The Sand Hill Review http://www.sandhillreview.org 2000

WHAT GOES AROUND, COMES AROUND

Enness Daniels Roe

IRS Special Agent Robert Street opened the door to the cavernous Examinations Division bay at the Internal Revenue Service Center in Fresno, California and strode down the center aisle of cubicles to reach the cubbyhole he had been loaned during his temporary assignment there. He paused at the opening to each cubicle along his way to greet the occupant with “Good morning” or “You’re looking good today” or “What’s happening?” He kept his ordinary pace, his ordinary practice, his ordinary grin upon his face even though he knew this was not an ordinary day. No, no, it was far from being an ordinary day. It was payback time for Lewis Polonsky and Robert was going to make sure he paid.

“Robert, my man.”

Robert whirled around to receive a high five from Calvin Williams.

“What’re you doing for lunch?” Calvin wore an expectant expression despite the relaxed posture he always struck that was supposed to make him appear cool. Robert had observed that Calvin always wanted to appear cool, the trademark of the young.

“Lunch? You’ve only just got here and you’re worrying about lunch already?” Robert said. “You ain’t never going to lose all that excess you’re carrying around with you if you got food always on your mind." He laughed and patted Calvin’s ample mid-section in an attempt to put Calvin off from issuing the inevitable invitation. As he took in the younger man’s firmly planted feet and anxious smile, he doubted he would be successful.

“Now, don’t be jiving me, Robert,” Calvin said. “I wanted to ask you to come to lunch because there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Robert rolled his eyes and then hid his face in his hands. He gave a groan of mock despair and staggered back against the partition.

“Oh, no! Not another lady. Calvin, I’ve told you and told you I ain’t interested – leastwise not until you find me a fox.” He flashed an impish grin and raised one eyebrow. “That last lady you picked out -- ”

“I know, I know.” Calvin doubled over laughing.

“—was one big woman.” Robert shook his head and made a face.

Calvin was laughing so hard he couldn’t speak. He pressed his lips firmly together, which only made him sputter and snort. It was clear to Robert that Calvin had lost his cool.

“Come on, Robert,” Calvin managed to say at last. “Help me out here. I’ve already told her you’d come.”

“Calvin, Calvin, what’s a man to do?” Robert shook his head sadly. He knew he would have to give in to Calvin’s request or it might not look like an ordinary day. Even if Calvin knew what was about to happen, he wouldn’t say anything, but Robert wanted no partners for this crime. “All right. See you at eleven thirty.”

He smiled and clapped Calvin on the shoulder. He said a mental “Thank you” for his years of undercover experience. He could put on an act that would convince anybody that he didn’t mind the lunch date, even though he did mind very much. He shook his head again and chuckled audibly for the benefit of any co-workers who might be listening as he watched Calvin finally saunter away from him.

Part way back down the aisle, Calvin spun around and called back, “Jade’s coming this time.”

Robert waved his acknowledgement and then turned and walked into his office. He thought it was good that Jade would be with them at lunch. He liked Calvin’s vivacious girlfriend. She never let the conversation lag and would be someone the other woman could talk to if need be.

Robert looked around the blank walls of his tiny office. There was a window directly in front of the desk, a vestige of an earlier day when it had been used to observe the row upon row of metal desks placed cheek-by-jowl in the open bay. Someone had pasted a large sheet of paper over the window crookedly so that it left a border of unshielded glass through which he could see little slivers of passers-by, little glimpses of color and movement like fragments in a kaleidoscope. He had brought no personal momentos with him. Polonsky had punished him by sending him to Siberia and he would serve out his sentence in a bare cell. No Special Agent with his background would welcome a temporary detail to a Service Center. Agents assigned to the Service Center merely reviewed tax returns referred to them by the examining staff when the possibility of fraud was suspected. If the Agent believed the returns had fraud potential, he passed them along to the Criminal Investigation Division at the IRS office nearest the taxpayer’s home. There was no investigating, no danger. It was work as dry as toast.

