Chapter 15

On the way to Jake’s penthouse in the city, I asked Dean about security for Cam.

“What about getting her a female you? Know anyone like that?”

Dean shook his head but looked thoughtful. “Let me ask around, put out some feelers. You might want to talk to Cam about this as well. She may not want to sign on to be guarded twenty-four seven. I hate to say it, but that kind of thing can be hard on a relationship.”

As much as it would tear me up, especially with how unbelievably close we have gotten, I would rather see her leave and be happy than have her hurt when I could have protected her. If she stayed, she would be in danger. Just being with me was a danger these days, and I had the feeling that things were only going to get more interesting as time passed.

Back at Jake’s, the ladies were still out, but a quick call to the guard with Liz told us that they were having some spa time. Once Jake and I were situated, I saw Dean pull Dave aside for a chat.

“So ... you seem sure those were Somalians.” I asked, wondering how he knew.

He nodded. “The pin on the white suit’s lapel was the Somalian flag, but that doesn’t mean much. Not proof, certainly, but interesting. I know that there are half a dozen very wealthy warlords who are directing the majority of the pirate activity. It wasn’t always like that but the strong have swallowed the weak and become stronger. They even have their own lobbyists, of a sort. That man, the leader, he looks like the ones that do the actual negotiating with the ship owners or their companies. The face man.”

“Okay, so the Djibouti deal, is it dead? Will your guy in the Netherlands pull out of that deal?”

“I don’t know. I hope so, and I like to think he is smart enough, but he answers to shareholders where I don’t have to. If he builds platforms, they will eventually be owned by the corrupt government and you know how often coups happen down there. A lot of the money from those wells will flow into Somali warlord hands and then what? That was why I reminded him about having to call wives and mothers when their men don’t come home again.”

We spent the rest of the time discussing his charities and how he chose who to give money to and why. I told him about the gold coins and how I had split it up, giving one case worth to each girl and then, when Dave and Dean wouldn’t take a box, had the money wired to their accounts.

Jake was laughing at this point, telling me that Dave had come to him, asking him to talk sense into me, that the money had to be returned. Jake had told him to suck it up and quit whining or he would give him another million. He laughed as he told me Dave hadn’t spoken to him for two days, pouting like a teenager.

On that topic, I told him about setting Dean to finding someone for Cam, and about him never taking a vacation.

“Well, Dave won’t go while this oil thing is in the air. But after that, it sounds like a good idea. I have some good people here in Dallas who can cover for them. Hell, they may want to go together, do Vegas and pick up showgirls or something. Let me change the subject for a moment, Jack. Cam. You getting serious with that girl?”

“Define serious. No, never mind, yes. Yes, I am serious about her. I think she is serious about me. I keep waiting for the whole hero thing to wear off, but it doesn’t. She’s special, Jake. She has helped me as much in the last six months as Rene DeBlasio helped me in the last six years.”

Jake looked startled at that. “Really? Well, that is sure something. You gave her a share of the gold coins, you say?”

“Yep, gave her an even million and she got a quarter of a million from the government of France. It is all sitting in money market accounts for her, growing. She hasn’t touched it for the most part. Doesn’t have to, I gave her an AmEx card.”

“If she has that money and stuck around, either she loves you or she is hoping for more. I think she is what she appears to be, Jack. I think she loves you. Not that my opinion matters a hill of beans when it comes right down to it, and I don’t pretend otherwise, but there you go. Ask her to sign a prenuptial agreement and if she doesn’t kvetch, then marry her.”

Yeah, I had thought the same, though I am nowhere near ready to get married. When the time comes though, would I? Should I? Either I trust her or I don’t.

“For now, we are happy with the way things are. She wants to go to college and has already taken her GED, passed with flying colors. It was required since she hadn’t finished school before she turned eighteen.”

“Good for her.” Jake said, then sat up suddenly. “Son of a ... Damn it, Jack, you should tell me these things. I need a secretary these days, I am getting so scatter-brained. You turned seventeen what, a week ago?”

