Tainted Waters

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

"We need to come up with a plan. It's time to make a move." He knew what the answer would be. It was the same one he'd been receiving for almost eighteen months. At some point, those higher up had to get it.

"We've had this conversation. We have the opportunity to bring down a lot of players. A lot. Mr. Ozz likes you, so I will not let you screw this up just because you're getting a little antsy. Stick with it. Keep doing the job you were hired to do. Suck it up, in other words. This is too big for you to mess up now. You're in there. The last two guys didn't make it out. I'd hate for the same to happen to you."

After a few more minutes of lecture, about how important this operation was, he hung up before his asshole contact could say any more. Like the guy would put his life on the line. Throw away all his morals, just to catch a bad guy.

He flung his cell phone across the small, flea-infested motel room and watched as it splintered into ten pieces. It wasn't exactly how he was supposed to get rid of his burner phone, but it felt good. His boss, on this assignment anyway, was looking to get his name in lights. To retire after bringing down one of the biggest dope rings in the area, maybe even the country. He was focused on what he'd get out of it. His men, it seemed, were expendable. Bring the son of a b***h down or die trying.

And all I stupidly want is an end to this. An end to the drugs. The killing. Driving his hand into the tattered wallpapered wall, he felt a bit of satisfaction at the hole he'd left, especially since he imagined it was a certain someone's face. His boss may want him to continue as planned, to keep playing the game, but he'd had enough. He was in tight, had been in for a long time, but it was now time to figure out who all the people involved were. He had some names, but he'd made sure not to do too much digging. He had not wanted Ozz to be suspicious of him. But the time had come to end this and to do that he had to figure out who they all were. All he wanted to do was to bring down the man who was as cold and as ruthless as they came.