But then Robert had had a stroke of luck. The auditors had determined that someone was tapping into the computer system and siphoning off the positive differences between taxes withheld in dollars and cents and refunds claimed in rounded dollars. A criminal investigation had been started and he had been assigned to it since he was already on site. One of his fellow Special Agents from the Bay Area, Terry van Gilse, had been sent down to Fresno to lead the case. At first, everyone believed the crime had to be being committed by a Service Center employee, someone with access to the automated system that calculated refunds and generated payments. He had recognized from the outset that this focus was too narrow and had suggested they widen the scope to consider that the crime might be the work of a cracker. Of course, Lewis Polonsky had seen to it that he was assigned to the more traditional insider theory, while Polonsky’s boy Terry concentrated on the more politically rewarding cyber theory.

For once, Polonsky’s favoritism had actually benefited him. Looking for an insider gave him the idea and the means to wreak his revenge on Polonsky. After he had discovered how an insider might have programmed the scheme into the computer system, he had realized that he could create a program of his own to make the system send money to a bank account of his choosing, a bank account he set up for a business registered in Polonsky’s name. All he had to do now was double-check the program and execute it. The program would run for three months and then he would delete it from the system as if it had never existed. The accumulated funds in Polonsky’s account would be discovered when Terry and the other agents working on the case finished tracing all of the issued checks and electronic funds transfers, probably at least a year from now with Terry in charge. There would be no reason for checks to have been sent to Polonsky’s account unless he was part of the criminal scheme. Polonsky would be accused of fraud, a fatal charge for an IRS employee, especially a Special Agent Group Leader. Even if Polonsky were eventually able to clear himself, his career would have been ruined. That would be Robert’s revenge. He would retire on schedule and disappear to Europe. He would have plenty of money to live on between his retirement, Yvonne’s life insurance and proceeds from the sale of his house. He would be comfortably retired; Polonsky would be disgraced. He nodded his head in satisfaction. That would be justice.

He looked at the clock and frowned. He had counted on having time during lunch to recheck his programming, to be sure he was ready to spring the trap on Polonsky. Now he’d have to take time out to have lunch with Calvin and be introduced to some overeager lady just looking to catch a man. Any man, probably. Why couldn’t his friends just respect that Yvonne had only passed eight months before and give him time to mourn her death, to adjust to being alone after thirty-two years of marriage? Even if Calvin had really found him a nice lady, he wasn’t ready for it. Not now. He felt too much anger, too much bitterness. Maybe later. Maybe after he had made Polonsky pay. Lewis Polonsky owed him for a lot. Lewis Polonsky owed him for Yvonne.

The string of grievances against Polonsky paraded through his mind as a series of charges, Title 18 criminal counts that gave focus to the accumulated years of employer abuses all compacted into one angry bullet that he was aiming right at Polonsky’s evil heart. There was the general category of grievances that included being continually passed over for promotion despite his years of experience with IRS, BATF and Secret Service and a successful prosecution track record that dwarfed anything his fellow agents had achieved. But that hadn’t been enough to get promoted. Polonsky always told him that he didn’t write reports well enough or that he was really a street man and shouldn’t be interested in management. Excuses. Polonsky always gave him thin reasons why not. Then, after the last promotion panel had refused him once again, he had heard from a guy in Personnel that Bruce Boatman was promoted over him because Polonsky had told the panel that Bruce was “Chief material.” Right, Chief material. Bruce was young, a kiss-ass, who had never taken a dangerous assignment, never worked his own case, but golfed with Polonsky and Assistant Chief Jerry Adler on Sundays. Bruce was Chief material all right. A good old boy. They cloned themselves.

He took a deep breath and realized he had been clenching his teeth so tightly that the muscles in his face had begun to ache. But he couldn’t stop his thoughts. It had been this ritual revisiting of the darker moments of his career that had kept him going in recent months. He knew he both dreaded the ritual and relished it. It made him relive events he wished had never happened, yet it was a kind of balm for his soul like if you rubbed a sore arm long enough the nerves lost some of their feeling.

