Hap — Boston, MA
Hap Greene was quietly enjoying the subdued atmosphere inside the Bostonian Club’s elegantly appointed library, when Wilson found him. His stylishly short gray hair made him look even more distinguished than Wilson remembered. Hap was in his late forties, but his six-foot-three-inch frame looked as fit as that of a thirty-year-old. He was impeccably dressed, as always, this time in an Armani charcoal tweed suit and a starched white shirt with a striking turquoise tie. Wilson was also in uniform-black pin-striped suit with white shirt and red club tie.
They greeted each other as old friends and then sat down for lunch in the main dining room. Wilson discreetly reached into his briefcase and pulled out the mobile nullifier Hap had sent him and placed it on the table behind the large salt and pepper shakers.
Hap smiled before commenting, “I wouldn’t place too much confidence in that gadget, Wilson. It was intended to frustrate the casual eavesdropper and maybe a PI or two, but not skilled professionals, at least not indefinitely.”
“That’s not very comforting,” Wilson said as he examined Hap. Precise, decisive, no-nonsense, with a flair for the unexpected-that was the Hap Greene Wilson had come to respect and admire. Wilson looked around the main dining room. His father had been a member here for years, but Wilson didn’t recognize anyone. Then he stared at the nullifier, questioning whether the secret partnership had already de-nullified it. He then looked at Hap.
“Don’t worry, the building is clean,” Hap said. “We swept it this morning.”
“You never use these things?” Wilson asked, nodding toward the nullifier.
“Sure we do. But you have to assume that serious surveillance teams will find a way to pierce them.”
The waiter arrived with water and menus, rattling off the day’s specials. They ordered quickly. When they were alone again, Wilson asked, “So how do we guarantee our privacy?”
“Regular sweeps of your premises with constant monitoring. But before we get into that, maybe you should update me on what’s happened since we last talked.”
For the next several minutes as they ate lunch, Wilson told Hap everything, including his intent to infiltrate the secret partnership. Just as Wilson was finishing, Hap raised his finger to his lips, giving Wilson the quiet sign. Then, Hap got up from the table without saying a word and walked to the restroom. Three minutes later, he returned.
“We have an eavesdropper, a Mr. Robert J. Swatling. Evidently he’s a member here. Do you know him?” Hap asked.
“He’s an associate of my father’s. Lives in New York City, but has a law practice here as well.”
“He and two others have just set up a portable wall-penetrating microphone and recorder in the private dining room on the other side of that wall,” Hap said, nodding toward the wall twenty feet away.
“How do you know?”
“It’s my business to know,” he said cheekily. Then, pointing to his ear, he explained. “I’m online with my people.”
Wilson couldn’t see anything in his ear. “What do you want to do?”
“Your nullifier and our jamming equipment outside will handle things until they bring in better equipment, and believe me they will, sooner or later. We know Swatling. He used to be a client.”
“How did you identify him?”
“The van parked outside has enough equipment to decipher every electronic eavesdropping device inside this building. After conducting a sweep this morning to give us a baseline, we’ve been monitoring changes. We also placed a few video cams. Swatling was identified as soon as he entered the building. When he turned on the microphone and recorder, we immediately assessed and jammed it. He’s using a level-two device capable of piercing most nullifiers, including yours, but only under ideal circumstances. Have you been using it regularly?”
“Yes.”
“Why aren’t they using better equipment?” Hap asked, but the question wasn’t for Wilson. Staring at the Club’s large arching windows, Hap listened to input from his colleagues while formulating his own answer. “Swatling knew we’d identify him and his listening device, so what’s he up to?”
Wilson waited until Hap had finished listening to his colleagues. “You said Swatling was a former client. Who quit who?” Wilson asked.
“We did. His demands began compromising our ethics. Is he part of this secret partnership?” Hap asked as he took another bite of his salad.
“Until now, I had no reason to think so,” Wilson said, feeling vulnerable. “He’s a close friend of my father’s. They were board members here at the club for several years. I went to prep school with his son, Bobby. Haven’t seen him in years. I don’t know what to tell you. There’s still plenty I don’t know about my father.”
