He’d always been that way. “You knew him very well, though.”
“Through the years I did get to know him. But not back then.”
Change the subject. A little. “Did he take chances? How would he have fought this war with Governor Bright?”
“Ruthlessly. In the earlier days he did take big chances, but after a while he didn’t need to anymore. In this situation? He would have easily won. For one thing, he would have been much more feared. Channel Five would have been very reluctant to side with the governor.” “I guess I’m not very fearsome.”
“If you come out of this alive, you’ll be feared.”
I thought about whether I would want that, then, suddenly, about the word Fred had used.
“Is that literal?” I asked.
“What?”
“If I come out alive?”
“I didn’t mean it literally. But you should be very careful. You’re wealthy; spend some money on security for yourself and your wife.”
Up, up, up. In my very own formidably secure office, guarded by Pamela herself, I prepared to call Stan Morton.
One more pause: Was this it? Think it through. If I did what I was planning, Bright would not survive, at least as a politician. That wouldn’t stop the murder investigation, but the goal would be changed to finding the killer instead of killing me. That’s what I needed.
And Bright was too dangerous. I needed to be rid of him. What was the right thing to do? It was ruthless, brutal, risky, but there was no right or wrong here. This was politics. The world without a corrupt state government under my control would also be risky, but there was right and wrong there. I could do right.
Okay, the pause was over. Governor Bright had assailed me and I would punish him. I would punish Melvin, too. Let loose the dogs of war.
“It’s about time you called,” Stan said. “Everyone here knows the police are about to call Angela Boyer’s suicide note a forgery, and there are funny noises about you and why the investigation got frozen two weeks ago. I’m going to put up a report on the news tonight, so if you want any input into it, give me some words quick.”
“I’ve got lots of words.”
“Should we meet?”
I had my other business for the day, and it was already eight thirty. “No, I’ll say them here.”
“Is this on the record?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay.”
“Melvin was murdered, and so was Angela.”
“That’s reality?”
“I have no proof, and no specific suspect,” I said. “But I’m sure.”
“Everyone knows that. Next?”
“The governor wants to use the investigation to annihilate me. My guess is he’ll pick me as the murderer.”
“Are you? Wait, you said you have no specific suspect. Do you have an alibi?”
Far out at sea for the whole weekend, no communications. And the night of Melvin’s wreck, I was home alone. “Actually, no.”
“Interesting, but not news. I’m still waiting.”
“So I’m taking Bright down first.”
“That’s news. What do you mean?”
“I am finding out that his dealings with my companies aren’t legitimate, and I’m going public.”
“The public reads my newspaper. You want me to break this story?”
“Yes.”
There was a thud, a pause, then Stan’s voice, breathless. “Sorry, I dropped the phone. Okay, Jason, on the record, tell me stuff. Do you have any clue what this means?”
“I have a clue and I have many documents from Melvin Boyer’s estate. They have lots of details about bribes, bid-rigging, kickbacks, and intimidation. There are lots of names of Governor Bright’s appointees.”
“What about your side?”
“Heads will have to roll.”
“Where are these documents?”
“In a safe place.”
“I’m coming over there. This is the end of Bright. This is… Does Fred Spellman know you’re doing this?”
“Yeah, I told him. He’s not real happy.”
“I bet. Okay… um… these documents… Are you acknowledging that you’re giving them to me?”
Good question. An unnamed source? Stan would be snowed under with subpoenas. And it would be better if I gave them to the police voluntarily, before the police came asking for them. “I’m meeting with the FBI tomorrow. Someone on my staff sent you an unauthorized preliminary copy.”
“We can work with that.”
20
Almost nine o’clock. I sat down with Pamela to give her the sixty pages from my file cabinet and instructions.
“Take these papers,” I said, “and make three sets of copies. Put the originals and one set of copies back in the file room. Mail one copy to Nathan Kern. At exactly nine fifteen, a man will come in here and say the word Natalie. Give him the third copy.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “Is there any note to put in Mr. Kern’s envelope?”
“I’ll call him. Mark it Personal.”
“Anything else?”
“Make an appointment for me. Have the most important FBI person in the state here tomorrow at nine.” Wait. “No, get someone from Boston or New York. From outside the state.”
“All right.”
“Have Fred Spellman there, too. And one more thing.” This was a little hard. “These four people.” I gave her the list. “Do you know them?”
She gave me a sweet, inscrutable, grandmotherly look. “Of course, Jason.” The FBI and these four in the same breath. She knew what that meant.
“I need to fire them.”
“Oh dear.”
“How would Melvin do that?”
“That would depend on their positions and his reasons.”
I was getting to be in a hurry now. “Take a letter. One of these to each of them, copy to their division presidents, board officers, and personnel files. ‘Dear John. After reviewing records of your performance, I find that it is no longer possible to continue your relationship with this company. I am terminating your employment effective immediately. Jason Boyer.’ Will that do?”
“Honey, you must know what you’re doing.”
“Not hardly.”
She was typing faster than any human could while she asked, “How do you want them delivered?”
“Have couriers deliver signed originals to the division presidents, and the presidents are to personally hand them to the individuals. But make sure it happens today. This morning.”
“I’ll make sure. The copies for you are printing.”
“And I’ll be unavailable the rest of the day.”
By nine twenty I had navigated twenty blocks to reach the edge between downtown and the gentrified clump
