The next step for Jack was to go see his dad’s friend and lawyer. Peter had insisted Jack go see Lee Jensen in his McLean law office before they got into any more detailed talks about money. His father had few friends and, with the exception of Frank Batcher at the CIA, no one knew his secret story. For the last twenty years Peter Brandon had counted on Lee Jensen to keep his affairs legal and his finances in order. Peter Brandon trusted Lee Jensen but did not want to burden the relationship with the details of his secret and sometimes violent life.

Jack called Lee Jensen’s office early the next morning. Jensen was expecting his call and told him to come in about 9:00 a.m. In honor of his father’s lawyer and wanting to project a businesslike demeanor, Jack wore one of his three suits with a button-down shirt, red-striped tie and black loafers. He needed a haircut but felt he could pass for at least another week.

Jensen’s office was in a quiet grouping of commercial townhouses. Jack told the attractive receptionist he had a 9:00 meeting with Mr. Jensen. Even though he was at least ten minutes early, the receptionist showed him immediately into Mr. Jensen’s office. Like the foyer and reception area, Jensen’s office was tastefully furnished.

Oriental carpets scattered over dark polished wooden floors set the backdrop for the late 18th century English antiques furnishing the office. Lee Jensen looked as if he belonged in the setting and was merely waiting for his cue to begin speaking with an upper class British accent of the same period. Jack’s eyes were drawn to the white jagged scar that ran down the lawyer’s left cheek. The scar seemed out of place with the well-tailored, three-piece, dark blue pinstriped suit and the gleaming black Italian shoes. Jensen crossed the room in two quick strides and seized Jack’s hand with both of his in a firm and warm handshake. His first words broke the spell. No British accent, just a trace of a Southern one.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you but under happier circumstances. Your father is one of my closest friends and my best client.”

“My father and I have a very close relationship, but I know next to nothing of his business affairs. Dad told me you will be able explain the extent of his investments and business interests. But first can you tell me something about yourself as one of my father’s most trusted friends? Your Southern accent and scar on your cheek tell me something, but please fill in some of the details.

“Jack, if I may call you that?”

“Of course.”

“In turn please call me Lee. The title “Mr. Jensen” from people your age makes me feel older than I am, and certainly I’m glad to give you some personal background. My home state is South Carolina. I graduated from the University of South Carolina and Duke Law School. Between USC and law school I joined the Army. I ended up as a Lieutenant in the 101st Airborne Division and saw some action in Vietnam. One night I led a platoon-sized unit on a night patrol outside Fire Base Bastogne. We took a lot of RPG fire, and I ended up with this scar. In South Carolina scars from a war are a badge of honor.”

Lee asked Jack to take a seat at the small round table in his office while he extracted several manila folders from a safe. Every piece of furniture in the office gleamed, belying at least two hundred years of use. Seating himself across the table from Jack, Lee slid a folder across the table.

“In the folder is a letter your father wants you to sign before we go into the details of his will. I believe your father told you, you could sign or not sign and your choice would affect the manner in which his estate is distributed or liquidated. Is that not the case?”

“Yes. Your understanding is the same as mine.”

“Good. Please signify you have read and understand the implications of your signature. In the meantime I’ll bring us some coffee. I understand you, like your father, drink it black.”

“Yes, I’d kill for a cup of coffee. Thank you.”

Jack opened the folder and read the short letter. After yesterday’s long talk with his father, Jack understood the reason for this letter. The letter simply recorded Jack understood and accepted the commitment to devote full time to running his father’s business. By the time he had signed the letter and returned it to the folder, Lee returned with a coffee tray. Glancing at the signed letter, he seated himself across the table.

“Jack, my first piece of business is to state you are the sole beneficiary of your father’s estate. To avoid paying an inordinate amount of federal and state income tax on the estate, a large portion of the assets are in various trusts. It may look and sound confusing, but all the trusts will be under your control. I’ll help you with any changes you may want to make. But for now we concentrate on the bigger picture. Is that okay?”

Jack nodded and Lee Jensen said, “Here is a listing of the securities in your father’s estate. I’ve used last Friday’s closing value to derive the dollar value of the stocks and bonds. You must remember the numbers will have to be run again after your father’s death. I’m sorry to discuss the situation so coldly, but I must.”

The listing was four pages in length. As Jack scanned the pages, he was astounded at the number of shares of blue chip companies. The last page provided a total dollar value of $750,289,157. Jack put the listing down and reached for his coffee cup. After taking a sip of the strong French roast and composing himself, Jack looked up at Lee as the lawyer said, “That is not all. Let me finish with the rest of the estate. Your father also owns several pieces of real estate. I have made another listing of properties and estimated the respective values by using recent sales of comparables. Please look over this listing before we go on.”

Jack said, “Fine” and reached for the folder. Nothing he learned yesterday prepared him for the staggering amounts of money involved. He had thought maybe the estate would be worth three or four million dollars in addition to the real estate. Jack smiled slightly as he thought, once again, his father’s love of surprising him was still active. Prepared now, Jack extracted the listing of property assets from the folder and slowly ran his eyes down the list. In addition to the home in McLean, the list contained sizeable tracts of land in northern Minnesota, coastal South Carolina and the Allegheny Mountain area of Pennsylvania. A small residence was located on each of the large tracts of land. The estate also owned a condo in San Francisco and a rather large house on Amelia Island, Florida. Lee laughed and said, “You’ve had the fire hose treatment. Is this all new to you?”

“Very. I’m astounded at the amount of the estate. I had no idea my father owned so much property.”

“I can’t help you there. Your father and I trust each other and seldom did things by signed contracts. A handshake was enough. But he is very skillful in avoiding questions. All he would say is he had good reason for all his acquisitions.

“Your father asked me to have a private dinner with you at his house to go over any questions or issues that may come up after you leave here. If it is convenient, I’ll drop by tonight with dinner, and we can have a quiet meal and see where to go from here.”

Jack thought for a moment and said, “That sounds good. About 7:30 then?”

“One more thing, your father gave me a sealed letter for you to take with you.”

Jack took the sealed letter, shook hands with Lee, smiled at the receptionist and walked out to his car. Jack glanced at his stainless steel Rolex and was surprised he had spent two and half hours with Lee Jensen. His stomach told him the cup of coffee and the toasted bagel he had for breakfast needed reinforcement before he had to deal with any more surprises.

There were several parking spaces outside the “Deli” his father often frequented on Old Chain Bridge road across from the Safeway. Taking a corner booth, Jack ordered scrambled eggs, toast and black coffee. In the quiet and privacy of his corner booth, he read his father’s letter. The basic information in the letter concerned his father’s accounts in offshore banks and how to use them. Combined with what Lee Jensen had shown him, the offshore accounts in Geneva and the Caymans added up to just over a billion dollars. If he did nothing but very conservative investments, his fortune should increase by several million dollars each year. His father’s letter said no one, including Lee Jensen, knew about the offshore accounts. No taxes had ever been paid on these accounts, but they had been used to finance his work for the CIA. He finished his scrambled eggs and thought about taking care of the man who had killed his mother and baby sister. It shouldn’t be too hard.

Jack noticed the deli was filling up rapidly and his privacy was just as rapidly diminishing. Jack folded up the letter and leaving a tip, paid his bill at the cashier station. Still recovering from his meeting with Jensen, Jack headed off to another meeting with his father and Frank Batcher, the Director of the Counter Terrorist Center at CIA.