Unpromising News

"So, when are you going to be wheels up?" Jeff sat back in his favorite chair, talking to Brains, whose face took up a corner of the computer screen. The engineer blinked at him myopically.

"Wheels up at t-ten a-a-a... in the morning," Brains told him. "We p-plan on taking the b-boys for b-breakfast before that." He glanced over his shoulder. "Y-Yes, Gordon. I'll a-ask."

"Gordon being a pest?" Jeff asked, smiling.

"Somewhat." Brains shook his head slightly. "He w-wants to know if you g-got his u-upload."

"Tell him I did, but I'm waiting until I can get the boys together before watching it." Jeff tapped his chin with a pen. "I also have yours. I like the idea, but do you think Dr. Sugimoto would suspect anything?"

Brains frowned. "I d-don't know. He's n-not the only one with those pl-plans, and the rumors are that we h-have... c-connections." He shrugged, one thin shoulder rising higher than the other. "I'm m-more worried about our c-contract with him if he did find out."

"Hm, yes." Jeff shifted a bit. "His contract is with our public entity, but as we know the two are linked, it does feel more than a bit deceptive. The trick is keeping him from making that connection himself."

"I f-feel that way, too." Brains moistened his lips with his tongue. "Still, we could u-use the device. It's a c-calculated risk, but it's also y-your call."

"I'll think about it some more. I admit it would be an effective tool. If you made improvements on the design that would make our version different enough from his, I'd feel better about it." Jeff took in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and changed the subject. "So, you're taking the posse out to dinner?"

"I'm only the d-d-driver. Gordon is p-paying for the m-meal."

"That's generous of him." Jeff grinned. "I hope he knows what he's getting into. We're talking about bottomless pits and hollow legs here."

"Of which h-he is one." Brains's face echoed Jeff's wide smile. "H-However, he might get some st-sticker shock when he gets the b-bill."

A soft beeping noise filled the office, and Jeff glanced over at the other half of his screen. "Gotta go, Brains. Penny's calling."

"O-Okay, Jeff." Brains didn't hesitate to use his employer's name, and Jeff noticed. "I'll call you before we l-leave."

"We'll see you sometime tomorrow," Jeff replied, his hand hovering over a key on his computer. "Goodbye."

"Goo-"

Jeff winced when he realized he had prematurely cut off his conversation with Brains. I'll apologize later, he thought as he hit another key. "Hello there, Penny. Sorry to keep you waiting. How are you?"

"I am well, though I will admit to some concern when you didn't answer the phone directly." One of Penelope's shapely eyebrows was raised, and there was a slight quirk on one edge of her pink lips, indicating that she was teasing.

"I was getting travel details from Brains. He and Gordon are at Wharton." Jeff shifted in his chair. "I finished up that call because I wanted to have my attention focused on you and you alone."

"Ah, I see." The quirk deepened into a cheek-dimpling smile. "If that is the case, you are forgiven." She cocked her head slightly to one side. "Are things well with Alan and Fermat?"

"Yes, they're doing great. Fermat's quiz team won their match Friday night, and I have footage of Alan's cross-country and field events from... well, from yesterday my time and earlier today in your time zone. I just got them."

"Would you send them to me, please? I should like to see the competition."

"Sure. I think I should send it to my mother as well; she'd be interested to see it, too." Jeff took a few moments to attach the video files to emails and sent them off. "There. Incoming mail."

"Thank you, Jeff. I will enjoy watching the meet." She paused, and her face took on a more serious expression. "I must tell you that this is not a purely social call. I have some information for you, gleaned from some of Parker's underworld contacts. It concerns the SBX."

Jeff sat up straight. "What is it?"

Penny brought up her data pad, glancing at it as if to refresh her memory. "Parker's sources say that what happened was an attempt to spirit away a certain military sub-contractor. This particular personage was rumored to be on the SBX to observe the testing of an anti-radar system that they had designed."

"Did his sources know who this designer was?"

Penelope shook her head. "The military is being particularly secretive on that front, which is why so little is known. Whoever he or she is, they have been well-hidden. However, those sources believe – as I think you do – that the damage came from within, meaning that our saboteur was on the SBX at the time." She paused. "The people behind this must not have expected IR's intervention."

"No clue as to who that might be?"

