Blood Money

“Right,” said Jack. “And when the threat is gone, there would be no need for you to be all-in.”

“That’s true.”

“So the five months of ‘no contact’ might turn out to be only two months.”

“Or one month.”

“Or none,” said Jack, “if he was caught before your assignment even started.”

Andie reached across the table and slid her hands into his. “We have to make that happen.”

Jack thought about the coming week. “You think we can do it by Monday?” He was only half serious.

His phone rang. No rap music-really, his phone. Jack was so tired of hearing Gaines’ voice that he didn’t care who might be listening. He just took the call.

“A hundred thousand dollars,” said Gaines.

“For what?” asked Jack.

“Your client drops the case and we sign a confidentiality agreement.”

“Seriously, that’s your offer?”

“That’s my client’s offer. I’d offer you ten cents.”

“A hundred thousand dollars barely covers ten more days in the hospital.”

“That’s ten more days of hope than your clients have now. Who knows? Maybe ten days are just enough to get Celeste out of her coma and back on her feet. Maybe when you present this offer to her parents, you point out how a hundred thousand dollars could make all the difference in the world.”

“You’re all heart,” said Jack.

“Ah, sarcasm. So tiresome. And so rude.”

“Your offer is rude.”

“The offer is generous. It’s your ticket out of a very bad situation.”

“Because that’s just the kind of guy you are, Mr. Kill-’Em-with-Kindness.”

“You don’t know the first thing about me, Swyteck. Some people get angry at big corporations who refuse to write a big check to a family like the Laramores. I get angry at lawyers like you who try to force companies to write big checks when the company has done absolutely nothing wrong. So if this comes across as personal, I don’t apologize.”

“No, it actually doesn’t come across as personal. It comes across as unprofessional. So while I will comply with the rules of ethics and present your offer to my clients, I can virtually assure you that both your offer and your non-apology will be rejected.”

“The offer is open until five o’clock Sunday night. Tell your clients to take it, Swyteck. While there’s still a way out.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

'Well played, Mr. Gaines.”

Sean Keating’s workday was ending where it had begun-in a bulletproof limousine that shuttled him between BNN headquarters in Manhattan and his fifteen-thousand-square-foot mansion in New Jersey. Keating had purchased one of the first Audi A8 L Security vehicles to roll off the line at the top-secret plant in Neckarsulm, Germany. Hot-formed armored steel, aramide fabric, special alloyed aluminum flooring, and multilayer glass-those core features and a patented antiballistic design stood between his life and the “extremists,” who Keating was absolutely certain were determined to silence him and the controversial voice of BNN. Just to throw off the enemy, Keating’s driver was under strict orders to take a different route to and from work every day. Tonight’s diversion had been wider than usual. They’d stopped at the airport to pick up BNN’s lawyer after a highly productive day in Miami.

“The pleasure was all mine,” Gaines said as he returned the car phone to its compartment.

“How soon can we wrap this up?”

Keating noted Gaines’ hesitation, as well as the quick glance at the bodyguard seated across from them in another row of leather seats. Keating had never formally introduced his lawyer to the Shadow, and he fully understood that it was simply Gaines’ nature to be careful about saying too much in front of people he didn’t know.

“Sharp,” Keating said, “are you hearing any of this?”

The Shadow was completely stone-faced, his lips barely moving. “Only if you tell me to, sir.”

Keating glanced over at his lawyer. “There you have it,” he said.

Gaines smiled uneasily, as if knowing that he was supposed to be satisfied.

Keating said, “So how soon can you make this go away?”

“He’ll come back with ten million,” said Gaines. “But we won’t need to go anywhere near that high. He’s an amateur.”

“Nobody who’s handled as many death cases as Swyteck has handled is an amateur. Somewhere beneath that self-deprecating veneer is a lawyer who will burn you, if you let him.”

“By Sunday night he’ll be pissing in his pants and begging me to offer him fifty thousand dollars payable in biannual installments over the next twenty-five years.”

Keating was unimpressed. “There are no hero points for saving me a few bucks, Ted. The CEO of BNN doesn’t take this kind of interest in a personal-injury case because it’s a matter of nickels and dimes. These allegations go to the heart of this network’s integrity as a news-gathering organization. If it takes the million dollars I’ve authorized to settle it, so be it. It may make sense to take a shot at dismissal on Tuesday, but by Wednesday at the latest I want Swyteck’s signature on a confidentiality agreement, and I want this behind us.”

“I hear you.”

Keating adjusted his seat. A footrest motored into position, and the full-body massage feature vibrated. Luxury was a close second to security.

“I read the rough transcript from today’s hearing before Judge Burrows,” said Keating. His seat was reclined at his preprogrammed fifty-degree angle, his eyes closed. “I have a few thoughts on how Tuesday should unfold, if this doesn’t settle before then.”

Gaines helped himself to a sparkling water from the mini refrigerator. “Swyteck has to survive Monday before we get to Tuesday.”

“He’ll survive Monday,” said Keating.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Keating sat forward, opened his eyes, and shot a look at his lawyer that left no room for doubt. “He will survive Monday. Now let’s talk about Tuesday.”

Gaines’ expression-an unsettled mix of fear and confusion-was exactly what Keating had expected. It was a natural response to a laserlike glare from an insanely rich and powerful man who worked in a corporate bunker and rode to work in a virtual tank. Keating had seen the same reaction many times before-from men with much bigger balls than Ted Gaines.

Gaines drank from his green bottle of sparkling water. “Okay, let’s talk about Tuesday.”

“This hearing cannot be about BNN reporters shutting down the flow of information from the ambulance to the emergency room.”

“That’s the core of Swyteck’s case. He’ll lead with that.”

“Not if Judge Burrows doesn’t let him.”

“The judge ordered him to put on enough evidence to show that his case has merit. That’s his best evidence.”

“You need to make the judge understand that this hearing isn’t about Swyteck’s best evidence. It’s about the weakest link in his case.”

Gaines seemed to catch his drift. “Okay, I think I see where you’re headed.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. Judge Burrows made it clear that he’ll dismiss the case unless Swyteck is able to make a credible showing that he has some chance of winning. Your point is that Swyteck can’t win by proving simply that BNN interfered with a data transmission. He has to be able to show that BNN’s actions actually caused his client to go