Power Play (12 page)

And fucks like a rabbit, he added. Louise would understand, he thought. It’s not love, Lou. It’s just sex. The body takes over, like cruise control.

Just sex. Yeah, like oxygen is just something you suck into your lungs.

He lay down again on the wrinkled sheet, pulled the blanket up to his chin, turned on his side, and watched the digital clock’s numerals change. When they reached 5:00
A.M.
he rolled over on his other side and squeezed his eyes shut. Go to sleep, asshole. You’ve got a class to teach.

And some detective work to do.

*   *   *

Jake was bleary-eyed when he arrived in his office that morning, but the first thing he did was phone Glynis Colwyn and invite her to lunch.

“I’m rather busy…,” she began. Jake could hear the uncertainty in her voice.

“I really need to talk with you,” he said, with more conviction than he really felt. “We had this meeting between Tomlinson and the professor yesterday, and I need to talk it over with you.”

“Why me? I wasn’t there.”

He looked out his office window and saw big gray clouds building up. Snow clouds. We’ll have a white Christmas even down here, looks like.

To Glynis, he said, “I need to know how the professor felt about the meeting.”

“But you were there, weren’t you, Jake?”

There was something in her voice, something he couldn’t identify. Anticipation? Suspicion?

“Look, Glynis, the truth is I’d just like to have lunch with you. Yesterday’s meeting gives me an excuse to ask.”

For several long seconds she didn’t reply. Then, “You don’t need an excuse, Jake. I’d be happy to have lunch with you.”

*   *   *

He drove the Mustang to the front entrance of the electrical engineering building. Glynis was waiting at the glass double doors, bundled into a quilted parka. Before Jake could get out of the car, she pushed through the doors and hurried to him. He leaned across and opened the passenger side door for her.

“It’s cold!” Glynis said as she slid into the seat and reached for the safety belt.

“December in the foothills of the Rockies,” he said. “It gets cold in West Virginia, too, doesn’t it?”

“Oh yes, of course. But I’ve never liked it. If I had my choice I’d live in Hawaii or Guatemala or someplace where the temperature never gets anywhere near freezing.”

Jake gunned the engine and headed off campus. “I thought we’d eat in a real restaurant, instead of the cafeteria.”

“Fine by me,” Glynis said. Then, with a grin, she asked, “What did you have in mind?”

DANNY’S SEAFOOD LOCKER

It wasn’t much of a restaurant. The décor was mostly old fishing nets and travel posters on the walls. But when Glynis had expressed her preference for warm climates, Jake thought that Danny’s was the best he could provide her.

Once inside the door, Glynis wormed out of her quilted coat, and Jake saw that she wearing denim jeans and a Christmas-bright red sweater. Practical clothing for the December cold but on her the outfit looked fresh and attractive. The dark-skinned young Hispanic hostess showed them to a booth in the rear of the restaurant. When a waiter pushed through the double doors of the kitchen, Jake could smell fish cooking and the distinctive odor of French fries sizzling in the deep fryer.

A sallow-faced, ponytailed waiter asked if they wanted anything to drink. Glynis ordered a glass of chardonnay and Jake asked for a dark beer. The waiter came back with a stemmed glass of wine and a green bottle of Dos Equis Especial: a pale lager.

“That’s the darkest we got,” the kid mumbled.

Jake sighed. “Okay.”

The waiter started to leave their booth, but hesitated. “You want a glass?”

Jake shook his head.

“Not dark enough?” Glynis asked.

“Not dark at all.”

She took a tentative sip of the wine, then got down to business. “There’s not much I can tell you about Arlan’s reaction to the meeting. He came back and closeted himself in his office with Nacho. He hasn’t mentioned the meeting this morning.”

Jake shrugged. “You know, I was sort of surprised to see Tim with you at that cocktail party last week.”

She looked at him questioningly.

“I mean, last summer, when I first saw the two of you together, he sure didn’t look like dating material.”

Glynis cocked her head slightly to one side. “He was paranoid about me,” she said, with a soft smile. “He thought I was spying on him for Professor Sinclair.”

“Were you?”

“Certainly. I still am. The prof needs to know how things are going and Tim isn’t the type to write out weekly progress reports.”

“But…”

“But he’s no longer suspicious of me,” she said, her smile widening a bit.

“How’d you work that?” Jake asked, trying to keep his own suspicions off his face.

