"There are certainly challenges," Evans said. "It's complicated litigation. They face strong opposing counsel. They're working hard."
"Why am I not convinced here?" Morton said. "Six months ago Nick Drake told me this damn lawsuit was a slam dunk and a great publicity opportunity, and now they want a bail-out clause."
"Maybe we should ask Nick."
"I got a better idea. Let's audit NERF."
Murmurs in the room. "I don't think you have that right, George."
"Make it part of the agreement."
"I'm not sure you can do that."
"They want a rider. I want a rider. What's the difference?"
"I'm not sure you can audit their entire operation--"
"George," Herb Lowenstein said. "You and Nick are friends of long standing. You're their Concerned Citizen of the Year. Auditing them seems a little out of character for your relationship."
"You mean it looks like I don't trust them?"
"Put bluntly, yes."
"I don't." Morton leaned on the table and looked at everyone sitting there. "You know what I think? They want to blow off the litigation and spend all the money on this conference on abrupt climate change that Nick is so excited about."
"They don't need ten million for a conference."
"I don't know what they need. He already misplaced two hundred and fifty thousand of my money. It ended up in fucking Vancouver. I don't know what he is doing anymore."
"Well, then you should withdraw your contribution."
"Ah ah," Marty Bren said. "Not so fast. I think they've already made financial commitments based on the reasonable expectation that the money was coming."
"Then give them some amount, and forget the rest."
"No," Morton said. "I'm not going to withdraw the grant. Peter Evans here says the litigation is going forward, and I believe him. Nick says that the two hundred and fifty grand was a mistake, and I believe him. I want you to ask for an audit and I want to know what happens. I will be out of town for the next three weeks."
"You will? Where?"
"I'm taking a trip."
"But we'll have to be able to reach you, George."
"I may be unreachable. Call Sarah. Or have Peter here get in touch with me."
"But George--"
"That's it, guys. Talk to Nick, see what he says. We'll be in contact soon."
And he walked out of the room, with Sarah hurrying after him.
Lowenstein turned to the others. "What the hell was that all about?"
VANCOUVER
THURSDAY, AUGUST 26
12:44 P. M.
Thunder rumbled ominously. Looking out the front windows of his office, Nat Damon sighed. He had always known that that submarine lease would mean trouble. After the check bounced, he had canceled the order, hoping that that would be the end of it. But it wasn't.
For weeks and weeks he had heard nothing, but then one of the men, the lawyer in the shiny suit, had come back unexpectedly to poke a finger in his face and tell him that he had signed a nondisclosure agreement and could not discuss any aspect of the submarine lease with anybody, or risk a lawsuit. "Maybe we'll win, and maybe we'll lose," the lawyer said. "But either way, you're out of business, friend. Your house is mortgaged. You're in debt for the rest of your life. So, think it over. And keep your mouth shut."
All during this, Damon's heart was pounding. Because the fact was, Damon had already been contacted by some sort of revenue service guy. A man named Kenner, who was coming to Damon's office that very afternoon. To ask a few questions, he had said.
Damon had been afraid that this Kenner would show up while the lawyer was still in his office, but now the lawyer was driving away. His car, a nondescript Buick sedan with Ontario plates, drove through the boatyard, and was gone.
Damon started to clean up the office, getting ready to go home. He was toying with the idea of leaving before Kenner arrived. Kenner was some revenue agent. Damon had done nothing wrong. He didn't have to meet any revenue agent. And if he did, what would he do, say he couldn't answer questions?
The next thing, he'd be subpoenaed or something. Dragged into court.
Damon decided to leave. There was more thunder, and the crack of distant lightning. A big storm was moving in.
As he was closing up, he saw that the lawyer had left his cell phone on the counter. He looked out to see if the lawyer was coming back for it. Not yet, but surely he would realize he had left it, and come back. Damon decided to leave before he showed up.
Hastily, he slipped the cell phone in his pocket, turned out the lights, and locked the office. The first drops of rain were spattering the pavement as he went to his car, parked right in front. He opened the door and was climbing into the car when the cell phone rang. He hesitated, not sure what to do. The phone rang insistently.