"None that Parker's sources would admit to."

Jeff sat lost in thought for a time, so long a time that Penelope felt it was prudent to remind him she was there. She cleared her throat, a delicate "ahem" sound. It had the desired effect; Jeff started, and gave her a sheepish smile.

"Sorry about that, Penny. The more we learn about this incident, the less we know for sure, it seems."

"I would disagree, Jeff. Parker has vehemently vouched for his sources, and he has let them know there will be incentives for any other information they can unearth. He hopes to hear more in the days to come."

Jeff raised an eyebrow. "The people behind this aren't above playing hardball, Penny. I hope Parker's informants don't lead them back to him... or you."

Penny smiled slightly. "I appreciate your concern, Jeff. I assure you that Parker is the soul of discretion, and in the unlikely event that our saboteurs are able to trace the information back to us, Parker and I are quite capable of dealing with them."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," Jeff said, a wry look on his face. His expression softened. "When can you come out to the island again?"

"Soon, dear Jeff. It has been particularly cold and damp here this past fortnight and there is nothing I would like more than to visit paradise and bask in the sun." She gave him a speculative look. "Have you replaced that hideous hammock yet?"

He laughed. "No, but I'll be sure to by the time you visit... or at least move it to someplace out of sight. It may be ugly, but it's really rather comfortable."

"I will take your word for it."

There was an awkward pause, then Jeff said, "Let me know when you want to come out. Maybe we can make arrangements to meet somewhere and travel back here together. I expect Virgil and John will want to be the next ones going to Wharton, when John's has his week off."

"We shall see each other soon, Jeff. I promise." Penelope turned at the chiming of a clock in the background. "It is getting late here. As reluctant as I am to break off our conversation, I must go. I have some social engagements in the morning, and I must look fresh and well-rested."

"You'd look fresh no matter the occasion or the setting," he said, smiling.

"I notice you said nothing about looking well-rested," she reposted, the quirk and dimple returning with her mischievous half-smile. The impish look faded, and she sighed. "Really, I must go. Au revoir, Jeff."

"Goodnight, Penny," he replied softly. "Sweet dreams."

She made no comment to this other than smiling once again. Then she reached forward and ended the call.

Jeff sat back in his chair for a long while, thinking over what Penelope had said, savoring the smiles and gentle words he knew were meant for him. His gaze traveled to the pictures on his desk. Lucille smiled out at him, too, surrounded by the miniature versions of his sons, dressed in the ski gear she'd worn on that last, horrible day. He closed his eyes tightly, keeping himself from falling into the jagged kaleidoscope that were his memories of the time. When he opened them again, they were moist. Then he sighed heavily, and straightened. The email from Gordon caught his eye, and he smiled. Grabbing his phone, he texted his sons. "Come 2 office. Gordon sent vid of Alan's trak meet."

"I don't think I'll ever make an offer like that again," Gordon said as he watched Brains walk Fermat into Maplewood. "I had no idea why Dad worked so hard, until now."

"What is that supposed to mean?" From the SUV's rear seat, Alan leaned forward, his tone one of aggrieved sarcasm.

"Are you kidding? He had to become a billionaire just to keep us in food!" Gordon huffed out a breath. "Where did you guys put it all?"

"You ate as much as we did. Where did you put it?" Alan raised his eyes toward the roof and shook his head. "We're growing. We need fuel."

"Yeah, well, keep eating like that, and you won't be growing up, you'll be growing out." Gordon puffed out his cheeks, and motioned with a hand at his belly, indicating a fat stomach. "You put away quite a bit this morning, too."

"Hey, you made the offer. Don't blame us for taking full advantage of it."

The driver's door opened, and Brains slid behind the steering wheel. "We'll d-drop you off at B-Birchwood, Alan."

"Thanks, Brains." Alan sat back as Brains started the motor again. "And thanks for taking us out for breakfast. That place has some great muffins."

Brains eased the van around the quadrangle, ending up at Birchwood again. It was almost time for them to head back to the island. While the Hackenbackers said their goodbyes, Alan had stayed with Gordon, giving father and son some time alone. Now Alan hopped out, and so did his brother.

"You did great yesterday, Sprout... oh, I'm sorry. I meant Pinky." Gordon leaned up against the closed passenger door, grinning. He reached out to snag Alan's knit cap, but had his hands batted away.

