by Tim Green
“I was rolling from the minute I had them in,” Dora said. “You think I’d mess this up?”
Graham rubbed his hands together as if to warm them. Some of his polish got lost in the black-and-white images of the monitor. He looked more like a construction worker than a billionaire financier in his Timberlands, jeans, and flannel shirt.
Graham shook hands all the way around and his partners grinned at him as he took up the seat facing Todora.
“Sit,” Massimo said through a mouthful of greens and beans, “eat.”
Graham sat and spooned some food onto his plate, accepting a glass of water from the waitress.
“So you’ve had some trouble,” Todora said, without wasting time.
Graham’s fork stopped in midair as he considered the enormous man, searching his face for clues. Casey knew that while Graham would have no reason to suspect that Todora knew about his tax files, guilt would make him wary, especially since the files were no longer under his control.
“With that bitch lawyer,” Graham said, shaking his head, “but who cares? I fixed that other bitch.”
“The Rivers woman,” Todora said, stoking his mouth with a hunk of lasagna, “the judge.”
“Yeah,” Graham said, leaning back and pointing with his fork, trying to look tough with his day-old beard. “She fucked with the wrong people.”
“You made a lot of noise,” Todora said, wheezing a bit as he twisted the juice out of a lime wedge and sipped at his drink.
“You gotta break eggs to make an omelet,” Graham said, daring to shovel in a mouthful of salad.
“How’d you do that whole thing?” Massimo asked, tilting his head. “I mean with that hot little redhead and the spunk sample from that mope down in the Caribbean? I mean, that wasn’t really her, was it? Much as I’d like to think it, she didn’t seem the type. I’m talking on TV and all.”
“No, she had finer tastes than that,” Graham said with a wink as he chewed, “if you know what I mean.”
“You dipped into that?” Massimo said, clapping Graham on the back.
“I like redheads,” Graham said, stabbing a single ziti noodle.
“Nice.”
“I’m confused by the timing,” Napoli said, clearing some phlegm in his throat. “She was down there with Rivers’s son, or she wasn’t?”
“Not that complicated,” Graham said, swallowing and offering up a smile. “I had my guy Ralph fly down to Turks and Caicos with a hooker, find Rivers’s son half shit-faced in a local bar, blow him, spit it into a cup, and get out of Dodge.”
“I knew there was a reason I always liked to make ’em swallow,” Massimo said, clapping Graham again, this time hard enough to shift him in his seat.
The rest of them chuckled and Graham joined in.
“I used some grease to get the security guard at the warehouse to let Ralph in,” Graham said. “He switched the samples, and bingo, Dwayne Hubbard walks free.”
“A sick fuck,” Todora said.
“Absolutely,” Graham said, raising his fork, “but necessary to discredit our judge. She’s finished. All the bitch had to do was take our money and work with us. Then I ran the lawyer down there with me for some personal fun, got her together with Rivers’s son, and painted a slightly different picture for the press. The perfect lie is one composed of different truths.”
Graham looked around, expectant.
“But you shouldn’t blame a person for not taking our money,” Todora said with a serious face and using his own fork to point.
“No, that’s true,” Graham said, dabbing his awkward smile with a napkin.
“It should make people nervous, the idea of taking our money,” Todora said. “We worked hard for it. We did things that make some people uncomfortable. No one should want to take our money.”
“What do you mean?” Graham asked, one hand clutching his fork, the other balling up the skirt of the checkered tablecloth.
67
CASEY’S STOMACH tightened. She looked at Jake, whose eyes had also gone wide, as if he, too, expected something to go bad.
“It’s on tape,” Jake said in a whisper, as if afraid the men downstairs could hear. “They’re not going to do anything crazy.”
Massimo reached into his jacket.
“Is that a gun?” Casey said, knowing they could kill them all and make the tape go away.
Massimo’s hand came out of his jacket with a cigar that he tucked up underneath his nose to sniff. Casey let out a long breath.
