them in a roadside ditch.
Maybe. But, at the moment, they did not miss the safety of Trumble.
Finn Yarber sat behind the driver and watched the road ahead. He held his pardon, ready to present it to anyone who might stop them and tell them the dream was over. Next to him was Hadee Beech, who after a few minutes on the road began to cry, not loud, but with his eyes tightly closed and his lips quivering.
Beech had reason to cry. With almost eight and a half years to go, clemency meant more to him than to his two colleagues combined.
Not a word was uttered between Trumble and Jacksonville. As they approached the city, and the roads became wider and the traffic heavier, the three watched the scenery with great curiosity. People were driving, moving about. Planes overhead. Boats on the rivers.Things were normal again.
They inched through the traffic on Atlantic Boulevard, thoroughly enjoying every moment of the congestion. The weather was hot, the tourists were out, ladies with long bronze legs. They saw the seafood restaurants and bars with signs advertising cold beer and cheap oysters. When the street ended, the beach began, and they pulled under the veranda of the Sea Turtle. They followed one of their escorts through the lobby, where they caught a look or two because they were still dressed alike. Up to the fifth floor, and off the elevator before Chap said, 'Your rooms are right here, these three.' He was pointing down the hall. 'Mr. Argrow would like to see you as soon as possible.'
'Where is he?' Spicer asked.
Chap pointed again. 'Over there, in the corner suite. He's waiting.'
'Let's go.' Spicer said, and they followed Chap into the corner, their duffel bags bouncing against one another.
Jack Argrow looked nothing like his brother. He was much shorter, and his hair was blond and wavy where his brother's was dark and thinning: It was just a casual observation, but the three noticed it and mentioned it later. He shook their hands quickly, but only to be polite. He was edgy and talked very fast. 'How's my brother?' he asked.
'He's doing well,' Beech said.
'We saw him this morning.' Yarber added.
'I want him out of prison.' Jack snapped, as if they'd put him there in the first place. 'That's what I'll get outta this deal, you know. I'll get my brother out of prison.'
They glanced at each other; nothing could be said.
'Have a seat.' Argrow said. 'Look, I don't know how or why I'm in the middle of this, you understand. It makes me very nervous. I'm here on behalf of Mr. Aaron Lake, a man I believe will be elected, and make a great President. I suppose I can then get my brother outta prison. But anyway, I've never met Mr. Lake. Some of his people approached me about a week ago, and asked me to get involved in a very secret and,delicate matter. That's why I'm here. It's a favor, okay? I don't know everything, you understand?' The sentences were clipped and rapid. He talked with his hands and his mouth, and he couldn't be still.
The Brethren offered no response, none was really expected.
Two hidden cameras captured the scene and sent it immediately to Langley, where Teddy, York, and Deville watched it on a wide screen in the bunker. The ex judges, now ex-inmates, looked like freshly released POW's, dazed and subdued, still in uniform, sdll in disbelief. They sat close together, watching Agent Lyter give a splendid performance.
After trying to outthink and outmaneuver them for three months, it was fascinating to finally see them. Teddy studied their faces, and grudgingly admitted a little admiration. They'd been shrewd and lucky enough to hook the right victim; now they were free and about to be well compensated for their ingenuity.
'Okay, look, the first thing is the money,' Argrow barked. 'Two million each. Where do you want it?'
It was not the sort of question they'd had much experience with. 'What are the options?' asked Spicer.
'You have to wire it somewhere,' Argrow snapped back.
'How about London?' Yarber asked.
'London?'
'We'd like the money, all of it, all six million, to be wired at one time, to one account, to a bank in London,' Yarber said.
'We can wire it anywhere. Which bank?'
'Can you help us with the details?' Yarber asked.
'I'm told we can do anything you want. I'll have to make a few calls. Why don't you go to your rooms, take a shower, change clothes. Give me fifteen minutes.'
'We don't have any clothes,' Beech said.
'There are some things in your rooms.'
Chap led them down the hall and gave them their keys.
Spicer stretched out on his king-sized bed and stared at the ceiling. Beech stood in the window of his room and looked north, for miles along the beach, the blue water gently rolling onto the white sand. Children played near their mothers. Couples strolled hand in hand. A fishing boat inched along on the horizon. Free at last, he said to himself. Free at last.
Yarber took a long hot shower-complete privacy, no time limit, plenty of soap, thick towels. Someone had placed a selection of toiletries on the vanity-deodorant, shaving cream, razors, toothpaste, toothbrush, floss. He took his time, then changed into a pair of Bermuda shorts, sandals, and a white tee shirt. He'd be the first to leave, and he needed to find a clothing store.
Twenty minutes later they reconvened in Argrow's suite, and they brought with them their collection of files wrapped neatly in a pillowcase. Argrow was just as anxious as before. 'There's a large bank in London called Metropolitan Trust. We can send the money there, then you can do with it whatever you want.'
'That's fine.' Yarber said. 'The account will be in my name only'
Argrow looked at Beech and Spicer, and they nodded their approval. 'Very well. I assume you have a plan of some sort.'
'We do.' Spicer said. 'Mr.Yarber here will leave for London this afternoon, and when he gets there he'll go to the bank and take care of the money. If all goes well, then we'll leave soon afterward.'
'I assure you things will go well.'
'And we believe you.We're just being careful.'
Argrow handed two sheets of paper to Finn. 'I need your signature to start the wire and open the account.' Yarber scribbled his name.
'Have you had lunch?' he asked.
They shook their heads. Lunch was certainly on their minds, but they weren't sure how to proceed.
'You're free men now. There are some nice restaurants just a few blocks from here. Go enjoy yourselves. Give me an hour to start the wire. Let's meet here at two-thirty.'
Spicer was holding the pillowcase. He sort of waved it at Argrow and said, 'Here are the files.'
'Right. Just throw them on the sofa there.'
THIRTY-EIGHT
They left the hotel on foot, without escorts, without restrictions, but with their pardons in their pockets, just in case. And though the sun was warmer near the beach, the air was certainly lighter. The sky was dearer. The world was pretty again. Hope filled the air. They smiled and laughed at almost anything. They strolled along Atlantic Boulevard, and mixed easily with the tourists.
Lunch was steak and beer at a sidewalk cafe, under an umbrella, so they could watch the foot traffic. Little was said as they ate and drank. Everything was seen, though, especially the younger ladies in shorts and skimpy tops. Prison had turned them into old men. Now they felt the urge to party.
Especially Hadee Beech. He'd had wealth and status and ambition, and as a federal judge he'd had what was all but impossible to lose-a lifetime appointment. He'd fallen hard, lost everything, and during his first two years at Trumble he'd existed in a state of depression. He had accepted the fact that he would die there, and he'd seriously
