Absolute Power (29 page)

Technically, she would probably be an accomplice to murder, since homicide was a reasonably likely result when you burglarized someone’s home. But Frank was far less interested in sending Wanda Broome away for a large portion of the rest of her life than he was in bagging the trigger man. The woman sitting across from him had not concocted this plan, he believed. She had played a role, a small, albeit important role. Frank wanted the master of ceremonies. He would get the Commonwealth’s Attorney to cut a deal with Wanda to accomplish that goal.

“Wanda?” Frank leaned across the table and earnestly took one of her hands. “Can you think of anything else? Anything that will help me catch the person who murdered your friend?”

Frank finally received a small shake of the head in return and he leaned back. He hadn’t expected much on this go-round, but he had made his point. The wall was beginning to crumble. She wouldn’t warn the guy, Frank was certain of that. He was getting to Wanda Broome, little by little.

As he would discover, he had already gone too far.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

J
ACK THREW HIS CARRY-ON INTO THE CORNER, TOSSED HIS
overcoat on the sofa and fought the impulse to pass out right there on the carpet. Ukraine and back in five days had been a killer. The seven-hour time difference had been bad enough, but for someone closing in on octogenarian status, Walter Sullivan had been indefatigable.

They had been whisked through the security checkpoints with the alacrity and respect Sullivan’s wealth and reputation commanded. From that point forward a series of endless meetings had commenced. They toured manufacturing facilities, mining operations, office buildings, hospitals and then had been taken to dinner and gotten drunk with the Mayor of Kiev. The President of Ukraine had received them on the second day, and Sullivan had him eating out of his hand within the hour. Capitalism and entrepreneurship were respected above all else in the liberated republic and Sullivan was a capitalist with a capital
C
. Everyone wanted to talk to him, shake his hand, as if some of his moneymaking magic would rub off on them, producing untold wealth in a very short time.

The result had been more than they could have hoped for as the Ukrainians fell in line on the business deal with glowing praise for its vision. The pitch for dollars for nukes would come later at the appropriate time. Such an asset. An unnecessary asset that could be turned into liquidity.

Sullivan’s retrofitted 747 had flown nonstop from Kiev to BWI and his limo had just dropped Jack off. He made his way into the kitchen. The only thing in the fridge was soured milk. The Ukrainian food had been good but was heavy, and after the first couple of days he only picked at his meals. And there had been way too much booze. Apparently business could not be conducted without it.

He rubbed his head, tussling with sleep deprivation of massive proportion. In fact he was too tired to sleep. But he was hungry. He checked his watch. His internal clock said it was almost eight
A.M.
His watch proclaimed that it was well after midnight. While D.C. was not the Big Apple in its ability to cater to any appetite or interest no matter the time of day or night, there were a few places where Jack could get some decent food on a weeknight despite the lateness of the hour. As he struggled into his overcoat, the phone rang. The machine was on. Jack started to go out, then hesitated. He listened to the perfunctory message followed by the beep.

“Jack?”

A voice swarmed up on him, from out of the past, like a ball held underwater until it’s free and explodes to the surface. He snatched up the phone.

“Luther?”

*   *   *

T
HE RESTAURANT WAS HARDLY MORE THAN A HOLE IN THE
wall, which made it one of Jack’s favorites. Any reasonable concoction of food could be gotten there at any time, day or night. It was a place that Jennifer Baldwin would never set foot inside and one that he and Kate had frequented. A short time ago, the results of that comparison would have disturbed him, but he had made up his mind, and he didn’t intend on revisiting the question. Life was not perfect, and you could spend your entire life waiting for that perfection. He was not going to do that.

Jack wolfed down scrambled eggs, bacon and four pieces of toast. The fresh coffee burned his throat going down. After five days of instant java and bottled water, it tasted wonderful.

Jack looked across at Luther, who sipped on his coffee and alternated between looking out the dirty plate-glass window onto the dark street and passing his eye around the small, grimy interior.

Jack put his coffee down. “You look tired.”

“So do you, Jack.”