He continued his review with the second category of grievances. Being a Special Agent meant you were a badge-carrying, gun-toting Federal Officer. You got early retirement because you had hazardous duty like a cop. You kicked in doors, had shootouts and arrested people, the unsavory types like drug dealers, pimps and militia tax protesters. It wasn’t supposed to be all mom and pop businesses who raided their employment taxes to keep afloat and high-powered executives who couldn’t keep their hands out of the company till. That white collar type of case was all guys like Bruce Boatman were expected to handle. Anytime there was serious law enforcing to be done, anything physical or potentially life-threatening, Robert got the dirty work and none of the rewards. Polonsky always made sure of that. Bruce got promoted and Robert got told he didn’t have the right image.

He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. He knew it wasn’t good for him to think about the unfairness over and over. That wouldn’t make it change. Nothing would make it change because the people in power really didn’t care. They had theirs. So what if the rest of the workforce chafed under demeaning treatment and unfulfilled dreams? No, it wasn’t going to change. Even nailing Polonsky wouldn’t change it, but it would sure make him feel better.

He had one more category of grievances to go over in his mind, to complete the ritual. This was the toughest one, the one where he had lost Yvonne. He felt the familiar lump in his throat and the tears gather in his eyes until he saw the room around him blurred and out of focus.

He was startled to hear the telephone ring. He swallowed and blinked several times. By the end of the second ring, he was able to answer in a voice that would conceal his feelings.

“This is Robert Street.”

“Robert? Terry. How long do you think it will take you to finish checking those codes?”

“Well, I’ve looked at about half of them. So far I haven’t seen anything that would account for the disappearance of the money. I’m looking for a routine that would capture the rounded cents, accumulate them, and cut a check. Maybe it isn’t an insider after all. Any progress with looking at a break-in?”

“The guys haven’t finished the system vulnerability assessment yet. Of course, even if they come up empty, it could still be the work of a cracker. Do you have time to meet me in the conference room to go over where we are?”

Great. Another interruption to the day. “Sure,” Robert said with enough cheerfulness to hide his annoyance. “In about ten minutes?”

“See you then.”

He hung the telephone up slowly. He was concerned that a meeting with Terry would waste a lot of time. Terry was a guy who fussed over every little detail, worrying them like a dog with a bone. He liked Terry, but the guy could never make a decision on a case. Here he was, once again, working under the direction of an agent who couldn’t pour piss out of a boot with a sign saying “This way out.” Not for long, though. Just a few more months and he would be old enough to retire.

Sure enough, Robert had difficulty breaking away from the meeting with Terry until just before lunch. He hurried back to his office as Calvin and Jade arrived.

“Hello, Beautiful,” he said to Jade while the threesome walked out to Calvin’s car. “It’s a good thing you were able to come with us, in case I have to knock some sense into your boyfriend, here, about the kind of ladies he picks out for me.” He held the car door open for her and then folded himself up into the back seat.

“You’re in for a big surprise, Robert.” Jade had turned in her seat so she could fix her shining eyes upon him. “Clare is a special person.”

“That may be, but just how big is the surprise? That last lady--”

“Here it comes,” Calvin said to Jade.

“Clare is my auntie and a lovely woman,” she said quickly. I’m lucky to have her and my mom for role models.”

“Okay, if you say so.” Robert looked skeptical. “But that last lady was the hugest woman I’ve ever seen.”

“This morning, she was only big,” Calvin said to Jade with a laugh.

“You know you do exaggerate just a little bit, Robert,” Jade said. The expression on her face was a mixture of amusement and teasing.

“Now, I admit the earth moved when I met her,” Robert went on with a twinkle in his eye. “Man, did it move.” He stomped first one foot and then another mimicking a heavy person’s footfalls. “Like dinosaur feets.” Jade and Calvin started laughing. “And then, Genius here--” Robert gestured toward Calvin. “--had to go and pick out a restaurant that only had booths. So we’re sliding into the booth, see, and I’m praying, ‘Lord, don’t let this gigantic woman slip and fall on top of me or I’ll be smothered.’” Calvin and Jade collapsed into hysterics.

