controlled?'
'Not unless you count three guys who don't have four teeth among them. If Blues doesn't get out soon, I doubt that any PR campaign will save this joint. It's going to shrivel up and blow away before spring.'
'Did you do what I told you?' Mason asked as he pulled into the light traffic on Main Street.
'Piece of cake. I printed out a hard copy of Fiora's bank records, and I put it in your desk just like you told me.'
'And what about the rest?'
'That's the part I don't understand. I e-mailed the file to Rachel Firestone just like you told me, but I delayed the actual transmission until ten o'clock Monday morning. What's up with that?'
'It's an insurance policy. We're going to trade the flash drive to Fiora. He'll suspect that we kept another copy of the records, and he'll send someone back to search my office. Hopefully, when he finds the copy you put in my desk, he'll be satisfied. If he doesn't hold up his end of the deal I'm going to make with him, Rachel will get the e- mail with the records. If Fiora comes through, we'll cancel the e-mail.'
'And if he tries anything rough, we can tell him about the e-mail,' Mickey said.
'That is a very bad idea. If he knows about the e-mail, he can cancel it.'
'So what do we do if he tries anything rough?'
'Duck,' Mason said.
'I'll try to remember that. Does Fiora know we're coming?'
'Yeah. I called the casino this afternoon and left a message. I'm expecting the VIP treatment.'
Mason used valet parking to give Fiora the added comfort of holding his car keys, wanting Fiora to think the odds were all with the house on the game they were about to play. Mason had to press, but not too hard, take risks, but not too great.
Tony Manzerio was waiting for them. He didn't speak, settling for the universal sign language of goons everywhere-a nod of the head that meant follow me and keep your mouth shut.
Mason and Mickey did as they were nodded to do, trailing a respectful five steps behind Manzerio. People moved out of Manzerio's way without being told or nodded. The man was large enough and his eyes were dead enough to trigger the flight side of the survival impulse, Mason catching a few there-but-for-the-grace-of-God-go-I expressions.
They took an elevator marked Private, opened a door marked Authorized Personnel Only, and walked down a corridor marked Secure Area. None of which made Mason feel safe.
Manzerio led Mason and Mickey into Fiora's office. A window looked out over the Missouri River, a black view without dimension or detail. Fiora sat at a poker table playing solitaire.
'Did you search them?' he asked without looking up.
Manzerio didn't answer. Instead, he ran his porterhouse-sized hands up and down their sides, torsos, legs, and arms.
'Nothin'. No guns. No wires.'
'Wait outside.'
Fiora turned over the facedown cards until he found the one he wanted. Smiling, he ran through the rest of the cards until they were all arranged in order.
'How about that! I won again.'
'Odds always favor the house, but cheating takes the suspense out of it,' Mason said.
'I'm a businessman, Mason, not a gambler. The craps table is for suckers. I need an edge, I take it. I don't make business a game of chance.'
'I like to think of it as supply and demand. The market moves buyers and sellers to the middle, where they can make a deal.'
'Your message said you wanted to make a trade. What do I have that you would want?'
'My law practice.'
'How could I possibly have your law practice?'
'It's on the hard drive you ripped out of my computer last night. Client files, my receivables, my payables. The works.'
'That must be inconvenient for you. What's the matter? Didn't you back your stuff up? I don't know much, but I know that much. I got people working for me that don't do nothing but back shit up.'
'Actually, I did back up one thing.' He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the flash drive. 'It's not much, really. Just some bank records you might be interested in.'
Fiora's eyes hardened. 'You're taking a hell of a risk coming to my place offering to trade my records to me. Why don't I just have Tony come in here and take that drive and throw your ass in the river?'
Mason didn't flinch. 'You said it yourself. You're a businessman. Buy, sell, trade, but don't take chances. I'm the same way. I was out of line meddling in your business and I'm sorry. Last night, you convinced me that you had nothing to do with Jack Cullan's murder. I don't need to clutter up the defense of my client with extraneous bullshit that the judge won't let me get into evidence anyway. I'm offering you this flash drive in good faith, the same way you gave me the pictures of Beth Harrell. All I want is my hard drive.'
'And I'm supposed to believe that you don't have another copy of this stashed someplace?'
'I can't help it if you're not a believer. I'm a lawyer, not a rabbi.'
Fiora studied Mason for a minute. 'Come over here, Rabbi Mason. I want to show you something.'
Mason joined Fiora at the window. The light from inside the office and the lack of light outside made the view opaque.
'Is there something I should be looking at?'
'You might find this interesting.' There were two switches next to the window. Fiora hit one, and the office went dark. He hit the other, and the prow of the boat where Mason had celebrated New Year's Eve was bathed in a spotlight. 'Nice view, don't you think?'
Mason repressed an involuntary shudder. 'It's terrific. What's your point?'
'Every public area of this boat is under constant video surveillance. I want to know everything that happens on my boat. That prow is a very popular spot. Lovers like to make out there. Losers like to jump off. We got to watch it all the time.'
'It must be tough to get good video in the dark.'
'Nah! We got these low-light cameras make it practically like your living room. The technology is fantastic. This case of yours works out okay, you come back and we'll watch some home movies. What do you say?'
Fiora was giving Mason a mixed message. He was telling Mason that he knew what had happened on New Year's Eve and still had the proof. Maybe it was an offer to tell him who had tried to kill him, and maybe it was a not-so-subtle threat.
'You serve popcorn?'
Fiora laughed once without conviction. 'You're good with the jokes. Don't be too funny, Rabbi Mason. You and your altar boy have a seat, make yourselves comfortable. I got to check with my computer people and see what they've done with your hard drive. It may be they already wiped it clean. In the meantime, why don't you give me that flash drive of yours so I can have them check it out?'
Mason grinned at Fiora and tossed the drive to him. 'This one is blank. Bring me my hard drive and a computer. Mickey will check it out. If everything is on it but your records, Mickey will get you the real flash drive.'
Fiora chuckled. 'Careful you don't hit on sixteen and go bust.'
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Fiora left Mason and Mickey in his office. Mason picked up Fiora's deck of cards and looked at Mickey.
'Gin rummy. A buck a point. I'll charge your losses as an advance against your salary.'
'That's really generous of you. I haven't played cards since I was a kid. You'll have to remind me of the rules.'
Mason sat at the poker table and motioned Mickey to do the same, wondering how many scams Mickey could
