Дэвид Балдаччи - Absolute Power

Jack picked up the phone. It seemed to ring for an eternity.

“H-hello?” The voice was sleepy, distant.

“Mrs. Broome? This is Jack Graham. I’m sorry for calling you so late.”

“Mr. Graham?” The voice was no longer sleepy. It was alert, sharp. Jack could almost envision her sitting up in bed, clutching at her nightgown, looking anxiously at the phone receiver.

“I’m sorry, I just got your message. I didn’t get the package, Mrs. Broome. When did you send it?”

“Let me think for a minute.” Jack could hear the labored breathing. “Why it was five days ago, counting today.”

Jack thought furiously. “Do you have the receipt with a number on it?”

“The man gave me a piece of paper. I’ll have to go get it.”

“I’ll wait.”

He tapped his fingers against his desk, tried to stop his mind from flying apart. Just hold on, Jack. Just hold on.

“I’ve got it right here, Mr. Graham.”

“Please call me Jack. Did you send it by Federal Express?”

“That’s right. Yes.”

“All right, what’s the tracking number?”

“The what?”

“I’m sorry. The number on the upper-right-hand corner of the piece of paper. It should be a long series of numbers.”

“Oh yes.” She gave it to him. He scribbled the numbers down, read them back to her to confirm it. He also had her confirm the address of the law firm.

“Jack, is this very serious? I mean Luther dying the way he did and all.”

“Has anyone called you, anyone you don’t know? Besides me?”

“No.”

“Well if they do I want you to call Seth Frank, Middleton Police Department.”

“I know him.”

“He’s a good guy, Mrs. Broome. You can trust him.”

“All right, Jack.”

He hung up and phoned Federal Express. He could hear the computer keys clicking on the other end of the line.

The female voice was professional and concise. “Yes, Mr. Graham, it was delivered at the law offices of Patton, Shaw & Lord on Thursday at ten-oh-two A.M. and signed for by a Ms. Lucinda Alvarez.”

“Thank you. I guess it’s around here somewhere.” Bewildered, he was about to hang up.

“Has there been some special problem with this package delivery, Mr. Graham?”

Jack looked puzzled. “Special problem? No, why?”

“Well, when I pulled up the delivery history of this package it shows that we already had an inquiry about it earlier today.”

Jack’s whole body tensed. “Earlier today? What time?”

“Six-thirty P.M.”

“Did they leave a name?”

“Well, that’s the unusual part. According to my records, that person also identified himself as Jack Graham.” Her tone made it clear she was far from certain of Jack’s real identity.

Jack felt a chill invade every part of his body.

He slowly hung up the phone. Somebody else was very interested in this package, whatever it was. And someone knew it was coming to him. His hands were shaking as he picked up the phone again. He quickly dialed Seth Frank, but the detective had gone home. The person would not give out Frank’s home phone, and Jack had left that number back at his apartment. After some prodding by Jack the person tried the detective’s home, but there was no answer. He swore under his breath. A quick call to directory assistance was useless; the home number was nonpub.

Jack leaned back in his chair, the breaths coming a little more rapidly. He felt his chest where his heart suddenly threatened to explode through his shirt. He had always considered himself a possessor of above-average courage. Now he wasn’t so sure.

He forced himself to focus. The package had been delivered. Lucinda had signed for it. The routine at Patton, Shaw was precise; mail was vitally important to law firms. All overnight packages would be given to the firm’s in-house gofer team to be distributed with the day’s other mail. They brought it around in a cart. They all knew where Jack’s office was. Even if they didn’t, the firm printed out a map that was routinely updated. So long as you used the correct map...

Jack raced to the door, flung it open and sprinted down the hallway. Completely unbeknownst to him, around the corner, in the opposite direction, a light had just come on in Sandy Lord’s office.

Jack clicked on the light in his old office and the room quickly came into focus. He frantically searched the desktop, then pulled out the chair to sit down and his eyes came to rest on the package. Jack picked it up. He instinctively looked around, noted the open blinds and hurriedly shut them.

He read the package label: Edwina Broome to Jack Graham. This was it. The package was boxy, but light. It was a box within a box, that’s what she had said. He started to open it, then stopped. They knew the package had been delivered here. They? That was the only label he could think to apply. If they knew the package was here, had in fact called about it this very day, what would they do? If whatever was inside was that important and it had already been opened, presumably they would already know about it. Since that hadn’t happened, what would they do?

Jack sprinted back down the hallway to his office, the package held tightly under his arm. He flung on his coat, grabbed his car keys off his desk, almost knocking over his half-empty glass of soda, and turned to go out. He stopped cold.

A noise. He couldn’t tell from where; the sound seemed to echo softly down the hallway, like water lapping through a tunnel. It wasn’t the elevator. He was sure he would have heard the elevator. But would he really? It was a big place. The background noise produced by that mode of transportation was so everyday, would he have even noticed it? And he had been on the phone, all his attention had been so concentrated. The truth was he couldn’t be sure. Besides it might just be one of the firm’s attorneys, dropping in to work or pick up something. All his instincts told him that conclusion was the wrong one. But this was a secure building. But then again how secure could any public building be? He softly closed his office door.

There it was again. His ears strained to pick up its location without success. Whoever it was, they were moving slowly, stealthily. No one who worked here would do that. He inched over to the wall and turned off the light, waited for an instant and then carefully opened the door.

He peered out. The hallway was clear. But for how long? His tactical problem was obvious. The firm’s office space was configured such that if he started down one way he was more or less committed to that path. And he would be totally exposed, the hallways were absolutely devoid of furnishings. If he met whoever it was going that way, he wouldn’t have a chance.

A practical consideration struck him and he looked around the darkness of his office. His gaze finally fell upon a heavy, granite paperweight, one of the many knickknacks he had received upon making partner. It could do some real damage if wielded properly. And Jack was confident he could do so. If he was going down he wouldn’t make it easy for them. That fatalist approach helped to stiffen his resolve and he waited another few seconds before venturing out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Whoever it was probably would have to make a door-to-door search to find his office.

He crouched low as he came to a corner. Now he desperately wished the office was in total darkness. He took a deep breath and peered around. The way was clear, at least for now. He thought quickly. If there was more than one intruder, they would probably split up, cut their search time in half. Would they even know if he was in the building? Maybe he had been followed here. That thought was especially troubling. They might even at this moment be circling him, coming from both ways.