Scott Turow - Pleading Guilty

'And I do so without advising Martin or Wash?'

'Right.'

Pagnucci was sallow, his eyes small and intent. He nibbled a bit at his little mustache. 'Are they in league?' I didn't follow.

'Wash, Martin, Eiger,' he said. 'Are they in this together?'

I shook off the question. 'That's beside the point. I've been around G amp; G a long time. A lot of people have been good to me.'

That was not the sort of feeling I'd expect him to share. One thing about Pagnucci I was banking on was that he was as tough as he made out, the kind of guy who, if he was up to his neck in quicksand, would have the brass to tell you to walk on. I knew cops like that, guys who felt they could prove something essential by refusing — ever — to yield to sentiment. They believed what they believed, absolutely. He sat there quite erect in his perfect blue suit.

'Yes, but let's play this out,' said Pagnucci, unconsciously patting the bald spot behind his head. 'My partners told me that this memo couldn't be found.'

'It turned up. It was a surprise.'

'And what about that meeting the other day, where you outlined Eiger's proposal to keep all of this mum? What's to be said about that?'

'Tell Tad. It's part of the evidence. Jake wanted the whole matter forgotten. But we continued to investigate and now you're here on behalf of the Committee, the firm, to bring everything out. Look, no one's ever accused you of saying too much, Carl. You can handle it. But it's your obligation to go forward.' Talking to Pagnucci about his obligations felt as vain and mindless as saying, Have a nice day. In the stuttering movements of his dark eyes, you could see him calculating, his mind on the roam.

'But who had the memo?' he asked. 'Wash?'

I didn't answer. Pagnucci may have had questions, but he'd like what he saw. Carl Pagnucci — man of grit and integrity. Forthcoming with the truth, even when it was devastating to his firm. Pagnucci had already been making contingency plans with Brushy, and this would fit. He understood how his candor was likely to be recalled and rewarded by Tad in the future, now that TN would be floating free as a client. Moving on, he would take some of TN's work with him, even as G amp; G sank. There was an irresistible cocktail here for somebody like Carl, looped already on the ethers of self-importance.

'And you wouldn't advise sharing this with Martin or Wash before we act?' The fact that his caution exceeded his greed startled me a bit.

'Afterwards you can tell them what you've done, what you've said. They can only follow. If you tell them in advance, they'll try to derail you. They have to. You know that.'

Carl continued his silent reflection. The thing that bothered him most, I suspected, was that he was depending on me.

'Carl,' I said, 'there's no choice. We have a duty to the client. Someone from the Committee has to go to Krzysinski, someone who speaks on behalf of the firm.'

He considered me soberly. We both knew I was manipulating him shamelessly. But I'd given him what he needed — a good excuse. It had all the right appearances. Highly principled. Above criticism. And very good for Pagnucci. He could salute the flag and steal the client. Beyond that, it did not matter much what I was up to.

I pulled the phone close and dialed TN. It took some time to get to Krzysinski, but he said he had a few minutes for Carl before two.

B. Some People Want Me and Some People Don't

I waited until three to leave the airport, then took a cab home. Right about now, big powwows were going on at TN: Carl and Tad and TN's head of security, Mike Mathigoris. They were figuring what to do with Jake — question him, crucify him, or just throw his ass out. In another hour or so, they'd be calling the FBI.

When I got home, I stood on the low concrete stoop before my front door and the vines. The rare sunshine had continued, but the air remained cold, with an astringent wind. I looked around for the surveillance vehicles and waved. I raised my hands the way Nixon used to, fingers in Vs, and pivoted about for a full minute. Nobody appeared. Inside, I changed into my tuxedo for Groundhog Night and drove downtown. Lyle had even cleaned up the car.

I walked the entire block outside the TN Needle three times, looking for the tail and waiting for them to pick me up, but there was still nobody there. Finally I headed up. Lucinda handed me three messages. All from Martin. He wanted to see me at once. In my office, I went to the phone.

'Financial Crimes,' I told the operator at the Hall.

Pigeyes picked up himself. I was relieved to hear his voice. I thought he might have called off his forces because he'd grabbed Bert, but his voice was full of bovine indifference for the paperbound life in Financials.

'You drop your investigation? I thought you were looking for me?'

'Who the hell is this?' he asked, and then, figuring it out, added, 'You think you're all I got to worry about?'

'I'm at the office. I'm ready to tell you whatever you want to know.'

He was thinking. Something, God knows what, had him buffaloed.

'Ten minutes,' he told me. 'And don't go running again to the fuckin dark side of the moon.'

I found a cigarette in my drawer. Lucinda stuck her head in. Toots was on hold.

'All done,' he told me. 'All square. Your fellas are in the clear. Had to remind one or two guys a some things.'

'Toots, you're a miracle worker.'

Over the phone, the old guy basked in the praise. You could hear it.

'Only one thing,' he said, 'is the money. We gotta talk about that. I think, you know,' said Toots, 'I think it's gotta be 275.'

The number was a blow. I hadn't been thinking of bankrolling Bert like that, but I began to reason it through. Bert was useful to me, essential really. Besides, I was happy to prove to myself that I wasn't quite the lowdown bum Brushy had implied.

Toots was explaining. "This here was big stuff, that's what I'm hearing. So it's gotta be that, you know, 275.'

This was not so much a negotiation as Toots setting a price. And it came to me — maybe something I was supposed to know from the start — that the Colonel would be getting his share. This was Toots's skill, his profession, fixing things up, making big problems go away. We didn't defend him for free either.

I explained how I wanted to do it. I needed an account number at a local bank. Sometime in the next seven days a wire transfer would hit there from Fortune Trust, Pico Luan.

'What are the ground rules?' I asked. 'Is my guy in danger until the money arrives?'

'I got your word, they get my word. It's all done, this here. Never happened. But tell your partner: there can't be no next time.'

Next door Brushy was on the phone. She mugged up and made kissy-face when she saw me, sweeping a hand in admiration of my gallant look in my tux. I tried to smile. She put her caller on hold.

'Can I say I'm sorry?' she asked.

'Sure.' I closed my eyes. What was I supposed to be angry about anyway? That she suspected me of bad intentions toward Jake? 'Anything from Bert?'

He had phoned an hour ago, she said, and promised to call back soon.

'What about Toots?' she asked. 'Did he work it out? Really?' I got a great smile. I was some kind of fella. The door was open to the hall, so she just took my hand. We did an instant of that stuff, gazing fondly. We'd found a sick little cycle, swords and wounds and soft rapprochement. I saw her eyes shift to the threshold. Lucinda was there. The policemen had arrived. And Mr Gold wanted me upstairs in ten minutes.

'He sounds angry,' she added.

'Tell him I'm with the police.' I turned to Brushy, who had finished her call. 'That'll get his attention,' I said.

C. I Try to Satisfy Pigeyes

'Okay, Gino, let's see if I've followed the bouncing ball. After talking to Mrs Archie, Missing Persons made a trip to the Bath, where somebody with a weak bladder snitched out this little game-fixing thing, and Missing did what they always do, lateraled to someone else, Financial Crimes in this case, telling you what a great investigation you had, and by the way, should you run into an actuary or a corpse, assuming you can tell the difference, give Missing a call. Am I guessing good so far?'