Midas

crossed this line before. So he stuck out his hand, and when Bruno took it, Justin simply said, “Thank you.”

Bruno didn’t say a word, just shrugged. Finally, as they stood in the living room, Bruno said, “You got a beer?”

Justin brought him one and they sat down.

“How?” Justin said, sipping from his own bottle of Sam Adams. “How the hell did you do it?”

“You know, Jay, people in my profession, we’re like magicians. We don’t like to give away our secrets. Makes it look less impressive, you know?”

“Bruno,” Justin said, “it’s gonna be pretty hard for me to not be impressed. You got through maybe the most secretive government installation we have.”

“Without goin’ into too much detail, you gotta keep in mind what my business associates specialize in. Remember I told you I was good at judgin’ when people were afraid?”

“I remember.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not too bad either when it comes to pickin’ people who are. . how shall I say. . greedy.”

“Corrupt?”

“That’s another way of puttin’ it, sure.”

“I’m still not following.”

“All right. I use this lawyer, she’s good people, Shirley Greene. She’s saved my bacon a coupla times.”

“She represents the guy who contacted me down there.”

“She represents a lotta those guys. It’s what she does, you know? She’s one of those liberal do-gooders. You know, I told her, I don’t approve. I mean, all those Arab fucks, who knows what the fuck they’re doin’ to our country, but hey, she helped me out enough times, who am I to say no when she needs a favor.”

“What kind of favor did she need?”

“She couldn’t talk to her clients. It’s the way things work now. They got ’em in a place like that, there ain’t too much you can do. So she asked if I could help.”

“And you could.”

“Jay, here’s the thing. You got a basic honest point of view. You can’t help it, it’s just who you are, the way you was raised. Me, I see things a different way. And the way I see it, wherever there’s any kinda hierarchy. . good word, right?. . there’s gonna be somebody who’s gettin’ shafted. Someone’s makin’ more money than someone else, someone’s not gettin’ the promotion he thought he should get, someone’s not gettin’ the girl he thinks he deserves, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

“So it’s usually not too hard to find someone who’s pissed off. Who’ll do you a little favor in exchange for somethin’ he wants. And you’d be surprised how what people want is usually money.”

“But Gitmo?”

“Hey, it’s prison guards, right? If there’s one thing, I know, it’s prison guards. Don’t matter who they work for, it’s still a shitty job and they all could use a favor. So it’s just a matter of findin’ out what they want. After Shirley came to me, way before you were there, it took me a couple of months but I found somebody. In fact, I found two somebodies. So she had a pipeline, could get word to her clients, get some information down there, get some back. Shirley’s the one suspected that’s where they took you. After that, it wasn’t so hard. I already had the connection. I called your father, told him what I knew-”

“You and my father?” When Bruno nodded, Justin said, “I have to say, I’d like to have heard those conversations.”

“He’d already spoken to your girlfriend and he was pretty sharp. He’s a businessman, you know what I mean? He knows how to cut to the bottom of things. I enjoyed dealin’ with him.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him.”

“Well, you should thank him, too, ’cause once he decided I was givin’ him the legit story, he called your lady pal up in Boston and they put some serious pressure on.”

“Yeah, Wanda, I know. What kind of pressure?”

“Don’t know exactly. A congressman, a senator, between the two of them they got some access. All I know is, your Feebie friend called me and said things were lookin’ good.”

“Jesus. Now Wanda’s calling you?”

“Makes you believe in the Big Guy upstairs, don’t it?”

Justin rubbed his fingers across his dry lips. “Wanda said things were looking good? What did that mean?”

“I was hopin’ it meant she had the connections to, you know, monitor the situation. And give you some protection. Which is what happened. She’s got some juice, that girl.”

“I guess she does.”

“You owe her, buddy.”

“Yeah. And I guess she’ll be making me pay her back for quite a while.”

“So, anyway, once someone with juice knew what the story was, I knew they couldn’t do nothin’ too bad to you, and I figured that knowledge might come in handy while you were incarcerated.”

“It did.”

“Good. That pleases me.” Bruno was finished with his second beer by then. He seemed to suck the liquid out of the bottle in one big gulp. “So is this just a pleasant sit-around and thank-you kind of a thing, or you got somethin’ else to discuss with me?”

“I have something else to discuss with you.”

“So let’s hear it.”

Justin nodded. Held up his hand to say it would just be a moment, went to the phone, and dialed the Riverhead police station. When he was put through to his contact, he said, “I’m calling for Wanda Chinkle again. How are those prints coming?”

“You fuckin’ guys,” the officer on the other end of the phone said. “You sent me a bunch of jacks to get prints off of? You know how fuckin’ hard it is to get prints off jacks?”

“Do you have anything?”

“We’re workin’ on it. Maybe some partials. But we don’t have a match yet, if that’s what you’re askin’.”

“How about the other thing?”

“The paper cup? Yeah, we got that. I was just gonna fax the info to you but you called when I was getting up.”

“If you can fax it now, I’d really appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

“And how about the jacks?”

“Hey, I know with you Feds everything’s a fuckin’ emergency. I said we’re workin’ on it. If I get somethin’ soon, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go stand by your fax machine. I’ll send the stuff in a minute.”

Justin hung up, told Bruno to wait one more minute. It took less than that for his fax machine to start humming. A piece of paper came through. Justin stared at the information on it, then handed it to Bruno.

“I’d like to hire you to use your particular skill sets,” he said to the big man. “Normally, I’d do this myself, but I don’t think I have the strength.”

“‘Lieutenant Colonel Warren Grimble,’” Bruno said, reading from the faxed piece of paper. “‘Military Intelligence.’”

“I need some information from him,” Justin said.

“Uh-huh. You meet this guy while you were vacationin’ down south just now?”

“That’s where I met him.”

“What do you need to know?”

“In early November, a day or two before the bombing at Harper’s Restaurant, an Air Force captain, Hutchinson Cooke, flew someone out of Guantanamo Bay, and flew him to the East End airport. I’m pretty sure that person was a prisoner there. I want to know who it was.”

“Okay.” Bruno scanned the faxed piece of paper. “This Grimble’s home address?”

“And his military base in Louisiana.”