The waiter came back. “You ready to order?”

Jake frowned at the interruption. He grabbed at the wrinkled paper menu and asked for the fried oysters. Glynis nodded and said she’d take the same.

Trying to sound casual, Jake asked again, “So how did you get Tim to trust you?”

She almost laughed. “Jake, you are so transparent! You think I used my womanly wiles on Tim, don’t you?”

That was exactly what Jake was thinking, but he answered, flustered, “I don’t … no … it never crossed my mind.”

“Not much.” She seemed to find it all amusing.

Leaning across the table toward her, Jake said, “I just found it surprising to see the two of you at the party for Leeds. And then you went to dinner together.”

“We’re coworkers, Jake. I see Tim at least once or twice a week. There’s nothing romantic about it.”

“Really?”

She shook her head. “You men see everything in terms of sex. A woman can’t even shake hands with a man without all the other men in the room thinking she’s going to jump into bed with him.”

“Maybe that’s because they all want to jump into bed with her themselves.” Jake was stunned to hear himself admit it out loud.

Glynis started to reply, hesitated, then merely shook her head again. Her face was utterly serious, her dark exotic eyes deep, steady. A lot going on behind those eyes, Jake thought.

“Tim thought you were sleeping with Sinclair,” he said, practically whispering.

“I know,” she answered. Jake waited for more, but Glynis just sat across the table from him, looking … he couldn’t decide if the expression on her face was distress or simmering irritation.

The waiter brought their platters of fried oysters. Jake was glad of the interruption this time.

“Well, anyway,” he said, trying to change the subject once the waiter had left, “I need to know how Sinclair reacted to the meeting with Tomlinson.”

“I wish I knew,” Glynis said, as she stuck a fork in one of the breaded oysters. “He hasn’t said a word about it to me.”

“You said he’s been talking with Nacho Perez.”

“Yes. Every day. Usually on the phone but several times the man has come to the prof’s office.” She frowned slightly. “I don’t like that man. He’s … he gives me the shudders. I think he could be terribly violent; I think he might enjoy violence.”

Jake muttered, “I wish I knew what they were talking about.”

“Beats me,” Glynis said.

They fell silent. Jake chewed through three of his oysters, sipped at his bottle of beer. Some spy I’m turning out to be, he thought. I can’t get any information out of her.

Glynis put her fork down and looked at him intently. “Jake … about Tim and me. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. I don’t sleep around.”

“Has Sinclair ever hit on you?”

“Now and then,” she said lightly. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle. Actually, he can be rather sweet when he wants to be.”

“He’s married, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but they’ve been separated for years.”

“Separated?” Jake asked. “Not divorced?”

“I don’t believe so,” Glynis said. “Either way, he seems to be paying a lot for her support.”

“Some marriages don’t work out, I guess,” Jake muttered, remembering all over again how lucky he had been with Louise.

Glynis shook her head. “It doesn’t seem to bother him all that much. At least the prof has never tried the old ‘my wife doesn’t understand me’ line.”

Jake nodded.

“Tim’s under a lot of pressure, too, you know. Underneath that dour Yankee hide of his, Tim is a good engineer who’s taken on the responsibility of making the big rig work. Sinclair has been riding him pretty hard.”

Jake felt his brows go up. “I thought it was the other way around: Tim wants to push hard and Sinclair wants a careful, cautious research program.”

“Don’t you believe that for a second,” Glynis said. “Sinclair may give the impression that he’s an ivory tower academic, but he’s got a white-hot ambition burning inside him.”

“He does? Then why isn’t he jumping on Tomlinson’s bandwagon? I would think—”

“Leeds has something on him,” Glynis said flatly. “I’m convinced of it.”

“His son’s job?”

“No, I think it’s something bigger than that.”

Jake leaned against the back of the booth. Glynis was dead serious, he saw.

“What the hell could it be?”

“I don’t know. But it’s hurting him. Sinclair’s no fool. He understands that Tomlinson’s offering him a path to make MHD a success. But he’s hanging back because Leeds doesn’t want him to support Tomlinson.”

Mulling over the possibilities for a moment, Jake asked, “Do you think you could find out?”

Glynis didn’t answer for several heartbeats. At last she said softly, “Jake, I work for the man.”

“But his attitude is hurting Tim, isn’t it?”