“I’ve been out of the country.”

“Me too.”

That explained the condition of the yard and the mail. A needless worry. Jack pushed the plate away and waved for a refill on his coffee.

“I went by your place the other day.”

“Why was that?”

Jack had expected the question. Luther Whitney had never taken anything other than the direct approach. But anticipation was one thing, having a ready answer another. Jack shrugged.

“I don’t know. Just wanted to see you, I guess. It’s been a while.”

Luther nodded agreement.

“You seeing Kate again?”

Jack swallowed a mouthful of coffee before answering. His temples started to throb.

“No. Why?”

“I thought I saw you two together a while back.”

“We sort of ran into each other. That’s all.”

Jack couldn’t tell exactly, but Luther looked upset with that answer. He noticed Jack watching him closely, then smiled.

“Used to be, you were the only way I could find out if my little girl was doing okay. You were my pipeline of information, Jack.”

“You ever consider just talking to her directly, Luther? You know that might be worth a shot. The years are going by.”

Luther waved the suggestion off and stared out the window again.

Jack looked him over. The face was leaner than usual, the eyes puffy. There were more wrinkles on the forehead and around the eyes than Jack remembered. But it had been four years. Luther was at the age now where the onslaught of age hit you quickly, deterioration was more and more evident every day.

He caught himself staring into Luther’s eyes. Those eyes had always fascinated Jack. Deep green, and large, like a woman’s, they were supremely confident eyes. Like you see on pilots, an infinite calmness about life in general. Nothing rattled them. Jack had seen happiness in those eyes, when he and Kate announced their engagement, but more often he had seen sadness. And yet right beneath the surface Jack saw two things he had never seen in Luther Whitney’s eyes before. He saw fear. And he saw hatred. And he wasn’t sure which one bothered him the most.

“Luther, are you in trouble?”

Luther took out his wallet and, despite Jack’s protests, paid for the food.

“Let’s take a walk.”

A taxi cab ride took them to the Mall and they walked in silence to a bench across from the Smithsonian castle. The chilly night air settled in on them and Jack pulled up the collar of his coat. Jack sat while Luther stood and lit a cigarette.

“That’s new.” Jack looked at the smoke curving up slowly in the clear night air.

“At my age who gives a shit?” Luther flung the match down and buried it in the dirt with his foot. He sat down.

“Jack, I want you to do me a favor.”

“Okay.”

“You haven’t heard the favor yet.” Luther suddenly stood up. “You mind walking? My joints are getting stiff.”

They had passed the Washington Monument and were headed toward the Capitol when Luther broke the silence.

“I’m in kind of a jam, Jack. It’s not so bad now, but I got a feeling it’s going to get worse and that might happen sooner rather than later.” Luther didn’t look at him, he seemed to be staring ahead at the massive dome of the Capitol.

“I’m not sure how things are going to play out right now, but if it goes the way I think it’s gonna go, then I’m going to need a lawyer, and I want you, Jack. I don’t want no bullshitter and I don’t want no baby lawyer. You’re the best defense lawyer I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen a lot of them, up close and personal.”

“I don’t do that anymore, Luther. I push paper, do deals.” It struck Jack at that moment that he was more a businessman than a lawyer. That thought was not an especially pleasing one.

Luther did not seem to hear him. “It won’t be a freebie. I’ll pay you. But I want someone I can trust, and you’re the only one I trust, Jack.” Luther stopped walking and turned to the younger man, waiting for an answer.

“Luther, you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Luther shook his head vigorously. “Not unless I have to. That wouldn’t do you or anybody else any good.” He stared at Jack intently until it made him uncomfortable.

“I gotta tell you, Jack, if you’re my lawyer on this, it’s gonna get kinda hairy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean people could get hurt on this one, Jack. Really hurt, like not-coming-back hurt.”

Jack stopped walking. “If you’ve got some guys like that on your butt it might be better to cut a deal now, get immu nity and disappear in a Witness Protection Program. Lots of people do. It’s not an original idea.”

