“What do you think he wants?”
“He’s a PAC whore. He’s going to try to make a deal for his pals.”
“You think Dillmore is worried? Next to Jane, he’s the toughest corporate lawyer in the state.”
“This is a criminal case.”
“That’s why he’s got Neil Jarmon at the table with him.”
“Naomi, Shaughnessey has a deal up his sleeve. Bet a dollar.”
“I can’t afford the bet on what the state pays me.”
“Yearn for the old days down on Gaylord Street?”
Naomi had been with Vail since he started building a reputation as the most feared defense advocate in the state, seventeen years ago. They had worked out of Vail’s house in a restored section of town until he became D.A.
“Are you kidding? The money was good, but the clientele…” She let the sentence dangle.
“Hell, Naom, the clientele’s the same as ever, just on the other side now.”
Vail went into the bathroom and palmed cold water on his face. Naomi was there with a towel when he finished.
“How old is old Roy now? Shouldn’t he be retiring soon?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. Sixty, sixty-five, somewhere in between. And he’ll never retire. He’ll be like Strom Thurmond, a toothless, senile old fart drooling in the legislature.”
“He’s sure ballooned up in the last couple of years. Looks like Jabbathe Hut.”
“I’ll tell him you said so.”
“Don’t you dare.”
There had been a time when Roy Shaughnessey’s reputation as the most feared politician in the state was in doubt. The former Chicago ward heeler had risen from a state representative to Attorney General, then Secretary of State. He was the state’s political high priest, the bludgeon that kept young upstarts and newcomers in the state house in line, but he had made a bid for governor and had been so soundly defeated that his power had begun to wane. Ambitious young political gunslingers, thinking he was washed up, challenged him. Big mistake. Shaughnessey had backed Cleveland Briggs, an unknown, in Briggs’s bid for the governorship against a former ally turned enemy, the incumbent, Harold Gross. Shaughnessey had managed Briggs’s campaign, called in years of political favors, threatened, cajoled, and charmed votes, and handed Briggs a stunning upset. He had weathered forty years, five administrations, and the sniping of the tyros, and proven he was still the master politician. He couldn’t live long enough to call in his political IOUs around the state. Young Democratic hopefuls seeking national office traveled from all over the country to take him to lunch or dinner, hoping to get his advice for the price of the meal.
And Governor Briggs owed him big-time. He was the whip that toughed through the governor’s favorite legislation and who got the votes to kill anything Briggs opposed. More than one old war-horse trembled when Shaughnessey called on the phone or stopped by for a chat.
Martin Vail was the one thorn that remained firmly implanted in his side. Ironically, Vail had risen from the state’s most visceral defense attorney to D.A. and then to Attorney General because of Shaughnessey. The irony was that Shaughnessey had talked him into switching from the most dangerous defender in the state to Chicago’s chief prosecutor. It was politically expedient to get him on the state’s side, and a wise move, except that Vail’s first action had been to indict a corporation and two city councilmen for under-the-table dealings, and he narrowly missed indicting Shaughnessey, who had successfully shielded himself from the corporation. To get Vail out of his hair, Shaughnessey had talked the governor into naming him Attorney General—the unfortunate incumbent, Oscar Levinson, having been caught by an enterprising paparazzo in a pinafore and high heels, cavorting with a thousand-dollar-a-night hooker who was wearing a strap-on dildo. He had resigned before the morning edition hit the street.
Now they were at odds again. Vail had indicted the CEOs of two of the largest industrial giants in the country, the head of the Environmental Safety Division, two of his field agents, four county commissioners, and the head of the most profitable land development company in the state—all either heavy PAC contributors or ardent supporters of the governor and most of his allies in the legislature. The charge was racketeering and included the corruption of elected officials, money laundering, misuse of state funds, violation of state environmental laws, and various other felonies. The final irony was that Vail himself had rewritten the racketeering statute, using as a model the federal RICO statutes with most of its loopholes plugged. Then he had successfully lobbied his bill through the legislature. He did it with little fanfare. Most of the legislators barely read the amendments.