"Gordon! Quit it!" When the filial tussle was over, and Alan had removed his hat to keep it from his brother, Gordon huffed a little laugh, and sobered a bit.

"Seriously, Al, I'm proud of you. You put your all into the meet." He shifted his stance a little. "You've got cool friends, and you're making a name for yourself here... and it ain't Mudd, either."

The irritated look on Alan's face eased a bit and he snorted a laugh. "Yeah, well, Coach might not agree with you after my long jumps yesterday."

Gordon waved a dismissive hand. "Pfft. You'll get it. Every time you compete, you learn something new. Just take hold of that, and run... I mean, jump with it."

Alan nodded. "I'll remember that... Nemo."

The older brother shook his head and let out an aggrieved sigh. "Children..."

"Should I start calling you 'old man'?" Alan said with a grin.

"Nah. The only old man is Dad... though Scott's a close second." There was a pause, then Gordon reached out and said, "C'mere."

The brothers embraced, thumping each other on the back. Then they separated. Alan scuffed the toe of his sneaker on the roadway. "Well, I'll see you later."

"Yeah, Al. I'll call when we get home." Gordon opened the door. Alan drew close.

"See you later, Brains! Thanks again for breakfast, and for bringing this nut out to see me."

"Y-You're welcome, A-Alan." Brains beamed. "T-Take care!"

"You, too! Fly safe!"

While the others exchanged farewells, Gordon climbed in, and closed the door. He lowered the window, and Brains started the engine.

"Hey!" Alan frowned as the import of Gordon's promise finally hit him. "You'll probably get home when it's the middle of the night here."

A fresh, impish grin spread across Gordon's face. "All the more reason to call." He turned to Brains. "Let's go."

"Gordon!" The SUV pulled away, and Alan ran after it. Gordon laughed, waved. and blew kisses until Alan stopped trying to catch up. "Don't you dare!" were his last words as the SUV drove past the other dorms, around the far end of the quadrangle, and back down the other side to the exit. Alan didn't move until it was out of sight. "He'd better damn well wait until it's daylight here," he muttered. Exasperated, he huffed out a breath, creating a large puff of white vapor, then shoved his hands in his pockets and tramped back to his room.

Monday started off as blissfully normal. Alan ate breakfast with his team, enjoying the camaraderie and discussing the previous meet. They ran together, even though the morning was cold and frosty. Fermat ate his breakfast with their friends.

"Hey, K-Kay? Was there anyone f-from the yearbook at the m-m-m... track on S-Saturday?"

Qaeshon shook his head. "No, I don't think so, but there was supposed to be someone from the school paper there to take pictures. We share back and forth sometimes."

Fermat nodded once. "Ah, I understand n-now. I was w-wondering because I didn't s-see anyone."

"I was there later in the day, when the track and field events were going on," Kay replied. "Would have sat with you, but didn't want to interrupt time with your Dad."

"N-No problem," Fermat replied. "I'm sorry I d-didn't see you."

"Hey, A.J.," Jason asked, turning toward the boy. "How was your weekend? Did you do anything special with your dad?"

"Yeah, actually, I did." A.J. took a swig of his milk. "We went to visit Gillette's Castle."

"Really? Is it a real castle?" Kay asked, intrigued.

"Yeah, it's real enough. A big castle made of bumpy stones. It was built about 100 years ago by an actor who liked to play Sherlock Holmes on stage. He designed it all himself." A.J. took another bite of his waffle, settling in to chew. When he'd finished, he continued his description. "It's way up on a hill overlooking the Connecticut River, and it's really cool-looking place. The guy used to have a mini-train track all around the grounds; you can still see some of the trestles when you drive into the park. Our cook packed us a picnic lunch and we ate there, then toured parts of the castle. It was wicked fun."

"That would be a cool thing to do," Jason said. "I mean, how many real castles are there in the States anyway?"

The quartet looked at each other, and all of them shrugged.

Though the day seemed normal enough, Alan had a definite sense of déjà vu in his Spanish class. Dr. Cambioso glanced at his computer and frowned. He finished what he was saying, projected a translation exercise onto the white board, gave instructions – and scribbled a note. Then, as he made the rounds to help his struggling students, he dropped the note off at Alan's desk.

