rock and a hard place.” She tapped her chin with her forefinger. “Let me see…how about, Hey bud, what line are you in?”
Matson didn’t respond.
Alla grinned. “That was a real question.”
“Oh.” He blushed again. “I’m the president of a company in California. London is the base of our international operations.”
The bartender set two pints on cardboard Guinness coasters.
Matson wasn’t sure what to say next, so he escaped into watching the bubbles rise to form a soft, rich head.
Alla pointed at the glass. “Sometimes the bubbles go down.”
Matson shook his head. “They can’t. It’s air.”
“Things aren’t always what they seem. Watch closely.”
She leaned down toward the glass, eyes focused on the body of the beer. Matson’s head followed as if magnetized. He found himself lost in the swirling of her perfume.
“Pick a bubble. A little one.”
Matson focused on one caught on the glass. It broke free and swept downward.
“Son of a gun.” He leaned back and looked at her. “How’d you know?”
“I studied engineering in college in Ukraine. In Dnepropetrovsk.”
“In what?”
“Ne-pro-pe-trovsk. Just say Neper. I’m from a village nearby.”
“You mean a village, village?”
“Yes.” Alla laughed, her eyes twinkling in the candle flame. “A village, village. Thatched roofs, cow in the backyard, chickens trying to sneak into the house.”
“And from there to a college where they let you study beer?”
“It was sort of political.”
“Come on…” Matson said, unable to suppress his incredulity.
“It’s true. Students had so much hope after the collapse of the Soviet Union, only to see gangster capitalism take its place. We all found ways to express the horror we felt. My way was fluid mechanics. The outside world only saw the large bubbles rising in the center. The elites. But that created a vortex that forced nearly all of the small bubbles downward. The middle class became impoverished and the lower class became destitute. And when their standard of living rose, it was paid for with the suppression of the freedom they had earned. My experiment was a metaphor.”
Matson studied her face. “And what kind of bubble are you?”
“One that escaped.”
He raised his glass. She clinked hers lightly against his, then each took a sip.
“Why here?” he asked.
“For Americans, London is merely a charming place to visit. For me, for all Central Europeans, it’s…I don’t know how to capture it in English…I guess you could say that London is our Ellis Island.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, how can a village girl afford to live here? This is an expensive town.”
“I saved a little money and I live simply.” She shrugged, and the light went out of her eyes. “Eventually I’ll have to go back to Ukraine. I dread it. It’s suffocating. It’s what we call peregruzhennost. I don’t think there is an English word…Maybe you would say…overburdening. That’s it. Overburdening. Eventually it will break me.”
CHAPTER 14
H ey, Graham. There’s a rumor going around that the attorney general is looking for a new poster boy for corporate crime.” The voice, high-pitched against the low chatter of a busy pressroom, belonged to Kenny Leals, a New York Times reporter, and the only journalist who had Gage’s cell phone number. “The Enrons and Global Crossings and Arthur Andersens just ain’t cutting it anymore. The way I hear it, they’ve decided that it’s time for lawyers to take a hit-and they’re hard on the prowl for a guy to take the first swing at.”
Gage sat forward in his desk chair, but kept his tone casual. “Have they put a name on it?”
“Not yet, but I was shooting the breeze about SatTek with an old-timer at the Chronicle and she said you and Jack Burch were pals, so I figured I’d give you a buzz. Rumor is that he’s somehow connected to the company. But I can’t confirm it.”
Leal let the words linger, as if anticipating an easy confirmation, but Gage wasn’t about to become a second source.
“What do you have so far?” Gage asked.
“For one thing, a memo that went out to the local U.S. Attorney’s Offices a few months ago.” Leals chuckled. “It reads like one of those sales incentive deals. You know, the guy who sells the most refrigerators wins a cruise on the Love Boat. And there’s a lot of buzz in the Justice Department about the SatTek collapse.”
“There are lots of fraud cases around-”
“But this one has resonance, maybe because it’s a defense contractor. In any case, it’s the kind that gets stronger and stronger as the clock ticks down. And trust me, you can hear the tick, tick, tick all around Washington.” Leals hesitated, then said, “How about a call if Burch is the fridge that wins somebody the vacation? I promise the Times will give him a fair shake. I’ve never let you down before.”
“You’ve got to give me something,” Gage demanded of the man on the other end of the line a minute later. “You run the division. You know what’s going on.”
“No can do.” The voice was gravelly from too many cigars over too many years. “I can’t even tell you the name of the Assistant U.S. Attorney who’s handling it. They don’t want any bits of the investigation dribbling out. They want an explosion heard around the world.”
“How about a heads-up if Jack’s a target?”
“And find mine on the block? No way, Graham. No fucking way. If there are any leaks in this case, the attorney general will start dusting off polygraph machines.”
Gage glanced toward a refrigerator-sized safe anchored to the concrete floor in the far corner of his office and filled with documents that could end careers.
“Seems to me you’ve got a short memory,” Gage said. “It wasn’t that long ago that you were riding a log toward a political buzz saw-”
“I know. I still owe you, but this isn’t the time. All the decisions in this case are coming from the top-they’re bypassing the Criminal Division altogether. It’s in the hands of this new Corporate Fraud Task Force. That means the attorney general and the FBI director. I’ve got no say about whether Burch gets indicted.”
The man paused. Gage imagined him gazing out of his Justice Department office window toward Pennsylvania Avenue.
“It’s a new world,” the man finally said. “The public is sick of lawyers skating in these fraud cases, and the White House is listening. Somebody like Burch-I’m not saying Burch-but somebody like him is the perfect guy to hang a noose around. He’s at the top, he’s made a bundle, and he’s an immigrant-the politically correct guy to take the fall for the crooked lawyers behind all of the other scams. He’s the ideal target.” The man chuckled. “Sort of a sacrificial kangaroo.”
“You’re leaving me no choice but to-”
“You helping Burch is like a surgeon operating on his own brother. Not a smart move. Good intentions in the wrong place gets people into trouble. It’s already gonna be a huge indictment and I’d hate to see your name add to it, charged with obstruction. If I was you, I’d fold my hands in my lap, sit quietly, and wait for the show to start.”
“Look, he’s had a tough-”
“And I feel bad for him, and his wife. But this happened long before he was shot. If he was part of it, he was part of it. If he wasn’t, he wasn’t. You start tearing into this thing yourself, Graham, and you’re the one who’s going to get torn apart.”
