“Go on.”
“The case was dangerous-politically-to the White House. I don’t know who Jack talked to over there. He never said anything about money-I don’t think he knew. Jack’s ambitious, if you hadn’t noticed.”
She had begun to sound more confident. She was still talking, and I hadn’t hurt her. My grip tightened. She spoke quickly, as if to stop me. “He said Lasko knew from the name Gubner that Lehman was involved.”
It fit. Gubner had said that Lehman’s co-workers knew they were friends. “When Woods let me go to St. Maarten, was that because you told him I knew Lane Greenfeld?”
Her eyes dropped. “Greenfeld’s been covering Lasko. Jack was afraid you’d leak things if you weren’t happy.”
“And transferring the case to Justice?”
She spoke to the floor. “Jack’s idea. He gave it to Catlow. Catlow sold it to McGuire.”
I clamped her shoulders. “Goddamn you.”
Her jagged voice jumped. “No one knew Lasko would kill Lehman. I could hardly sleep.”
I shook her. “I was there, remember?”
The personal thing was close to the surface. It passed unspoken between her eyes and mine. “Please, Chris,” she said evenly. “Let me talk.”
I slowly eased my grip. Her mouth worked soundlessly, then started. “I never talked to Lasko or anyone at the White House. I never wanted you hurt. I didn’t know, really. I didn’t know what I was into-I just tried to help Jack control the case. I couldn’t expose him after the Lehman thing. He said we were both in trouble, because I’d known what he was doing. That’s the only reason I went on.”
“Including tonight, when you called him from the airport?”
“Yes, damn it. Now let me go.”
“Did you call anyone besides Woods tonight?”
She shook her head. If that was true, I had time-a little time, maybe, before Lasko’s boys showed up. I needed that. I let my hands drop. She straightened and smoothed her hair. She reached deep within and pulled out some poise. I had to admire that, even then. “OK,” she said in her own voice. “You want to know about McGuire. He didn’t know. Really. That’s why he didn’t believe Lasko killed Lehman. Of course, he didn’t want to.”
“What was all that crap about settlement?”
“They dangled a commission seat in front of him. I don’t think it was a trade-off. But they made it easy for him to think about all the good he could do if he just let this one go.”
It was always “just this once” in this place. Mary went on. “You’re very clever, Chris, much more than Woods thought. But you were so hung up on McGuire, you just knew it had to be him. Jack set him up to agree to that settlement. Then Jack played the good guy. You’ve heard of the ‘good guy-bad guy’ act, haven’t you?”
I couldn’t say anything. “You know,” she said, “Woods even tried to get McGuire to take you off the case. McGuire wouldn’t do it. Jack said he seemed to have some notion that you represented his better side.”
I stood there feeling stupid. “All right,” I finally said. “You know so much, tell me who started all this.”
“What do you mean?”
“Who tipped McGuire on the stock manipulation?”
She smiled slightly. “Ike Feiner.”
“Try again.”
“I’m serious. We couldn’t figure out why Feiner didn’t catch it. He did, at least one of his market watch people did. I checked it out. Feiner told the guy that he’d take it to McGuire. He didn’t. I suppose that makes him the tipster.”
“Why in hell did he do that?”
“My God, Chris. He wants to be chief enough to poison McGuire’s soup. I suppose he thought that the case would either blow up in McGuire’s face or that McGuire would get promoted. It was a gamble.”
I shook my head. “I’m going to have a tough time accepting that all this happened so that Ike Feiner could be a GS-16.”
“I’m sure that wasn’t the idea.”
“That’s the way it turned out.” For a moment, I was lost in the last two weeks.
Mary’s eyes softened. She spoke quickly, looking at me. “Chris, you think I was with you because of the case. Maybe I used that a little. But I didn’t have to come the other night. And I didn’t have to stay. I did that because I wanted to.”
Two days ago she had been at my place. It seemed longer. I shook my head. “I’ve had the privilege of hearing one of your little speeches about politics, remember? The President’s your man. It’s a little tough to buy that you were just helping Woods under pressure, or hanging around me out of girlish adoration. You were just another weapon. If they couldn’t kill me, they could catch me at the airport. And if that didn’t work, they could use you to pry the memo out of me and give it to Woods. Even after that, you were going to play along.”
She nodded her concession. “All right. But that doesn’t have anything to do with the other. If I kept you away from Lasko, or got this memo, you would be safe. I cared for you. You were good at things, gentle underneath-and so free. Money does make you free, you know.”
“No, I don’t know.”
“Chris, please let’s not lose this too.”
It was no good. “I’ve lost more, and long ago. My martinis will still taste good, and I’ll still like the first day of fall. And I mean to live for more of both.”
A touch of panic crossed her face. She grabbed my wrists. “Give me the memo, Chris, and I can protect you. There isn’t anywhere you can go with this. Not Woods, the White House, or anywhere else.”
She was right. I looked over at Woods. Still out. The only glint in his eyes came from the light on the ceiling. But time was running out. I had to do something to stay alive. I turned to Mary and pointed to the chair behind my desk. “Sit over there.”
She did that, looking faintly triumphant. “Can we talk this over now?”
I reached for my phone. “First you get to listen to the end of a brilliant career.”
Her tone mixed doubt and asperity. “What are you doing?”
“Just sit still.” My right hand throbbed as I dialed. It was my last shot.
A man and a woman answered together. I spoke to the man. “Mozart lived to be thirty-five, you idiot. I looked it up.”
Greenfeld sounded mildly astonished. “Chris? I thought something had happened to you.”
“No. Listen, I’m in a hurry. You still want the Lasko story?”
“Sure.”
Mary’s fingers gripped both sides of the chair. “I’ll meet you tonight,” I went on. “But let me run through it, quick, in case I get held up. That may help protect me. Got a pencil?”
“Yup. Go.”
“OK. Lasko’s company is cash poor. Lasko drove up his stock price to get extra money out of an offering. Your source is the testimony of Sam Green. Lasko took the one-point-five million and laundered it through a dummy corporation on St. Maarten, run by a Peter Martinson-”
“He was the guy with you yesterday, right?”
“Uh-huh. Martinson passed the money through a bank in Curacao and then Alec Lehman passed it through on July 28 to a vault at the Mariner Bank in Miami. I’ve got a memo from Lasko and bank records. The box was in the names of Lehman and Robert Catlow.”
“Jesus. Why? A payoff?”
“I figure they were going to make a ‘contribution’ to the President. The timing fits with your source’s story that the antitrust case almost settled. But our investigation held settlement up, so the money didn’t move from the second bank and I can’t prove it. Can you print this?”
I heard him exhale. “All except the bit about the President. It’s probably true, but the money never got there. You’ve got documentation or sources for everything else.”
“Good enough. Put me down as an additional source.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yup. Fame is the best way to keep me breathing. Listen, what do you see happening to Lasko and Catlow?”