“I brought an additional team with me. All of you are under twenty-four-hour surveillance, counter-surveillance, and coverage for maximum physical protection.”
“You’re worried about Swatling, aren’t you?” Wilson said, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tightening.
Hap nodded. “Swatling knows we’re meeting. He knows we’re jamming the conversation. He wants us to know he’s here. He’ll escalate. Better equipment, better surveillance teams, until he gets what he wants.” Hap stopped to study Wilson carefully. “Based on what you’ve told me and our preliminary assessment, not to mention Swatling’s involvement, I suspect this secret partnership will do whatever it takes to neutralize you.”
“What’s the price tag for your twenty-four-hour services?”
“$200,000 a week plus expenses, payable at the end of each month.”
“I’ll pay five times that if you’ll guarantee no body bags.”
Hap leaned forward continuing to examine Wilson like a therapist. “You need to understand something, Wilson. What we do is anticipate and react. We don’t control anything. If there are extreme measures, we’ll do everything we can to protect you in the short term. After that, we bring in the authorities. If what you want is a guarantee, walk away from this and go to the authorities right now.”
“I can’t.”
“Then your well-being depends on exposing them quickly, before they figure out what you’re doing.”
“Does your involvement automatically increase their concerns?”
“Not necessarily. Based on the fact that we’ve worked together before, a contract with my firm would be a logical next step, especially after the death of your attorney and threats to your mother and girlfriend. They already know you’re worried about the surveillance. Plus you’ve just taken over your father’s firm. They were expecting this, and they let us know a few minutes ago.”
“Any reservations?”
“None. You’re already paying double my usual fee.”
Wilson scanned Hap’s eyes, asking himself again, if he was ready to place the well-being of his family and loved ones in the hands of a man he admired and respected professionally, but with whom he had only a limited personal history. But if not Hap, who? Wilson didn’t know where his feelings of assurance came from as he pondered the question, but he grabbed a hold. “Okay, when do we move my father?”
Hap took his last bite of salad before responding. “We don’t. We have a better chance of protecting him right where he is. I have three people at the hospital working undercover. He’ll have 24/7 protection. You, on the other hand, will have to move. We’re arranging for an apartment near the Fielder amp; Company building. We can do a better job of protecting you and your family if you’re separated.”
Wilson nodded hesitantly, but decided to trust Hap’s judgment. “I’m planning a trip next with Fielder amp; Company’s senior executives to tour the firm’s seven offices. After that Emily and I are going to Venice for a week.”
“You’re not going to make this easy are you?”
Wilson didn’t say anything as the waiter cleared their plates.
Hap continued, “I’ll need people here to watch Emily and at least two with you on your office tour. And, I’m afraid you won’t be going to Venice alone. They’ll be discreet, but they’ll be there, watching your every move.”
Wilson nodded his head in agreement. “What about the others?”
“Looks like you won’t be having much contact with them this week or next, which is good. The less contact the better. I’ll be conducting deep background checks on all of them, including Emily.”
“Why?” Wilson said, caught off guard.
“Trust no one, Wilson. It’s safer.”
“I trust these people with my life.”
“Your father probably felt the same way about his circle of intimates.”
Wilson placed his napkin on the table in front of him. “Carter Emerson is the only one who could be a member of the secret partnership, but I’m satisfied that his interests are aligned with mine and my father’s. I have to trust that, otherwise we have no chance of exposing the people who shot my father, killed Daniel Redd, and have been fleecing Wall Street.”
“I hope you’re right, but I can’t rely on it. We never take on this level of risk without knowing everything about the principals, and we never accept anyone’s assumptions about anything. Isn’t that what they taught you at Kresge amp; Company?”
“You’ve already started the background checks, haven’t you?” Wilson asked, questioning his own fears.
“As soon as you called.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon going over Wilson’s plans for infiltrating the secret partnership, as well as details about each of the people Hap Greene and his associates would be protecting. Having Hap on board was a relief.