“I mean just what I said,” Todora said. “This Patricia Rivers, she’s a judge. She’s not supposed to take anyone’s money.”
“Well,” Graham said, “she didn’t. So I had to put my foot on her neck. She made it easy, fucking with that Hubbard case, even if it was twenty years ago. I enjoyed the whole thing, actually, working the system, playing the media like a herd of cows.”
“You did that,” Massimo said, clapping Graham’s shoulder another time. “That crazy fuck Brad Pitt and all that, then the story on the redhead. Perfect.”
“Brad Pitt’s a putz,” Graham said, his hands relaxing. “I bought him off like I did the redhead. When you’re in my position, you learn pretty quick that everyone has their price.”
“We got ours, right?” Todora said, leaning forward with a scowl.
Graham shifted in his seat and spoke in nearly a whisper. “I didn’t mean you, Mr. Todora.”
Todora broke out in a laugh and they all joined in, Graham loudest of all.
“I meant it,” Todora said, wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye. “I got my price. John, Massimo, they got theirs. You got yours, we all do. It’s human nature.
“So, you set the redhead up? Looks like she’s got a nice ass.”
Graham chuckled. “Like a college coed. Did you see her face when they took her into the police station in cuffs?”
“She looked good in cuffs,” Massimo said, piling more food into his mouth. “Sexy.”
“She had her chance,” Graham said.
“The worst,” Massimo said, chewing. “Dumb broad.”
Napoli swatted the air.
“You done now with the Freedom Project bit?” Massimo asked.
Graham wrinkled his face and took a bite of salad. “The Project is good cover for a lot of things. It’s public relations. The image I’ve developed being on their board and other charities helps in business, and when I want to create a story, good or bad, I’ve got the platform to do it. I use charities like toilet paper.”
“Ruthless,” Napoli said. “You remind me of some people I used to know.”
Graham inclined his head. “Thanks.”
“You like being on TV, don’t you?” Todora asked.
“It works for my skill set,” Graham said. “I’m comfortable with it.”
“That’s a good thing,” Todora said, raising his fork in the air, “comfort with your skill set. That’s a West Coast term, right?”
Graham shrugged.
Todora motioned to a large man in the doorway. “Now I think it’s time to cut the bullshit. Ask those people upstairs if they got everything they need before we finish this. My meal isn’t sitting right, looking at this guy.”
A moment later, the big man knocked at the door and looked in on Casey, Jake, and Dora.
“You good?”
“Perfect,” Jake said.
The man nodded and left and they returned their attention to the monitors.
The big man passed on the message in a whisper and returned to his station in the doorway.
“Good,” Todora said, pointing to Napoli, “give him that stuff.”
Todora motioned to the waitress to remove Graham’s plate. Napoli brought the folder Casey had prepared out from his wheelchair and pushed it across the table with a pen.
“You need to sign these,” Napoli said.
Graham blinked and his mouth fell open. He opened the file and looked at the documents.
“What are you talking abo
ut?” Graham asked, holding up one of the papers. “What’s this?”
“We know all about it,” Todora said. “And we figured before the whole game turns to shit, you’d want to make sure we got our money back.”
“These are my homes,” Graham said, beginning to whine. “I can fix this. We’re fine.”
Todora flipped the fork over in his hand and slammed it into the table so that it stuck. His face turned purple and his hand trembled without releasing the fork.
“You shut the fuck up and sign those fucking things and think how lucky you are that you got to pay us back before this whole thing turns to shit,” Todora said through clenched teeth.
Graham started signing. When he finished, Todora nodded to the big man in the doorway. The big man crossed the room, gripped Graham’s upper arm, and raised him up out of his seat, propelling him toward the door.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Graham said, pleading. “This can all still work out. I’ve got it handled.”
“You and that TV shit?” Todora said across the room as his man dragged Graham from their presence. “Good you like it. ’Cause you’re gonna be getting a lot of face time.”
The sound of Graham faded and the three men in the monitor returned to their meals as if nothing had happened.
