"Right. We're working on some other clients we'll represent there also. Getting back to the foundation, my field, of course, is accounting and finance. Do you have any financial statements I could look at? Perhaps lists showing the types of contributors? What about the contributors? Are they both individuals and corporations?"
Vickers tapped the glasses rapidly against his tie. "Yes. As a matter of fact, many of our scholarship recipients have sent individual contributions. Those doing quite well financially feel an obligation to make it possible for others to follow."
He opened a drawer in the filing cabinet and pulled out a folder. Burke had to stifle a smile as he saw the cover, blue. The thought instantly leaped into his mind: blue, unclassified. He would hardly have expected to find anything classified in there.
"Here's a copy of our last quarterly statement," the foundation director said, handing over two long white sheets from the folder.
Burke looked them over briefly. The foundation was quite well financed, he noted. There were both endowment and operating funds. Administrative costs appeared reasonable enough. There was a hefty travel budget, though, enough to send Vickers all around the country in a Rolls Royce.
Burke glanced up from the papers. "This travel budget, is that all for you?"
Vickers had put his glasses back on when he went to the file cabinet. Now he pulled them off again and shook them. "Oh, no. We also provide travel expenses to bring the students over here from Korea."
Burke nodded. "Did all of them live in Korea before getting their scholarships?"
"Most did."
"What about summers? Do they get to go home?"
"We help those who couldn't afford it otherwise. Korean Air Lines has a very generous discount program for them."
Burke slipped the papers into the small briefcase he carried. "What about corporate contributors? A list showing the types of businesses, perhaps. Something that would give me a little ammunition to sell this to our client."
Dr. Vickers handed over another sheet. It contained a list headed by the big Korean conglomerate Reijeo, which translated literally as "laser." Also included were such familiar names as Hyundai, Daewoo, and Samsung. And, of course, Wentworth Industries.
"I notice Reijeo heads the list," Burke said. "Is it your biggest supporter?"
"That's correct. As you probably know, it is a large conglomerate, or chaebol, as they're called in Korea. The Reijeo Business Group is involved in everything from electronics to machinery to petrochemicals. The chaebol are family firms. Reijeo is connected to the family of the new Korean president, Kwak Sung-kyo."
Burke smiled. "That's not a bad deal. What sort of people are on your board of directors?"
"We have fifteen members. Some represent larger contributors. A couple are college presidents. Then there are individuals with an interest in Korean-American ties. I've been after Mr. Wentworth to come on our board. Perhaps someone from Worldwide Communications Consultants would be interested."
"I'll look into it," Burke said, getting up to leave. "I appreciate your time and all the information. I'll be back in touch."
"Please do," said Dr. Vickers. "If you have any more questions, just give me a call." He handed Burke one of his business cards.
Burke thanked Che-sun for the ttok and left. As he walked down the corridor to the elevator, he wondered at the strange feeling he had about Dr. Kim Vickers. The foundation director had been completely open with him, readily answering all of his concerns. He didn't think the enthusiastic reception and all the smiles had been contrived, but he sensed an odd nervousness in the way Vickers had toyed with his glasses. The more questions Burke asked, the more fidgety the movements became.
Chapter 12
On the Monday following Burke's return from San Francisco, the mail brought Lori a letter from Budapest. When she spotted the strange stamp and the Hungarian postmark, she grabbed a letter opener and eagerly slit open the envelope. The note had been written painstakingly, in a shaky but legible hand. Grandmother Szabo wrote briefly about what a thrill it had been to meet the granddaughter she had always thought dead. She asked about her soon-to-be great-grandchildren, and expressed the hope that she would live long enough to see them. It appeared that prospect had given her a new rationale for survival. Burke was pleased at the way the letter buoyed Lori's spirits, for the forced half-day idleness had begun to take its toll. Her life had been built around the constant push and tug of the business world for far too long to easily acquiesce in what she called her "semi-retirement."
However, Burke experienced a bit of fallout from the letter. It reminded him of his own vow to locate his long-missing son. Between meetings with Accounting personnel and briefings by the Research staff the next day, he asked Evelyn to call information in Sumter, South Carolina, and see if they had a phone number for Peggy Grippando. He remembered her new husband's last name but not his first. It was nearly lunchtime when she caught up with him as he headed back to his office.
"Sorry, boss man, but Sumter has no Peggy Grippando listed. Could she be in the directory some other way?"
"No, I don't think so," Burke said, walking slowly to his desk. "Thanks for trying, Evelyn."
She stuck her head in the door. "Should I know Peggy?"
"No. It's a personal matter. Nothing important."
From the look on her face, he knew she had seen through the lie.
"I'm going to lunch with Toni," she said. "She may drag me off to some exotic shop with a half-price sale. You won't throw a tantrum if I'm late getting back, will you?"
He shook his head and grinned. "Not if you promise to model whatever you buy."
She placed her hands on her hips and arched a carefully drawn eyebrow. "What if it's a lingerie store?"
"Well, if it's Frederick's of Hollywood, I might sell tickets."
"Men!" She huffed and spun on her heel.
Burke sat back in his chair and thought about Peg. He had met her in his early years with the Bureau, while involved in an investigation at Shaw Air Force Base just outside Sumter. She worked in the base legal office. They were both in their twenties. Neither had been involved in a serious affair. She was a sultry blonde with a thick Southern drawl; he was a dashing young G-Man. It was like a giant protoplasmic magnet had been turned on, propelling them together with cosmic force. Before either had really taken time to consider the consequences, they found themselves married. It was quite literally, he had to admit, an ill-considered marriage.
Peg's parents were divorced. Her father had fled to the West Coast, obviously in an effort to get as far away from the strident Mrs. Walters as possible. A construction worker, he was always on the move and only wrote or called about once a year. Peg didn't get along with her mother much better than her father had. As she moved about the country with Burke's changing FBI assignments, her contacts with her mother were few. When little Cliff was born, there appeared to be a chance the marriage might survive. But as Burke's work began to take him farther from home and for longer periods of time, Peg decided she'd had enough. She moved back to South Carolina and filed for divorce. Burke didn't contest it. Soon afterward, he learned that her mother had died.
He recalled the last time he saw Peg and Cliff. It was after Hoover and Assistant Director Sullivan had come up with the idea to have Burke publicly resign from the FBI. He would appear to go sour, then attempt to infiltrate the Mafia in Las Vegas. If anything went wrong and the mob penetrated his cover, Peg and Cliff would be in mortal danger. They sat in the kitchen of her small apartment in Sumter late one night after putting Cliff to bed and talked. He couldn't tell her what he would be doing, but he did his best to impress upon her the threat she and the boy might face. There was no animosity between them, and he felt certain she accepted the truth of what he told her. She promised to change her name back to Walters and to invent a plausible story to cover her absent husband. They had parted with tears in their eyes. Leaving the apartment that night, he was swept by the feeling that he was setting something in motion that would change his life forever. He was right.