Chapter 95

“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.