3 January
“Hey there, Mr. Chairman! Happy New Year and good evening. You all set for next week?”
“Jesus Christ.”
“What’s wrong? My clients are hot to trot. They’ll be here Monday or Tuesday. You’re going to be a very rich man.”
“I may not make it till Monday or Tuesday, the way things are going.”
“Oh, come on, what are you talking about?”
“I’m not in the mood for your humor, Counselor.”
“Humor? I don’t get it.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know what’s going on. The shit’s hit the fan, that’s what.”
“Have you forgotten something? I’ve been away on vacation. Even hard-working lawyers are entitled to a few days off.”
“You’d have had to be in Timbuktu not to have heard.”
“Heard what?”
“The Coffey kid?”
“Oh yeah, seems to me I did hear something about that. The Christmas Kidnapping. I thought that was a little extreme on your part. Ingenious, but a little—”
“On my part? What the fuck are you talking about? I told you, I’m not in the mood.”
“I’m not joking, Leon. It stands to reason. The last time we spoke, it was because Mr. Coffey was shooting his mouth off to the wrong people. If I’m not mistaken, I was the one who found out, and I was the one, out of the goodness of my heart, who told you about it. The next thing that happens, the boy has been taken. If it wasn’t you, it was one hell of a coincidence.”
“It wasn’t me.”
“Are you saying—?”
“I could even prove it if I had to.”
“Oh? How’s that?”
“Because we’re in deep shit, all of us. It’s all about to blow up in our face.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just had a visitor, that’s all. Let’s say it was the ghost of J. Edgar. Seems our friend—Coffey—has been shooting his mouth off again, only this time he’s named names. Seems the son of a bitch got some threatening phone calls, somebody telling him to keep his mouth shut, and now there’s a fucking list out, and guess who’s on top of the list?”
“You?”
“Me.”
“Jesus Christ. I mean, I’m very sorry to hear that, Leon. What did you tell your visitor?”
“Him? Fuck him. I told him the man’s paranoid, that there’s no substance to his allegations. I told him I run a reputable company, that we deal with reputable people.”
“Good. Did you see the list?”
“Sure I saw it. Everybody on it’s been alerted.”
“Good.”
“For the time being. But if I had the kid, what do you think I’d be doing, playing fucking gin rummy with him? Do you think any of this would have happened?”
“No. But who do you think has him then, Leon? If you don’t.”
“How should I know? The papers are talking about this girl, the baby-sitter.”
“I saw the papers too, Leon. But I’m asking you. Who do you think has him?”
“Beats me.”
“You disappoint me. I’m terribly disappointed. All this time, I thought we were pretty close friends.”
“Friends? What are you talking about?”
“Who’s your silent partner, Leon?”
“My si—? You know I can’t tell you that.”
“I know that’s what you’ve always said. But this is a new ballgame.”
“I can’t tell you. I made a deal.”
“That’s okay. I just wanted to see where your loyalties are today, now that you’re the one who’s under the gun. It doesn’t matter anyway. I know who he is, Leon.”
“You WHAT? For Christ’s sake, don’t fuck with me, I—”
“Holbrook, Leon. Francis Hale Holbrook. We’re all friends, Leon. I’ve known him for years.”
“Son of a bitch. How’d you find out? Did he tell you?”
“Nobody told me. It’s the kind of thing I make it my business to find out. I’ve known all along.”
“For Christ’s sake.”
“Think back, Leon. Nine, ten years ago, your illustrious company was moribund. The competition was killing you. Everything the Crosses tried turned to shit. We talked at the time, you and I. We kicked around a number of solutions. I even encouraged you to buy in yourself. A year or two goes by, and suddenly you’re the rising star, on your way to chairman in a company which has always had a Shaw or a Cross at the top. And suddenly you’ve got money to burn, you’re rolling in cash, and everybody’s saying, good as Leon is, The Cross must be doing it with mirrors. I said to myself: good as Leon is, he must have gotten backing. Maybe my nose was out of joint that you’d never come back to me. But I made it a point of honor to find out.”
“A point of honor? Jesus Christ, I thought we were friends! Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“That’s not how you wanted it. But now I find myself in a curious position. I can kill this deal if I want to, which I don’t. Or maybe, just maybe, I can save it. Tell me, when’s the last time you talked to him?”
“Talked to who?”
“Your partner.”
“The fuck. I can’t even raise him on the phone. I’ve left messages everywhere I can think of.”
“I see. And he’s left you holding the bag, hasn’t he?”
“You’re damn right.”
“With a kidnapping investigation on top of everything else? Well, I’ve got my own theory as to what’s happened. I—”
“What’s your theory?”
“Never mind. But let’s put our cards on the table, Mr. Chairman. What’s in it for me?”
“What do you mean, what’s in it for you? If the deal goes through, you’re going to collect a fat fee from your clients.”
“Leon, let’s not waste our time! If you win, you and Holbrook are in the nine figures. If you lose, God knows where it’ll end up. You could even go to jail, my friend.”
“Jail! Come on, let’s not exaggerate, I didn’t—”
“Listen to me now. I think I can stop it. I can see a way to make us all whole. The deal, the Coffey kid, everything.”
“You can? If you really can, then what the fuck are you wasting time talking to me for?”
“Because it’s going to cost me. Because I want to be compensated for my efforts.”
“What? Oh, sure. We’ll take care of you. If you make it happen, we’ll take care of you.”
“Ten points, Leon.”
“Ten points? What ten points?”
“Ten percent of yours. Yours and his. That’s what I want.”
“You’re kidding! You’ve got to be kidding! Jesus Christ, you’d blackmail your own mother!”
“I’d prefer for services rendered, Leon. And I’d say I’m being very conservative. Think about it. What’s to prevent me from asking fifty percent? Wouldn’t you rather have half a loaf than nothing?”
“Jesus. I’ve gotta talk to Frank.”
“I thought you just said you couldn’t reach him. You’re not conning me, are you?”
“No, no. No, for Christ’s sake! I just can’t speak for him.”
“Yes you can. As far as my clients are concerned, they’ll be paying you. You and the minority family interests. Whatever you do with your share after is your business. If the deal goes through, I want ten percent off the top. Ten percent of what they pay you.”
“I’ve gotta talk to Frank.”
“There’s no time, Leon. If it’s all about to blow up in your face, I’ve got to get started. Have you got a fax there?”
“Where? Here at home?”
“You do, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll have a document for you in half an hour. I’ll make it very simple. All you do is sign and return it.”
“But wait a minute! How do I know what you’re going to do?”
“You don’t, Leon. Believe me, you’re better off not knowing.”
“But ten points is still fucking millions! How do I know you’re not conning me? Suppose you do shit and it all works out?”
“Would you rather I told my clients not to come next week? After all, that’s almost my obligation, wouldn’t you say?”
“You son of a bitch.”
“We’re friends, Leon. Come on. Let’s keep it that way. Everyone has got his price. Just give me your fax number.”
“This is Robert Smith Enterprises. There’s no one in the office right now. Please leave a message at the tone.”
“Hello, Mr. Smith, and Happy New Year. By the way, I enjoyed your message—‘no one in the office right now.’ I’ve just got off the phone with a mutual friend of ours, who’s very distraught. He thinks you’ve abandoned him, and as an attorney, I must say I think he’s right. It appears to me that things have gotten a little out of hand for you, Cousin. I assume you are now trying to set them right—rather desperately, it would seem—but in view of certain matters of mutual interest, I think it would be beneficial for us to talk soonest. Please call me. You’ll find this same message elsewhere.”