He grabbed the pieces of his phone and strode out, distributing the small chunks in ten different dumpsters before heading back to the lake.

~~~~

Keegan rode alone up to the fifth floor. The elevator opened into an expansive and expensive area. There were two solid cherry wood doors directly in front of him. He let out a long low whistle as he looked around. It felt more like he was in a lawyer's office building in New York than a newspaper office building in the small city of Bentley. The large wall to his left caught his attention. Artfully framed plaques and photos adorned the cherry-colored wall with brass inlays. Several things caught his attention immediately. A large blow-up picture of Mr. Tennison, the man who had built this dynasty but who had died way too young, caught and held his gaze. In the picture, his hair was dark brown and swept over to the side, leaving a big swoop in front. Keegan couldn't help but smile. Even when his hair had turned white, he hadn't been able to control that wayward curl. The plaque with the newspaper's mission caught his attention.

"The Truth shall be told … by us."

I'm working on that, Gramps. I'm working on that.

He pulled out his cell phone and snapped several pictures before turning around to get his bearings on where he needed to go. He walked back past the elevators to the large receptionist's desk on his right. There was no one sitting there, and the desk was clean, as though no one had ever worked there. The computer was shut off. There was no one around. There were some faint rustling sounds, but other than that the floor was quiet. He moved around the counter, reaching to open a drawer when he heard someone bellow.

"Corrine. Get in here."

It appeared she'd forgotten to tell the boss she was gone for the day.

Keegan followed the voice and walked toward the cherry wood door, several feet behind the desk.

"Uh. I'm not—"

"Who are you?"

"Your receptionist downstairs called up, said I could meet with you."

The large man behind the desk straightened from his slouched I-don't-have-a-care-in-the-world-and-no-one-can-touch-me-position to sitting up and resting his arms on the desk. He straightened his wrinkled and stained tie. "You must be that author. Are you looking to do a local piece? An article on CEOs? An article on running a paper? Being in the media?" He took off his glasses, tossing them on the desk, looking slightly embarrassed at being caught wearing them.

Keegan hunched his shoulders slightly before walking forward and sitting down in the plush leather chair, in front of the desk.

"Yes. How did you know? I know I'm being presumptuous, but I'd like to know about your life. About how you rose to be in this position? What training do you have?" What butts did you have to kiss? Or kill? And just who in the hell are you?

Mr. Donner's chest puffed out. "I have no problem with that. However, I want to clarify that I want to have the final say on what's written. You're not putting anything about me in a book I don't get to see. I pride myself on not being blindsided."

Keegan slouched down in the chair. "Oh—well—I'm not really going to write about you, I need to get to know your story so that I can write a fictional story about a man like you. I can't—"

"Oh. Oh. You're looking for some information?"

"Yeah. I mean I've heard so much about you. You've been in this position for almost ten years, haven't you? That has to have been tough. What did you do before you got this position?"

"Uhm … I … uh, just like anyone else, I had to work my way to the top. I did most of the jobs here—from grunt work, layout, reporter—you name it, I did it."

Yeah. And should have been fired from most of them. If Keegan's suspicions were correct, Mr. Donner had done a lot more than that. Keegan kept his smile in place. "Could you tell me what it was like when you first started as the CEO?"

He leaned forward resting his forearms on his desk. "It was damn hard when I started. The previous CEO died of a heart attack, left the place a mess. Why, it took me weeks, months to scrap most of what he'd been doing and clean this place up …"

Keegan kept his head bowed. His fingers tightened on the pencil, but he didn't slow down the pace of his writing as Mr. Donner droned on and on about himself.

"I had to let a lot of the staff go. They were too loyal to the old guy, wouldn't take orders from me. I would not put up with that, had to start fresh. You know what I mean?"

"What happened to the previous CEO? I'm assuming that would be Mr. Tennison?"

"I already told you he died of a heart attack. Don't you listen? What did you say your name was again?"

He winced at his mistake. "You had to take over just like that? The guy dies and you're expected to come in and take over. Wow, that must have been something. I'd have been so scared I would have … well … you know. You sure are bold."

"It takes a certain man to do that. Let me tell you, it wasn't easy. It was a lot of hard work, lots of meetings. Making it clear to people what was going to happen from now on. I'm not one to speak ill of the dead, but the previous CEO didn't know how to run this place. No sir. I had to straighten many a person out. Nothing gets printed in this paper without my say so." The man continued on for another ten minutes without taking a breath.

He scribbled as fast as he could but then he pressed too hard and snapped the lead. He looked up. "Uh, I hate to interrupt you, but would you have a pencil sharpener or a pencil I could borrow? Wow, what about this pen?" He reached up and grabbed a gold pen mounted on a black onyx stand. "Mr. Tennison. Is that what it says? It's hard to read, it looks like some of it's been scratched out." He looked up expectantly.

"Give me that!" Mr. Donner stood up and reached over the desk.

Keegan leaned forward fumbling the pen; it fell to the floor. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I'll get it." As he stood up, he placed his hand on the desk and then went down on one knee to get it. He bent way down so he could reach under the desk. His hand slid along the desk and the black onyx stand flew off the desk, narrowly missing his head.

"What is wrong with you?" Mr. Donner plopped back into his chair.

His head popped up. "I'm sorry. Give me a minute to clean this up and I promise I won't touch anything else." He slapped the tiny device to the underside of the desk. Then he stuffed the pen and the onyx stand into his baggy jacket and pulled out an identical set. Closing his eyes for a second, he counted to three before standing up. He set the pen and stand back on the desk.

"I'm so embarrassed. I've never done anything like that before." Turning, he hooked his foot on the leg of the chair he'd been sitting in and stumbled into Mr. Donner's coatrack.

"Okay. That's it. Get out. Are you on drugs? Or just a moron?" Mr. Donner came around the desk and stood over Keegan who finally regained his feet, after wrestling with the coat and the rack.

He bowed his head and upper body like the Japanese did when greeting someone. "I'm really sorry. Thank you for your help. You've been so good." Keegan peeked up at him through his lashes. "I'm so ashamed. I'll go. You're so … I'm in awe."

Continuing to bow, he picked up his pad from where it had fallen and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. His hand remained on the brass knob for a few seconds as he took a deep calming breath. What the hell am I doing? Energy pumped through his body like it was preparing him for a race. The thought of being enclosed in the elevator was enough for him to walk past it and seek the stairs. He bound down them in record time. As he exited into the lobby, he smiled at Suzanne who was signaling he should stop, but she was thankfully occupied on the phone.

The clock on the wall told him it was after 5:00. He was surprised she was there so late. He'd been hoping not to see anyone when he left. He took advantage of her being busy and shot out the door, sliding into his car just as the ticket man was looking at his expired meter. Thankfully, the guy wasn't as efficient at this time of day. Keegan couldn't believe he'd been in there over an hour. It had taken him several attempts to get in the building as he remembered all the people in a hurry to get out, kind of like he had been. That made him pause for a moment there was something odd about that, now that he thought about it. Nothing came to him why that bothered him, but he knew he was tired and it was time to get out of there. He'd done enough for one day. The white-haired guy stared at him as he waved and drove away.

The oppressive, stuffy heat from the closed-up car hit him like he'd entered an oven. Sweat poured out of him, instantly giving him that just finished hot shower feeling. His clothes were soaked in minutes. He cranked open his window, wishing he had electric ones in the old beater, so he could open several more. He tore off the black rim glasses, wrestled with removing his coat while trying to drive. A car full of teens honked and flipped him the bird as they passed by.

Sighing, he remembered days when he would have done the same thing. Now, it made him feel old. Turning left on Freemont Street, he followed the old highway out of town, eager to get home and make proper notes about all that he'd learned and prepare for all that he would learn.

Yanking off his tie and unbuttoning the top three buttons, he grabbed the edge of his shirt trying to fan himself. Sweat continued to roll down his face. Feeling drained and tired, he knew the first thing he needed to do when he got home was go for a run and then a dip in the lake. Or take a dip and then a run. The thought of it made him feel a bit rejuvenated. Well, that was as soon as he checked the equipment to make sure the bugs he had planted were working properly.

I hope you know what you're doing because you're in this now.