Дэвид Балдаччи - Absolute Power

He turned the handle on the door and smiled. “Everybody I know would probably tell me how crazy I am for doing this. That you’re the perfect woman, smart, rich, beautiful — and you are all of those things, Jenn. They’d say we’d have a perfect life together. That we’d have everything. How could we not be happy? But the thing is, I wouldn’t make you happy because I don’t care about the things you do. I don’t care about the millions in legal business, or houses the size of apartment buildings or cars that cost a year’s salary. I don’t like this house, I don’t like your lifestyle, I don’t like your friends. And I guess the bottom line is, I don’t like you. And right now I’m probably the only man on the planet who would say that. But I’m a pretty simple guy, Jenn, and the one thing I’d never do to you is lie. And let’s face it, in a couple of days, about a dozen guys a lot better suited to you than Jack Graham are going to be knocking on your door. You won’t be lonely.”

He looked at her and felt a grimace of pain as he observed the absolute astonishment on her face.

“For what it’s worth, anybody who asks, you dumped me. Not up to the Baldwin standard. Unworthy. Good-bye, Jenn.”

She still stood there several minutes after he left. A series of emotions competed for space across her face, none, in the end, winning out. Finally she fled the room. The sounds of her high heels against the marble floor disappeared as she hurried up the carpeted stairs.

For a few seconds more the library was quiet. Then the desk chair swung around and Ransome Baldwin eyed the doorway where his daughter had been standing.

Jack checked the peephole, half-expecting to see Jennifer Baldwin standing there with a gun. His eyebrows raised a notch when he saw who it was.

Seth Frank walked in, shrugged off his coat, and looked around appreciatively at Jack’s cluttered little apartment.

“Man, this brings back memories of another time in my life, I can tell you.”

“Let me guess. Delta House ’75. You were vice president in charge of bar operations.”

Frank grinned. “Closer to the truth than I’d care to admit. Enjoy it while you can, my friend. Without meaning to sound politically incorrect, a good woman will not allow you to continue such an existence.”

“Then I might be in luck.”

Jack disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a brace of Sam Adamses.

They settled into the furniture with their drinks.

“Trouble in wedded-bliss-to-be-land, counselor?”

“On a scale of one to ten, a one or a ten depending on your perspective.”

“Why am I thinking that it’s not the Baldwin gal that’s entirely gotten to you?”

“Don’t you ever stop being a detective?”

“Not if I can help it. You want to talk about it?”

Jack shook his head. “I might bend your ear another night, but not tonight.”

Frank shrugged. “Just let me know, I’ll bring the beer.”

Jack noticed the package on Frank’s lap. “Present?”

Frank took out the tape. “I’m assuming you’ve got a VCR under some of this junk?”

As the video came on Frank looked at Jack.

“Jack, this is definitely not G-rated. And I’m telling you up front, it shows everything including what happened to Luther. You up to it?”

Jack paused for a moment. “You think we might see something in here that’ll catch whoever did it?”

“That’s what I’m hoping. You knew him a lot better than I did. Maybe you’ll see something I don’t.”

“Then I’m up to it.”

Even forewarned, Jack was not prepared. Frank watched him closely as the moment grew closer. When the shot rang out he saw Jack involuntarily jerk back, his eyes wide in horror.

Frank cut off the video. “Hang in there, I warned you.”

Jack was slumped over in his chair. His breathing was irregular, his forehead clammy. His entire body shuddered for an instant and then he slowly came around. He wiped his forehead.

“Jesus Christ!”

Flanders’s passing remark to the Kennedy example had not been inappropriate. “We can stop right now, Jack.”

Jack’s lips set in a firm line. “The hell we can!”

Jack hit the rewind one more time. They had gone through the tape about a dozen times now. Watching his friend’s head virtually explode was not getting any easier to watch. The only mitigating factor was that Jack’s anger was increasing with each viewing.

Frank shook his head. “You know it’s too bad the guy wasn’t filming the other way. We might’ve gotten a flash from the shooter. I guess that would’ve been too easy. Hey you got any coffee? I have a hard time thinking without caffeine.”

“Got some pretty fresh stuff in the pot, you can bring me a cup. Dishes are over the sink.”

When Frank returned with the steaming cups, Jack had rewound the tape to a demonstrative Alan Richmond saying his piece on the impromptu stage outside the courthouse.

“That guy’s a dynamo.”

Frank looked at the screen. “I met him the other day.”

“Yeah? Me too. That was in my I’m-marrying-into-the-rich-and-famous-set days.”

“What’d you think of the guy?”

Jack gulped his coffee, reached for a bag of peanut butter crackers that lay on the couch, offered one to Frank, who took it and then put his feet up on the rickety coffee table. The detective was slipping easily back into the less-structured domain of bachelorhood.

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean he’s the President. I always thought he was presidential. What do you think of him?”

“Smart. Really smart. The kind of smart you want to be real careful not to get into a battle of wits with unless you’re real sure about your own abilities.”

“I guess it’s a good thing he’s on America’s side.”

“Yeah.” Frank looked back at the screen. “So anything grab your eye?”

Jack punched a button on the remote. “One thing. Check this out.” The video leapt forward. The figures jerked around like actors in a silent movie.

“Watch this.”

The screen showed Luther stepping out of the van. His eyes were turned toward the ground; the manacles were obviously making it difficult for him to walk. Suddenly, a column of people moved into the video, led by the President. Luther was partially obscured. Jack froze the flame.

“Look.”

Frank scrutinized the screen, absently munching peanut butter crackers and draining his coffee. He shook his head.

Jack looked at him. “Look at Luther’s face. You can see it right between the suits. Look at his face.”

Frank bent forward, almost touching the screen with his face. He recoiled, his eyes wide.

“Damn, looks like he’s saying something.”

“No, it looks like he’s saying something to somebody. ”

Frank looked across at Jack. “You’re saying he’s recognized somebody, like maybe the guy who popped him?”

“Under the circumstances, I don’t think he’d just be making casual conversation with some stranger.”

Frank looked back at the screen, studying it intently. Finally he shook his head. “We’re going to need some special talents on this.” He rose. “Come on.”

Jack grabbed his coat. “Where to?”

Frank smiled as he rewound the tape and then put on his hat.

“Well first I’m gonna buy us some dinner. I’m married, and I’m also older and fatter than you. Consequently, crackers for dinner don’t cut it. Then we’re going down to the station. I’ve got somebody I want you to meet.”

Two hours later Seth Frank and Jack walked into the Middleton Police Station, their bellies lined with surf and turf and a couple slices of pecan pie. Laura Simon was in the lab; the equipment was already set up.