“Stop it, Robert,” Calvin said and gasped for breath. “I can’t drive for laughing.”

Robert put his hand on Calvin’s shoulder and spoke with mock seriousness. “The point I’m trying to make is--” His accent changed to a southern drawl. “--we’re just going to have to get you some glasses, boy.”

“Oh, Robert.” Jade was wiping tears from her eyes between giggles. “You sound just like Richard Pryor when you tell stories like that. You’re not being very nice to make jokes about fat people, but it is so funny.”

The trio arrived at the restaurant and found Clare waiting for them at the entrance. She was all golden light, like fine champagne. She was long-legged and wore a plain, beige sheath of some kind of shiny knit material. Her hosiery was beige also, with a sheen, as were the high-heeled sandals on her feet. Her hair was dyed red-brown with golden highlights and her eyes were amber. If her shoulders were a little broad and her teeth not quite straight, it took nothing away from her image. She was a fox, all right. A stone fox. Robert smiled and saw a flicker in her gaze that acknowledged the approval in his eyes.

“Clare, this is Robert,” Jade was saying.

Clare stretched out her hand in greeting. Her hand felt cool and firm as it rested momentarily in his. He noticed that her painted nails matched the bright orange of her lipstick.

“Robert, I am so pleased to meet you,” she said in a soft, alto voice that was like a caress. “Jade has told me so much about you.”

“Yeah, all bad, too.” Calvin winked and gave Robert a nudge.

Robert took one step forward and one step sideways to cut Calvin out of the conversation. He transferred Clare’s hand to his arm. “Well, the pleasure is all mine,” Robert said to her and then remarked over his shoulder to Calvin, “Boy, maybe you don’t need those glasses after all.”

Clare looked puzzled at the remark, but Robert did not explain what had led up to it. Instead, he ushered her into the restaurant where they were soon shown to a table.

“So what brings you to Fresno?” Robert said to Clare after they had given their orders to the waiter.

“Business, I’m afraid. I work for Pioneer State Bank. We have branches all over. We just made some changes to our automated banking systems and I’m going around teaching everybody how to use them. How about you? Calvin says you are a Special Agent?”

“Yeah. I do investigations of people suspected of criminal violations of the Tax Code. I was given an eighteen-month temporary assignment down here. Put out to pasture, so to speak.”

“Where are you from?”

“Originally? Or lately?”

“Okay, both.”

“I was raised in Cleveland, but I spent the last several years in the San Francisco Bay Area.”

“Oh, that’s nice. I think San Francisco is so beautiful.”

Robert felt the slightest shadow pass over his face. Suddenly, he was reminded of what he really wanted to be doing today and why. Clare didn’t seemed to notice any change in his manner because she continued to comment about how much she had enjoyed herself when she did training at the San Francisco offices of her bank. Calvin and Jade were absorbed in their own discourse and appeared oblivious to his and Clare’s conversation. He forced himself to pay attention to what Clare was saying.

“So how long have you been here?” Clare asked.

“Just over six months.”

“Oh. You have about a year to go, then.”

Robert nodded.

“And what will you do afterwards?”

“Actually, I’ll be eligible to retire and I’m thinking about doing it.”

“Ah. That must be wonderful. Sometimes I get so tired even though I love my job. I’m taking care of my mother as well as working. I’m afraid she is failing fast and she requires so much of my time and energy.” She frowned and he could see the weariness around her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s tough to go through that.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to sound like I mind. Mama does her best, it’s just that she has Parkinson’s and it’s rather advanced. I hope I’ll be able to keep her at home until the end.” Clare looked out of the window for a moment and then turned toward him again. She had resumed her smile and relaxed manner.

