Jake Needham - Killing Plato

Almost immediately a door swung open. Mike O’Connell stood there smiling and holding his hand out toward me like a man with something to sell.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Shepherd.”

“Your invitation was so gracious, I didn’t see how I could refuse.”

“Come on, Jack,” Tommy grumbled. “Cut the shit.”

Then he glared at Mike O’Connell and pointed a perfectly manicured forefinger at him. O’Connell stepped aside and I followed Tommy into the room.

The expensively decorated apartment had a distinctly masculine air about it, but it was somehow impersonal. It might have been the living room of a suite at a Four Seasons hotel in almost any city anywhere in the world.

Plato Karsarkis was sitting in a red leather chair with his legs propped up on an ottoman and crossed at the ankle. He was facing away from me, looking out a large window and contemplating with apparent interest whatever it was he saw out there.

“Can I offer you coffee, Professor Shepherd?”

It was Mike O’Connell who spoke, not Karsarkis.

“Or perhaps something stronger?” O’Connell went on when I didn’t respond immediately.

“Am I going to need it?” I asked.

Karsarkis laughed at that and turned his head toward me.

“Not really, but the least I can do after dragging you all the way out here is to buy you a drink,” he said. “Scotch for me, Mike, and…”

Karsarkis raised his eyebrows at me.

“Same.” I said. “Water, no ice.”

“No ice? That surprises me, Jack. Very European. Americans always seem to want ice. Lots of ice.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

Karsarkis nodded slowly several times as if I had jusookt f ice. amp;rdqt told him something important. Then, in a kind of afterthought, he glanced at Tommy.

“You want anything?” he asked him in a tone that made his lack of interest unmistakable.

“Vodka,” Tommy mumbled quietly. “Neat.”

O’Connell disappeared, I assumed to get our drinks, and Karsarkis gestured at a pair of couches.

“Sit down, gentlemen. Mike is going to have to play waiter since we’ve sent the staff home. It’s just the four of us today.”

Tommy seemed uncomfortable, although I couldn’t see why. Then it occurred to me I was probably about to find out.

“So, Jack.” Karsarkis had gone back to looking out the window. “That house in Phuket you wanted. You must be pretty happy about the deal the bank offered you.”

“I rather thought that was your hand at work there.”

“Does it matter?” he asked.

“It does to me.”

“You wanted the house,” Karsarkis shrugged. “I just thought I’d help you out.”

“I didn’t want the house. Anita did.”

Karsarkis glanced at me and lifted one eyebrow as if he didn’t see why that mattered. Little did he know.

“How did you find out about it?” I asked him.

“The agent who showed you the place said something to her husband. Tommy here knows the guy from somewhere. He heard it from him. Thailand’s really a small place, Jack. At least it is for foreigners. Everybody knows everybody else’s business.”

“Then you must already know I’m not buying the house.” I thought a moment and added, “And neither is Anita.”

Karsarkis shifted his eyes to me, his interest caught. “I thought the bank offered a pretty good deal.”

“For who?” I asked.

“For you and Anita,” he said. “Who else?”

“Oh…I thought you meant it seemed like a good deal for you. Making a call or two, getting BankThai to sell me the house at a fraction of its real value, leaving me owing you a big favor. Like that.”

Karsarkis chuckled and shook his head. “You’re a real pistol, Jack. A friend tries to do something for you and you act like he’s just pissed all over you.”

“We’re not friends. I already told you that. And if I want a favor, I’ll ask you for it. But don’t hold your breath.”

“So basically the house…”

Karsarkis let the phrase hang in the air like a question, but without a question mark.

“Basically,” I said, “that’s none of your business.”

Just then O’Connell reappeared carrying a wooden tray with three drinks.

“What?” I asked as he set my whiskey and Tommy’s vodka on the low table in front of the couch. “No pretzels?”

O’Connell acted as if he hadn’t heard me. He walked over and put Karsarkis’ whiskey on a small table next to him; then he took another chair across the room, put the tray down on the floor next to it, leaned back, and folded his arms. He watched me withouthedy on a expression and I found myself wondering for some reason if he was armed. I examined the lines of his blue suit jacket searching for bulges. I didn’t see any, but I didn’t stop wondering.

Tommy picked up his drink and sipped tentatively at it, then put it down again. Karsarkis left his drink on the table without touching it.

“Oh, hey,” Karsarkis suddenly said. “Where are my manners? You want a cigar, Jack?”

“No, I don’t want a goddamned cigar.”

“A simple no would have covered it. You don’t have to be so antagonistic.”

“ Antagonistic ? Look, Karsarkis, I was about to go home to my wife when this little asshole kidnapped me and dragged me halfway across town to this apartment, and you say I’m being antagonistic?”

“Now, Jack,” Tommy said, “calm down.” He pushed himself around on the couch until he was facing me. “I don’t particularly like being called an asshole and I think claiming you were kidnapped is a bit of an exaggeration, but you should-”

“Yes, I apologize for all that, Jack,” Karsarkis cut Tommy off, looking at me, not him.

Tommy made no protest at the interruption and went back to sipping at his vodka.

“It was unseemly,” Karsarkis continued. “On the other hand, it was impossible for me to come and see you, and I was afraid if I just asked you to come here, then well…”

Karsarkis gave a rueful shrug and trailed off.

“You’re right,” I said. “I wouldn’t have come.”

“So there you are, Jack,” Karsarkis nodded. “You see my dilemma. That’s why I had to ask Tommy to prevail on you like this.”

I sighed heavily and slumped back into the couch.

“Okay,” I said. “So now I’m here. Tell me what you want and let’s get this over with so I can go home.”

Karsarkis cleared his throat unnecessarily and stood up. He walked to the window and looked out for a moment, his back to me, and then he folded his arms across his body and turned around.

“I want you to represent me, Jack.”

“We already talked about that. I told you I wasn’t interested in being involved in your hotel deal.”

A flash of genuine annoyance crossed Karsarkis’ face and he waved a hand as if brushing it away.

“Forget the goddamned hotels, Jack,” he snapped. “That was all just bullshit anyway and you know it.”

Karsarkis unfolded his arms, took a couple of steps toward me, then refolded them and sat back down in the red leather chair. He seemed to me to be a little nervous and I wondered why. I sensed we were getting close now to whatever Karsarkis had really brought me there to say, so I folded my arms too and waited.

I didn’t have to wait long.

“I want you to file an application for a presidential pardon for me, Jack.”

“A pardon for what? You haven’t been convicted of anything yet. You only get pardoned after you’re convicted, not before.”

“My lawyers have looked into that. The presidential power to pardon is absolute. Ford pardoned Nixon before he was even charged with anything. This president can do the same thing for me.”