The case had attracted national attention since it involved two of the country’s major industries, which were charged with, among other things, knowingly violating antipollution laws and bribing investigators from the ESD to cover up the dangerous levels of pollutants they were releasing into the air, water, and earth. That was just the tip of the corruption iceberg. They had formed an unholy alliance with the developer, and for years the three corporations had ruled the county at their whims, owning politicians, controlling an embarrassingly unethical daily newspaper with advertising, even avoiding millions of dollars in taxes by owning the tax assessors. The tentacles of this amoral alliance had reached out deep into the county, corrupting zoning boards, health boards, department heads, even controlling both local political parties. They indulged themselves in all the worst aspects of power and destroyed any person or thing that challenged their empire.
Vail had spent eighteen months and the energies of all of his young staff, known as Vail’s Wild Bunch, to build a sweeping RICO case against the presidents and general managers of all three corporations, four of the seated commissioners, two deposed commissioners, three state employees, the county manager, and six members of the health board. The case had quickly attracted the national press and was going to be nationally televised.
Vail was now regarded as a dangerous and uncontrollable loose cannon by the political structure.
He couldn’t have cared less. Which is why he was the only man capable of unnerving Roy Shaughnessey.
Normally a bulky man anyway, booze, good food, and soft living had turned Shaughnessey into an immense Buddha. His hands were pudgy, dimpled melons. His face was a balloon with hooded eyes that glittered with avarice. Massive fingers were locked and folded over his chest, the thumbs rubbing together constantly. His cholesterol lips were curled contemptuously in what the unsuspecting might have mistaken for a smile, and he was bald as a bullet.
He dominated a love seat in the center of the living room of the Presidential Suite. A matching sofa faced it on the other side of a coffee table the size of a billiard table. The wet bar in the corner was as well and expensively stocked as the pub at the Ritz. When Vail entered the room, Shaughnessey waved him in and pointed to the opposing settee.
“Fix this gentleman an old-fashioned and then take a hike for a while, George,” Shaughnessey said to the bartender without looking at him. George threw together an old-fashioned, brought it to Vail, and left without a word.
Shaughnessey sighed and shook his head.
“What the hell am I gonna do with you, Marty? Every time I give you a break, you turn around and kick me in the nuts.” Shaughnessey’s voice was a half-whispered growl.
“Funny, I thought the governor appointed me to fill Oscar’s term.”
Shaughnessey lowered his chin and raised his eyebrows. “Don’t let’s play games, okay? Whatta you want, the governor to come up here from Springfield and kiss your ass because you’re busting the balls of some of the biggest political contributors in the state? You think that kinda showboating sits well downstate?”
“Roy, I don’t give a big rat’s ass what sits well downstate. I’m doing my job.”
“Your job. Your fucking job! Destroying a county, throwing hundreds of people outta work. That’s not your goddamn job. I was A.G. myself once, as you’ll recall. I know what the job
of the A.G. is, and that ain’t it.”
“The job is what I decide it should be.”
“Bullshit. This case is gonna cost the taxpayers two million dollars before it’s over.”
“Well, hopefully the fines will alleviate their pain.”
“Jesus, ya never change.” Shaughnessey leaned forward and changed his tactics. He willed himself to smile at Vail.
“Look kiddo, supposing I was to tell you I’m authorized to make a hard offer in settlement. Save the taxpayers more expense and free you up to do other business.”
“We’re talking about felony upon felony upon felony here. People are going to jail, Roy. You’d be advised to distance yourself from them. Shit rubs off.”
“Tom Lacey is on the President’s Economic Board, for Chrissakes. And Harold Grossman is honorary chairman of the National Cancer Association.”
“I’ll make you a bet, Shaughnessey. Before the trial’s even over, the President will accept Lacey’s resignation, which is already written and signed—all they have to do is date it. And the cancer people will probably put a contract out on Grossman.”
