“What do you mean? Who’s Latimer?”
“Only the richest of all the rich bastards who congregate around this lake. You’ve never heard of Latimer? The software mogul? Came out of nowhere when he was still practically a kid, making his first millions in the Clint Jefferies insider trading pharmaceutical scandal? No one could ever pin anything on him, of course. Jefferies was actually the focus of the Securities and Exchange Commission’s investigation, which was eventually dropped for lack of evidence. They always go after the one with the money, not the small potatoes, like Latimer was at the time. If there was insider trading going on, both Latimer and Jefferies got away with it. By the time the scandal faded, Latimer was serving in army intelligence. He’s a brilliant programmer. The military snapped him up in a New York minute from MIT to create anti-hacker software. I hear they gave him huge bonuses every time he managed to get into the government’s high-security files, and then gave him even more money to utilize the knowledge for creating programs that kept criminals from doing the exact same thing he’d just done. He parlayed all he learned from serving in army intelligence—and all the money he made in the Jefferies pharmaceutical windfall—into—”
“Lattice,” Harper finished, realization hitting her. Lattice was a well-known software giant. Of course. That’s why she’d heard the name Jacob Latimer. Harper didn’t know much about big business or technology movers and shakers, but she’d heard of Lattice. Even though Latimer’s company had begun based on an antivirus security program for the military, it’d quickly moved on to public sector applications for human resources, and most recently to antivirus software for personal computers and devices.
“What does the owner of Lattice want with me?” Harper wondered.
Ruth just arched her plucked, dark blond eyebrows and dropped her gaze over Harper speculatively. “Maybe hair the color of copper and a girlish figure has more mileage than I’d thought these days. Latimer loves women. Rumor is, he has some unusual tastes in that arena.”
Harper opened her mouth to tell the older woman that was ridiculous. And Harper’s looks weren’t unusual, thank you very much. She’d been referred to as the girl next door more than once in her life, much to her irritation.
“I don’t see how he’d know anything about my existence, let alone my hair color. Seriously, what do you think this is about?”
Ruth held out her hand. Harper gave her the invitation. Ruth examined the contents, frowning slightly.
“It’s genuine. I recognize Elizabeth’s handwriting. She’s his primary personal assistant. I think he has several, but she’s his main one for the Tahoe compound. You have no idea why you’re getting this? You don’t know Latimer or any of his staff? His acquaintances? Never met him while you were in San Francisco?”
“No. I didn’t even recognize his name at first.”
“Well,” Ruth said, giving the card back with a flick of her thin wrist, “that’s an invite that almost everyone in the country would kill for, including me. Latimer keeps to himself in that lakeside compound of his. He’s paranoid. Some people say it’s because he’s got plenty to hide. Lots of rumors have flown around about him over the years. Is he still involved with the U.S. military? Does he pull strings to move players on the chessboard of international relations? Is he a spy? He’s definitely a big philanthropist—probably to gloss over the gaping holes in his respectability as far as his rise to power. Who knows, really? That’s the question when it comes to Latimer, and I suspect the answer is: only Latimer himself. And possibly Clint Jefferies.”
“Who’s Clint Jefferies?”
“The pharmaceutical and real estate tycoon? Owns Markham Pharmaceuticals? Worth billions. Nice looking, but a bit of a douche if you ask me,” Ruth replied with a sniff.