The Big Bad Wolf

"WHAT THE HELL is this about?" Lipton repeated from the doorway in a loud-mouth, big-shot way. He was speaking to me as if I were a door-to-door brush salesman. "I think you were told that I'm in an important meeting. What does the FBI want with me? And why can't it wait? Why don't you have the courtesy to make an appointment?" There was something about his attitude that didn't completely track for me. He was trying to be a tough guy, but I didn't think he was. He was just used to beating up on other businessmen. He wore a rumpled blue dress shirt and a rep tie, pinstriped trousers, and tasseled loafers, and he was at least fifty pounds overweight. What could this man have in common with the Wolf? I looked at him and said, "It's about kidnapping; it's about murder. Do you want to talk about this out here in reception? Sterling." Lawrence Lipton paled and lost most of his bravado. "Come inside," he said, and took a step back. I followed him into an area of cubicles separated by low partitions. Clerical personnel, lots of them. So far this was going about as I'd expected. But now it would get more interesting. Lipton might be "softer" than I had expected, but he had powerful connections in Dallas. This office building was in one of the most upscale residential /commercial parts of the city. "I'm Mr. Potter," I said, as we walked down a corridor with fabric-covered walls. "At least I played Mr. Potter the last time we talked in the Wolf's Den." Lipton didn't turn, didn't respond in any way. We entered a wood-paneled office and he shut the door. The large room had half a dozen windows and a panoramic view. A hat rack near the door held a collection of autographed Dallas Cowboy and Texas Ranger caps. "I still don't know what this is about, but I'll give you exactly five minutes to explain yourself," he snapped. "I don't think you know who you're talking to." "Actually, I do. You're Henry Lipton's oldest son. You're married with three children and a nice house in Highland Park. You're also involved with a kidnapping and murder scheme that we've been tracking closely for several weeks. You're Sterling, and I want you to understand something - all your connections, all your father's connections in Dallas, will not help you now. On the other hand, I would like to protect your family as much as possible. That's up to you. I'm not bluffing. I don't ever bluff. This is a federal crime, not a local one." "I'm going to call my lawyer," Lawrence Lipton said, and went for the phone. "You have that right. But I wouldn't if I were you. It won't do any good." My tone of voice, something, stopped Lipton from making the call. His flabby hand moved away from the phone on his desk. "Why?" he asked. I said, "I don't care about you. You're involved in murder. But I've seen your kids, your wife. We've been watching you at the house. We've already spoken to your neighbors and friends. When you're arrested, your family will be in danger. We can protect them from the Wolf." Lipton's face and neck reddened, and he erupted with "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you crazy? I'm a respected businessman. I never kidnapped or harmed another human being in my life. This is crazy." "You gave the orders. The money came to you. Mr. Potter sent you a hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars. Or rather, the FBI did." "I'm calling my lawyer," Lipton screamed. "This is ridiculous and insulting. I don't have to take this from anybody." I shrugged. "Then you're going down in the worst possible way. These offices will be searched immediately. And then your home in Highland Park. Your parents' home in Kessler Park will be searched. Your father's office will be searched. Your wife's offices at the museum of art will be searched." He picked up his phone. I could see that his hand was shaking, though. Then he whispered, "Go fuck yourself." I pulled out a two-way and spoke into it. "Hit the offices and the houses," I said. I turned back to Lipton. "You're under arrest. You can call your lawyer now. Tell him you've been taken to the FBI offices." Minutes later, a dozen agents stormed into the office, with its gorgeous city views and stylish and expensive furnishings. We arrested Sterling.