driver's door. Reis was already out of the car. He gave the valet the keys to the Cadillac. He had a second set in his pocket, which he would use later.
As Grant and Reis walked toward the main dining room, Burton Rommel walked up to them.
'We have to talk about Tim,' Rommel said. 'I'm hearing rumors that he's in trouble. This could affect our decision to have him run for Harold's seat.'
'I'm having dinner with Tim and Bill, Burt. I'll straighten everything out.'
'Good.'
'Call me tomorrow and I'll tell you what happened.'
'I will. This is something that we have to do right now,' Rommel said emphatically.
'I agree completely. It won't do to wait around and let events take their course.'
'Glad we're on the same wavelength.'
The Kerrigans walked in a minute after Rommel walked away.
'I've arranged for us to eat in one of the private dining rooms,' Grant said.
A narrow hall led to the back of the Westmont, where there were three private rooms. The one in which they were meeting had been swept for bugs shortly before the judge arrived. When they were all inside, Grant closed the door.
'I'm going to insist that Victor check you for listening devices before we talk.'
William stiffened, but Tim laid a restraining hand on his forearm.
'It's okay, Dad. Let him frisk us so we can get down to business.'
Reis was quick but thorough. When he was done, he shook his head.
'Victor, will you please wait outside and make sure that we're not disturbed.'
'How are you feeling, Tim?' Grant asked as soon as the door closed behind Reis.
'Maria was acting on your orders, Harvey,' Tim answered, 'so you can cut the shit.'
Grant stopped smiling. 'What is it you want?'
'Your assurance that Cindy, Megan, and my father won't be hurt if I keep my mouth shut.'
As soon as he closed the door of the private dining room, Victor Reis left the building and asked the valet for the keys to the car in which he was interested, and the number of the space in which it was parked. He also asked for the space where Grant's Cadillac was parked. The valet gave Reis the keys and the information without asking any questions.
The Westmont's parking garage was a short distance from the main building. Reis was wary as he walked across a small outdoor lot to the garage. Two other members were waiting for their cars but Reis knew them. There were no strange cars or trucks within view.
Grant's Cadillac was on the second floor. Reis checked the garage before taking the carton out of the trunk. No one was on the floor. The other car was parked nearby. Reis carried the carton to the car and put it in the trunk. A minute later, he gave the keys back to the valet and returned to wait outside the private dining room.
Half an hour later, Reis drove Grant home. The judge's cell phone rang when they were almost to his gate. Just then, Victor Reis noticed two cars in the rearview mirror. It was very dark, but Reis was surprised that he hadn't noticed them before.
Grant pulled out his cell phone. 'Hello.'
'It's me.'
'Why are you calling?' Grant asked.
'The carton wasn't in the trunk.'
Grant blanched. He was about to question Victor when he saw two cars parked in front of his gate. Reis braked sharply. The trailing cars hemmed in the Cadillac. J. D. Hunter stepped out of one of the cars. Several armed FBI agents got out of the other cars and surrounded Grant. Hunter pressed his identification against the driver's side window. Standing behind him was Sean McCarthy. Reis lowered the glass.
'Good evening, Judge Grant, Mr. Reis,' Hunter said. 'Could you please step out of the car?'
'What's this about?' Grant demanded.
'Aiding and abetting the attempted murder of Tim Kerrigan, for starters. Then there are the attempts to murder Amanda Jaffe, Frank Jaffe, and Jon Dupre. Oh, yes, I almost forgot. There's the murder of United States Senator Harold Travis. I'm sure that there will be a lot more charges, but those will do for now.'
Chapter Fifty-Four.
J. D. Hunter knew that Harvey Grant would hang tough, so he let him stew for an hour before joining the prisoner in a narrow, uncomfortably hot interrogation room. The judge knew all the tricks and made no protests about the heat or the time he'd been kept waiting. He just looked Hunter in the eye with a cool, appraising stare.
'Good evening, Judge,' Hunter said as another agent wheeled a television hooked up to a VCR into the room. 'You're probably expecting me to try to trick you with clever questions but I don't have any. And I've been told that we can't use rubber truncheons anymore.'
Grant remained stone-faced.