“You always were an optimist. You actually thought Stampler had a split personality. Bought right into that scam, didn’t you?”
Vail smiled and shook his head. “I keep forgetting you’re the master of the cheap shot.”
“Well, what the hell. He conned the judge, the prosecutor, everybody. Which reminds me, how is Ms. Venable? You two ever planning to get married?”
“It’s never come up, Senator.”
“What’s it like to be shacked up with a woman makes a couple of mil a year while you’re still sucking the public tit?”
Vail didn’t take the bait. He shook his head and smiled ruefully. “I forgot you have no class, either.”
Shaughnessey’s sneer vanished. His eyes glittered with anger. Finally he said, “I’m just here to try and resolve a nasty situation. Nobody wants these mills closed and nobody wants nobody to go to jail. I told you I got an offer. You wanna hear it?”
“Must’ve made you pucker up when you found out Patricia Robert is going to be the judge. Not one of those dirty old men you’ve had on the payroll since they learned to write. An honest, tough lady you can’t touch.”
“I asked you, you wanna hear the offer?”
“You’re making an offer because you can’t fix the judge, you can’t buy the prosecutor, and you can’t get to the witnesses. We have an even playing field for a change, Roy. How does it feel?”
“You wanna hear the fucking offer or not?”
“You just don’t get it. This isn’t about the money. I want everybody to know just how corrupt one county can get and how it happens. We’re sending a message. If some of the county’s leaders do some time and there are nice fines so the people of the state get something back, that’s all gravy.”
“I’ll go back and tell ’em we got a snot nose for a prosecutor and he’s in it for headlines. That’ll go over big in appeal—if we have to go to an appeal, which is remote.”
“We? I thought you were interceding in the public interest. Tell you what to tell your pals. Go back and tell them no deal—unless they’d all like to sign full confessions and throw themselves on the mercy of the court.”
Shaughnessey’s sneer returned. “Now what would be the percentage in that?”
“No public exposure except the confessions themselves, and no prolonged trial where they’re the top of the news every day for a month or two.”
“They’re gonna beat you, Marty. They’re gonna hang you out to dry just like that time… what, twenty years ago? That’s what this is really all about, isn’t it? Getting even. Don’t get mad, get even… the Irish lullaby. You got press from all over the country watching this. Your balls are gonna shrink to the size of field peas when they clean your tank.”
Vail shrugged. “Maybe they are already,” he said, and laughed. He walked to the door, stopped, and turned back to the politico. “Get smart, Shaughnessey. Put a lot of distance between yourself and these jokers. Just like the President and the cancer people are doing. No fee for the advice.”
“I’ll give you some of the same. You’re through in this state. You’ll never hold public office again and every judge in the state’ll stomp your dick in the dirt every time you go into court. Better tell your old lady to keep her day job.”
“She’ll be relieved to know that, Roy. See you in court.”
The Coq d’Or was the best restaurant in town, good French food and an excellent chef. Vail got there first, sneaking into the private dining room through the kitchen. Three of his investigators were in the kitchen, two dressed in chefs’ apparel and one wearing a waiter’s uniform, who nodded toward the door to the private room.
It was a small, comfortable room with a large table that seated eight, although there were only two place settings at one end. There was a dish of peanuts and pretzels and a bottle of red wine on the table. Vail sat down and nibbled on the peanuts. Five minutes crept by before the door opened. Abel Stenner and Dermott Flaherty entered first, ushering Herman Kramer, who paused in the doorway.
Kramer, the former administrator of Grand County, wore a tight-fitting seersucker suit, white shirt, and a blue and red rep tie. A man in his late forties with very little hair, he was heavyset, with a double chin, and had the look of a man who had recently put on weight. His wary eyes darted around the room, then finally settled on Vail, who sat at the table and stared at him through his own cold, gray eyes.
Kramer came in, and Flaherty and Stenner stepped outside and closed the door.
It was just the two of them.
“Mr. Kramer, I’m Martin Vail.” He stood up and extended his hand. Kramer shook it cautiously. His hand was shaking.
