beast in the bureaucratic jungle. So let’s talk philosophy.”
“By ‘philosophy,’ I assume, you don’t mean the great thinkers-Hegel, Kant, Moe, Larry, Curly.”
“I mean my own philosophy on how to deal with the IRS. I put criminal tax investigations in a class by themselves. I want to be completely upfront about this, because not everyone agrees with my views.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Here’s a good example. Let’s say you’re going to have to testify at an evidentiary hearing, and I’m preparing you beforehand for the prosecutor’s cross-examination.”
“I know the drill. Answer only the question asked. Don’t volunteer information. If a question can be answered with a simple yes or no, answer it that way.”
“Exactly.” She glanced at Jack’s wristwatch and asked, “Do you know what time it is?”
“Rosa, I know that game. I’m only supposed to answer the question asked. So, if you ask me if I know what time it is, the answer is not ‘It’s ten-fifteen.’ The answer is ‘Yes, I know what time it is.’ That routine is so old, I think I’ve seen it on
“Leave it to television to give you the wrong answer.”
“What?”
“Do you know if your watch is accurate?”
“I set it myself.”
“Do you know that it’s accurate? To the second?”
“To the exact second, no.”
“Let’s say you’re standing outside Westminster Abbey and staring straight at Big Ben. If somebody asks you if you know what time it is, do you know that Big Ben is accurate?”
“I have no way of knowing that.”
“Exactly right. Unless you’re Father Time, if someone asks you what time it is, your answer can only be what?”
Jack paused, then said, “I don’t know.”
“You got it, my friend. And
Jack didn’t say anything, though it struck him as a little too cute. There was a knock at the door, and Jack’s secretary poked her head into the room. “Jack, you have a call.”
“Can you transfer it into here?”
“It’s personal.”
He assumed that meant Cindy. He excused himself and followed his secretary down the hall to his office.
“It’s not Cindy,” she said. “It’s your old boss.”
“Chafetz?”
She nodded. Jerry Chafetz was a section chief at the U.S. attorney’s office. He’d been Jack’s mentor back when Jack was a federal prosecutor. Maria had been Jack’s secretary since his days with the government, so they all knew each other.
“What does he want?” asked Jack.
“Not sure. I told him you were in a meeting, but he was emphatic that I interrupt. And he was even more insistent that I not announce who it was in front of Rosa.”
Jack entered his office alone and closed the door. He stared at the blinking hold button for a second, then answered.
“Swyteck, how are you?”
Jack managed a smile. They were old friends, but there was something about working for the government that seemed to put friends on a last-name basis.
“Been better, Chafetz. I have to say, the timing of this call is pretty peculiar, even from an old friend like you.”
“Timing’s no coincidence. I hope you already know this, but I didn’t have anything to do with your computers being seized.”
“You’re right. You didn’t have to say it.”
“In fact, no one in Florida was behind it.”
Jack’s pulse quickened. “This was ordered out of Washington?”
“It’s the organized-crime strike force.” He’d almost sighed as he said it.
“They think I’m with the mob?”
“I can’t tell you what they think.”
“Who’s the bag boy?”
“Sam Drayton. Pretty big player, but I’m so pissed at him right now I can hardly see straight. This predawn-raid bullshit isn’t the way to treat a former prosecutor like you.”
“I can fight my own battles,” said Jack. “Don’t get yourself caught in a bureaucratic crack over this.”
“I’m not crossing any lines. All I did was get you a meeting.”
“A meeting?”
“Somehow, you fit into Drayton’s strategy. I can’t tell you how, but I was at least able to convince Drayton that your come-to-Jesus meeting ought to be sooner rather than later. It just isn’t right for him to string you along like a common criminal.”
“So, does Drayton want to offer me a deal?”
“All I’m saying is that you need to meet with Drayton.”
“Fine. Rosa’s my lawyer.”
“You can’t bring a lawyer. You can’t even tell her we’ve talked.”
“He wants me to go unrepresented?”
“You’re a criminal defense lawyer and a former prosecutor. You’ll hardly be outmatched.”
“It just isn’t reasonable.”
“What Drayton has to say can’t be said in front of your lawyer or anyone else. It’s for your ears only, and this is your one and only chance to hear it. Those are his terms, not mine.”
Jack fell silent, concerned. He’d seen the rivalries between the strike force and local prosecutors before. The stench of internal politics was almost bubbling over the phone line. “I appreciate our friendship, but don’t be sticking your neck out too far, all right?”
“Don’t worry about me. This is all about you.” There was an urgency in his voice, an edge that Jack almost didn’t recognize. “You don’t even have to respond to what Drayton tells you. Just listen. Think of it as free discovery.”
Jack glanced out the window at downtown Coral Gables, mulling it over. Experience had taught him that it was best not to overanalyze some opportunities. At some point, you had to trust your friends, go with your gut. “All right. Where?”
“Downtown.”
“When?”
“As soon as possible. Drayton’s here today only.”
“Give me an hour.”
“Great. See you then.”
“Yeah,” said Jack. “Can’t wait.”
26
•
At eleven-thirty, Jack was at the Federal Building in downtown Miami. It was familiar territory.
Chafetz was the man who’d convinced him to become a federal prosecutor, and he was the reason Jack had stayed with the U.S. attorney’s office far longer than originally planned. At the time, Chafetz was in the special investigations section, a trial-intensive team that handled complex cases ranging from child exploitation to gang prosecution. It was hard work, high stakes, and never boring. A perfect fit for Jack. He and Chafetz worked side by
