Now, will you tell me something?”

“If I can,” Kate said.

“What’s the deal with Marsh? Why is he coming back after all these years? I thought he was safe and sound in…What’s the name of the country where he was hiding out?”

“Batanga. And I really don’t know why he decided to return.”

“Maybe it got to be too much for him,” Rose mused. “It happens. You read about these sixties radicals that have been underground for years and they’re married and have kids and they get an attack of conscience and turn themselves in.”

“Could be,” Kate said. “I really don’t know. Getting back to the case, do you still maintain that Sally Pope asked you to kill her husband?”

“That’s what happened.”

“You’re certain about that?”

Rose laughed. “I may not remember some things about that time but you don’t forget a person asking you to murder someone.”

“And that was in Dunthorpe at the seminar?”

“Right.”

“Okay, back to the Westmont. When you were walking to your car, did you notice Mr. Marsh?”

“I may have, but I don’t recall.”

“How do you feel about Marsh, personally?”

“What do you mean?”

“He did break your nose after the seminar in Dunthorpe.”

Rose laughed. “He didn’t break it, he just bloodied it, and that’s water under the bridge.” Rose swung his hand out in an expansive gesture. “Look around you. You may have noticed that I’ve got a lot on my plate. As far as I’m concerned, that business with Sally and the guru is light-years away. When you see him tomorrow, you tell him I’m not holding any grudges.”

“Fair enough.” Kate stood up. “Thanks for seeing me. I know you’re busy, and I appreciate it.”

Rose also stood up. “No problem,” he said as he walked Kate to the door. She handed him her card.

“If you think of anything, give me a call.”

Rose studied the card. “Sure thing,” he said. “Allison will take you down.”

On her way back to her car, Kate rewound the interview in her mind and concluded that she hadn’t learned a thing. But something Rose had said nagged at her during the trip back to the office. Only she couldn’t figure out what it was.

CHAPTER 29

Amanda stepped out of the hatch of the Gulfstream G550 and shaded her eyes from the sun. As soon as they adjusted to the glare, Amanda spotted TV vans, a mob of reporters, and Karl Burdett and two policemen standing outside the rear door of the FBO. Amanda stared at Burdett for a second, then turned around and glared at Dennis Levy.

“What are they doing here?”

“We have to start selling Charlie’s side of the story if we want to get the public on our side,” Levy explained as if his betrayal was the only reasonable course of action.

Amanda shoved Levy back into the interior of the plane, forcing Charlie to take a few steps back.

“You idiot. Did it ever enter that thick skull of yours that one of the reporters might call the district attorney to get his take on the return of Oregon’s most wanted fugitive?”

“The DA?”

“Yes, Dennis. He’s the gentleman standing with the two policemen. Burdett’s probably here to arrest Charlie because he thinks I double-crossed him by calling a press conference to get our side in front of the public before he could.”

“I…It never…” Levy stuttered.

“If you pull something like this again I will have you on the next plane back to New York.”

“I don’t work for you,” Levy answered belligerently.

“That is correct. You work for World News. I work for Charlie Marsh and I don’t work for World News. If you go behind my back one more time I will advise Charlie to give Newsweek exclusive access to his story.”

Levy paled. “Look, don’t do anything rash. I just thought the publicity would put Charlie in a good light.”

“I don’t try my cases in the press, Dennis. I try them in court. And I know exactly why you stage-managed this media circus. You want to sell copies of World News and promote your book, so don’t go all Mother Teresa on me about how you called the media to help Charlie.”