“Was this the Lao Foundation?”
Veronica cocked her head and looked at Jonnie curiously. “No, who are they?”
“Nothing. I was thinking of something else.” Jonnie shook his head, thinking about the pieces that still didn’t fit.
“I didn’t believe them, and I let them know it. The truth is I figured they were either us or them. The whole thing was too weird. To this day I don’t think Cal knows. He hates the Russians. Considers them very poor environmental role models. Anyway, a few months later I met with them. A month later I accepted their offer—after a lot of thought and a couple of discussions. I made my terms clear. They accepted. I also got more money than they originally offered. Helping the environment doesn’t mean I can’t make the bastards pay through the nose. So, do you still think I’m a traitor?”
Jonnie slowly shook his head and said nothing.
“Jonnie?”
The living room remained silent.
“Do you love me?”
Jonnie lowered his eyes and bit his lower lip. After a few seconds, he gave a slight nod.
“Jonnie?”
“Yes … I love you.”
“Even being a traitor?”
“If you think of it that way and if that’s part of the package.”
Veronica shook her head and smiled. “No. I’m not a traitor … and you’re not a traitor for loving me.”
Jonnie took Veronica in his arms. Their mouths linked as their arms reached for each other. Slowly, they slid down against the old cushions.
Groucho leered approvingly.
92
THE HAWK-NOSED MAN PICKED UP THE TELEPHONE, punched in a number, and waited.
“Sloan.”
“Sam … Matt Richards.”
“Hold on a moment, would you?”
“Be happy to.” Knowing that the Chairman of the Public Works Committee was either emptying the office or finishing another call, the Congressman waited. His eyes flicked over the sheets in front of him as he scanned them one more time: the report on the Science and Technology hearing; the news clippings from the Post; the summary his staff had compiled on the metals initiative; and the list of a dozen members and their direct lines. The list was scrawled in his own writing. All but two of the names were already crossed off.
“Yes, Matt. What can I do for you?”
“I noticed that one of your former staffers made some interesting news.”
“Jack McDarvid. You didn’t call to tell me that, Matt.”
“No … not exactly, but what he said could make some things rather difficult for me. Especially with those documents he presented and the wire stories.”
“I’m not surprised. What things did you have in mind?”
“You’re pushing for a big increase in the state sewage revolving fund authorization. I can only support so many—”
“What do you want?”
“Well, it seems to me that it might be timely for Environment to withdraw the metals NPRM for further study. Obviously, I wouldn’t want to oppose needed environmental legislation, but Defense does play a big part in the state economy.”
“I get the picture. Now that the wires are playing the metals initiative as anti-defense, anti-high technology—”
“It might be timely if the regulation went to the back burner for further study,” suggested the Congressman from South Carolina. “A number of us think that might be the best course.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all that I can ask,” Richards agreed softly. “I do appreciate it, Sam.”
He punched in another number.
“Hello.”
“George … Matt Richards. Could I drop by for a minute?”
“If it won’t take too long.”
“It won’t take long at all.”
The tall Congressman set down the receiver and stood, then tapped the intercom. “Laurie? I’ll be out for about fifteen minutes.”
He left by the private door, the sounds of his heels echoing on the marble floors of the Rayburn Building.
93
McDARVID TAPPED ON THE SIDE OF THE DOOR, then peered in. “You asked for me to stop by, Bill?”
“I did, Jack.” Heidlinger set down the file on one side of the broad teak table that served as his desk. “Why don’t you close the door?”
McDarvid knew what was coming, but he eased the door shut, then took the wooden armchair across the table from the portly attorney in his striped shirt and bright red suspenders. The red in Heidlinger’s tie matched the suspenders.
“Jack, you may recall that after Larry’s death, we agreed to a six-month trial period for you and Jonathon Black, in order to see whether the firm could use your services as effectively as Larry had.”
McDarvid nodded. “I thought that was a generous and fair offer, Bill, and I still do. We had never worked directly for anyone but Larry. To agree to such a lengthy trial was certainly fair.”
Heidlinger cleared his throat. “The partners met yesterday to consider your future relationship with the firm. It was a long meeting.”
McDarvid waited for the axe to fall.
Heidlinger glanced toward the teak bookcase at the side of the desk, then back to McDarvid before continuing. “First, let me say that everyone has been impressed with the quality of the work that you two have produced. Steve Greene also mentioned the timeliness of your pesticide materials. George Ames had a note from Carole Sturteval, and she was highly supportive of your creative approach in saving the Moreland Reclamation case.”
“There’s still a problem, or you wouldn’t need to explain so thoroughly,” McDarvid observed.
“You’re also very perceptive,” the senior partner continued, “perhaps too perceptive in understanding the linkages in this town. Did you know that Hal Fowler, Jr., has filed a restraining order against his wife? Hal Senior called me. He sent a copy of your ethics complaint for me to read. While one cannot argue with either your logic or your facts, Jack, the partners find the … bluntness … of your approach somewhat difficult to swallow. George, frankly, was almost apoplectic after reading the ethics letter.”
