8
Wednesday morning at nine o’clock I sat in Fred Spellman’s smoke-free office planning the destruction of the governor. Not everyone in the room was in agreement.
“Jason. There is no cause for reckless behavior.” Fred’s glare was withering. Too bad he was a minority of one.
“He started this war.”
“He did not… this is not a war. I told you this is simply a negotiation.”
I was a majority of one. “I’m not interested in negotiating. I want to take him down.”
He leaned back in his chair, and I could feel the whole building lean with him. He shifted the glare from wither to pierce. “All right, then. First. Do you even have any idea how to overthrow a powerful politician entrenched in office?”
“No.”
“Second. Have you thought through the consequences? Who do you expect to take his place? What if a prolonged fight shuts down your state contracts? What about Senator Forrester?” He leaned forward a little. “And what if you lose?” Then back again. “Those are just a few questions, and I could list more. You’ll be letting a bull loose in a china shop. An angry bull.”
“We’ll deal with whatever happens.”
“We will?” He moved forward, his wide, angry face jutting toward me. “We will? You have no idea what forces would be unleashed.”
“Then I’ll find out.”
His eyes went cold. “Third. Why? This is not necessary. We can make a deal. That’s what he wants.”
“I said I’m not interested.”
“You should be.”
“I don’t want a deal.”
“You’ve only been in this position less than a week. You are not ready to make a decision like this.”
I stood up from the armchair and looked down on him. There was some point over his desk where our glares met, and it must have been pretty hot there.
“First,” I said. “I’m not going to be weak. He started it. Let everyone see what happens if they cross me, and no one else will. Second. He’s messing with me and my family.”
“This is politics, Jason,” Fred snapped. “If you’re going to get your poor little feelings hurt, you have no right to attempt anything this serious.”
“I’ve got five rights, Fred-B, O, Y, E, and R. And a billion more, too. You’re the one who told me I had no choice, that I had to take Melvin’s place. Well, I am, my own way. Bright might think that threatening me with a murder investigation is just a friendly game, but I don’t take it that way.”
“I’m sure he would settle for a deal. A different division of construction profits, your pledge to continue to support him. Clinton Grainger would know exactly what he would accept.”
“That would be a surrender.”
“It would be a deal.”
“Until he tries the next thing. If a man has a gun and he’s trying to kill you, and you’re locked in a room with him, you can either dodge bullets forever or kill him first.”
“No. You can deal. There is always a deal.”
“I don’t trust him.”
Fred rolled his eyes. “What do you care about trust? Do you expect to meet anyone at this level you can trust? No, we make the deal but tighten the screws everywhere else. We arrange a nice public meeting between you and Senator Forrester. The next time the state awards a major contract to a competitor, we make sure they have enough labor problems to be an embarrassment. That’s how your father operated.”
“And he was murdered.”
“Perhaps. I don’t think you are contributing to your own longevity. More likely the opposite.”
Was that a threat? “Here’s my third reason,” I said, sitting back into the deep chair. “I want the investigation stopped.”
“Why? Do you know who killed him?”
“No.” Second time in less than twelve hours I’d been asked that.
“If you struck a deal, the investigators would be instructed to leave you alone.” He shook his head. “Just days ago you wanted nothing to do with any of this. You were going to be rid of the money and power. Now you can’t wield it fast enough.”
“I’m still going to be rid of it. But I’m going to take care of this first.”
We were both somewhat exhausted, and we took a short break to breathe and think. Fred studied me. “Do you want to know who killed your father?”
“He’s dead. It doesn’t matter how.” I couldn’t imagine knowing. I didn’t want to know. “If he really was murdered.”
“Do you think he wasn’t?” Fred asked.
“Of course he was. An accident would have been too trite.”
He nodded. “All right. Let me think about all of this.”
“I’ll be back this evening,” I said. “I have a lot to do today, and I don’t want to waste time.”
And now it was time for the hard part. I pointed the car toward home and dialed a number.
Eric answered right away.
“Jason! What’s up?” I could hardly hear him, there was so much noise. The phone in his helmet was pretty poor considering how much it had cost him.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“Uh… I don’t know. I’ll see a sign in a minute.”
“Come to my house-we need to talk.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“No problem. See you in a while.”
In contrast, I did have problems. I drove past a police car parked beside the road, clocking the traffic. By reflex I checked my speed, the universal guilty reaction of any driver. Could that radar pick up other crimes? Corruption, bribery, extortion? Blackmail? Breaking my own resolve to not be Melvin? I slowed down because I was cautious, not because I was law abiding.
I had lunch with Katie in the back garden. She hadn’t been down for breakfast, and it was the first I’d seen her. She had questions about Melvin and the police, but I put her off.
“Let’s wait for Eric.”
He must have been far away, because two hours later he had still not appeared. I was in my office reading papers Pamela had sent me, educating myself about my possessions. The new monitor had a bigger screen than the old one and there was no sign of the gouge in the wall. I’d have to give Katie a raise. It must have been hard getting people here that quickly.
It was three thirty, and I was on the phone with Stanley Morton discussing how to manage general publicity concerning my family concerns, when the little brother part of my family finally showed up. There was a roar in the driveway and two minutes later he was standing in the office doorway, head to toe in motorcycle leather, his helmet under his arm.
“Did you have lunch?” I asked.
Tough question. He wrinkled his forehead, thinking. “No. I came straight here when you called.”
“You want something, or just wait for supper?”
“I’ll eat.”
I found Katie and Rosita and put in an order. Then I led everyone in the world I was related to by blood out to the garden.
It was warm, the tricky heat of October. Eric shed his leather. Underneath he was dressed half decent for once, in jeans and a dark blue turtleneck.
For a while we just sat on a bench, surrounded by chrysanthemums. Most of the annuals were failing,
