Alex Z’s grin faded, then he tilted his head toward their work area and asked, “What’s this all about?”
“I guess it’s about how these guys moved money through Cayman Island accounts.”
“Beyond that.”
“Brandon Meyer?”
Alex Z shook his head.
“Charlie Palmer?”
“Closer.”
“Socorro?”
“Almost.”
“Then what’s it about?”
“Tansy and John Porzolkiewski’s sons. The tragedy. Their suffering. That’s what anchors Graham in the world. Once we fight our way through all the words and all the paper and all the money traveling through cyberspace, for Gage that’s what’s real and at the heart of everything we’ve been working on.”
Alex Z looked away for a moment. “I never expected when I started working here that what comes to mind when I think of Graham is that he has a kind of tragic sense. It’s something he carries with him, but it never seems to weigh him down or paralyze him. Maybe it’s because of his mother dying from MS when he was young.” He gestured toward the window facing San Francisco. “Ask Spike and Tansy about his mother’s last years. Graham won’t talk about it, but they may. Spike knows about it firsthand, Tansy knows from old Yaqui patients of his father.” He paused in thought. “Maybe part of it was growing up along the border. In some places it was more like the 1860s than 1960s. His father helpless to save cotton pickers and copper miners dying from lung disease and chemical exposure. Sometimes kids can witness too much, too soon.”
Alex Z noticed a seasick look on Shakir’s face, revealing more than the vertigo of unknowing. “And that’s what’s really bothering you, isn’t it? It isn’t just the uncertainty, it’s the cloud of tragedy that seems to envelop what we’re doing.”
Shakir’s gaze fell on his now-cold cup of tea, then he sighed and nodded as he looked back up.
Alex Z pointed at him and asked, “You ever hear that line from Isak Dinesen, ‘All sorrows can be borne if you can tell a story about them’?”
“Sure. A lot of those new age self-help books use it and I’ve seen it on a bunch of places on the Internet.”
“You know how it ends?”
Shakir shook his head. “That’s all they ever say.”
“Graham told me once when I was trying to work it into a ballad. It goes something like ‘At the end we’ll be privileged to view and review it, and that’s what’s called judgment day.’ ”
Shakir’s eyes widened, then he nodded again and said, “I see why they leave the last part out.” Shakir shook his head, exhaling. “It seems to be saying that not just any story will do, not any life will do. But I’m not sure I can take that kind of pressure. I don’t think I’m tough enough. I’ve struggled for two years looking to find a way to tell my parents the truth about me and Rodrigo.”
“But you will.”
“I think so… I hope so. We’ve been trying to gather up the courage.”
Alex Z looked at Shakir as if at a younger brother.
“Remember this. Lots of people want to work with Graham, but he saw something in you and knew when the time came you’d see it in yourself.”
“But how do you deal with feeling like you’re out to sea?”
“My girlfriend, my music.” Alex Z smiled and tapped the blue-line image of Popeye on his upper arm. “And an occasional tattoo.”
Chapter 58
'Play it again,” Gage said. He was sitting in Viz’s office lined with metal shelves crowded with computers, sound enhancement devices, monitors, and surveillance equipment.
Viz ticked the play arrow on his screen, and Brandon Meyer’s voice came to life against the background of cars and buses passing on the street in front of Tadich Grill.
“They each wanted a million. Part for them, and part for PACs and 527s.”
…
“But the problem is how to explain a huge influx of money so far in advance of their primaries.”
…
“And what if Starsky and Hutch don’t get confirmed? Then every dime will get reported.”
“I wish I could’ve gotten more,” Viz said. “Back in my old DEA days, I’d have tapped his line and gotten both ends of the conversation.”
“If they were dope dealers.”
“Yeah. But somehow whatever is going on here seems worse.” Viz looked over his shoulder at where Gage sat. “What are they talking about?”
“My guess? The votes on the Supreme Court nominees.”
“How come so fast? I thought that took months and months.”
“They were confirmed for appeals court seats less than a year ago. They’re known quantities. No need for lengthy FBI checks or extended committee hearings.”
“And the Meyer boys are paying off some senators for their votes?”
“Not them. Their campaigns.”
“Same difference.” Viz pointed at his notes written on a piece of scratch paper. “I know what political action committees are, but what’s a 527?”
“It covers a lot of things, but I suspect the Meyer boys are using the type that can raise all the money it wants but doesn’t have to register with the Federal Election Commission and doesn’t have to report where the money came from or where it went. Like the Swift Boat Veterans. Now a lot of contributors are going even further and are using super-PACs that sprang up after the Citizens United decision, but the public is getting suspicious of them so they might not go that way.”
“And I take it the idea is to launder the money though these groups to hide the sources?”
Gage nodded. “That’s how it looks. And it ties in with Landon’s genius as a strategist. He would get an initiative on the ballot in each state that he could uniquely tie to the senatorial candidate he was backing-abortion, gay marriage, stem cell research-then would flood the 527s supporting the initiative with money whose sources he doesn’t have to disclose.”
“And Brandon’s the bag man? I’m not sure a federal judge ought to be doing that.”
“He’s a federal judge who’s spent his whole career doing what he shouldn’t be doing-so stay on him.”
Viz glanced at his watch. “He should be leaving court in a half hour or so.” He smiled. “Maybe tonight we’ll find out why he had the condom in his wallet.”
“We know the why, we just need to figure out the who and where.” Gage rose. “I called Socorro and offered her and the kids the ranch for a couple of weeks. I made it sound casual so she wouldn’t get panicked.”
“I spoke to her right afterward.” Viz pointed north. “Why not your cabin?”
Gage shrugged.
“Was it because it’s easier in the desert than in the forest to spot someone sneaking up?”
“It crossed my mind.”
“Mine, too.”
“I’ve got a security system with cameras covering the property,” Gage said. “I’ll have Alex Z link into them through his computer in the loft so he can keep an eye on the place.”
Chapter 59