“Wow,” Casey said, standing up and pointing at the computer, thinking of all the crude comments about her. “You’re going to edit that stuff, right?”
“Of course,” Jake said, touching her shoulder. “Trust me, I’m not going to embarrass you with his crap.”
“I still helped set that sick bastard free.”
“He’ll turn up.”
68
GRAHAM SIGNALED for Ralph to hurry his ass up and the Lexus crunched some broken glass as it shuddered to a halt in front of him on the street.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Graham said, throwing himself into the front seat and crouching down behind the dash.
“Everything okay?” Ralph asked, his own head swiveling from side to side now as he squealed away from the curb. With his right hand he felt for the gun under his arm.
“No, it’s not,” Graham said, looking back over the seat through the rear glass for signs of their being followed. “We’re fucked. Haven’t you heard?”
Ralph accelerated, checking his mirrors and slowing only to check the traffic before running the red lights. They reached the on-ramp and he floored it. The engine whined and Graham almost fell into Ralph’s lap as he swerved out into the stream of traffic between two tractor trailers. Ralph surged through the traffic as if someone was hot on their tail, never slowing except when his radar detector signaled a speed trap up ahead.
“Okay, Ralph,” Graham said as they raced along. “Get me out of here. Just get me out.”
Ralph cast him a look.
“If they’re going to have someone kill me, how do they do it?” Graham started and then paused. “How would they do it?”
“You mean right now? Today? Or sometime later?” Ralph asked, checking the mirror and blowing through a gap between two cars.
“I don’t think they put these things off.”
Ralph shrugged. “They didn’t get you coming out.”
“I’m thinking to avoid the mess in front of their own place.”
“I haven’t seen anyone on us,” Ralph said, checking behind them again. “You sure about this?”
“I know people, Ralph,” Graham said. “They are going to kill me if I let them, if you let them. So?”
Ralph nodded and said, “They’ll wait someplace they know you’ll go.”
“My Rochester office,” Graham said. “The house in Mendan.”
“Right, so you don’t go there.”
“But you have to.”
Ralph nodded his head.
“There’s a safe in the master bedroom closet,” Graham said. “I’ve got some cash. There’re a couple suitcases on a shelf in there. Put some clothes in one and take all the money. There’s a black felt bag of diamonds, too. Make sure you get that.”
Ralph nodded without comment and they rode in silence for a few minutes.
“I’ll take you to my hotel room,” Ralph said. “It’ll take a little longer, but they won’t think to look for you. It’s not exactly five stars, but you’ll be safe there while I get everything. I’ll have the pilots file a flight plan to Philly then do an equipment landing in Ithaca so no one can waylay us at the Rochester airport. We can drive down to Ithaca and meet them without giving anyone a heads-up that that’s where we’ll be getting on. We can change the flight plan from there to-”
“London,” Graham said. “You’ll get us new passports and we can travel by train to Zurich.”
Ralph raised his eyebrows. “We coming back?”
“When it’s safe,” Graham said. “I’ll defer to you on that.”
Ralph made a face. “Maybe not for a long time.”
“You need anything?” Graham asked.
Ralph patted his prosthetic leg with one hand and patted the gun under his arm with the other. “Got everything I need here and here.”
“Good,” Graham said.
Ralph reached up under the cuff of the pants on the fake leg and slipped something free from the hardware. “Take this. It’s a thirty-eight, easy to use. Just cock it with your thumb and pull the trigger. Nothing to it.”
Graham took the black gun and turned it over in his hand with a snort. “I’m not going to need this.”
Ralph glanced at him and nodded before turning his attention back to the road. “I hope that’s true.”
69
GRAHAM SPENT the next several hours holed up in Ralph’s room, burning up the phone and computer lines, moving as much money as he could get his hands on to an offshore bank in the Cayman Islands. Later, he could move it from there to Switzerland, leaving not a single trace for anyone. He’d rather not have had this kind of wrench thrown into his plans, but his heart raced with the excitement of tricking people like Todora and Napoli, knowing his life hung in the balance but also that he was so much smarter than them. He imagined it was the feeling tightrope walkers had when they danced across a wire spanning two buildings, unafraid because of the level of their skill but excited by the flirt with death.