“I take it that he was the one who found the approach too direct?”
Heidlinger nodded. “That leaves us in somewhat of a quandary. Thus far, several major clients seem satisfied with your work, and we would find it difficult to obtain a work product of equal quality anywhere else. At the same time, I suspect that the directness of your methods…”
“We basically followed the lead Larry laid out.” McDarvid shifted his weight on the hard wooden chair.
“That’s true, but Larry had a unique reputation, and he was well established as an attorney, of, shall we say, eccentric approach.”
“And we’re not attorneys or that well established.”
“Not in the legal community,” admitted the portly attorney. He cleared his throat. “So we need to come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
McDarvid nodded. “What did you have in mind?”
“You are consultants. If you were established under your own letterhead…” Heidlinger let the words drop.
“That would provide more insulation. You could say, in effect, that’s what our consultants said.”
“Exactly.”
McDarvid nodded again. From the firm’s perspective it made sense, and he and Jonnie could simply have been dumped. “What sort of arrangement or transition did you have in mind?”
Heidlinger smiled faintly. “Obviously, you can’t go out and lease space, get a letterhead, incorporate, and do all those things overnight. We would provide you with your present space and equipment—rent-free—for sixty days, but you would bill us for the services we request at your present internal rates. Once you are established in your own quarters, hopefully not too far away—there are several offices available on the sixth floor, I noticed—you would bill at whatever rate you consider fair, although I would suggest you use something close to the gross rate we currently
charge clients for your services.”
McDarvid straightened in the chair. “I can’t speak for Jonnie, although I would suspect he would agree to such an arrangement. I presume that if he has any questions he can talk to you?”
“That would be fine.”
“Given the circumstances, Bill, your offer is more than fair, and I certainly look forward to working with you and the others on the new basis.”
Heidlinger stood.
So did McDarvid, leaning forward across the desk to shake the other’s hand. “Appreciate it, Bill, and I’ll tell Jonnie.”
“Thank you, Jack. Despite your penchant for direct action, you do get results, and that is often necessary. I hope we can develop an even smoother working relationship as time goes on.”
“So do I, Bill. So do I.” McDarvid inclined his head, turned, and walked toward the door.
94
“A CALL FOR YOU, MR. McDARVID. She didn’t give her name.”
McDarvid looked at the telephone on the desk. Should he answer it? Thinking it might be Allyson, he finally picked up the receiver. “Hello.”
“Jack?” The feminine voice sounded puzzled.
“Yes? It’s me.”
“You sound … depressed. This is Ellie.”
“Depressed? The always-exuberant Jack McDarvid depressed?”
“Want to tell me about it?” There was a pause. “Wait. Let me tell you. You were working the metals thing, right? Before Jerry cut and ran?”
“He didn’t cut and run, Ellie. He’s dead. I can’t prove it, but I pushed the poor bastard until he cracked. He ran, and they did him in.”
“Jack, that’s crazy. You didn’t have that much to do with it. Jerry was in big trouble on his own. The FBI or somebody just called the I.G. and provided some additional information on that inquiry you started. There were some very strange patterns in Jerry’s personal accounts. Apparently, there are no checks for groceries, meals, or credit card records for dinners. All of his income—every last cent—went to mortgages, child support, and utilities. But that wasn’t why I called.”
“Very odd,” McDarvid muttered to himself. It figured, but how did they get the actual proof? Eric again? “Yes?” he asked aloud.
“We just got the notice from the Secretary. It’s already signed. It’s going to the Register tonight. The metals NPRM has been withdrawn for further study of both the economic impacts and the risk assessment methodology. There’s no timetable for future action. I thought you might like to know.”
McDarvid swallowed. “Thanks, Ellie.” He paused. “Is this public?”
“Not yet, but I’d hurry if I were you.” She laughed softly.
“Thanks again.”
“No problem. Don’t stay away so long next time. Some of us do like to see your face, smiling or not. And take care of that daughter.”
“I will.”
McDarvid tapped out Jonnie’s number, but there was no answer. He set down the phone while he dragged out the JAFFE file.
“JAFFE, Washington office.” The voice held the faintest of accents.
“This is Jack McDarvid for Pierre. Is he in?”
“Yes, Monsieur McDarvid. He’s in a meeting. But hold on. He told me to put you through whenever you called.”
Very few clients rated him that important, McDarvid thought. He’d never been given the “he’s on the phone or in a meeting” routine by the JAFFE office. If Devenant was there, he’d talk to McDarvid.
“Monsieur McDarvid. How might I help you today?”
McDarvid took a deep breath. “It’s not final yet—”
“The metals rule?”
“Sorry. Let me explain. I just got word that the Secretary of the Department of Environmental Protection is withdrawing the metals NPRM for further study. This isn’t one hundred percent certain, but pretty close.”
“Withdrawing? Is that possible?” Devenant’s voice was carefully neutral.
“It doesn’t happen often. But it does happen. At the very least, it would be more than a year before this effort resumed. I’d guess it’s dead for longer than that. Maybe permanently, at least in current political terms.”