“I always wonder what it must be like to be retired and know you never have to get up in the morning again to go to work. I just can’t imagine what that would be like, how free you’d feel.”

“I guess so. I’ll have to figure out what to do with myself.”

“Will you go back to the Bay Area?”

Robert stiffened. How could he go back to the Bay Area now? It would only remind him that Yvonne was gone. It would only remind him of how he had lost her. Before he could stop it, he found himself confiding in Clare as if she were an old and trusted friend.

“I don’t think I could do that. You see, my wife died there eight months ago. She had been sick for a long time. Finally, I had to put her back into the hospital. I went to see her every night, but I wasn’t with her when she died. I had to work.” He spat out the last four words. He could feel the dark blood rush into his face and the muscles contort.

Clare reached over and laid her hand on his arm. “Oh, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

Robert felt all of his bottled-up emotions surge inside him and begin pouring out. “You see, if you love someone,” he said in a very deep voice, “then you’re supposed to be with them when they die. You’re supposed to be there so the last thing they hear is your voice and the last thing they feel is the touch of your hand.”

He saw that Clare had drawn back slightly, now she leaned forward again as he continued to speak. “You’re not supposed to let anything get between you and being there. No matter what. Do you understand? But I wasn’t there. She was dying and I was sitting on surveillance on some poop-butt case.” He brought one of his clenched fists down upon the table with such a bang that the dishes and silverware jumped and clattered. He sat there staring, unable to say anything else. Calvin and Jade looked at him with startled eyes and then Jade leaned forward and began whispering to Calvin, glancing furtively at him.

Clare reached out and covered his fist with her hand. “You know, Robert,” she said, “sometimes people need permission to die. When you’re there, they don’t want to leave you because they know you will hurt, so they hang on and on. When you let them be alone for a little while, then it’s okay for them to let go like they are ready to do.”

He snatched his hand away from her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know what it’s like to feel so helpless, to not be able to do anything to save someone--” He turned his face away because he knew he was near crying.

Clare was silent for a moment. When she began to speak her voice was low and very even. “Actually, I do know. My fiancé was killed in Desert Storm. I was in the Army, too, and we had both been sent over there. But I was in supply, so after we got things set up, I was sent back to the States to work on the next shipment. Larry was shot down while I was gone. They managed to keep him alive for a couple of days, but then he died. He had been horribly injured. I couldn’t get transport fast enough to be there with him.” Clare’s voice was calm, but the pain in her eyes reminded him of his own.

“I was so angry. I blamed the Army. As soon as my tour was up, I resigned. I took the GI Bill and went back to school to finish my degree. Funny, I blamed the Army for ruining my life, but it’s thanks to the Army that I have been able to build a new life and go on. Now that I understand things better, I often wonder if I had been there, would Larry have tried to keep on living, prolonging his suffering and inevitable death because he knew it would break my heart to lose him?” She stopped talking a moment and looked deeply into his eyes. She took his hand again.

“Your wounds are very fresh,” she said. “Your wife knew you loved her. She probably didn’t want you to see her die, that’s why she waited until you couldn’t be there. It’s what she needed to do. She didn’t want to hurt you. In time, you’ll see that. In time, you’ll be able to forgive yourself.”

Yvonne’s face swam before Robert’s eyes, the way she had looked the last time he had seen her. She had been so weak she could barely smile at him. The hand he had pressed to his lips was merely bones covered with skin as dry and brittle as the wafers Sister had brought them each evening for Mass. Yvonne couldn’t speak, but her eyes had shown how worried she was about him. She had been dying, but she had been worrying about him. Clare was right about that. Maybe she was right about the rest of it, too, but he couldn’t accept it yet. He did know that Jade had been right about Clare. She was a special person, someone he wanted to have as a friend at least.

“Look, I didn’t mean to get into all this. I didn’t mean to act a damn fool,” he said. “Maybe we could get together again, start over, get to know each other. How about having dinner with me this evening?”

Clare shook her head. “I can’t. I have to go back to L.A. tonight.”