The room phone beside the bed rang and Graham stared at it.
He fondled the.38 in the front pocket of his jacket. With his free hand he picked up his cell and dialed Ralph.
“Anything doing?” he asked.
“I was just going to call you,” Ralph said. “I’m about five minutes out.”
“You’ve got everything?”
“Everything.”
“Meet you in front,” Graham said.
The hotel phone kept ringing.
Ralph stayed silent for a moment, then he said, “Well, you just wait till you see me pull in. You can see the entrance from my window. Probably overkill, but let’s keep it safe until Zurich.”
“Thanks, buddy,” Graham said.
Ralph hung up.
Graham used the bathroom and when he came out, he pulled aside the curtain to watch the entrance. The sun was down and except for a slice of deep orange to the south, the sky had gone purple like a bad bruise. Graham felt a wave of relief when the Lexus came into view, slowed, and pulled up to the front of the hotel. He let the curtain drop, but a flash of something caught his eye and he pulled it back again.
A blue pickup truck jumped the curb from the street and cut Ralph off from the lobby drive-through. Ralph T-boned the pickup in a crunch of metal and glass and threw the Lexus into reverse. But before he could get up any steam, a black Suburban rocketed into the drive and slammed into the back of the car. Two men hopped out and gunfire erupted as they sprayed the Lexus with bullets from compact Mac-10 machine guns.
Graham stared, frozen as the man on the driver’s side of the Lexus flung open the door and yanked Ralph’s bloody body out onto the pavement. He placed the gun to Ralph’s ear and fired a single round, blas
ting the pavement with a crimson spray that jerked Graham to life. He bolted and threw open the door, sprinting down the hall toward the stairwell in the back, smashing it open, and setting off a fire alarm.
He leaped down the stairs, taking four or five at a time and twisting his ankle on the concrete landing. A stab of pain shot through him, but he never slowed down. He burst out the fire door and into the twilight, cutting through some parked cars and heading away from the hotel toward the railroad tracks. He clutched the.38, withdrawing it from his pocket. The pain in his ankle made him gasp and tears streamed down his face, but he never stopped.
When he reached the tracks, he heard a shout back by the hotel but never looked. His foot caught the edge of a railroad tie and spilled him to the gravel, splitting his lip on the metal rail and breaking a tooth. He scrambled to his feet, grateful for the deep shadows. The prison, its forty-foot wall capped by glass towers, loomed up ahead like a castle. When he reached the road, he peered down over the concrete bank holding the Owasco River in its course, wondering if it was deep enough to jump into and swim to freedom and deciding that it wasn’t.
He chanced a look back and his spirits soared. Only empty tracks, their shiny rails casting off the glow from nearby streetlights. He straightened, pausing a moment to catch his breath and study the length of the street that ran past the front of the prison from the center of town. He knew that in less than a mile he’d be beyond the town and lost in a labyrinth of woods and farmland of the upstate countryside. He started up the hill leading out of town, gimping along on the sidewalk, entering the shamble of homes on the bad side of town where the vacant houses, wrecked cars, and overgrown lawns offered cover of their own. His hands trembled and he jammed them into his pant pockets, one hand still gripping the gun.
A sudden shout made him look back over his shoulder. Just beyond the prison, a man had rounded the corner of Curly’s Restaurant on foot and now ran his way at a full sprint. A second figure shot out from the railroad tracks and joined the chase.
Graham turned and did his best, running like a cripple, swinging his leg in a wide arc, his ankle excruciating. He heard the zip of a bullet in the same instant that he heard the roar of the gunshot. Instinctively, he spun around and pointed Ralph’s snub-nose at the approaching shapes, firing until the pin clicked as it struck the empty casings. The men dove and rolled in opposite directions before springing into crouching positions and firing back.