“What do you know about his relationship with a congressman, Kent Duer?”
“The defense industry hawk? Not much. Why?” He started bouncing ever so slightly on the yoga ball while Nikki described her encounter at The Greenwich. When she had finished, he spotted an elastic band dangling from a pen in his pencil cup and used it to put his hair back in a ponytail as he spoke. “I don’t have any specifics, but here’s all you need to know. Tangier Swift is an empire builder. His whole reason to get up every morning is to surpass the legacy of Steve Jobs. He’s got a hard-on to expand his tech impact across every possible platform, so I’m sure he’s doling out campaign contributions with both fists to grease the skids. With Tangier, it’s all about ego.”
Heat’s gaze moved from Wilton Backhouse to his Julian Assange poster; she decided that the CEO of SwiftRageous didn’t hold the monopoly on narcissism. “This may be sensitive,” she said, “but I need to ask you about Fred Lobbrecht.”
He finished fooling with his hair and regarded her warily. “Yeah…?”
“We reviewed his financials, and there’s evidence Mr. Lobbrecht suddenly came into some money last month. A lot of money.”
Backhouse’s expression changed from caution to revelation as he whispered, “Fuck…”
“What do you know about this?”
“God, it’s just like Nate suspected. Levy thought Fred Lobbrecht was dirty.”
While relived memories appeared to play across the young professor’s face, Nikki flipped up the cover of her spiral notebook. “Explain why Levy thought that.”
Her question brought him up short, and he shook his head slightly. “I don’t want to get into it. It’s nothing. Forget I said it.”
“Wilton. Look at me. Do you really think I am going to forget you said anything?” She waited, and made it clear she would wait as long as it took while he bobbed up and down on his bouncy chair.
At last, he blinked. With a resigned sigh, he said, “I didn’t want to go there, but there was some ugly shit going on between Lobbrecht and Levy.”
“How ugly?”
“Butt ugly. It was over solidarity, whether our Splinter Group should go forward with our whistle-blow. Fred had been all gung-ho, then suddenly got all ‘Let’s put on the brakes, here.’ Nathan got royally pissed and accused Lobbrecht of being on the take. Freddy punched him out and Levy threatened to kill him, after all they’d been through, sticking their necks out.”
“Nathan Levy clearly threatened to kill him?”
“Exact words.”
“Did anyone else witness this?”
“Lobbrecht. But he’s dead. Levy, of course. And Abigail Plunkitt. Abby had to help me pull the two of them apart. Ask her. I don’t think she’s going to forget that.”
“And where was this? At Forenetics?”
“At work? Oh, hell, no.”
Heat thought back to her interview with Backhouse after the drone attack in Washington Square. “Sounds like you, Lobbrecht, Levy, and Plunkitt were all together in one place. Was this at your Splinter Summit in Rhinebeck? You did say things got rough that weekend.”
He nodded. “You have some memory.”
“It’s yours I’m interested in. When was this again?”
Backhouse narrowed his eyes and searched the acoustical tile overhead. “Six…seven weeks ago?”
“Is that scuffle how Nathan Levy hurt his leg?”
“I told you, it was one intense fight.” Backhouse tapped his watch and rose to go to his lab.
“One more thing before you take off.” Nikki took out her iPhone. “Look at these and see if you recognize any of these three men.” He gave a quick study to each face she showed him: Timothy Maloney, no. Joseph Barsotti, no. Eric Vreeland, no. “You’re sure. Do you need more time?”
“Not really. They don’t look familiar.”