Oops ... thought I got away with that.

Ignoring the real question, I had one of my own. “Can you believe in just another week, it will have been two years since we had that first meeting on the River Walk. Two years, Jake!”

“Yeah, I was thinking about that when I was waiting for your plane to land and completely forgot to mention it. Kind of like you forgot to mention it was your birthday.”

Damn it.

“Wait till I tell the girls! By the way, smart-ass, when is Cam’s birthday?” he said with a sly grin, but no way he was catching me out on that.

“November sixteenth.” I said with a smile, sticking my tongue out at the disappointed Jake.

Shut up. Still not sixty. Who am I kidding? I hope I am still like this at sixty!

“Speak of the devil, or devils in this case!” Jake said, standing and turning towards the entry to the penthouse. We could hear the ladies coming in and they were accompanied by a pair of bellmen with a dozen bags each! Both of the women looked fantastic though, practically glowing after their little spa visit and shopping spree.

“Welcome home, ladies.” Jake said, earning a raised eyebrow from me. Were Liz and Jake living together? So much for the “just friends’ vibe Jake tried to pass off earlier. I knew from Liz it was more than that, but this was too cool to pass up.

“Yes, welcome home, Liz.” I said with a grin, then turned to Cam. “You look good enough to eat.” I whispered in her ear, giving her a kiss on the neck and a hug. I felt her shiver a bit and grinned.

“You are so evil to say these things to me with other people around. I will pay you back for that later, mon loup.” Cam said with an evil grin, licking her bottom lip with just the very tip of her pink tongue. My return growl just made her giggle.

“So, your meeting go okay, Jake, darling?” Liz asked, giving him a warm hug and a tender kiss.

The look Jake and I exchanged must have given us away.

“Oh? That bad? You’ll have to tell me about it but first, I need a drink!”

The ladies decided on a glass of wine and I took a longneck, not bothering with a glass, while Jake got his scotch.

We took our seats in the living room and Liz began, digging out the facts, then delving into the details. She would have made an ace interrogator!

“You are definitely better off outside of that deal, darling, that is for sure, and I hope you convinced your friend to stay out as well. For your own sake, I hope you had no inkling of this kind of thing before you went?” she added, making it a question.

“Of course not, woman! What kind of man do you take me for?” Jake asked, offended that she would think poorly of him.

“A man with big brass balls as my father would say, sometimes too big for his own good.” Liz said with a laugh, moving over and sitting on Jake’s lap.

Jake was pretending to be offended but I could see he was pleased and soon the two were making like lovebirds again.

Cam had seemed concerned, but not overly so. She knew that Dean, Dave and I were a formidable force and that with another guard, plus an armed Jake, we were about as safe as we could be outside of a military base!

“Jacques, you were armed, no?”

“Kinda. Dean carries a spare that I can grab when I need, so yes, I had a gun.”

“Ah, that is right, I forget that he is really a deputy. I find the title so ridiculous, Jacques, somehow fitting in Texas but not so much in Key West,” she said with a giggle, sipping her wine.

That evening we ate in, Jake had his own chef that he said made the best steaks and garlic mashed potatoes in town. I think we all drank too much, partly in celebration when Jake let it slip (yeah, right, accidentally my ass!) that my birthday had been the week before. Cam had not taken it well at all.

The next day we all crawled out just a bit later than normal, Dean let me sleep in and missed a genuine chance to make me puke during a workout. I hadn’t done that in a year so it was his loss.

Breakfast was more of a brunch and, because of our rather delicate nature, we decided to just stay in for the day. We spent time in the hot tub and, because Jake insisted, the sauna, sweating out the poisons we spent so much time putting in the night before!

Thankfully, he had a rooftop pool so I could swim. Good for what ails ya!

My meeting with Terry’s mother, Gwen, was a lunch meeting and Cam had been very interested in coming along, maybe even assisting if Mrs. Alcott thought she could help.