“If this is so, we would be most happy. How soon could this be confirmed?” Devenant’s voice remained polite, if warm.
“There will probably be a Federal Register notice in three to five days. I can get a copy of the signed notice once it’s been sent to the Register.”
“Again … should this turn out the way you report, I would like to meet with you and Monsieur Black once the notice is published.”
“Whatever you feel is best,” McDarvid temporized. Why wasn’t Devenant more enthusiastic? He and Jonnie, or he and Jonnie and God knew who else, had pulled off a damned miracle, and Devenant was being very formal.
“After this is official, then, I shall contact you, and I look forward very much to meeting with you and Monsieur Black, perhaps over lunch. Until then…”
The consultant shook his head, then dialed another number, ready to hang up if a receptionist answered.
“Tom Lerwinsky.”
“This is Jack McDarvid, Tom.”
“I recognized your voice, you bastard.” The obscenity was not totally jovial. “I suppose I owe you something, but you scare the hell out of me.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“It’s not official yet, but all hell broke loose. First, Hal got some sort of a court order temporarily granting him custody of their kids. Then the Hammer called the Chairman, and the Chairman called Rennie into his office, and she came out and packed her desk. The guys in full committee called and told me that Mike Alroy was transferred to Houston.” There was a pause. “Christ, Jack, all she did was refuse to hold a hearing for you. I know she’s a brass bitch, but did you have to destroy her whole life?”
McDarvid held in a sigh. “I never meant it to turn out like that, Tom. All I wanted was to stop the damned metals rule. But nobody would listen.”
“Somebody listened. Sloan called the Secretary and told him that he couldn’t go shutting down high technology and aerospace and that even Sloane couldn’t save him on that rule.”
“Sam said that? But why?”
“I don’t know. Rumor has it that Bang-Bang threatened to walk on the sewage grant revolving fund—and take everyone he could.”
“Oh, shit.” Bang-Bang Richards?
“Yeah … you’ll be lucky if your former boss ever talks to you again.”
“Anything else I screwed up?” asked McDarvid softly.
“What else do you want? Except Andy Corellian from LAO Systems showed up asking who the hell you were. And I told him about Bang-Bang’s L.A. asking about you. Christ, Jack, you really threw a grenade in the fishpond, didn’t you? Now what are you going to do?”
“Start my own consulting firm, I guess, for people who want grenades thrown.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised, except that it didn’t happen sooner. You play rough.”
“I didn’t think so, Tom. I just tried to do what was right.”
“That’s playing rough, real rough, in this town.”
“I suppose so. Anyway, thanks for the scoop.”
“No problem, I guess. Except I’m not sure being the counsel is going to be any picnic for a while.”
“Good luck,” offered McDarvid.
“I’ll probably need it. Same to you.”
The consultant looked out at the drizzle dropping down on Nineteenth Street, then picked up the phone again.
Jonnie was out, God knew where or doing what.
For a time he debated. Richards—it fit. Too damned well. He wondered how Richards had gotten to Killorin, but how didn’t matter. The fact that the Congressman had walked on the metals rule was the clincher. Finally, he picked up the phone.
“You have reached a nonworking federal number.”
He touched three digits subsequently.
“Hello.
”
“Jack McDarvid for Eric.”
“Would you wait a moment, Mr. McDarvid?”
McDarvid leaned back in the chair, glancing at the veiled outlines of the building across Nineteenth Street, blurred by the continuing drizzle.
“Hello. Jack?”
“Yeah. It’s your bungling amateur.”
“I told you not to act like one.”
“Thanks. How long have you known about Bang-Bang?”
“Known what?”
“Never mind. He’s the only one that fits. Sloan doesn’t, and Hancock doesn’t, and it has to be a Republican, and a Representative, rather than a Senator.”
“Jack, just because you don’t like somebody’s pro-environmental policies doesn’t make them a Russian dupe—unwitting or otherwise. Look at your old boss Sloan. He’s a hard-line environmentalist and absolutely loyal.”
“I know that. I was talking about Richards.”
“That’s just a supposition.”
“None of the others are bachelors, own boats, and have that much influence.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Do you want me to explain it all? Senators are too public, too heavily scrutinized, and most don’t last more than two terms, and that’s not long enough to be really effective as deep plants or dupes. Bachelors get to be eccentric and don’t have to account for anything, and big boats give you a lot of freedom to pick up things and get rid of bodies.”
“Your logic isn’t quite sound—”
“Shit! I know it isn’t, but the answer’s right.”
“Jack, even when you were here, we never doubted your ability to get the answers. But we have to be able to explain in detail. And we don’t work that way. Look at the mess you created. Divorce and technology scandals; conspiracy arrests at uranium processing plants; an environmentalist attorney running crazy in the Rayburn Building; a missing bureaucrat—”
“Hold on. That idiot attacked me, and Killorin may be missing, but you and I know he’s sure as shit dead.”
The Green Progression Page 32