“I’m not sure I should even be here, Mr. Vail. Mr. Stenner and…”
“Flaherty.”
“Flaherty, yeah. They said it was to my good to come over and have dinner with you.”
“Have a seat, Mr. Kramer.”
“I maybe should have called Mr. Jarmon.”
“Not a good idea.”
“I just don’t know. I mean, why are you interested in buying me dinner?”
Vail smiled. “Friendship. Cordiality. You won’t believe this, Mr. Kramer, but I’m interested in your well-being.”
“Yeah right, that’s why you got me indicted for everything but stealing the Statue of Liberty.”
“This isn’t a deposition, Mr. Kramer. It’s perfectly legitimate for the two of us to have dinner together. But if you’re uncomfortable…”
“I thought I pretty much told your lady everything at the deposition.”
“Ms. Parver and I are a little hazy on some things, Herman. Okay if I call you Herman?”
Kramer nodded with trepidation.
“Good. Call me Marty. Anyway, I thought we could iron them out before you get on the witness stand. I want to be fair to you.”
“Why you worried about me?” Kramer asked suspiciously.
“You seem like a nice man. Nice family, nice kids. I never like to see the little guys get hurt.”
“Nobody’s going to hurt me. I got the best lawyers in the country.”
“You really think Roger Dillmore and Neil Jarmon are on your side?”
Kramer leaned across the table and said sarcastically, “They are my lawyers, Marty.”
“No, they’re lawyers for Tom Lacey and Harold Grossman. That’s who’s paying them and that’s who they’re there to protect. You really think they give a hoot in hell about Herman Kramer?”
“They know I—” He stopped in mid-sentence.
“They know you what?”
“Can we get a drink before dinner?” Kramer said, changing the subject.
“Sure.” Vail pushed a button under the table and the staff member dressed as a waiter entered with menus.
“What’re you drinking, Herman?”
“Vodka martini with an olive, straight up.”
“And you, sir?” the waiter asked.
“Perrier on the rocks. We’ll order when you get back.”
“Very good, sir.”
The waiter left.
“You don’t drink?”
“I just had a drink with a friend of mine. Roy Shaughnessey, maybe you’ve met him.”
Kramer did a double take. “Mr. Shaughnessey’s a friend of yours?” Vail took a handful of peanuts and popped them into his mouth. “Actually, Roy was responsible for me becoming Attorney General.”
“You’re kidding.” Kramer looked worried.
“You know him?”
“We met once.”
“Gave you the pep talk, did he?”
“Huh?”
“You know, nothing to worry about. It’s in the bag. That kind of thing.” Kramer didn’t answer.
“Roy’s a very persuasive fellow, Herman. He could sell a refrigerator to an Eskimo. I guess he sold you that there was nothing to worry about. They treat murder like it’s a parking ticket.”
“Murder?”
The waiter came in with their drinks, a basket of bread and butter. “Go ahead, Herman, anything on the menu. I’m having a Caesar salad, steak, medium rare, and a baked potato.” He broke off a piece of French bread and took a bite without butter. Kramer ordered mushroom soup, lamb chops, and french fries. Vail ordered a bottle of ’90 red Sancerre to go with Herman’s meal.
“The bread’s great, Herman.”
“What was that about murder?”
“I think it’s murder, what Western and Atlas and the Lakeside Company did to Grand County. How’s the family?”
“Taking it kind of hard. Kids in high school can be cruel, y’know. They keep telling the kids I stole money from the county. I never stole a dime….”
“Nobody said you did. We said you misappropriated funds.”
“I didn’t get anything out of that.”
Vail leaned over toward Kramer, smiled, and said softly, “Don’t shit a shitter, Herman.”
“What… ?”
“You think we—the A.G.’s office—made all this up? That we were guessing? C’mon, you know how close to the bone we are. Anyway, that’s not why we’re having dinner.”
Martin Vail 03 - Reign in Hell Page 6
