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Dan was pleased to be in the driver’s seat. He liked the Jag, though it was no substitute for his Bentley. But mostly he liked the feeling of being in control. He didn’t have to wait for a ride and hope it was someone who wasn’t trying to kill him.
Maria decided to stay in and work on her trial plan. She had an archive of jury-pool stats she wanted to review. Garrett was buried under research. He said he had serious questions about some of the forensic reports and the conclusions the prosecution drew from them. He didn’t quite say it, but he seemed to think the DA’s office was being pushed to reach conclusions they couldn’t support. And one piece of evidence—the flask found at the scene of the crime—had disappeared.
Since Maria was busy, Jimmy rode with him. He always preferred to have a “wingman” when he did these interviews. His powers of observation were excellent, but that didn’t preclude the possibility that someone else might see something he did not. He just wished Jimmy would stop referring to the man they were meeting as “Lex Luthor.”
“Or the Kingpin,” Jimmy said, in an ominous tone that made it sound as if he were describing Jack the Ripper. “Wheels within wheels. He’s the primary mover and shaker in the city. But he does it all quietly and through minions.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Minions?”
“Hoods. Henchmen. Goons. Call them what you like. He has people at his disposal. He can get anything done.”
Including an abduction and twilight speed race around downtown? “You may be letting your fondness for comic books get the best of you.”
“This man is a comic-book villain in the flesh. He’s evil. He’s large. He’s bald.”
“Well, that proves it.”
“Don’t make the mistake of underestimating him, Dan. He’s been around a long time, and he’s taken down people who were richer and better connected than you. He’s a force of nature. He will eat you alive.”
Ok, now this high drama was starting to get to him. “All I want is information. This whole mess started as a campaign finance case, and his nonprofit appears to be at the heart of that. Mr. K thought he was connected to it. Sweeney might be able to tell us something useful.”
“He’s not going to give you anything useful, Dan. Not without exacting a price.”
He pulled into the parking lot outside the SweeTech office complex. “You seriously think I would pay him for information?”
“He won’t want money. He has tons of money. He’ll want—”
“My first-born child?”
Jimmy stared at him, completely serious. “Your soul.”
He pushed the transmission into Park. “I’ll avoid any contracts that have to be signed in blood.”
* * *
Inside the lobby, Dan introduced himself at the security desk. A few minutes later, a woman in high heels and a tight black skirt appeared.
“I’m Prudence Hancock.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Short hair, layered, swept. Earring on the left, not the right. Skinny and dressed to kill. “You work for Mr. Sweeney?”
“I’m his executive assistant.”
“And what exactly does an executive assistant do?”
“Anything Mr. Sweeney wants me to do.” She led them to the top floor, explaining that her boss’s office was the penthouse suite, consuming the entire floor, accessible only by this private elevator. “He likes a lot of room to spread out.”
A reference to his weight? Or his ego? “How long have you worked for him?”
“Six years.”
“Worked your way up from the secretarial pool?”
Her lips pursed slightly. “In the first place, we don’t have secretaries. We have assistants. And I have a Business degree from Yale and a Masters in Computer Science, so...no.”
“My apologies. How did you get interested in computing?”
“Asa Lovelace was my hero as a child.”
Was it intimidating to hear that someone’s childhood hero was someone he’d never heard of? A little. But then, everything about this conversation was a little intimidating. “I can’t place the name...”
“Daughter of Lord Byron. But more importantly, a pioneer in the field of computing. Some say she virtually invented computing. Of course, she received no fame or fortune for it. White males took all the credit.”
They entered the elevator. “I’m surprised you’re willing to work as someone’s assistant.”
“What job could be better? Mr. Sweeney is a god.”
He and Jimmy exchanged a look.
He recalled Jimmy suggesting that Sweeney might be threatened by a female mayor. “Is your boss on board with your...feminist ideals?”
“He supports me one hundred percent. Contrary to sexist clichés, Mr. Sweeney has no trouble with strong women. He does, however, dislike stupid women using their gender as a substitute for talent.”
And was that his assessment of Camila Pérez?
Prudence continued. “Mr. Sweeney came to my assistance when...when I really needed it. My family and I needed it. I’m still grateful. But this position has allowed me to be on the cutting edge of new tech. Mr. Sweeney practically invented cloud computing, and now he’s at the forefront of the coming revolution.”
“Which is?”
“Quantum computing. You think computers are amazing now? You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
They stepped off the elevator—and entered something that looked like no lobby he had ever seen. This was not a tile-floor generic corporate waiting area. This was more like the foyer of the Taj Mahal. Venetian marble walls. Original art illuminated by tiny raised spotlights. A shell mosaic on the floor in the shape of the SweeTech logo.
