“You sneaky son of a bitch. You’re wearing a wire!”
Harry drew on his oldest roots-those of a Miami cop-and forced himself to show no sign of enjoyment or satisfaction. In fact, he watched without any reaction at all as Agent Schwartz drew the president’s wrists behind his back and slapped on the handcuffs. But self-restraint had its limits. As the president stood outside his presidential limousine, glaring at the vice presidential nominee in disbelief, Harry couldn’t resist one parting shot-if not for himself, then for Phil Grayson.
“How do you like those beans, Mr. President?” he said.
Chapter 60
Jack locked up his law office at 3:00 P.M. on December 22. The move to the new building on Main Highway was a success, at least according to Theo, who had quickly pointed out that the reception area was the perfect size for an air hockey table. “Situation normal” had returned to Jack’s life, just in time to be screwed up by the holidays.
President Keyes had resigned from office on the day of his arrest, the first U.S. president ever to do so from a prison cell. With no sitting vice president, the Speaker of the House was sworn in as president, and he promptly nominated former U.S. attorney general Allison Leahy as his vice president. Harry Swyteck was out, just as Keyes had predicted. Jack had actually dreamt that he represented Sofia at her congressional confirmation hearing for the number two spot, but in reality she was happy to return to New York and pour what remained of her heart and soul into the bakery that she and her late husband Angelo had created.
Predictably, the media-especially the talk shows-continued to feast on the White House scandal 24/7. Rumors were rampant, but there were some credible leaks. The last Jack had heard, Keyes might even identify a certain mobster who controlled him and Frank Madera, but only if the prosecution would cut him a deal on the conspiracy- to-commit-murder charge. Jack suspected there would be no deals if Elizabeth and Marilyn Grayson had anything to say about it.
“Jack, hey, I’m glad I caught you.”
Jack turned to see his father hurrying up the sidewalk. His Lincoln was at the curb outside Jack’s office with the motor running.
“Mr. almost-vice-president, how are you, sir?”
“Very funny.”
“I thought you were leaving for Colorado today,” said Jack.
“We’re off to the airport as soon as I pick up Agnes. But there was something I wanted to tell you before I go.”
Jack knew what a nervous flyer his father was. “Dad, we have this same conversation every time you and Agnes fly together. I know where you keep the key to the safe deposit box.”
“It’s not that. Before everything went crazy in Washington, there were more than a few jokes made about the fact that I fired you as my lawyer. The damn gossip papers even picked it up. I’m sure you realize what that was all about, but I feel like something needs to be said between us.”
“I understand completely,” said Jack. “You were working with the FBI, and one member of the Swyteck family at risk was enough.”
“That’s part of it,” said Harry.
Jack flashed a hint of concern. “What’s the other part?”
“I just want you to have the total picture. Yes, I fired you to keep you out of danger. But if this whole thing had turned out differently-if I had become vice president-it would have been a dream come true to have my son working in Washington with me.”
Jack smiled, even though years of sad history lay between the lines. During Governor Swyteck’s first term, the problems had run much deeper than the obvious fact that Jack worked for the Freedom Institute and defended death row inmates, while his father was signing more death warrants than any governor in Florida history. The rocky history dated back to Jack’s childhood, and politics had made their disagreement so public that the two men didn’t even speak to each other.
“Chief Justice Jack Swyteck,” said Jack. “Could have had a nice ring to it.”
“Let’s not get crazy in hindsight, all right?”
Jack stepped toward him, and they embraced.
“Oh, one other thing,” said Harry. “I’ve completely run out of time with the holiday crunch. Can you stop by Carroll’s Jewelers and pick up Agnes’s Christmas present? It’s an antique, I guess you’d say. Make sure it’s cleaned up all pretty and overnight it to me.”
“Sure thing. Have a great time in Beaver Creek.”
Harry thanked him and went to his car.
Carroll’s Jewelers on Miracle Mile wasn’t exactly on Jack’s way home, and the last-minute shoppers made getting there a bit like sneaking into the Super Bowl. Fortunately, the jeweler recognized him when he entered, and she brought the box to the counter straightaway and opened it for him.
“What do you think?” she said.
Jack slipped the ring onto the tip of his pinky and examined it beneath the spotlight.
“It looks like my mother’s engagement ring,” he said, puzzled.
“It is,” said the jeweler. “It cleaned up nicely, don’t you think?”
Precious few family heirlooms had been passed down through Jack’s maternal family. His mother had come to Miami from Cuba as a teenager with little more than a suitcase in hand. The Castro regime didn’t let her mother leave for another forty years, long after Anna Maria Fuentes had married Harry Swyteck and died giving birth to a son. The modest, round diamond in a traditional Tiffany setting was about what one would have expected from a recent college graduate in the mid-1960s. Jack had never asked for it, but he assumed it would be his someday- passed directly from his father.
“He’s giving it to Agnes?”
The jeweler seemed confused by the question.
Jack said, “My father asked me to come by and pick up his Christmas present to her.”
The jeweler smiled, as if suddenly realizing what was going on. “Same old Harry the jokester,” she said, shaking her head. “I think you’d better read the card.”
Jack took the envelope and tore it open.
Jack felt tingles, even if his fortieth had passed two weeks earlier. Still, it was an incredibly sentimental, un- Swyteck gesture coming from his father. A little pushy too, actually. Jack and Andie hadn’t even broached the subject of marriage, but it seemed that Harry was weighing in with his two cents:
The jeweler put the ring back inside the box, no charge for the cleaning. Jack thanked her, went to the sorry rental car that had replaced another polished old gem-his 1968 Mustang, now junk-and headed for Coconut Grove to meet Andie.
Maybe it had been Harry’s plan, or maybe it was the thought of being forty, but the ring got Jack to thinking. Andie Henning was unlike any other woman he’d known, a self-assured thrill seeker who liked to push life to the edge and lean over. Jack loved that she wasn’t afraid to cave dive in Florida’s aquifer, that in her training at the FBI Academy she’d nailed a perfect score on one of the toughest shooting ranges in the world, that as a teenager she’d been a Junior Olympic mogul skier-something Jack didn’t even know about her until she rolled him out of bed one hot August morning and said, “Let’s go skiing in Argentina.” He loved the green eyes she’d gotten from her father, the raven-black hair from her mother-and he loved that beneath the outward beauty, there was an intelligent and intriguing half-Native American who had been adopted into a totally Anglo world and who was as thirsty for knowledge about her own cultural identity as Jack was about his half-Latin heritage.
His cell rang. It was Andie.
“Change of plans,” she said. “Meet me at Cy’s.”