We met at the Capitol Grill, always a great choice when wining and dining someone. The food is excellent, the atmosphere is conducive to relaxed, cordial meetings and the liquor flowed freely, if you were of age.

We arrived early and had a reservation so we were seated immediately, though Dean chose a seat at the bar where he could keep an eye on things. The restaurant staff seemed to understand these things and made sure he had a soft drink.

I saw Terry first, and he was accompanied by a very pretty woman who looked only a few years older than Terry. There was a slight resemblance there, but Terry must have taken mostly after his father.

“Terry, glad you could come. And I thought you were bringing your mother, not your sister. Still, family of Terry’s is always welcome!” I said jovially, shaking his hand and bending just a bit to place a kiss on the back of hers.

I noticed that she was giving me the eye at first, then she smiled brightly and shook her head.

“He told me not to underestimate you, Mister McCoy.” she said, taking the chair that Terry was holding for her.

“Jack, please allow me to introduce my mother, Gwendolyn Analise Alcott. Mom, this is Jack McCoy and his lovely lady, Camille Raimond.” Terry said, giving a little bow Cam’s way.

We exchanged hellos and I apologized to Cam. She had heard about, even talked on the phone once with, but never actually met Terry, so I made the formal introduction, although a bit late.

“So, Mister McCoy. My son tells me you want advice on charitable giving or even, possibly, creating your own charity?” Gwen started, after our orders were taken.

“Please, Mrs. Alcott, call me Jack. I am not really comfortable with the whole Mister thing. Maybe when I am older?”

“Good! Then I am Gwen. So, Jack, tell me about it. Why are you giving away money and who do you want to give it to? Do you have concerns? Conditions? A specific area that interests you?”

I glanced at Terry, but he shook his head. It was obvious that he told his mother very little.

“I have to assume that Terry didn’t tell you much, his lawyerly sensibilities would have prevented him from blabbing much anyway.” I joked, clapping him on the shoulder. “So, besides the tax implications, though I have to admit that they are real and pressing, I already had some giving goals in mind. Right now, my giving has been sporadic and more of a shotgun approach. My financial mentor and friend told me I was being an idiot doing it that way and possibly causing more harm than good.”

She was nodding, so she might have agreed with that assessment.

“So, I decided that I needed advice. I don’t want to throw money at someone with a drinking problem and help them hurt themselves. I would rather throw that money at a treatment center who would admit him, see my point?”

“I do, and you are absolutely right. There are a lot of good-hearted people in this country who are throwing their money away. Between that and the crooks out there, very little of charitable giving is actually doing real good other than making clueless people feel good about themselves.” Gwen agreed.

“So, tell me, Jack. What areas interest you? How do you see yourself helping?”

“Children. Specifically abuse and the aftereffects. Physical, emotional and sexual abuse and the trauma it inflicts on children. Children in other areas as well, especially dealing with the safety and security of children. Pre-school and after school programs. Safety on the streets and in the schools.” Cam sat quietly, her eyes on me. She knew perfectly well why I wanted to address those issues.

Gwen seemed surprised that I had a clear list of areas I wanted to focus on. “And your concerns with existing charities?”

“Those are pretty simple, really. Overhead and oversight. First, how much of the money given actually gets to the subjects, whether it is people or research? How much goes to administrative costs, fact-finding junkets, salaries and so on? Second, how much of what the charity is doing is actually helping? I understand that some programs and disbursements are designed to alleviate short term issues, and others focus on long term solutions, but how effective is the charity at doing exactly that? It doesn’t help if 98% of the money is going to the homeless if it is being handed out in cash and spent on alcohol or drugs.”

“Jack, I’m impressed. You have obviously given this some thought and not many people do. I think your idea of setting up your own charity has merit, given the focused areas you are concerned with. Do you envision this charity as a private charity or will it accept outside donations?” Gwen asked, sounding interested now.

I was saved by the bell, or interrupted by steak, anyway! Good thing too, my stomach was starting to make funny noises!