"Gracias, señor," Alan murmured. He opened the note, then sighed. The note read: The District Attorney would like to speak to you after classes. Conference room 211 in the Student Center. Fermat gave him a questioning look, and he handed the note over. Once he'd read it, Fermat passed it back, giving his friend a sympathetic half-smile.

When classes were through, the two boys walked over to the Student Center together.

"I w-wonder what the D.A. wants to t-talk to you about," Fermat mused aloud.

Alan shrugged. "Probably something to do with Sugi."

"I hope you d-don't have to t-testify or something like that."

"Me, too." Alan glanced at his watch. "Coach is not going to be happy."

As they reached the conference room, Fermat put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "W-Want me to w-wait for you?"

Shaking his head, Alan replied, "Nah. No need. I'll be fine."

"It's no t-trouble, really." Fermat's tone was slightly insistent. "I can sit here and d-do homework."

Alan gazed at his friend's earnest face for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. Okay. I guess I could use the support after all. Can I leave my stuff with you?"

Fermat smiled at Alan, and nodded, then dropped his backpack by the door. Alan took off his pack and handed it to Fermat. He squared his shoulders, and knocked.

Mr. Magnuson opened the door. "Hello, Alan. C'mon in." He glanced at Fermat, who was now sitting on the floor, a questioning look on his face. "Are you going to wait here, Fermat?"

"Y-Yes, sir."

"That's good. We shouldn't be long." With that, Magnuson closed the door. Fermat took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then pulled out his laptop.

"Hello, Alan." Palmer Wolfe rose to his feet. "It's good to see you again." They shook hands, then Wolfe indicated a sandy-haired man who had also risen when Alan walked in. "This is Berkshire County District Attorney, Alec Johansen."

Johansen held out his hand and gave Alan a toothy smile, one that made Alan think more of a politician than a lawyer. "Good to meet you, Alan." They shook hands, then Alec indicated a chair. "We have your father here on conference call."

Jeff's face looked out at them from a laptop screen, just as before. He smiled at his son. "Hey, Alan. How was your day, son?"

"It was okay." Alan took the seat indicated. "Did Gordon get home safe?"

"Yes, they did. He and Brains are resting. You did a great job on Saturday, son. I'm very proud of you."

That got a small smile from Alan. "Thanks, Dad."

The District Attorney settled himself back into his chair. "Well, now to business. I'm here to discuss what's going on with this case. We've wrapped up the charges we're bringing, and the judge will be rendering a final sentence on Lee Sugimoto tomorrow. We thought it would be wise to bring you up to speed on any unresolved aspects of the case." He shook his head and smiled, a bit nervously. "The press will be all over this story tomorrow, and I didn't want you to hear about this on the news, Mr. Tracy. I thought it would be better to tell you myself."

"We appreciate that, Mr. Johansen," Jeff said, his expression wary.

Alec smiled again, and Alan thought his resemblance to a politician up for re-election was stronger than ever. He picked up a data pad from the walnut table, and began to peruse it.

"Well, the first – and easiest – is Steven Ulrich. He pleaded guilty to assault and battery, and is serving twelve months probation..."

"Twelve months... probation?" Jeff sounded incredulous. "For what he did to my son? No time at all in jail?"

Wolfe cleared his throat. "Mr. Tracy. I know it doesn't sound like an appropriate sentence for what happened to Alan..." Jeff opened his mouth to speak, but Wolfe forestalled him with a raised finger. "The judge has guidelines to go by. Mr. Ulrich had no prior record. He didn't use a weapon on Alan. Alan's injuries were minor..."

"Minor? Wolfe, you've seen what they did to Alan's face!" Jeff's voice was hard, and he glowered, eyes narrowed. "Johansen, have you seen the pictures?"

The District Attorney replied, "Yes. Yes, I did. But Mr. Wolfe is right. According to the sentencing guidelines, his injuries weren't life-threatening, and will eventually heal or be repaired. That puts them in a minor class." Johansen held up his hands. "I'm sorry. Between that, the fact that he pleaded guilty, and his lack of prior record, Steven's sentence had to be light."

Jeff said nothing; his jaw was clamped shut and his eyes were shooting daggers at the men in the room. Finally he ground out, "What about Lee Sugimoto? Will he get a similar sentence?"

