Дэвид Балдаччи - Absolute Power

“Not as far as I’m concerned, but it’s not my call. I don’t plan on pulling out my Miranda card if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Pettis finally looked at the concrete floor, crushed out his cigarette, looked back at Frank. “Look, man, I’ve been with Mr. Patterson a long time. Come to work every day, do my job, take my paycheck and go home.”

“Then it sounds like you have nothing to worry about.”

“Right. Look, I did some stuff a while back. Did some time. You can pull it off your computers in five seconds. So I’m not gonna sit here and bullshit you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got four kids and no wife. I didn’t break into that house and I didn’t do anything to that woman.”

“I believe you, Jerome. I’m a lot more interested in Rogers and Budizinski.”

Pettis eyed the detective for several seconds. “Let’s take a walk.”

The two men left the garage and walked over to an ancient Buick as big as a boat that had more rust than metal. Pettis got inside. Frank followed.

“Big ears in the garage, you know?”

Frank nodded.

“Brian Rogers. Called him Slick cuz he was a good worker, picked up things fast.”

“What’d he look like?”

“White guy about fifty, maybe older. Not too tall, five eight, maybe a buck fifty. Talkative. Worked hard.”

“And Budizinski?”

“Buddy. Everybody here has a nickname. I’m Ton. For skele ton, you know.” Frank smiled at that one. “He was a white guy too, a little bigger. Maybe a little older than Slick. He kept to himself. Did what he was told and nothing more.”

“Which one did the master bedroom?”

“We all did. We had to lift the bed and the bureau. They weighed a couple tons each. Back still hurts.” Jerome reached in the rear seat and pulled out a cooler. “No time for breakfast this morning,” he explained as he pulled out a banana and an egg biscuit.

Frank shifted uncomfortably in the worn seat. A piece of metal jabbed into his back. The car reeked of cigarette smoke.

“Were either of them ever alone in the master bedroom or the house?”

“Always somebody in the house. Man had a lot of people working there. They coulda gone upstairs by themselves. I never kept a watch on them. Wasn’t my job, you know?”

“How’d Rogers and Budizinski come to be working with you that day?”

Jerome thought for a moment. “I’m not sure, come to think of it. I know it was an early job. It might’ve just been they were the first ones here. Sometimes that’s all it takes.”

“So if they knew ahead of time you were going to do a place like that early, and they got here before everyone else, they could hook on with you?”

“Yeah, I guess they could. Man, we just look for bodies, you know what I’m saying? Don’t take no brain surgeon to do this shit.”

“When was the last time you saw them?”

The other man scrunched up his face, bit into his banana.

“Couple of months ago, maybe longer. Buddy left first, never said why. Guys come and go all the time. I’ve been here longer than anybody except Mr. Patterson. Slick moved away, I think.”

“Know where?”

“I remember him saying something about Kansas. Some construction work. He used to be a carpenter. Got laid off up here when commercial went belly up. Good with his hands.”

Frank wrote this information down while Jerome finished his breakfast. They walked back to the garage together. Frank looked inside the van, at all the hoses, power handles, bottles and heavy cleaning equipment.

“This the van you used to do the Sullivan place?”

“This been my van for three years. Best one in the place.”

“You keep the same equipment in the van?”

“Damn straight.”

“Then you better get a new van for a while.”

“What?” Jerome slowly climbed out of the driver’s seat.

“I’ll talk to Patterson. I’m impounding this one.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No, Jerome, I’m afraid I’m not.”

“Walter, this is Jack Graham. Jack, Walter Sullivan.” Sandy Lord sat down heavily in his chair. Jack shook hands with Sullivan and then the men sat around the small table in conference room number five. It was eight o’clock in the morning and Jack had been in the office since six after pulling two all-nighters. He had already consumed three cups of coffee and proceeded to pour himself out a fourth from the silver coffee pot.

“Walter, I’ve told Jack about the Ukraine deal. We’ve gone over the structure. The Hill word looks real good. Richmond pushed all the right buttons. The Bear’s dead. Kiev got the glass slipper. Your boy came through.”

“He’s one of my best friends. I expect that from my friends. But I thought we had enough lawyers on this deal. Padding the bill, Sandy?” Sullivan heaved himself up and looked out the window at the pristine early-morning sky that promised a beautiful fall day. Jack glanced sideways at the man as he made notes from the crash course on Sullivan’s latest deal. Sullivan didn’t look all that interested in completing the multibillion international monolith. Jack didn’t know that the old man’s thoughts hung back at a morgue in Virginia, remembering a face.

Jack had caught his breath when Lord had ceremoniously appointed him to play second chair to Lord on the biggest transaction currently going on in the firm, leapfrogging over several top partners and a host of associates senior to Jack. Hard feelings had already started to roll through the plush hallways. At this point Jack didn’t care. They didn’t have Ransome Baldwin as a client. Regardless of how he had gotten it, he had rain, substantial rain. He was tired of feeling guilty for his position. This was Lord’s test case on Jack’s abilities. He had as good as said it. Well, if he wanted the deal rammed through, Jack would deliver. Philosophical, politically correct ivory tower babble didn’t cut it here. Only results.

“Jack is one of our best attorneys. He’s also Baldwin’s legal eagle.”

Sullivan looked over at them. “Ransome Baldwin?”

“Yep.”

Sullivan appraised Jack in a different light and then turned once more to the window.

“Our window of opportunity, however, is growing more narrow by the day,” Lord continued. “We need to firm up the players and make sure Kiev knows what the hell they’re supposed to do.”

“Can’t you handle it?”

Lord looked at Jack and then back at Sullivan. “Of course I can handle it, Walter, but don’t assume you can abdicate right now. You still have a major role to play. You sold this deal. Your continued involvement is absolutely necessary from the point of view of all sides.” Sullivan still did not stir. “Walter, this is the crowning glory of your career.”

“That’s what you said about the last one.”

“Can I help it if you keep topping yourself?” Lord shot back.

Finally, almost imperceptibly, Sullivan smiled, for the first time since the telephone call from the States had come to shatter his life.

Lord relaxed a bit, looked over at Jack. They had rehearsed this next step several times.

“I’m recommending that you fly over there with Jack. Shake the right hands, pat the right shoulders, let them see you’re still in control of this tiger. They need that. Capitalism is still a new game for them.”

“And Jack’s role?”

Lord motioned to Jack.

Jack stood up, went over to the window. “Mr. Sullivan, I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours learning every aspect of this deal. All the other lawyers here have just been working on a piece of it. Except for Sandy, I don’t think there’s anyone at the firm who knows what you want to accomplish better than I do.”