"Let's see," Jackson said. "You just heard from Liz that she'll be alright. You're free. The first thing I would want to do is confront the man that ruined my career."
I drummed my fingers on my knee. "Yeah, well, it just so happens I'm not a rash as you. I'm going to see Barton because I think he can help with Dunkirk's problem. Barton and Michael Tailor are buddies, remember?"
"Ugh, there's a pair I do not want to meet out at the bar."
I called Barton's line at Wire Communications and flirted with his secretary. She still remembered me, and within five minutes, I hung up and told Jackson our destination. "He's at his country club."
Jackson stopped at a red light and rolled his eyes. "Of course he is. See? It's a good thing I'm with or you'd never make it past valet parking."
It turned out to be much easier to get past the front doors and out onto the course than either Jackson and I had imagined. We found ourselves cruising along in a golf cart.
"Alright, I can see the appeal," Jackson said.
I hung on to the thin support bar as Jackson whipped down a wide fairway. "Golf? Seems like a waste of time to me."
"Look around, this is beautiful."
I had to agree with Jackson. The golf course was lush, the grass a deep kelly green and perfectly manicured. High trees kept the course private and even the sand traps were groomed.
"No wonder all these rich and shady types love golf," I said. "Plenty of room to talk in private."
"I hope all you want to do is talk," Jackson muttered.
"Come on, I'm not going to punch Barton," I said. "At least not right away." Then I saw him and jumped out of the golf cart before Jackson stopped.
"Ah, Ford Bauer, perfect timing. I was just telling my friends that some reporters are like lightning rods. Good stories just seem to find them," Wesley Barton said with a smile.
I strode up so close that the smile slipped on his face. Barton refused to take a step back but a faint expression of discomfort flickered in his eyes. "A word in private, please?" I ground out.
Barton yanked his arm out of my grip and adjusted the collar of the polo shirt underneath his plaid sweater. "You're missing an opportunity here, Bauer. Like you always do. Those men there happen to be very influential with Reuters. You should let me introduce you."
"Why would I trust you to do that for me?" I narrowed my eyes as I studied his face.
The wealthy businessman smiled. "You've been so good keeping quiet these past few years. The least I can do to the return the favor is introduce you. Maybe someone can get over your reputation and hire you. You never know. I might put in a good word for you."
I stepped forward again and dropped my voice to a low threat. "And what are you going to do if I decide I'm done being quiet?" I snarled.
"Is career suicide addictive?" Barton asked. "I mean, that's the only explanation for all this that makes sense."
"No," I said. "The only thing that makes sense is I'm done keeping your dirty secrets. I'm done keeping my head down. You can't touch me anymore."
Barton's cheek twitched. I could see him running over all the possibilities in his head. I had a job that I didn't love and was getting edged out of anyway. My sister was established in her medical school and her reputation was beyond reproach. We had no other family and no fortune.
Then Barton glanced at Jackson. A red lens dropped over my eyes and I stepped in front of him. My hands clenched in to fists as I fought to control myself. "You're not going after anyone else just to scare me into staying quiet."
He leaned back then shuffled one foot back very slowly so his friends wouldn't notice. Barton looked in my eyes one last time, but couldn't find a trace of fear. He cleared his throat. "Well, then I guess congratulations are in order. You finally grew a set."
Every muscle fiber in my body tensed with the desire to deck him. I took a deep breath and kept Clarity foremost in my mind. She was the reason I was here and because of that, I could let Barton's jabs bounce off.
"I tell you what," I said as I advanced on Barton. "I'll take you up on the offer of an introduction."
"Great idea, glad to see you're ready to get back into journalism. Let's go join them—"
"Not them," I snapped. "How about you introduce me to your friend at Landsman, the football coach."
"The football coach?" Barton asked. "What would I have to do with him?"
"Oh, only the fact that you donated new video equipment to him this fall. Bet he loves being able to play back games, zoom in, and coach his players with all the cutting edge technology."
"How do you know that?" Barton cut himself off. "So, you did your research. Why do you need me to talk to the football coach for you?"
I grinned like a wolf. "Because you are going to convince him to tell me all about how another donor forced him to pressure a player into handing in a plagiarized paper."
Barton frowned. He knew exactly who I was talking about and he had to weigh his friend's agenda against his own. "Fine. Give me your phone. If I get him to talk, you're not going to let this trace back to me."
#
"Oh, man, I am never going to get over the look in Barton's eyes. He really thought you were going to clock him and he got all smug, like he could already see you losing a personal injury trial. Then, you told him and everything just changed. Ding! Like a light finally turned on in his lizard brain. That's what happens when you don't let a bully bully you," Jackson crowed. He pulled into the Landsman parking lot and turned to grin at me. "You've got to be feeling like a million bucks."
"That's probably what all this is going to cost me in libel suits if I can't pull it off," I said.
"Buzz kill. Get out of my car." Jackson laughed. "Oh, and good luck with that next windmill. She's a doozy."
I thanked Jackson, got out of the car, and then saw Florence Macken strolling down the sidewalk. She pretended to be on the phone so she could stall long enough for me to have to pass her on my way onto campus.
Sure enough, I was four feet away from her when her phone call magically ended. She beamed at me and said, "Professor Bauer, I'm glad I caught you."
"Sorry, ma'am, I've got to get to class," I said. I refused to slow down even when she moved her formidable figure into the center of the sidewalk.
"Now, just a minute, professor," Macken said.
I dodged around her. "Don't worry about calling me that anymore. It never sounded good the way you said it anyway."
I left her flabbergasted, and as much as I wanted to look back and savor it, I kept marching across campus. It wasn't until I reached Thompson Hall that I realized my department head was close on my heels.
Any hope I had that she was just returning to her office was dispelled when she cleared her throat.
"Professor Bauer, I must insist you stop right now," Macken barked as we stepped into the echoing lobby.
"Not now, Macken. I've got to get to class," I snapped over my shoulder.
"Class? You don't have a class at this time. Have you lost your mind? Do I need to call security?" The volume of her voice elicited the attention she was hoping to garner. "You do realize that insubordination is grounds for termination, Professor Bauer."