Jimmy let out a slow whistle. “Very schway.”
Prudence adjusted her glasses. “Something wrong, Mr. Pike?”
“No. I just hate to walk on this. Should I take off my shoes?”
She laughed. “It’s meant to be walked upon. Unless you’d like me to carry you.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“I’m stronger than I look.”
“I’m pretty strong myself.”
“Must be all that kitesurfing.”
He looked up slowly. “Perhaps...”
“I’m a fan of kitesurfing myself. Have you tried psicobloc?”
“Deep-water rock climbing?”
“The purest form of rock climbing. No gear, no safety net, just you, a pair of climbing shoes, a chalk bag, and extremely deep water. Have you tried it?”
“No. People say that’s most dangerous activity in the world.”
She shrugged. “I’m an adrenaline junkie.”
He quickly scanned her whippet-thin frame. “And it requires an enormous amount of physical strength.”
“That I have,” she said, opening a transparent glass door. “Martial arts training since I was four.”
They stepped into an enormous office space that was just as ornate as the lobby outside, maybe more so. Light streamed from windows that covered the entire back wall, top to bottom. The desk was almost as long as the office—rosewood, if he wasn’t mistaken. Probably cost in the high five figures. The office had been exquisitely decorated in something resembling a Jules Verne vision of the future. A little steampunk, a lot of money.
He felt a rumbling of the floor tiles. He was reminded of the moment in Jurassic Park when the hero first senses the tyrannosaurus is approaching.
“Daniel Pike. So good to finally meet you face to face.”
The man approaching was large, almost huge. Not exactly fat, though certainly not trim. Impressive. Massive. He wore an all-white suit. The only spot of color was a black tie. Bald head. Strong hands. Short legs.
Sweeney took tiny steps, but he moved quickly, shaking both men’s hands. “You’re Mr. Alexander?”
“I am.”
“How is that husband of yours?”
Jimmy was slow to respond. Were they supposed to pretend they were old friends? “He’s doing well.”
“Probably overworked and underpaid, like every ER doc, right?”
“That’s what he says. How do you—”
“I own the hospital.”
A slow double take. “You do?”
“Not many people know that. I keep it quiet. The hospital was in financial trouble a few years back and I was able to help. Modernized it. Made sure they had the tech needed to survive. But I’m afraid we’re still not paying the ER docs what they deserve.”
“Well...we get by.”
“I’m sure. Why don’t you bring Hank around to see me sometime? I use many physicians in my global operations. Maybe I could find him something...less stressful than ER work. And more profitable.”
“I’ll mention it to him.”
Sweeney gestured expansively, pointing toward his enormous desk. Two chairs rested on the opposite side. “Please. Sit with me.”
They followed his lead and took the chairs designated for them. Prudence stood about a foot behind them, as if ready to fulfill Sweeney’s every command. Or to keep an eye on them. Or to prevent them from leaving.
“May I get you gentlemen something to drink, Mr. Pike?”
He smiled. “A little early for me.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean alcohol. Perhaps an oolong tea? Best stuff in the world, and good for you. Full of antioxidants. I have a samovar made fresh every morning. Or a fruit juice, if you prefer? I have a mango pineapple blend that is the tartest restorative you’ve ever tasted.”
“We’re fine, thank you. Can I ask about your involvement with CRED?”
“Right down to business, that’s how you operate, right? No beating around the bush. I like that.” Sweeney leaned into his chair. Despite the fact that Sweeney was not particularly tall, seated in that chair, the man seemed to loom over them. Was it on a raised platform, perhaps? “CRED is a nonprofit organization designed to keep our political system honest.”
Jimmy cleared his throat. They had agreed in advance that he would play “bad cop” in this conversation, but at the moment, he seemed reluctant to start. “Some people say it’s an attempt to keep our political system under your control.”
“Some people see bogeymen under ever bedsheet. There’s nothing wrong with people of means being involved in politics. We have the same right as anyone else, don’t we?”
Jimmy nodded. “And far more clout.”
“I earned this clout. No one ever gave me anything. I built my business up from nothing. Started with a small Radio Shack franchise, and now I run one of the top tech firms in the nation. Biggest in Florida.”
“They say you’re a billionaire.”
“Several times over. What of it? I’ve used that money to help this city and this state. I employ more than ten thousand people. I’ve added hundreds of millions to the annual economy. I took a city that some said was dying and turned it around, made it less dependent on tourism. I became a natural leader in this community. Far more than any elected official. Politicians come and go, rarely lasting long and rarely accomplishing much. I’ve been here for decades, and I’ll still be around decades from now, still on top, still setting the course.”