Luther laughed out loud. Laughed until he choked and ended up doubled over, coughing up the little that was in his stomach. Jack helped him back up. He could feel the older man’s limbs trembling. He did not realize they were trembling with rage. This outburst was so out of character for the man that Jack felt his flesh crawl. He realized he was perspiring despite watching his breath produce small clouds in the late-night chill.

Luther composed himself. He took a deep breath and looked almost embarrassed.

“Thanks for the advice, send me a bill. I gotta go.”

“Go? Where the hell are you going? I want to know what’s going on, Luther.”

“If something should happen to me—”

“Godammit, Luther, I’m growing real tired of this cloak-and-dagger shit.”

Luther’s eyes became slits. The confidence suddenly returned with a touch of ferocity. “Everything I do is for a reason, Jack. If I’m not telling you the whole scoop now you better believe it’s for a goddamned good reason. You may not understand it now, but the way I’m doing it is to keep you as safe as I can. I wouldn’t be involving you at all except I needed to know if you’d go to bat for me when and if I needed you. Because if you won’t, forget this conversation ever happened, and forget you ever knew me.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Serious as shit, Jack.”

The men stood looking at each other. The trees behind Luther’s head had shed most of their leaves. Their bare branches reached to the skies, like bursts of dark lightning frozen in place.

“I’ll be there, Luther.” Luther’s hand swiftly settled into Jack’s and the next minute Luther Whitney disappeared into the shadows.

*   *   *

T
HE CAB DROPPED
J
ACK OFF IN FRONT OF THE APARTMENT
building. The pay phone was right across the street. He paused for a moment, gathering energy and the nerve he would need for what he was about to do.

“Hello?” The voice was full of sleep.

“Kate?”

Jack counted the seconds until her mind cleared and identified the voice.

“Jesus Christ, Jack, do you know what time it is?”

“Can I come over?”

“No, you cannot come over. I thought we had settled all of this.”

He paused, steeled himself. “It’s not about that.” He paused again. “It’s about your father.”

The extended silence was difficult to interpret.

“What about him?” The tone was not as cold as he would have thought.

“He’s in trouble.”

Now the familiar tone returned. “So? Why the hell does that still surprise you?”

“I mean he’s in serious trouble. He just proceeded to scare the living shit out of me without really telling me anything.”

“Jack, it’s late and whatever my father is involved in—”

“Kate, he was scared, I mean really scared. So scared he threw up.”

Again there was a long pause. Jack tracked her mental processes as she thought about the man they both knew so well. Luther Whitney scared? That didn’t make sense. His line of work necessarily demanded someone with steel nerves. Not a violent person, his entire adult life had been spent right on the edge of danger.

She was terse. “Where are you?”

“Right across the street.”

Jack looked up as he saw a slender figure move to a window of the building and look out. He waved.

The door opened to Jack’s knock and he saw her retreating into the kitchen where he heard a pot clattering, water being poured and the gas on the stove being lit. He looked around the room, and then stood just inside the front door feeling a little foolish.

A minute later she walked back in. She had on a thick bathrobe that ended at her ankles. She was barefoot. Jack found himself staring at her feet. She followed his gaze and then looked at him. He jolted back.

“How’s the ankle? Looks fine.” He smiled.

She frowned and said tersely, “It’s late, Jack. What about him?”

He moved into the tiny living room and sat down. She sat across from him.

“He called me up a couple hours ago. We grabbed some food at that little dive next to Eastern Market and then started walking. He told me he needed a favor. That he was in trouble. Serious trouble with some people who could do some permanent damage to him. Real permanent.”

The tea kettle started whistling. She jumped up. He watched her go, the sight of her perfectly shaped derriere outlined against the bathrobe bringing back a flood of memories he wished would just leave him the hell alone. She came back with two cups of tea.

“What was the favor?” She sipped her tea. Jack left his where it was.

“He said he needed a lawyer. He
might
need a lawyer. Although things might turn out so he wouldn’t. He wanted me to be that lawyer.”

She put her tea down. “Is that it?”

“Isn’t that enough?”