“I think you at least owe me an honest answer to my question, Jack. Do you see me laughing?”
I wanted to say if Karsarkis cared so much about his daughter maybe he should have thought about her back before he started peddling smuggled Iraqi oil to the highest bidder and pissing off the FBI, the IRS, the CIA, and God-only-knew who else. But I didn’t say any of that.
“What’s your daughter’s name?” I asked him instead.
“Zoe. After my mother.”
“Do you talk to her often?”
The silence went on for what felt like several minutes before Karsarkis spoke again.
“No, not often. It’s hard for both of us. She always ends up crying. I don’t deal with it very well.”
Drawing deeply on his cigar Karsarkis stood up and walked slowly over to the edge of the pool and peered down. For a moment I had visions of Robert Maxwell and wondered if I ought to take off my watch and shoes just in case he was about to jump in.
“You have any kids, Jack?” he asked all of a sudden.
“No, but…” I trailed off when I realized I wasn’t at all certain what I had started to say, so I didn’t say anything.
Karsarkis looked back over his shoulder at me with a kind of half smile on his face.
“You were going to say that you and Anita were talking about it, weren’t you?”
“No. I wasn’t.”
But, of course, I was.
“I’ve got a son as well as a daughter,” Karsarkis carried on, letting me off the hook. “Did I tell you that?”
I shook my head.
“Yeah, Frank’s at Columbia. I’m proud as hell of that boy, but I worry about him, too. Sometimes I think we’ve all lost our way. The kind of world we’re leaving for him and the rest of our kids is a less decent place than the one our parents left for us. I’m not sure he’s ready to deal with that.” Karsarkis smiled again, but in a minor key. “Anyway, he got into Columbia. That’s about as good a start as he could get. Maybe he’ll be okay.”
I had to admit I had never really thought of Karsarkis before as a guy who worried about his children’s future. Maybe I had judged him too harshly. On the other hand, maybe this was all just a load of crap he was shoveling out to make him sound like a decent guy and I hadn’t judged him harshly enough. Either way, I was growing somewhat curious about this man now and decided it wouldn’t hurt anything to keep the conversation going.
“Did you go to Columbia yourself?” I asked him.
“No. Georgetown.”
“Really? So did I. Georgetown Law.”
“Those Jesuits were tough little bastards, weren’t they?” Karsarkis smiled. “I learned a lot from them.”
“Like what for instance?”
Karsarkis seemed to be taken mildly off balance by the question, which was my whole reason for having asked it, of course. To his credit, however, he paused before he answered and I sensed he was thinking seriously about it.
“A sense of good grace,” he said after a moment, “and a perspective on life. You know: this too shall pass.”
I was pretty sure if Karsarkis was applying that lesson to his present circumstances, he was dreaming.
“What year did you graduate from Georgetown?” I asked.
“1969.”
I did the math as subtly as I could. That would make Karsarkis about sixty.
“The law school?” I asked.
“No, undergraduate. I had no interest in law school. I figured I could always rent all the lawyers I needed, so why bother going to law school myself?”
The image of a
I had the feeling none of this was just idle chatter. Karsarkis was trying too hard to sound congenial. He was working up to something and I wondered what it would turn out to be.
Then I found out.
“Before I forget, Jack, there’s something I wanted to ask you,” Karsarkis said, breaking the silence. “One of our local companies is thinking about making a bid for a broken-down hotel chain they think they can do something with. I was wondering if you could look at the deal for me, just tell me what you think about it before they go any further.”
“I don’t have a private practice anymore, Mr. Karsarkis. I just teach. I already told you that.”
“Yeah, you did, but…” Karsarkis took another pull on his cigar. “I was hoping perhaps you would do this as a favor for a friend.”
“I already told you that, too. We’re not friends.”
“I don’t expect anybody to work for free, Jack. Whether they’re a friend or not. Nothing for nothing. I’ve always believed that.”
“Look, I really don’t-”
“I had in mind a fee of $100,000.”
“I’m sorry?”
“$100,000. To look over the deal and give me your opinion.”
I wasn’t sure what Karsarkis expected me to say to that-it was too silly an offer for me to take it seriously- but he was standing there looking at me and obviously expected me to say something so eventually I did.
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “Surely it wouldn’t take more than a few hours to go over whatever you ha catet amp;rsquove. Nobody pays that kind of money for a few hours’ work.”
“I’m not proposing to pay you for your time, Jack. I’m proposing to pay you for your opinion. I could make a hell of a lot of money from this or I could lose a hell of a lot. You’re a smart guy and you know the territory out here. What you think about the deal and the way it’s structured is easily worth $100,000 to me.”
“Look, I’m very flattered, but-”
“Just think about it, will you?”
“I don’t need to think about it, Mr. Karsarkis. Even if I wanted to do it, I couldn’t. The school wouldn’t be happy about it.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning they don’t mind me doing some consulting work on the side, but they want me to keep it low profile.”
“We could keep this low profile. That’s no problem.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Yes, it is. I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”
“That’s not what I meant. Look, what I’m trying to say is the school…”
I trailed off. I was trying to be polite and I didn’t want to flat-out insult the man, but I decided there was nothing wrong with telling Karsarkis the simple truth.
“Let me put it this way. What I’m saying here is this: I really do not want to work for you, Mr. Karsarkis. Not even if you’re willing to pay me $100,000 for a few hours work. And I’m sure you understand exactly why that is.”
The highway was nearly empty when Anita and I drove back to the hotel from Karsarkis’ house. The heavy wetness of the night was so dense the air felt almost like fog. We crossed the hills at the central core of the island in silence, both of us watching our headlights as the bobbing beams splintered in the moisture and made the thick vegetation lining the road glitter as if it were covered with fireflies.
“Be careful, Jack.”
