“I thought you were going to pull Nick,” Lauren insisted. “Why was he still there?”
“I couldn’t pull him with Caufeld dancing around the way he is. I told Nick to turn the screws just in case Caufeld throws out the stop. Nick went after documentation, recordings, paperwork, anything to hedge against Caufeld doing something stupid. You should be thanking me for trying to get what you’re going to need to win this case when Caufeld screws up.” Mark relaxed. They had the picture. “You’re not implicated, so don’t worry. I took it on myself for Nick and for this case. You want to blame someone, then you blame Caufeld. Who knows what the militia started thinking when Henry got cut loose and George is making all that noise?” Mark leaned forward, his mustache twitched on the right, his hair shined gold and silver under the overheads. “I’ll tell you another thing. The kid isn’t in the Stewart house either. What do you think the press is going to make of that?”
“Lauren, get Joe Knapp on the phone and find out what he knows,” Edie directed. To Mark, “He should have been wired.”
“Caufeld didn’t order it.” Mark added to the judge’s Scoreboard. “After we couldn’t find Nick, I sent one of my guys over to check. Carolyn Stewart says he went to visit a cousin and that Henry isn’t under house arrest. She wouldn’t give the address—like I believe there is a cousin—then she called us assassins. She gave me the same old crap about not recognizing our authority and having the right to protect themselves from us.” He turned to Lauren and pointed a finger. “I want you to tell your friend Caufeld that I hold him personally responsible for this.”
“I wouldn’t even if I could.” Lauren was quick. “And don’t point your finger at me. If you want to point it anywhere turn it around because you’re the one that pushed Nick when you should have taken him out. Don’t you people ever learn? God, you push, and you push until people do stupid, ridiculous things. If he’s dead, it’s because you made him that way. You’ve done it before. You blame other people and think there won’t be consequences for your actions. Well there are always consequences, Mark, and it’s time you started thinking about them in terms of a body count.”
Lauren’s face flushed. It was as if her mother was standing there in the room with them. Only Lauren could see her, but they all knew the specter was there. But it was old news and therefore not relevant to anyone but her.
“Lauren.” Abram steered her back with a word, but Mark Jackson pulled the other way, not ready to give her up yet.
“I think about my men all the time.” Mark made sure there was no question but that Lauren’s mother was excluded from his concern. “I trained Nick, and I wouldn’t hang him out to dry the way Caufeld is doing to you. If it wasn’t for that old man, I wouldn’t have had to make that call. If you were doing your job right, we’d have a ruling, we’d have viable defendants. I could kill Caufeld for what he’s done. I could just kill him.”
Mark half rose from his chair and realized how he must look. Instead of sitting back down, he took a breath and walked the length of the room while Edie filled the silence.
“Okay, now that we’ve got everything off our chest, let’s look at the situation. Mark, I assume you’ll go ahead with your investigation into Nick’s disappearance, but quietly. Since it was Nick’s house there won’t be anyone to press charges.” Mark nodded, his back to her even as she spoke. “We still need his testimony desperately. I heard through the grapevine that Caufeld is going to throw out the baby with the bath where George Stewart is concerned.”
“Who’d you hear that from, the secretarial pool?” Lauren asked wryly.
Edie swiveled her head slowly. Her eyes were hooded by a sweep of deep, dark lashes. She looked like a raven-haired Garbo.
“I have it on good authority. I believe you’re privy to the same source.”
Lauren froze. Allan. The ultimate good authority. His pillow talk was more than likely nothing but speculation, yet there was a chance Wilson had said something to him. This was a fence Lauren could have peeked over without compromising her position, yet Edie had done it first.
Mark Jackson took one last, intense look at them all then walked quietly across the room to stand behind Lauren. She shivered and moved a step away. He didn’t say a word while he listened to Edie.
“What about the people who were affected last night, Abram?” Edie asked.
“We’ll wait and see if we hear from their lawyers. Contact the cameraman and thank him for his public service, Lauren. I want him on our side. We are going to have to set ourselves apart from the Bureau operation until all this calms down.”
“Fine,” Lauren crossed her arms. The politics, the personalities, the intentions were polarizing and personalizing. The circus surrounding the Stewart case was now so melodramatic as to be ridiculous, but it was reality and that was electrifying.