During the meal we kept the conversation light, more of a getting to know you talk. After we had all finished eating and were sipping at coffee, I answered Gwen’s last question.

“Gwen, your last question, about holding the charity privately or opening it up, I hadn’t considered that. I have no problem with others making donations but I wouldn’t want to accept even a thin dime if it had a string attached. Name attributions are okay, I guess. “This program brought to you by donations from...” type of thing, Jake said he does that sometimes to honor special people. I get that and that’s okay, but I would not have a donor specify that the money be spent in one city, for example, or for some process outside of our area of expertise and concern. Is a restriction like that possible?”

“Absolutely, and most charities have some rules like that. Well, the legitimate ones do. Let’s talk turkey, Jack. What kind of funding would you be willing to commit, both initially and yearly afterwards?” Gwen asked, arching an eyebrow as if challenging me.

I looked over at Terry first, then tossed out what I had been thinking.

“I think as much as fifty million immediately and twenty to twenty-five million every year is doable. Hopefully, as my situation changes, I will be able to increase that amount but as it stands now, I can commit to that level for at least ten years.”

Terry seemed a bit green around the gills but, when he saw me looking his way, he nodded. Gwen’s reaction was different. She sat back in her chair, her eyes a bit wider, and she smiled.

“Damn. You just cost me a backrub.” she said with a laugh. “Terry called and told me he had a client who was interested in charitable donations and even funding a charity. Well, a lot of people think they deserve personal attention for giving away ten thousand dollars, not realizing they are still small fry. My husband is a cynic, but he trusts his son and assured me that Terry would not waste my time. I bet him a backrub you would be some trust fund kid who had to give some money to avoid the tax man. Jack, I apologize and I am so glad to see I was wrong. Terry, you get an apology too, sweetheart, I should have known better.”

Terry managed to look both understanding and smug at the same time. I was impressed.

“Okay, now that you understand my level of commitment,” I said with a grin, “how do we go about getting something like this started?”

“First, do you have time to do this yourself? If not, you need a coordinator. I have a list of people who can help to define your mission statement, that is, who you are as a charity and what you want to accomplish. I have others who can give you the contacts and information resources you will need, and people who are expert at navigating the government bureaucracy for setting up a non-religious non-profit. There are a million things to do if you are serious.”

“Jacques.” Cam touched my arm, her eyes alight. “Please, let me help! I can do this for you, be your secretary or your admin ... anything. I know what you want, we have talked often, and I even know the why of it.”

She looked so intent, so focused and hopeful. She had been waffling on what she wanted to do, whether it was to take a job or go back to school, both or neither. I knew she wanted some focus in her life, and maybe this was it. Besides, she wanted it and there was little I could or would refuse her.

“I think that is a great idea. You are smart and determined and you know more than almost anyone what drives me. Do you want to try actually running something like this? It might take some time to learn all you would need to know.” I asked her, giving her a kiss.

“No! I want to be your helper. I will make the phone calls, find the people who already know, help you choose someone to lead, submit all the forms for you. I will do those things you can’t because you are in school.” she said primly.

“Well, there we go. Cam can give you her contact info. Now, what about you? Will you run this for me? Terry said you were on the board of directors for several charities. Would you like to be the person to run this one for me?” I asked, watching her reaction.

“Me? Oh, hell no!” she said, almost making me spit out my coffee.

“Jack, that is sweet of you, but I am retired. I dabble in various charities because I believe in giving back and I like to feel like I am helping, as well as tempering some of the idiotic ideas that get floated around by some of these well-meaning fools. I will help because I really think you mean this, but I won’t be running anything. I may have a man, well, a couple actually, who could do the job for you, but I have to sound them out. In any case, I can forward possible chairpersons to your new program director, Camille, and we can weed them out together.”

Cam was smiling to beat the band, excited about this.

“Outstanding. I know we are here for a few days, maybe a week, but will be traveling. Can you and Cam meet while we are here, but deal with things by phone while we are on the road, or would she have to stay here?” I asked. Cam looked worried, but not panicked.

