involved urinating in tents.
It was Sean who glanced across and said, “Remember the old quote about keeping your friends close but your enemies closer.”
My mother frowned, enlightened but not reassured. “That sounds like something out of Machiavelli—
“Possibly,” Sean said with a twitch of his lips. “But I was thinking more of Michael Corleone—
“Oh,” she said blankly. “And how do we know who is a friend and who is an enemy?”
Parker merely smiled at her and a moment later, as if on cue, Bill knocked and entered, brandishing a computer memory stick in his remaining hand, like it was an Olympic torch.
“I’ve edited out the twenty-five minutes of tuneless humming and him clearing his throat,” Bill said, “and homed right in on the heart of it.”
Parker took the storage device from him with a nod of thanks. “Mr. Collingwood did make life a little too easy for my suspicious mind,” he said, “so I asked Charlie to make sure Blaylock and Kaminski had a way to make a phone call as soon as they were released, and I arranged for Collingwood to be somewhere we could monitor his incoming calls.”
Suddenly, all that sophisticated audio equipment in the conference room where Collingwood had been waiting took on a whole new meaning.
“You bugged him,” I said with admiration. “Clever.”
“I will neither confirm nor deny that allegation.” Parker curved me a smile, more in the eyes than the mouth, but when he spoke his tone was serious and somber. “And I certainly have no intention of doing so outside this room.”
While he was speaking, he’d plugged the stick into a USB port on the slimline laptop computer that sat open on his desk, and hit the relevant keys.
Parker’s laptop had a tiny high-tech-looking pair of external speakers connected to it but, even so, when the audio file started to play we crowded more closely around the desk to listen.
The first thing we heard was the warbling note of a cell phone ringing, some heavy sighing as it was fumbled for in some hard-to-reach pocket, then Collingwood’s voice.
“Yeah?” he said by way of universal greeting, sounding almost bored. Then his voice sharpened and there was a slight clatter in the background, as though he’d been leaning back on a chair and had let it jolt forwards flat onto its feet with the shock of the unexpected caller.
“Vonda! My Lord, where are you? Are you all right?”
The microphone was good but not that good. We could hear some squawking in the background, but not enough to begin to decipher actual words at the other end of Collingwood’s line. It was just audio scribble.
“Hey, hey, just wait a goddamn minute!” He cut right across the top of whatever she was saying. “I don’t know what the hell you got yourself mixed up in, kiddo, and I don’t
He sounded sad rather than angry. Tired, as though this was a ritual he’d been through many times before, a procedure he had to go through, but he knew it never ended well.
Vondie launched back in at this point—strident, if the cast of what she was saying was anything to go by. Collingwood barely let her get into her stride.
“Believe me when I tell you, you’re in a world of trouble right now, kiddo, but it’ll be worse if you run.” His voice turned almost pleading. “Look, I know you’re hurting. That busted nose needs to be fixed if you’re gonna stay looking beautiful, huh?”
Parker reached out and paused the playback, looking round the assembled faces. “Immediate thoughts?” he asked crisply.
“Well, he doesn’t sound like he knew what she was up to,” Sean ventured. “Unless he was aware you were recording him, of course, and he was playing to his audience? If it’d been me, I’d have assumed you were monitoring.”
Parker shrugged. “It cost a lot of money to have surveillance gear installed in that room,” he said, offering me a wry smile. “We know he didn’t sweep it, so unless he’s had cleaners in that we don’t know about, I doubt he would have spotted anything.”
“He sounds almost …
“Protegee,” I said shortly. “He trained her, that would be my guess. If she’s cocked-up and he can’t fix it, or if he can’t bring her to heel—and quickly—it’s going to reflect as badly on him as it does on her,” I added, echoing Sean’s remarks the day of my abortive fitness test.
“I think you’re right,” Parker said. He glanced at my father but only received a brief shake of the head in response. My father had never been one to speak just to hear the sound of his own voice unless he had something of value to say. Parker nudged the mouse and Collingwood’s voice re-emerged.
“Come on in, kiddo,” he repeated. “Whatever you got yourself into, you can still make it right … . Hey, hey, I know. I just want to help you, kiddo. I stand by my people.” Coaxing now. “Just come on in. Come home— please?”
There was a long pause but this time we couldn’t hear anything of Vondie’s voice. Either Collingwood had shifted his position, or she was no longer screeching at him. Or she was giving his words long, silent consideration.
Eventually, Collingwood said, “Okay, but call me and let me know which flight. Promise? I’ll meet you … . Yeah, I’ll bring you in myself … . It’ll all work out, you’ll see … . Yeah, take care of yourself, kiddo. Bye.”
We heard a muted bleep as he ended the call, then a long slow exhalation and a single quietly muttered but entirely heartfelt word, just before the recording ended:
“Yeah,” Parker murmured, clicking it off with a thoughtful air. “I’d say that just about sums it up, wouldn’t you?”
“Pretty much,” Sean replied. “The question is, Do you trust him more, or less, after hearing it?”
It had been a general question, but he cocked an eyebrow at my father as he spoke, making it direct and personal.
My father gave an elegant shrug. “I’m not entirely sure that I have much of a choice in the matter,” he said, indifferent. “But I’ve always found that actions speak far louder than words. If he’s to be trusted, I would rather suggest that we’ll know soon enough by what he does.”
“But, Richard, surely if this man
My father gave a grim smile. “In that case, my dear,” he said with utter calm, “we’ll find out just how good Charlotte is at her job.”
We heard nothing from Collingwood for several days, during which time my father’s frustration grew. Parker used the lull to mount a major low-key public-relations campaign within the industry and managed to stem the flow of clients who had suddenly decided to seek the services of other firms.
One or two even came back, slightly sheepish. But there were more who stayed away for no better reason than to save face. Parker seemed to be practically living at the office. Despite his denials that he didn’t hold me—or my family—in any way personally responsible for his current woes, I knew there were others who didn’t feel the same way. Bill Rendelson, for one, could hardly bring himself to speak to me.
Sean and I stuck with my parents, on a rotating shift pattern with a couple of Parker’s other guys, 24/7. By Sunday morning, when we’d heard nothing and seen nothing, all of us were going a little stir-crazy stuck in the hotel, however luxurious.