There had been earnestness in her voice, but he believed it was a brush off. Well, he couldn’t blame her. He turned to his half-eaten lunch and forced a few more mouthfuls down.

He put his mask back on and kept the rest of the conversation light and meaningless and Jade and Calvin joined into the discussion. He was relieved when the meal was over. He stood in the parking lot for a few minutes with Jade, Calvin and Clare to say good-bye. Clare reached into her handbag and pulled out a card and a pen. After scribbling something on the card, she handed it to him.

“Tell you what. Here’s my business card and my home phone number on the back. I’ll be in L.A. for two more weeks and then come back to Fresno. Why don’t you call me and we’ll talk about dinner.”

“I just might do that.”

“Well, you better. Remember, I know how to find you when I get back here.” Clare smiled that wonderful, warm smile with which she had first greeted him. Maybe she did understand, after all. He nodded and knew he would keep his promise.

Back in his tiny office, Robert went to work. He carefully reviewed his computer program, checking each algorithm, each character. He keyed in the commands that would execute it, but paused with his little finger on the “Enter” key. He was swept up in a feeling of power. Only one keystroke stood between Lewis Polonsky and humiliation. Only one keystroke was needed to make Polonsky pay for denying him leave to be with Yvonne that night. He recalled how he had literally begged Polonsky to relieve him of the surveillance. It hadn’t even been his case, but one of the other agents’. He remembered how Polonsky had said he’d been given too much time off already, that one night missed with Yvonne wouldn’t matter. He remembered going to the hospital the next day and finding Yvonne’s bed empty. “We couldn’t reach you, Mr. Street,” the nurse had said. “We left messages at your office and at your home.” He remembered leaving the hospital with Yvonne’s wedding band clenched tightly in his fist, a meager symbol of all they had shared together. He’d sworn that day before God that he would make Polonsky pay for keeping him from her.

His first day back to work after the funeral, he’d run into Polonsky in the hall. Polonsky had said something insincere about Yvonne and Robert had come completely unglued. He had shoved Polonsky up against the wall, reached for his pocketknife and said, “I’ll pull your head off.” Two of Robert’s friends had dragged him off Polonsky, who had turned very pale and looked like he had peed his pants.

Of course, Robert had been brought up on charges for threatening his supervisor, but he’d counter-filed, alleging all the years of discrimination. The EEO Officer had been great. At his administrative hearing, she had listened to all the charges very quietly. Then she had risen from her seat and faced the Chief and Polonsky. “You have driven this man and driven this man to the edge. And I have here--” She waived a fistful of papers under their noses. “--enough prima facie evidence of unfair treatment and a host of folks who will join in a class action suit against both of you to cost you your jobs.” The Chief and Polonsky had exchanged looks. “Now,” she had said, “Robert and I are going out in the hall for five minutes. When we come back, I expect you to have worked out some kind of compromise where Robert can keep his job until his retirement.” She paused and fixed a look of anger on them that was bone-chilling. “Don’t disappoint me.” She had taken Robert out into the hall and given him a lecture about not letting the bastards win and about accepting whatever compromise would be offered. When they had returned to the conference room, the Chief said if Robert would go on assignment to the Fresno Service Center, all charges would be dropped.

Robert had done as they said, sold his house and gone to Fresno. He’d hit the bottle for a while and then, after pressing his forehead to the bare kitchen table in his rented apartment one night and sobbing his heart out, thrown himself into his work and eventually into this criminal case.

Robert’s hands were shaking. From somewhere far away in the back of his mind he heard a soft, alto voice saying, “ — she waited until you couldn’t be there. It was what she had to do.” As he had left Yvonne that last time, she had tried to say something. He’d thought it was that she loved him, but could she have been saying good-bye?

He looked down at the keyboard through a haze of tears. All he had to do was depress that one key to destroy Polonsky’s career and take everything away from him as he had believed Polonsky had done to him. Just depress that one key. That was all.