“And Bob Rogers. Everyone on the program.”

“So, if we could find out why Sinclair’s doing this, if we could get him to swing to Tomlinson’s campaign, we could help him and Tim and Bob and all the others.”

“I suppose so,” she said slowly.

“It would be good for everybody,” Jake coaxed. “It would even be good for Sinclair, if we could get him out from under Leeds’s control.”

“I suppose so,” Glynis repeated, more softly.

MONSTER

His real name was Benito Falciglia, christened such at the insistence of his granduncle, who stood as his godfather at the infant Benito’s baptism. Before, during, and after World War Two, Granduncle Umberto had admired Benito Mussolini—from the safe distance of America.

Even in grammar school Benito hated being called Benny. Fortunately he was of such a large size that the other kids started calling him Frankenstein’s Monster. He amiably took to the nickname, which was soon shortened to Monster. He was so big and could look so menacing when he wanted to that Monster seldom had to resort to violence. Just a scowl and a growl and the other boys forked over their lunch money or whatever else Monster demanded of them.

By the time he became the workhorse lineman for the high school football team, playing both offense and defense, Monster was recruited by the neighborhood gang. He was really a gentle soul beneath all that muscle, but he took orders from the wiseguys and broke a few legs here and there.

Jake had known him since kindergarten. In a perverse way he liked Monster. He had always helped the big guy with his homework. Not that Monster was slow or stupid; he simply found it much easier to get one of the bright boys to do his school assignments, rather than take the trouble to do them himself. Most of the teachers knew this, but did nothing about it—especially in high school, where the faculty wanted nothing more than to get this gang enforcer out their doors for good. The football coach felt otherwise, yet Monster graduated with the rest of his class.

In return for Jake’s help with the schoolwork, Monster protected Jake from the roughnecks and other gang members. “Jake’s okay,” he would tell them. “Leave him alone.” And they did. Most of the time.

Jake’s apartment was on the edge of his old neighborhood, far enough away from those narrow streets and row houses for Jake to feel surprised when he saw Monster lounging on the street corner as he pulled onto the driveway of his building. No mistaking that hulking form.

By the time Jake had parked behind the apartment building, he saw Monster ambling toward his car. Jake got out, locked the Mustang, and walked over toward him.

“Hi, Monster,” he said, trying to make it cheerful. “Haven’t seen you in a long time. How are you?”

Monster waggled a hand. “Mezza, mez’. Whatcha doin’, Jake?”

“I’m still at the university.”

Monster seemed to weigh this information as the two men stood in the parking lot in the lengthening shadows of late afternoon. Jake was bundled in his lined leather car coat and had a wool watch cap pulled down over his ears. Monster wore nothing heavier than a checkered sports coat.

“The word is that you’re gettin’ inta politics,” Monster said.

Jake felt his pulse thump. He nodded, “A little, yeah.”

Frowning a bit, Monster said, “The word is that some people don’t like that.”

“Some people?” Jake asked, working to keep his voice normal. Monster loomed over him like one of the Grand Teton mountains.

“Yeah. Here and there. You know.”

“What don’t they like about it?” Jake asked.

With a shrug of his heavy shoulders, Monster said, “I dunno, but they ain’t happy with you, Jake.”

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” Jake said. “I’m just giving some advice to Tomlinson’s campaign. Science stuff.”

“Yeah. I know you’re okay, Jake. But these guys, they ain’t happy with you.”

“What should I do?”

“Watch your step, Jake. Just watch your step.”

With that, Monster turned and walked away, leaving Jake in the darkening parking lot. Monster had no ill feelings toward Jake, he knew, but he also knew that if he were told to, Monster would break every bone in his head. In his mind, Jake heard a stern voice telling him,
Remember, you have been warned.

CLYDE’S BAR

Amy Wexler frowned as Jake told her about Monster’s warning. The two of them were sitting side by side at the bar, she sipping on a martini, he nursing a Negra Modelo.

“I told you that Leeds has some tough supporters,” she said.

The bar was crowded with Happy Hour drinkers. It looked to Jake as though most of them were regulars; the two scurrying bartenders seemed to know what each new customer wanted the instant he or she sat on the stools. There was a restaurant farther inside the place but it seemed half empty at this early hour. The bar, though, was busy and noisy with conversations and laughter. Some golf game was showing on the TV up on the wall above the cash register. Muted.