“Most things can be done by phone or video conference. There would be a lot of messenger traffic back and forth for signatures and so on, but not for several weeks.” Gwen assured us, much to Cam’s relief.

“Jack, I just thought of something. How are you going to do this if you aren’t eighteen? It just registered with me, something you said earlier.” Gwen asked, looking worried.

When I explained my emancipated minor status, she seemed mollified, but I was sure she would be checking up on me. I could live with that.

On the way back to the penthouse, I jokingly told Cam I would have to get her some business cards with “Executive Director of Charitable Giving, McCoy Foundation” on them. I guess the joke is on me, she told me she would order them when she was set on a design she liked.

Jake and I sat down in his office during the afternoon and he handed me two folders.

“Read those over and see what you think. Come see me if you have questions or call whoever you need to. Those are two deals that were brought to me and, frankly, they are just not the kind of thing I usually do, but I want your opinion on them. Consider this a pop quiz!” he said with a laugh.

Okay, well, I asked him to mentor me, so I should expect things like this. I nodded and took the folders with me, finding a nice place on the balcony with some air flow, but not so much I would have to hold on to the folders for fear of losing them. That was a real concern, sitting on top of the twenty-sixth floor of this high-rise!

The first was a company that had investigated the State of Wyoming’s claims that there were literally dozens of sites that could hold diamonds. The State was hungry for the employment opportunities, the tax dollars and the tourist dollars that a valuable mine would bring, but not enough to actually fund a dig themselves. Instead, the state was offering tax incentives, on-site inspectors, expedited permits and licensing and so on.

A note in the file said that the state was perfectly aware of the anti-mining sentiment in DC and would not allow interference in their internal policies by the federal government. They believed they were perfectly capable of shepherding their own conservation efforts without some Washington appointee passing on wisdom to country rubes! That didn’t mean they would allow unsafe or environmentally unsound mining practices, they weren’t suicidal, but they were determined to go their own way despite pressure from environmental extremists.

The file contained several professional geological surveys, a gemologist survey by the American Gemological Association and the site picked by the speculators had every indication that it could be a very valuable mine. They were looking for funding to develop the site they had chosen and, if things worked out, two more that they had taken options on. The man behind this effort, a geological engineer and mining consultant, had spent twenty years in South Africa developing diamond mines for DeBeers. He had become wealthy doing so but wanted his own mine and had already sunken almost twenty million in land purchases and mining permits before running out of money.

They were looking for a minority partnership with a single investor. The investor, in return for forty-five percent, would chip in one hundred million dollars to get the mine up and fully running, a task that they estimated would take a year because of the seasonal weather issues.

I knew less about diamonds and mining than I did about nuclear fission. At least we had learned about how a fission reaction was created back in my science classes!

What I did know was that the engineer had sunk twenty million of his own and was valuing his knowledge and experience at roughly ninety-one million if he was keeping fifty-five percent of the business. That was a lot of experience, but was it a good valuation? It would take a lot of diamonds dug out of the ground before I started actually making any money.

I would have a lot of questions on that one.

The second was a trucking firm. They wanted an investment to capitalize a complete overhaul of their inventory using a newly developed truck body that would save, on average, about a dollar a mile. Since they currently had seventeen thousand trucks on the road from Panama to northern Canada, that was a hell of a lot of miles!

A quick Google search tells me that the average long-distance trucker drives between a hundred and a hundred and ten thousand miles a year. At a dollar a mile, times seventeen thousand trucks, that was one point seven billion a year just for this company. The truck bodies were averaging between fifteen and seventeen thousand per vehicle, depending on options, and included a complete, bumper to bumper tune up. With costs adding up to about two hundred and ninety million dollars, the long-term savings was still one point four billion for the company.

If the US Department of Labor was right and everyone chose to use this new design, there were about three million, two-hundred and fifty thousand drivers on the road each year. That was three hundred and twenty-five billion dollars in fuel savings, in carbon monoxide reductions, in pollution reductions too.