Johansen huffed out a breath. "Yes and no." He consulted his data pad. "We decided not to charge him with a hate crime, or for the other assault. There just wasn't enough solid evidence to convict him there, and those were the two charges where he pleaded not guilty." He paused, waiting to see if Jeff had any comment to make. "Again, Lee has no prior record. He didn't use a deadly weapon. He pleaded guilty to attacking Alan. But he was also the ringleader in the assault on your son, and that upped the seriousness of his crime and added time to his sentence." He paused again, waiting for a reaction. Finally, with a deep breath, he said, "The judge will likely give him a sentence anywhere from eighteen to twenty-four months, which is the maximum allowed by law."

"I can't believe it." Alan's voice caught, His fists clenched in his lap. "He... He..."

"Alan," Jeff began, his anger morphing quickly into concern.

"Alan." Wolfe cut in, his voice soothing, putting a hand on Alan's shoulder. "There's more."

"More?" Alan glanced over at his father, who looked confused.

"Yes, there's more." Johansen nodded, stifling a relieved sigh. "Because he was pushing other students to use the steroids, and providing them, Lee Sugimoto has some felony drug charges to deal with. Distribution of an illegally obtained substance, distributing drugs near a school, possession... most of these require mandatory sentences of at least two years each, and we expect him to plead guilty to all of them." He crossed one leg over the other at the knee.. "The judge will likely insist he serve the assault charges concurrently with whatever sentence he's given for the steroids." Johansen sat back, obviously pleased with himself. "In any case, he'll be in prison for anywhere from two to six years."

"And Mr. Tracy, Alan, those are minimum sentencing guidelines," Wolfe said, nodding. "He may be saddled with more, depending on the judge." He paused, catching both Alan's and Jeff's gaze. "The other two will be in jail for much, much longer. They have multiple counts of drug manufacturing, distribution... the list is as long as my arm. And in that list are the assaults and the hate crime charges."

"I don't remember any of this happening when Pierce was caught over the steroids the first time." Jeff's dark scowl had returned. "If he had been sentenced... he never should have been able to work at Wharton in the first place."

"Were you involved in that, Mr. Tracy?" The District Attorney scrolled through his pad's list, frowning.

"In a way. My older son, Gordon, was attending Wharton at the time. Pierce pressured him to take the steroids, but he wouldn't. He also was the one to turn Pierce in." Jeff's voice was cool and haughty.

Alec stopped scrolling and skimmed over whatever was on his pad. "According to what I have here, Pierce wasn't yet 18 when he was caught the first time, and he was tried as a juvenile." Alec shook his head. "I don't know how that happened; it was before my election. I suspect someone applied pressure somewhere. In any case, his records would have been sealed, so I can't comment further."

Mr. Magnuson cleared his throat. "We're looking into how he managed to get hired here, Mr. Tracy. Dr. MacDonald has ordered a full investigation."

Jeff turned back to the District Attorney. "And this Ulrich boy? Didn't he have any issues with the steroids?"

"No, Mr. Tracy." Johansen shook his head. "Though he used the steroids, he didn't have any in his possession at the time of arrest or on a search of his quarters. He may get some treatment for them, but no charges were filed on that count."

"What about Ralph?" Alan suddenly asked. "What's going to happen to him?"

"Ralph?" Johansen looked a bit confused.

"Ralph Santiago," Mr. Magnuson explained. "He originally decoyed Alan to the ambush, then had a change of heart and reported what was going on, first to his roommate, then to me."

Johansen scrolled down his data pad. "I don't see..."

Wolfe took out his own PDA and began to search. "I believe he cooperated with the police in both the matter of the steroid ring and the assault on Alan. Others of the ring were caught because of his testimony." He stopped his search, and nodded slightly. "Yes. Here it is. Detective Larson told us Ralph was handled as a juvenile."

"Ah, I see." Johansen put his pad down, and said, "I really can't comment on this young man's disposition as it would have been handled through Juvenile Court. But if he was as cooperative as you say, and this was a first offense, I'm sure the judge was very lenient with him."

Alan nodded, his lower lip caught in his teeth. He let it slide through and spoke in a low voice. "I'm glad. He wasn't a bad guy, he just..." He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "He just got in with the wrong people. It could have been me if I'd stayed..." Swallowing, Alan paused again, then finished his thought. "...if I had still been Sugi's roommate."