“Some people think you’re hungry for power.”
Sweeney rose slightly. “Do you care about the future of this country, Mr. Pike?”
It seemed like he’d heard that question a lot lately. “Of course I do, but—”
“Then look around you. Look at the state of the world. We need real leaders. Not bleeding hearts who only care about their approval ratings. People who are willing to make hard choices even when they aren’t popular. As a nation, we rank twenty-seventh in health care. Kuwait is the richest country in the world. We’re not even in the top ten. And do you know why? Because our leaders are weak. Self-interested. Too worried about being popular to be smart. How long can we go on pretending that nothing is wrong? We are being destroyed—by mediocrity.”
“Is that why you dislike Camila Pérez? Because she attracted a lot of attention that you felt she hadn’t earned?”
Sweeney smiled. “I believe that’s what you lawyers call a leading question. I never said I disliked her.”
“I’ve heard it. From more than one source.”
“In many ways, I admire her.”
“You refer to her as ‘La Cucaracha.’”
Sweeney sighed. “That’s simply a reference to her relative lack of power. People like her attract a lot of attention, but don’t have much say in what actually gets done. In this world, people become famous even though they’ve never contributed anything of value. Children are led by so-called influencers, people whose only skill is posting selfies and tweeting. I wanted to make a real difference in this town. And I did.”
“To be fair, my client has accomplished a great deal in her few years in office.”
Sweeney made a snorting noise. “Cut away all the PR and hype, and what has she actually accomplished? Splashed some girly paint downtown. Built a park. Great for PR spreads, but she hasn’t improved the economy in the slightest. She’s all sparkle, no diamond.”
“You want to push her out of office.”
“I don’t have to push her out. She’s done it herself. She wouldn’t be in this mess if she hadn’t been led by her loins. Any fool could see that banker was bad news. Basically, an alt-right gigolo.”
It took him a moment to catch up. “Wait a minute. Alt-right?”
Sweeney tucked in his chin. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”
He looked at Jimmy, then looked back. “This is the first I’ve heard about a link between Mansfield and the alt-right.”
Sweeney made an exasperated sigh and tapped on his laptop. “You do have investigators at this alleged firm of yours, don’t you?”
“Well...one.”
Sweeney punched a few keys, put a flash drive into his computer’s USB drive. “Here. Take my entire dossier. As you’ll see, Nick Mansfield was an unpleasant piece of work. Extremist. Dangerous. Any savvy politician would avoid him.” He pulled out the flash drive and passed it across the desk. “Your client, however, slept with him.”
He took the drive. Probably all bogus information, but it would be irresponsible not to look. “I think Camila refused to be your puppet. So you decided to eliminate her.”
Sweeney slowly laid his hands down on the desk. His eyes seemed heavy-lidded. “Is that what you came here for? Am I to be your trial scapegoat? Will you try to convince the jury that the richest man in the city decided to melt four powerless losers?”
Several points of interest in that statement, but he decided to remain on target. “I’m not making anything up. Your organization started an investigation into campaign financing on its own initiative, then gave the results to the DA.”
“We had no choice. Withholding evidence of a felony is a federal crime.”
“You didn’t have to start the investigation. You chose to do so.”
“Only a criminal fears investigation.”
“I didn’t say anyone feared it, I said—”
“Are you criticizing me for being a concerned citizen?’ He leaned forward across his desk. The facade of geniality seemed to crack. “We need more concerned citizens. We need more watchdogs. We’re very much in danger of seeing this nation taken from the real Americans and given to the pretenders and the dead weight.”
“And by real Americans, you mean...”
“Don’t try to make this racist. I’m talking about the people who worked hard to forge a nation out of a wilderness. That’s the spirit we need today. Not people who lounge around binging Netflix shows all day, then expect a handout to pay their bills.”
“Mayor Pérez is Latinx. And a woman.”
“And don’t try to turn this into male chauvinism. I love women. Strong women. Like Prudence here. She never expected a handout and wouldn’t take it if it were offered. She’s living off her accomplishments, not her ability to generate photo ops and sound bites.” He shifted his gaze to Jimmy. “Or to put it another way, Prudence is Catwoman. Pérez is Vicki Vale.”
He didn’t need Jimmy’s DC Comics expertise to follow that reference. Catwoman was the tough sexy one, almost Batman’s equal. Vicki Vale was the weak-broth Lois Lane knockoff.
But more importantly, how did Sweeney know Jimmy was a comics buff?
“This is not the first CRED project,” Sweeney continued. “More than once our investigations have exposed corruption and led to politicians being removed from office. We are performing a public service and most people appreciate that. The exception being, of course, those who get caught with their hand in the cookie jar.”
