Washington, September 1991
At three-fifteen Reuben put down the telephone. Was there anything else Bill Rode should do?
“No. I’m remembering now. It was kind of a lark. Fraternity stunt. The…page you looked at—loose-leaf, or part of a bound volume?”
“Bound volume, sir.”
“Any fuss about seeing it?”
“No. But the priest said somebody was there just a couple of weeks ago looking for the same thing.”
“A couple of weeks ago!…What do you mean, looking for the same thing?”
“The guy was looking for Leborcier.”
“He said it was a guy?”
“Hm, no, he didn’t, Senator. He just said somebody. Anything else you want me to do, sir?”
“No. Beyond keeping your mouth shut. You know, Bill, what people can do. It was nothing. I’ll call the guy who was head of the fraternity back then. He’ll probably know where the girl is. Forget it, come on back. But—”
“Yes, boss?”
“I’m thinking. Do you have a cell phone with you?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, then give me the number, and stay where you are until I call you back. I’ve got to sort some things out.”
Forget it!
Reuben Castle needed a lawyer. A Canadian lawyer. Shee-yit!
The lawyer would need to be told certain things. Well, lawyers were meant to keep secrets—but he wanted not just any lawyer.
He thought hard.
Should he call Eric? Eric would have no trouble finding a lawyer in Winnipeg, a hundred miles way. But then Eric would be in on the whole story, the whole thing. But maybe he’s already in on it? He asks me if I married Henri. And if so, when did I divorce her. Jesus Christ. No. Better not call Monsanto till I have everything looked into that I want to look into. Who the hell—
Of course! The U.S. ambassador. Reuben got his name and phone number from Harry, his young staff researcher. He put in a call.
A half hour later he had three names. Three Winnipeg attorneys, all of them “distinguished.”
He thought for a moment, thought of the implications in the situation…. Reuben—he sometimes addressed himself by name in his thoughts, when pondering vexed questions—Reuben, this is a big one. You’d better handle it yourself. He called Harry back in. Harry did travel research as well as other research. “Harry, I need to fly to Winnipeg. Tell me how to do that. Day after tomorrow.”
He then started down the list of lawyers.
Number one was away.
Reuben began to give the operator the next name on the ambassador’s list but suddenly took thought.
Three distinguished lawyers.
That wasn’t exactly what he was looking for, come to think of it.
Reuben, what you want is a hard-ass lawyer.
Rode would find the right man. Reuben called Rode on his cell phone. “Bill, I’m looking for a tough lawyer in Winnipeg, one who has the reputation—you know. For getting things done. Call somebody at the newspaper. Find out who is the lawyer that people…that people in serious trouble get in touch with when they want…well, you know, difficult things to get done.”
“I know what you mean, Senator. There’s always at least one of those in every major city. I’ll get back to you.”
An hour later Reuben was put though to Henry Griswold. Meanwhile Harry had come in bringing a sheet with flight numbers and times.
Reuben nodded, and Harry left the room. “Mr. Griswold? I’m United States Senator Reuben Castle and I need to consult with an attorney about the Manitoba marriage law. Is that something you are familiar with?”
“Certainly. Is it a question I can handle over the phone?”
“Well, I’d rather discuss it with you in person. I can be in Winnipeg tomorrow at”—he looked down at Harry’s sheet—“two-thirty. I mean, at the airport at two-thirty. Two-thirty plus whatever time it takes a taxi—…No, I appreciate that, but I wouldn’t want to put you out of the way. I would rather meet you in a hotel room than in your office. What’s the hotel in Winnipeg?…The Fairmont? Good. What you can do for me is book me a room there. This is personal; I am not going on government business. We’ll think then of four o’clock?”
He started to phone Jim Stannard, North Dakota’s sole congressman. They had an agreement, not often invoked but sometimes very useful. By prearrangement, Stannard, an old personal friend, would call Reuben asking him to do Jim “a huge favor” and substitute for him as a “speaker”…“eulogist”…“debater” in Atlanta…San Antonio…Salt Lake City—or Winnipeg, this time around. That disposed of the Priscilla problem and often, even, of the problem of Susan, though it was usually just plain easier to proceed with life on the understanding that Susan Oakeshott knew everything, including the names of the ladies with whom Jim Stannard arranged emergency meetings.
But he didn’t want Susan to know about this…engagement. All he would tell her was that he was taking a couple of days off to do some duck hunting near Winnipeg with an old buddy from North Dakota.