“All right, Miss Rich,” said Flanagan. He liked being back in his office. He still

needed to take steps. Dern might be a whiz of a detective, but he wasn’t going to

crack this. He didn’t have enough evidence to do anything. “What do we know about

the attempted bombing of the factory in Jersey?”

“The bomb was a stick of dynamite. It was dropped through the skylight on the main

floor of the factory. It didn’t do much damage since you smothered it,” said

Josephine.

“That’s all?,” said Flanagan.

“Yes, sir,” said the secretary. “If the police learned something, they didn’t share it

with the board as far as I know.”

“What do we know about Arnold Courtland?,” said Flanagan.

“Nothing,” said Josephine. “He wants the company, but that’s all we know about him

right now.”

“So the first thing we need to do is learn more about Courtland,” said Flanagan. “That

requires detectives on the payroll. Do we have any?”

“No, sir,” said Josephine.

“Let’s start with that,” said Flanagan. “Ralph Couteri heads our legal department. Call

him and ask him to recommend somebody. Then we’ll call his recommendation and

see what he can do.”

“Are we going to have more guards for the factory?,” said Josephine.

“I think so,” said Flanagan. “We need more than Pop Stevens at the gate. These guys

already got by him once. At least they didn’t kill him while they were trying to kill

the crew in the work area.”

Josephine made a note. Maybe Mr. Couteri had dealt with security agencies as well

as private investigators.

“What about the factory?,” said Josephine.

“How much damage was done?,” said Flanagan.

“They are still looking things over,” said Josephine. “They are supposed to give a

report to the board later this week.”

“Let me know as soon as the report is sent in,” said Flanagan. “I expect the board will

try to remove me. A lot of them don’t have that much invested in the company.

They’ll want to sell everything and get out.”

“But you saved the factory from being wrecked with that thing you were testing,” said

Josephine.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Flanagan. “They are going to claim that we should give in to

Courtland after this. It would be even better if I had been killed.”

“So someone comes along and bullies them and they fold?,” said Josephine. “I don’t

think they will. We’re gearing up for war. Everyone sees it. The company will make

a mint in the next few years. They won’t let that go.”

Flanagan nodded. His company would be a small cog compared to others vying for

contracts. They stood to triple their earnings if the government asked them to supply

parts for the Army and Navy.

That could be why Courtland wanted to buy the company before they turned their

earnings into something to rival the big boys that also wanted contracts. Once he had

control, he could rake in as much as he wanted with no problem.

Flanagan frowned. He had a nest of theories. He had to rule some of it out so he could

see the real picture. Then he could try to figure out what to do about his saboteur.

If anything he expected another attack to try to finish the job.

“Go ahead and call Couteri,” said Flanagan. “Get him working on the security and

investigating part of things. Then I need to look at the contracts we’ve signed in the

last three years maybe. I doubt there is anything there, but I want to make sure.”

“Mr. Courtland?,” asked Josephine.

“Put him through if he calls,” said Flanagan. “It will probably be another demand for

me to sell with some veiled reference to something else happening to the company if

we don’t. If he keeps at it long enough, he can drive our stock down so that he can

pick it up for pennies on the dollar and just take over.”

“I understand,” said Josephine. “Let me get the copies of the contracts you want, and

then I will call Mr. Couteri.”

Flanagan rubbed his face with his bandaged hands. How did he protect his company

and his employees. All of them could be targets until he figured out what was going

on and took care of it.

At least his petrified shirt had worked better than he thought it would. It had saved

his life when he should be dead. If he wanted to be a masked man, he could do worse

than building armor out of the mix.

Josephine returned with a stack of folders. She placed them on his desk. He squinted

at the paperwork. This could take longer than he had thought at first.

“Mister Couteri said he knows someone. They’ll come by to talk to you later today,”

said Josephine a few minutes later.

“Thank you, Miss Rich,” said Flanagan. He had the first file open in front of him. His

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

finger marked where he had stopped reading. “If anyone from the board calls, I’ll take

it, or if someone calls about trouble at one of our places, I’ll take that. And Courtland.

Everyone else will just have to leave a message unless it’s life or death.”

“I understand,” said Josephine. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

She stepped out of the office and closed the door to leave him in peace. She hoped he

knew what he was doing. The doctors didn’t like him checking out of the hospital and

going back to work.

She didn’t think it was a wise move either.

Flanagan examined the papers, focusing on parts that he thought would give him a

motive. He admitted he didn’t see anything in the contracts they had signed that

would prompt a takeover.

There were contracts that his lawyers were working on. Maybe there was something

in one of those. He searched his memory. They had two contracts with the

government waiting to be signed as soon as the set up work was done.

Flanagan leaned back in his chair. Those contracts were confidential. As far as he

knew, his people were still bargaining with the appropriations people on how much

they would pay to buy the parts they wanted. Could Courtland know about that? If he

did, how did he find out?

Flanagan had no illusions about absolute secrecy. There were a ton of people

involved who could have leaked the information to Courtland, or set him up as the

buyer so they wouldn’t be exposed.

That was something he would have to talk to Couteri’s investigators about when he

called them to get them started.

