White Ghost by Steven Gore Page A

cancer?”
    â€œNo one has ever described it that way before, but you’re right. A guilt-free cancer.”
    â€œLucky me.”
    Stern smiled back. “No one has ever said that, either.”

CHAPTER 23
    G age picked up Faith at the Montgomery Street BART Station in San Francisco to drive to the closing dinner of the annual meeting of the International Fraud Investigators Association.
    â€œHow was class?”
    â€œLike pulling teeth, but at least no one was drilling into my bones.”
    â€œIntro?”
    â€œYeah. And I finally figured out why all those football players registered for it. They signed up when they thought Alistair was still going to teach it. Looks like he’s been giving free honey to the Golden Bears for the last ten years. By the time he got suspended for that ménage à trois in the library, it was too late for the team to drop the class.” Faith laughed. “One of them is a smart aleck with a neck and face like a walrus. He asked me if he could do a term paper on what he called the function of voluntary associations in generating team loyalty in major college athletics.”
    â€œYou mean he wants to study cheerleaders?”
    â€œYou betcha.”
    â€œWill you let him?”
    â€œWhy not? I might learn something. I’ve never understood that whole pom-pom thing.”
    A few minutes later, Gage pulled into the driveway of the Mark Hopkins, a Spanish renaissance hotel on the crest of Nob Hill overlooking the city. He retrieved a file folder from the backseat, then handed his ignition key to the valet.
    Jacques Matteau, the association president and director of the French Brigade Centrale de Répression des Fraudes Communautaires, spotted them as they entered the lobby.
    â€œWhy the limp?” Jacques said after kissing Faith on each cheek and shaking Gage’s hand. “I hope you haven’t gone back to fighting crime with your body instead of your mind.”
    â€œIt just got a little rough on the basketball court yesterday. A pick-and-roll that didn’t work out right.”
    The Peacock Court room was nearly full with the thousand conference attendees seated at the round banquet tables or milling about in the spaces in between, glasses of wine in their hands. As Jacques guided Gage and Faith toward the head table, members waved at Gage or came forward to greet him.
    Jacques seated Gage and Faith to the right of the podium on the elevated, flower-adorned table, then walked to the microphone and banged a gavel. The gunshot-like cracks of mahogany on oak shut mouths and turned heads toward the front.
    â€œI’d like to welcome all the members and guests to this closing dinner and thank everyone who made this conference such a success. Represented here tonight are the premier fraud investigators in the world, representing hundreds of law enforcement agencies and investigative and security firms from over sixty countries. The most representative group ever. I know you’re anxious to hear from our keynote speaker, but first things first.”
    Jacques signaled the waiters poised at the doorways, then seated himself to the right of Faith. Gage overheard them talking as he ate his salad and reviewed his speech, writing in some changes. He sensed Faith peeking at him, then set down his pen, reached under the table, and rested his hand on her thigh.
    It’s okay.
    Later, when his dinner plate had been removed, Gage’s eyes fell on the evening’s agenda.
    Opening remarks
    Dinner
    Awards
    In Memoriam: Juan Cortez-Sanchez
    In Memoriam. Gage had forgotten about that part of the annual program. With a couple of thousand members worldwide, some die every year. Usually they retire and leave the organization before they do, so nothing is said. But Juan, Spain’s most skilled terrorist financing investigator, was still a member and way too young to die.
    Keynote Speaker: Graham Gage
    Gage suffered a morbid dyslexia. The text