In reading about the new truck body, it had been created using the no longer active NASA large wind tunnels down in Florida, and was constructed of composites like fiberglass and Kevlar. The new composite was a trade secret, but it had some pretty damn impressive stats put out by the NTSA.

The notes on the file say that the company that owns the patent on the composite was not interested in selling or in outside investors, and the company doing the conversions was not interested in selling either, though they were willing to open a shop near the trucking company headquarters to do their conversions for them.

Unfortunately, all of the avenues were blocked except at the end of the product line for this. Still, there was a possible long-term investment opportunity in the trucking company if Jake wanted to get into that business.

Again, we were back to me not knowing jack about the industry. Was the trucking company a good business? Was their management running it properly? Would they be around in a decade? Would their profits actually match what is projected and would the return on investment be enough to justify laying out three hundred million dollars? So many questions!

Of the two, I had a gut feeling that the diamond mine was the better bet, but I didn’t have any real data to back that up. Besides, they wanted a smaller investment for a bigger piece and the chance of a much better return.

If I were going to invest I would want, at the very least, a majority investment in the company if I was putting up five times what the mining engineer had put up! Yes, his engineering and mining skill accounted for something, but not ninety million somethings.

By the time I had gone through the files several times, including researching everything I could on the net, I had a list of questions that would have to be answered before I would be willing to give a dollar to anyone. It was time to get back with Jake and see if he had more information he had withheld or had ideas of where to go and who to ask.

When I closed the folder and turned off my iPad, I saw that there were several glasses on the table next to me and even a plate of fruit that had been nibbled on. Evidently, I had been taken care of while I was busy and hadn’t even noticed! Thank god they weren’t out to kill me or something.

I made it a point to stop in the kitchen on the way and thank them, apologizing if I had been less that gracious to them earlier. They assured me that I had been very polite and thanked them each time they came out, but that it was obvious to them I was very busy at the time.

In the living room area, I found Liz at the piano, playing softly while Jake sipped a glass of whiskey and listened. Cam was sitting with a young lady whose eyes tracked every move I made. She looked fit, but she was kind of intense! I wondered if she was any relation to Liz but I had other things on my mind.

Jake, however, waved me off. “Just set those in my office, Jack, we can talk in the morning. Trust me, if you did like I hope, you will wake up with even more questions.” He said with a laugh.

When I came back, the young lady with Cam was standing, but still watching me. I wanted to check my fly and rub my face, looking for a booger, but I held back. Barely.

“Jacques, come here mon loup! This is Deborah, though she prefers Deb. She was once in your Secret Service and was trained to protect the wife of your president. That is exciting, no? Dave found her for us, and asked her to meet with us, see if we are a good fit.”

I shook Deb’s hand, trying not to laugh. It would make a bad impression. Dave, Dean, Deb ... it was a running joke now and there is no way, no freakin’ way, that this is a coincidence this time.

“Nice to meet you, Deb. And what did Dave explain your duties to be?” I asked, curious what he had told her.

“He only told me that if I took the job, I would be providing close protection for a young woman whose significant other’s activities were, while legal, often dangerous. I would be primary to the young lady, secondary to the principal.” she said matter-of-factly.

“I see. Did he give you any examples of the kind of thing you might run in to?”

Cam grabbed my arm and pulled me to sit beside her. Deb, with a glance around, took her seat again.

“No, nothing in particular, but Ms. Raimond told me about her abduction and escape. She told me a tale about a young girl too, though admitted that she had pieced it together, not that you had told her yourself.”

“Ah, well, some things are better left alone. So, you learned about our boating vacation last Christmas and you are still here. That’s good!” I said and got a smile.

“Sir, can I ask a question?”

“Only if you call me Jack. No sir, no Mister, just Jack.”

“Okay, Jack. Are you the one who kicked off the huge capture of the slavers in the Gulf of Mexico last year? The story that made the rounds was that it was a kid in Florida who rescued a few, found out where the rest were in the bargain. You are living in Key West.”