Who was on the negotiating team for his side? He realized he didn’t know. Maybe it

was time he found out.

“Miss Rich?,” Flanagan said into his intercom.

“Yes, sir,” said Josephine.

“Can you find out who was assigned to selling the government parts?,” asked

Flanagan.

“I’ll have to call down to the sales office,” said Josephine. “I’m not sure there will be

anyone down there at this time of night.”

“What time is it?,” asked Flanagan.

“It’s about nine, Mr. Flanagan,” said Josephine. “Mr. Couteri called to say he would

get on your request. I haven’t taken a call from Mr. Courtland, or the board.”

“Can you get me a cab,” said Flanagan. “I would like to go out to the factory and look

around.”

“No problem,” said Josephine. “I’ll call one for you. Do you need me to ride down

with you?”

“No,” said Flanagan. He locked the contracts up in his desk. “I assume if Courtland

is going to call, he’ll call my work area. The board might not even know I’m out of

the hospital. When you come in tomorrow, I want you to find out who is negotiating

with the government and get a list of everybody on both sides, lawyers, senators,

congressmen, everybody. Put it on my desk for me.”

“Yes, sir,” said Josephine. “Is there anything else?”

“Go home and get some sleep,” said Flanagan. “We’re going to have a long day

tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir,” said Josephine. “Do you think they’ll try again?”

“I don’t know,” said Flanagan. “We’re waiting on their next move while trying to

figure out who the players are. If we can identify what Courtland wants from the

company, and if he was behind the dynamiting, we might have something we can use

to shut the attempts down.”

“All right,” said Josephine. “I will get that list the first thing in the morning.”

“Thank you,” said Flanagan. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“What are you going to do at the factory?,” asked Josephine. She reached for her

phone.

“I’m going to look around and see what I can see,” said Flanagan. “I would like to

know how much of the blast was contained for example. Falling on top of the

dynamite was a stroke of good luck on my part.”

“I’ll have a cab waiting for you by the time you get downstairs,” said Josephine.

“Thank you, Miss Rich,” said Flanagan. “Be careful. We don’t know what Courtland

will do once he knows I am out of the hospital and moving around.”

“I will,” said Josephine. “You be careful, Mr. Flanagan. A lot of us depend on you.

If something happens to you, the rest of the board would think nothing of tearing the

company apart for a little bit of money.”

Flanagan couldn’t disagree with her assessment. He headed to the elevator, thinking

about what he knew so far. He admitted he didn’t know enough about Courtland. The

motive of wrecking something just enough so you could take it away from someone

else was there, and it was as old as the hills. It didn’t mean much if he couldn’t prove

it somehow.

He stepped out of the elevator and headed across the lobby. He doubted Courtland

knew he would be at the factory, unless he had called to make sure that he would be

there. That showed extensive research into his habits. Very few people knew that he

used the lab under the factory all the time.

Which one would have told Courtland that?

Maybe Courtland had him followed around to learn his habits. That was better than

thinking that one of his associates was in cahoots with the buyer.

He filed the suspicion anyway until he could rule it out. People did things for money

they wouldn’t consider for any other reason. If Courtland promised a section of the

profit from the company, or keeping the mole on the board, or maybe a huge

settlement, then selling the company out might be on the table.

Flanagan crossed the lobby. He saw the cab and realized that he didn’t have his wallet

with him. He rubbed his face. He needed to get to the factory. His lab had some spare

money he could use to pay the cab driver off.

Tomorrow, he would have to replace his identification.

He should have asked Miss Rich to bring him his spare money when he asked her to

get his suit.

He patted his pockets as he walked up to the cab. He reached in. Miss Rich had put

some money, a spare checkbook, and a pen in his pants before she gave them to him

at the hospital. He smiled.

He needed to give her a raise.

“Where to, Mac?,” asked the cab driver, getting out of his car.

“I need to get to New Jersey,” said Flanagan. “I have some business to take care of

there.”

He gave the driver the address of the factory.

Flanagan settled in the back seat as the cabbie drove out of the city and across the

state lines. Once he was back in his lab, he could take a nap, and look over his notes

from that night. He realized that he had sent Miss Rich into the place with the mixture

still sitting in its bowl.

He put the thought aside. He had to trust someone. Miss Rich had proven worthy of

that trust for years. He could count on her.

If he couldn’t, he had already exposed his test work to her. She could duplicate it if

she had the log sheets from the book.

The cab pulled up in front of the gate. Flanagan paid the driver, walked through the

gated entrance to the lot while waving to the guard. He headed for the front door of

the factory.

He descended to the door to his lab. He found it locked. What had happened to his

keys? They must have been scattered in the explosion, or left at the hospital. Did the

hospital have his personal effects? He hadn’t bothered to ask.

He noticed a upside down cup at the foot of the door. He picked it up. His keys lay

underneath. He smiled.

He definitely was giving Miss Rich a raise after he had everything sorted out.

He took the keys and opened the lab door. He stepped inside and looked around.

Everything looked like he had just left it. The only difference he could see from his

casual inspection was the mix in the bowl had hardened into unusability.

He could mix more now that he knew how to do it.