institutionalized mentally ill people. Did it all through the Internet-”
“And charged offshore credit cards for the contributions.”
“Exactly. And scattered them all over the country so nobody would notice, then used the money to pay off the Mann Trust loans if anybody became suspicious.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know yet. But in the last five years each fake contributor put in between fifty and one hundred thousand dollars in small increments.”
“Do the math for me.”
“I would guess between two hundred and three hundred million dollars.”
A nston took a sip of water after the waiter left, thought a moment, then asked Brandon, “Why the sudden interest in my side of things?”
“I keep getting chills up my spine, like I’m about to get blindsided.”
“That’s your lifelong problem. You never look around until it’s too late, and your brother, too. I’m thinking we may need to change horses in the presidential race. I created him and I can dismantle him in a heartbeat. I’m not sure I want to blow our last couple of hundred million on somebody with what may be a genetic weakness.”
Brandon didn’t answer.
“You know what my wife calls me?” Anston said. “Machiavelli’s Machiavelli. It’s ironic that everybody reads The Prince when they’re in college and thinks he was some kind of immoral genius. In fact, he was an idiot savant.” He peered into Brandon’s eyes. “You ever read Machiavelli’s Art of War?”
Brandon shook his head.
“He didn’t have a clue it was the rifle, and not the pike, that would determine the outcome of wars for the next three hundred years.” Anston grinned. “See? The prince needed a Machiavelli, and Machiavelli needed somebody like me to fight his wars for him.”
V iz recognized the gait before he spotted the face.
“Oh shit.”
Gage’s head snapped toward Viz.
“It’s Socorro,” Viz said. “She just slipped around the corner and ducked through the crowd into the restaurant.”
Gage flipped open his cell phone. Joe Casey’s number was set for redial.
“We’ve got a problem,” Gage said. “Socorro just went in to confront Anston and Brandon.”
“With what?” Casey asked.
Gage looked at Viz. “With what?”
Viz spread his hands and shrugged.
“What do you want to do?” Casey asked.
“It’s up to Viz.”
Viz turned toward the window and scanned the sidewalks and cars on the street. “I’m pissed she lied to me, but it’s contained, and it took a lot of guts to walk in there and try to set things right-and for her that’s what this has been about from the beginning.” He locked on to the diners gathered at the entrance. “And they can’t do anything to her with that kind of big-money crowd around her.”
G ood evening, Judge. Marc.”
They looked up.
Socorro made a show of glancing around the restaurant.
“You two really are creatures of habit. Don’t you ever get bored with this place? Maybe you should try Mexican food sometime.”
Her voice had a sense of self-satisfaction neither Brandon nor Anston had heard from her before.
Anston stood and extended his hand. Socorro didn’t accept it.
“It’s not that kind of visit.”
She reached behind her and pulled an empty chair up to the table. She and Anston sat down. She was the only one in the restaurant wearing jeans, and the only Hispanic except the busboys.
Anston tried again. “To what do we owe-”
“Money,” Socorro snapped. “You’ve got money belonging to other people.”
Anston smirked. “You have it backward, my dear. You have money belonging to other people.”
Brandon looked around the restaurant, then cut in. “I’m not sure this is the place to discuss this.”
Socorro reached into her purse, pulled out a DVD, and set it on the table. Its cover showed Henry Fonda, arm extended in accusation.
“You’re right,” Socorro said. “Let’s go watch a movie.”
“I’m sure it’s a fine film, but we have better things to do than spend an evening watching Advise and Consent, no matter how timely.”
Socorro opened the case and turned its contents toward Anston. It was labeled Charles Palmer Investigations, Meeting with Marc Anston re: Pegasus.
Anston’s eyes fixed on the DVD.
“I like what you’ve done with your study,” Socorro said. “That Rothko hanging on the wall must’ve cost a pretty penny.” She grinned. “Of course it did. I checked. One point two million. Sotheby’s. Last year.”
Anston reached for the case. She pulled it away. “Not so fast.”
“What do you want?” Anston lowered his hand to the table and drummed his fingers.
“Little nervous there, Counselor?” Socorro said, closing the DVD case. “Don’t you want to know what’s on it?”
“If it’s really from last year, then I know.”
“What’s on it?” Brandon asked, voice shaking.
Anston shook his head. “We’re not getting into that. She may be wired. Like husband, like wife.” He peered at her sweater, with his eyes coming to rest on her breasts.
She smiled. “You want to check? Unlike your little amigo here, I doubt whether your bony little hands have touched anything like them in a generation.”
“You surprise me, my dear. You sound like a different woman.”
“One finally with power.”
“Or with somebody behind you.” Anston cast a glance toward the entrance. “Did Gage put you up to this?”
Brandon spoke fist. “He wouldn’t…”
Anston’s eyes shifted toward Brandon. “He wouldn’t what?”
“He wouldn’t…” Brandon knew panic showed on his face. He bit his lip, hoping it would fade. “He wouldn’t send an amateur.”
Anston paused, then nodded. “That’s true.” He looked at Socorro. “What do you want?”
“I told you, money.”
“Sounds like extortion.”
“It’s not for me. It’s for the TIMCO families and Moki Amaro’s mother and for all the other families you cheated.”
“If all you want is a little contribution to a charity of some kind…”
“I want all of it.”
“Are you going to throw in the nine million Charlie stole?”
“Every penny.”
“How generous.” Anston eyed the DVD. “Why don’t we get together at my office tomorrow to talk about it?”
Socorro’s face went blank. In that instant, they all recognized she hadn’t thought through what came next. And they all also recognized that was the difference between her and Charlie. She manipulated characters in children’s books, while he moved real people in the directions he wanted in real life, and they all knew she’d been too impulsive.
Anston smiled. “You didn’t expect me to pull out a checkbook right here and now, did you?”
Socorro returned the DVD to her purse. “Let’s go type up an agreement.” She looked back and forth between them. “And I want both of you to sign.”