There was a momentary silence in the room, one which Jeff broke. "I take it that Alan won't have to testify against any of these creeps?"

Johansen shook his head. "Not at all. As I said, all of them pleaded guilty to the assault. The recording your company submitted saw to that. We expect Lee to plead guilty to the drug charges, as Mickey and Pierce have."

"Well, that's something." Jeff's gruff tone modulated a little bit. "Wolfe, did we get that restraining order against Daniel Sugimoto?"

Wolfe nodded decisively. "We did, Mr. Tracy."

"Good. I don't want that man anywhere near Alan."

"We'll have a copy of it on file here, Mr. Tracy," Mr. Magnuson said, sounding confident. "We'll make sure Alan's safe."

"I hope so, Mr. Magnuson." Jeff glanced at each man, then turned his gaze to his son. "Alan?"

Alan, who had been gazing off at nothing, started. "Y-Yeah, Dad?"

"Are you okay?"

Alan didn't meet his father's gaze and nodded quickly, a bit too quickly to Jeff's eye. "Yeah. I'll be okay."

"Do you have any questions?" Palmer Wolfe prompted quietly. His eyes flicked between father and son. "Either of you?"

"When will he... I mean Sugi... when will he go to jail?" The question seemed to startle the District Attorney.

"He's in jail right now, Alan," Johansen said. "He may stay in the Berkshire County jail or may be moved to a state prison. That will be up to the judge." He paused. "The older two are already in a state prison. Mr. Ulrich, being a local and on probation, will remain in the county."

"What about the steroid use itself?" Jeff was sitting back in his chair, using a stylus to draw invisible designs on his desk. "Dr. Sugimoto had his son at the hospital, undergoing tests to see if the stuff he was taking had altered Lee's personality, making him more aggressive... giving him an opportunity to play the 'under the influence' card." He paused, tossing the stylus onto his desk with a clatter. "Will the judge take that into consideration?"

"For where he is incarcerated, most certainly," Wolfe said, nodding. "He may need access to a treatment program to help him deal with the aftereffects of the steroids. But as to the length of the sentence? No. That won't change. The minimum sentences are mandatory."

"I see."

There was another lull in the conversation, the longest yet. Palmer Wolfe looked from man to man to man to boy. Then he reached for his briefcase and slipped his PDA inside. "Gentlemen. Any other questions or comments?"

No one said anything, and Johansen took it as a cue to say, "Well, then. Let's wrap this up." He turned to Jeff. "I've emailed you my contact information, Mr. Tracy, in case you need it." He smiled his politician's smile again. "An honor to meet you, sir."

Jeff nodded, his face less grim and more weary. "Thank you for you help, Mr. Johansen. If I have any questions, I'll be in touch."

Johansen turned again to Alan and offered his hand. "Good to meet you, too, Alan."

Alan reciprocated. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Johansen."

"You take care now, young man."

"I will, sir."

Mr. Magnuson had risen and made his farewells to Jeff and Wolfe, then escorted the District Attorney out. That left Jeff with Alan and his lawyer.

"This should have been wrapped up already," Jeff groused, scowling again.

"Johansen and the police needed to investigate the other assault more thoroughly, to see if there was enough evidence to include Sugimoto. Now they're done, and now we can rest for a bit." Wolfe finished packing up his briefcase.

"For a bit?" Alan asked, his face stricken. "I thought it was over. Sugi's in jail."

Wolfe gave Alan a weary, compassionate look. "Alan, eventually he'll be out on parole. The system is overcrowded, and if a felon – which is what Lee Sugimoto is right now – behaves well and follows any treatment option that he's given, the courts will eventually let him out." He reached out to touch Alan's shoulder again. "It's not something you have to worry about. I'm sure he'll still be in jail by the time you finish at Wharton."

"Are you really that frightened of him, Alan?" Jeff asked, sitting forward so his worried face filled the screen. "If you are..."

Alan shook his head. "I'm not scared of him, Dad. I just never want to hear or think about him again. Ever. I want it to be over."

There was a knock on the door, and Wolfe went over to open it and converse with whoever was outside. He glanced at Alan. "Should I let your friend in?"