“Nonetheless, it does appear that you wanted to cause problems for the mayor.”
“She only has problems because she’s guilty. And so far as I can tell, the DA has dropped the campaign finance charges anyway, so what’s your beef?”
“They’ve only put those charges on the back burner because they become irrelevant if the mayor goes down for murder.”
“Do you seriously think I had anything to do with that? I didn’t own that bakery. I didn’t sleep with that gigolo. And I certainly didn’t melt four men. Stupidest way I ever saw to dispose of someone. Like an elaborate death trap from the old Adam West Batman show.”
“I love that show,” Jimmy murmured.
Sweeney stopped suddenly—then laughed. “Yeah. Actually, so did I.” He placed his hands behind his head. “We’re running a sale on our laptops this week. Probably the last model before we go quantum. Dan, you need a computer?”
He smiled. “Do you take Groupons?”
“I was thinking of it more as a gift. A token of respect to the St. Pete attorney with the winningest record.”
“You’re familiar with my record?”
“Mr. Pike, surely by now you realize that I am familiar with everything that goes on in this city. And that includes the man some say is the sharpest defense lawyer in the state.”
“Oh, there are many good—”
“I admired the way you handled the defense of Gabriella Valdez, for instance.”
“You’re familiar with that?”
“Of course. It involved many of the city’s most important citizens. Let me ask you a blunt question. Do you really need this Pérez case in your life right now?”
“Sorry, not following.”
“Only a few months ago you were fired by a top law firm. Your career was in tatters. Some still consider you washed up. A has-been. And now you want to take on this unwinnable case? You want to take on me?”
This wasn’t going anywhere. And it was becoming supremely uncomfortable. “I think maybe it’s time for us to—”
“You got that little girl adopted. Now that was good work.”
He froze. Sweeney was talking about Esperanza Coto. Jazlyn’s adopted daughter. “Yeeeees...”
“Such a smart girl. Energetic. Strong.” He paused. “I hope she grows up to be a Catwoman. Not a Vicki Vale.”
He eyed the man carefully. “What exactly are you saying?”
“Only that I hope she grows up...” He sighed again. “Perhaps I should leave it at that. I hope she grows up.”
He rose from his chair, hoping his knees weren’t shaking. “Don’t you threaten that girl. Don’t you dare.”
“You care for her. As if she were your own.”
“What of it?”
“I think you care about your client, too. More than you let on.” He smiled. “Of course, you can’t do anything about that while the case is pending. You’d be disbarred. But later...” He shrugged. “Be careful of women, Mr. Pike. They will destroy you, if you let them.”
“I don’t consider women a threat.”
“Have you read your Bible? Eve. Delilah. Jezebel. They will expel you from paradise, sap your strength. If you allow it.”
“I have an ethical obligation to represent my client to the best of my ability.”
“Because your boss told you to? Don’t you get tired of having your strings pulled?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about the mysterious Mr. K.” He glanced downward. “Mysterious to you, anyway.”
“Are you saying you know who K is?”
“Oh, I’ve known about K for a long time. We’ve crossed swords more than once. And I’m getting a wee bit tired of it.” He steepled his fingers. “K represents all that’s weak about this country. And I represent strength. He represents the past. I represent the future.”
So many questions flew through his head he couldn’t keep track of them. Much less ask them all. “I can see that you’re not going to tell me anything of value.”
“I can tell you about the mayor’s juvenile arrest record.”
He felt as if a gigantic vacuum had sucked all the air out of the room. He didn’t know what to say. He looked at Jimmy, who appeared equally perplexed. “That record was expunged. How do you know about it?”
“As I told you, I know everything. And everyone.”
“Have you bought off the judge?”
“Don’t be absurd. I would never do anything so crude. I don’t need to. Information is far better at gaining influence than money. Knowledge is power. When you have knowledge, you can get anything you want.”
Dan felt his knees weakening. He willed them to stop, but it wasn’t working. “What’s your bottom line?”
“The bottom line is simply this. I run this city. I will continue to run this city. Your client didn’t want to work with me. Now she’s out of office. And she will remain out of office. If you interfere with my wishes...”
“Then I’m your enemy? You’re not going to push me around, Sweeney. Did you send that car that almost killed me?”
Sweeney just smiled. “Prudence, see these two gentlemen out, would you, please?”
“Of course, sir.”
She stood between them. “Follow me.”
He didn’t go. “Answer my question, Sweeney. Did you send that car? Am I your enemy?”
Sweeney propped his feet up on his desk. “That, Mr. Pike, all depends on you.”