Simple Genius

“Then I guess we have a problem,” Sean said. “And if you’re thinking of maybe eliminating the two problems you see sitting in front of you, think about this. I had five copies made of that video. And they’re all in very safe places. Now unless Michelle and I die in our sleep at age ninety, one copy is going to be delivered to my aforementioned Pulitzer-hungry friend so he can write the story first, with other copies going to the New York Times, the Washington Post and the Times of London.”

“That only makes four. What about the fifth one?”

“That goes to the president. I bet he’d get a real kick out of it.”

“And yet as you pointed out we seem to have reached an impasse.”

Sean stood and paced. “Good lawyers always think of a compromise so here’s one for you. There’s a hidden treasure at Camp Peary.”

“Excuse me,” the man said, startled.

“Just shut up and listen. It’s hidden in the foundation wall of Lord Dunmore’s Porto Bello lodge. Gold, silver, jewels. The whole thing’s easily worth millions.”

“My God!” the man exclaimed.

“Yeah, before you get permanent dollar signs etched in your eyes that treasure is to be taken and sold for the highest possible price. Hell, if the government wants to buy it they can. I don’t really care. But the proceeds of those funds will be divided into three equal shares.”

The man pulled out a pen and a piece of paper. “All right. Presumably with one share going to each of you.”

“No!” Sean snapped. “One share goes to Viggie Turing. It won’t make up for her dad getting killed but it’s a start. The second share goes to Len Rivest’s two kids. They’re in college and could probably use the money. And the third share goes to the family of the medical examiner who was killed in that gas explosion. You got that?”

The man finished writing and nodded. “Got it.”

“Good. Now I’m going to check on the amounts paid over to them so don’t try to screw with me on the dollars. And I don’t care if it takes an act of Congress, but all the money goes to them tax-free.”

The man said, “That won’t be a problem.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“And we want to see Viggie, to make sure she’s all right,” Michelle added.

“That can be arranged.”

“Then arrange it,” Sean said. “Sooner rather than later.”

“Give us one week and it’ll all be done.”

“Make sure it is.”

“And you’ll say nothing about any of this?” the man asked.

“That’s right. I’m not looking to go to prison.”

“And who would believe us anyway?” Michelle added.

“And then we get the copies?” the man asked.

“And then you get the copies.”

“And we can trust you?”

“As much as I can trust you,” Sean said.

CHAPTER 92

A WEEK LATER SEAN AND MICHELLE met with Joan Dillinger in her office, along with another man who gave neither his name nor affiliation. He would only say that the ownership of Babbage Town was grateful for the work done by them and he had presented them directly with a check. The amount, Sean quickly saw, would resolve ll their financial problems for the foreseeable future and fund some vacation time as well. They certainly needed it.

“Hope you found someone to take Champ’s and Alicia’s places. Too bad you lost such valuable people.”

“Oh, we have. But thanks to you our research won’t be preyed upon by electronic eyes anymore,” said the man.

As the fellow was leaving Sean couldn’t resist a parting shot. “So why spend all this time and money on creating something that will stop the world in its tracks?” he said.

The man had looked at him quizzically. “Who told you that’s what Babbage Town was doing?”

“A couple of real geniuses.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Well, let’s just say that while what you described is certainly a possibility, it’s a tad more complicated than that.”

“And you’re just ready to roll the dice with the whole world at stake?” Sean exclaimed.

“Well, if we don’t, someone else will.”

After he left, Michelle added glumly, “I’m sick of geniuses.”

Joan smiled. “Good work, Sean.” She paused and glanced at Michelle.

“And you too, Maxwell. From what I’ve heard I don’t think Sean would’ve made it without you.”

She knew nothing of their ordeal at the hands of Valerie Messaline or their arrangement with the government, and never would.

The two women extended to each other a grudging handshake.

When they returned to their apartment and were getting out of their car in the underground parking garage a limo pulled up in front of them. Ian Whitfield leaned out and said tersely, “Get in.”

They sat across from Whitfield, who said, “Sorry it took me so long to spring you.”

“And how exactly did you manage to turn the tables on the wicked witch?” Sean asked.

Surprisingly, Michelle answered. “You found out she was taking a cut from the drug shipments and selling them. You nailed her with that, right?”

Whitfield said, “How do you figure that, Maxwell?”