Alan nodded. "Yeah."

Fermat came in, Alan's backpack in one hand, his own in the other, and his laptop slung over one shoulder. "I saw M-Mr. Mags leave. He said it would b-be okay to c-come in." He glanced over at the computer on the table, and grinned. "Hi, M-Mr. Tracy!"

"Hello there, Fermat." Jeff couldn't help smiling. "I hear you and your team kicked butt on Friday night, and you were the winning player."

Fermat blushed. "Yeah, we d-did. But it was a t-t-team effort. It always is."

"Oh, hey," Alan jumped into the conversation. "Fermat, this is my lawyer, Mr. Wolfe. Mr. Wolfe, my best friend, Fermat."

"Nice to m-meet you, sir," Fermat said, easing Alan's backpack to the floor and holding out his hand.

"And to meet you... Fermat, is it?" Mr. Wolfe looked nonplussed. "That's an interesting name."

The boy shrugged. "It's what p-people call me."

"Well, on that note, I'd better be going." Wolfe said, picking up his briefcase. "Alan, do you have my contact information?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Good. If you have any questions at all about your case, don't hesitate to call. I want you to know and understand everything that's going on."

Alan nodded, sucking in his lower lip again, and letting it slide between his teeth.

"Thanks, Wolfe, for being here today." Jeff had settled back in his chair again.

"You're welcome, Mr. Tracy. I'll be in touch." Wolfe left the room, closing the door behind him.

"So, what's next on your agenda, Alan? Fermat?" Jeff asked.

"Going and apologizing to Coach for missing practice is on mine," Alan said, his tone glum."I just hope he doesn't cut me from the team."

"I think Mr. Magnuson might help you with that, son." Jeff had the stylus in his hand again. "And I doubt Coach Evans will cut you because you were meeting with an elected official... one who wants to be remembered well at election time."

Alan chuckled. "He gave you that vibe, too, Dad?"

"Yes, he did." Jeff shook his head. "I hope he doesn't expect me to contribute to his campaign, or give him an endorsement." He snorted and turned to Fermat. "What's on your plate for this evening?"

"Not m-much," Fermat admitted. "I f-f-finished most of my homework while w-waiting for Alan." He turned toward his friend. "I saved m-math so we can work on it t-t-t... as a t-team."

"Thanks, Fermat." Alan held out a fist; Fermat tapped the top with his own, then let Alan do the same for him.

There was a knock at the door, and Alan called, "Come in."

Mr. Magnuson entered, scanning the room briefly before settling on the two boys and Jeff's image in the computer. "Just let me know when you're finished, Alan..."

"We're done here, I think," Jeff said. "I can catch up with Alan a bit later via phone... when it isn't quite so early in the day here."

The comment made Alan smile. "Is it hot there yet?" he asked.

"Getting there, son, getting there." With a nod, Jeff indicated Mr. Magnuson. "You'd better get going, Alan. Let Mr. Magnuson do what he has to. And don't forget about the note."

"Oh, right!" Alan turned to glance at the security chief, then went back to his father. "Have a good day, Dad. Say 'hi' to everyone for me."

"I will, son, on both counts. I'll give your dad a hello from you, too, Fermat."

"Th-Thanks, Mr. Tracy!"

Jeff smiled. "Have a good evening, boys. Talk to you soon." With that, he reached over and the window went blank.

Mr. Magnuson moved in. "Okay, boys. You can go. I'll take care of this."

"Uh, Mr. Magnuson?" Alan shouldered his backpack. "Could you give me a note or something for Coach Evans? He'll want to know why I missed practice."

"Already taken care of, Alan." Mr. Mags looked up from the computer as he removed the power cords and wireless tab. "Dr. Cambioso wasn't the only one I notified of this meeting. But if you still need a note, let me know and I'll email one to him."

"Thanks, Mr. Mags." Alan sounded relieved. "I appreciate it." He flicked his hand at Fermat. "C'mon, let's go."

They left the conference room, and as they approached the elevator, Fermat asked, "So, what h-h-happened in there?"

Alan pressed a button to summon the lift. Immediately, a "ding!" sounded, and the elevator opened onto an empty car. They stepped inside, and only when the doors were fully closed again did Alan speak.

"Well, it's like this..."