Storm's Cage by Mary Stone (uplifting novels .TXT) 📕

toy, vintage photos of farmers and equipment broke up the rows of neatly lined books.

As he and Glenn took their seats in a pair of cushioned armchairs, Zane scanned the surface of Young’s mahogany desk. Beside a ceramic mug of pens, a handful of photos were angled so both Young and his visitors could see the smiling faces of his wife and children.

Based on the similarity to Young’s current appearance, one of the three pictures was recent. A white blanket of snow covered the ground of a popular Chicago park, and a tall pine tree in the background glittered with all the festive decorations of the Christmas season.

Stan’s arm was draped over the shoulders of a shorter woman with a stylish auburn bob. To the couple’s side, a younger man with Young’s chestnut brown hair and angular jaw stood beside a girl who couldn’t have been any older than ten.

Though the young man was the spitting image of Young, the girl didn’t look at all like her mother or father. With a long, ebony braid draped over her shoulder, the little blue-eyed girl gazed brightly at the camera.

The sight was striking, but Zane was no geneticist. Besides, the Young family was loaded, so they had the means to adopt any number of children.

Zane rested both hands in his lap and laced his fingers together. Should have taken the time to look into more than just his tax records. Would have been nice to know what type of person we’re dealing with.

As Glenn pulled a notepad from her handbag, Zane painted an amiable look on his face and settled into the chair. On the trip downtown, they’d both agreed Glenn was better suited to conduct the interview. Zane had decided to keep his mouth shut despite Glenn’s encouragement that he ask Young any questions as he saw fit.

They were here for a stuffy, boring series of questions about Senator Young’s business with Premier Ag Solutions. Not a suspect interrogation.

Not yet, anyway. And hopefully not ever.

Glenn clicked her pen and offered the senator an appreciative smile. “Thank you again for taking time out of your busy day to talk to us. I promise this won’t take long at all. We’re just doing some follow-up on a company we noticed you’ve worked with in the past, Premier Ag Solutions.”

“Premier, yes.” Senator Young clucked his tongue and shook his head as if disappointed. “My family and I have worked with them over the years. We were just as surprised as anyone to hear about what happened in Kankakee County. The FBI arrested the men responsible, didn’t they?”

“We did.” Glenn waved her pen at Zane. “My partner was one of the agents on the scene when the Bureau took down the operation.”

Young’s gray eyes shifted to Zane. “Well, thank you very much for what you’ve done, Agent Palmer. You and the FBI helped a lot of people out of a nasty situation.”

Zane spat out the first platitude that came to mind. “I’m just glad I could help.”

“You did more than that, I assure you.” Young’s expression turned wistful.

Zane could have sworn the sympathy on the senator’s clean-shaven face was feigned. But maybe that was just paranoia.

Glenn tapped the end of her pen against the notepad on her lap. “And in your dealings with Premier, do you ever have face-to-face meetings with the people who run the job sites?”

Steepling his fingers, the senator paused and stared down at the picture of his family. “Not typically, no. Although, I haven’t been at the helm of Happy Harvest Farms for the last twelve years. My brother-in-law served as interim CEO for a few years until my oldest, Josh, graduated from the Chicago University Booth School of Business. That was about eight or nine years ago.”

“Of course.” Glenn scribbled out a few words and returned her attention to the older man. “That was to avoid a conflict of interest when you won your senate seat twelve years ago, right?”

“Right. Josh’s uncle guided him for those first few years, but he’s been in charge ever since. I still sit on the board of directors, but Josh runs the show.”

Glenn shot Young a grin. “I have a son of my own. He’s only eleven, and he’d rather play video games than study economics. I imagine you must be proud of the great work your son has been doing.”

Senator Young straightened in his chair and lifted his chin. “I am, yes.” The edge of his lips twitched as if trying to smile but not quite committing to the expression. “But that also means that I might not be the best person to answer your questions, especially if they have to do with Happy Harvest’s recent dealings with Premier.”

After ten years in the Central Intelligence Agency, Zane had spent plenty of time studying the facial expressions of the men and women around him. The ability to detect deception had been the difference between life and death more times than he cared to count.

At that moment, Zane would bet his bottom dollar on Stan Young being full of shit.

In a normal interview, Zane would have been struck with a measure of pride after he’d identified a carefully crafted lie. But today, seated across from a senator with endless financial resources, his stomach dropped.

Conspiracies might not often be true, as Glenn had professed, but when they were, the world was a much more sinister place.

Glenn ran through her list of questions regarding Young’s historical relationship with Premier Ag Solutions. Since there were no other trafficking convictions against sites operated by Premier, however, the inquiry yielded little useful answers.

Josh Young was out of town for a conference in Minneapolis, so the elder Young handed them each an embossed business card with his son’s contact information. Josh was due back in two days, and the senator assured them Josh would be more than happy to discuss the company’s recent dealings with Premier.

Young led them back down the hall and through the reception area, where he wished them