“I think we better talk to the press,” Edie offered. “If we don’t say something now it will look like we condoned, maybe even planned, that whole thing to intimidate the militia. We’ve got to remind everyone we’re the good guys.”
“Agreed.” Abram’s patrician face screwed up into a look of exceptionally pedestrian concern. He had commandeered both generals from his exhibit of miniature war and held them in his open palms as if weighing which would give him the best advice. Abram gave a little toss to the Union general. He spoke smoothly and with surety.
“I want you to find something that will make Caufeld revoke Henry Stewart’s bail. We need something that will make the press jump. Henry Stewart is dangerous. His father has threatened Judge Caufeld and Lauren. Edie, I want the marshals with you when you hold the press conference.”
“No problem. We’ll make it look good.”
“I know you will.” Abram smiled at Edie and Lauren saw the look that passed. They were of one mind and she was right there with them but still on the outside. Lauren decided she would be a part of this team even if it meant pitting herself against Wilson Caufeld.
“Do you want me to be there, too?” Lauren asked. Edie looked her over.
“Considering you’re still leading this prosecution, I think you have to be,” Edie answered.
“We’ll underscore the fact that these people are dangerous, but that we’re not intimidated,”
Abram reminded them all again. “We want everyone to forget Mark’s little party last night.”
“Right,” Edie agreed. “I’ll call a conference for ten.”
“I’ll write up a statement and be ready for questions,” Lauren offered.
Edie looked over her shoulder. “Do you want us to handle your end, Mark?”
They had all but forgotten him. He had been standing so still and now all eyes turned his way. Mark took a minute then said: “No need for you to speak for me, Edie. I’ll just wait until they come my way.” He glanced around the room then focused on Edie again. “How reliable is your information on what Caufeld’s going to do? Do you really think he’ll suppress?”
“It’s as solid as any for now,” Edie answered absently. There was a lot to do and she didn’t want to dwell on speculation. “He’d be a dead duck if he did.”
“I agree, Edie. He’s a dead man,” Mark said quietly. Edie heard him and something in his voice made her look up. Mark looked right back then smiled slowly. “I mean as far as his nomination is concerned.”
“That’s what I meant, too. He’ll never make it out of Los Angeles if he doesn’t do the right thing, will he?”
Lauren opened her mouth to protest such incautious talk. Yet, when Mark looked at her, his expression so calm, his attention so focused, she hesitated, and the moment was lost. Edie barely noticed when Mark left. Abram was leaning over his desk, little metal generals abandoned for a Mont Blanc pen.
“Lauren?” Edie called her back to the circle. “We don’t have much time.”
“Sorry. Yes, I’m ready.”
“We need a statement.”
Edie and Abram began to talk. With the spin they put on this renegad
e raid, Caufeld’s indecisiveness and the U.S. Attorney’s noble intentions, Lauren began to wonder who it was the real people—the ones Edie had argued felt powerless—should be afraid of. Maybe it was Mark Jackson. Maybe it was all of them.
Los Angeles was anxious now, more anxious than during the first few days of Wilson Caufeld’s silence. During the first days, anxiety stemmed from the fact that voices less reasonable than Caufeld’s filled the airways. Channel 2, Channel 7, and Channel 5 offered ever more frenzied commentary. The television flashed stock footage of Klan rallies, explosions, the aftermath of Oklahoma City, funerals, Iranian terrorists, and German skinheads. It didn’t matter what pictures came across the local news, people got the message: danger lurked as close as next door. Through it all, there were pictures of Wilson Caufeld and some were not too flattering. The media was having a great deal of fun; some seemed to believe they were actually doing a public service. The first was forgivable, the last unconscionable.
With the advent of Mark Jackson’s raid and the U.S. Attorney’s press conference, the tone of the newscasts changed, and the level of apprehension on the part of the people rose ten degrees. The national news discussed Wilson’s silence. His inaction was not just as a footnote to their important news of presidential affairs, the fiscal health of the nation or the most recent coup in a third-world country. Who, the news readers asked, were the bad guys? Perhaps Wilson Caufeld was not as crazy as he seemed. Perhaps he was protecting the rights of citizens who had been abused by legal vigilantes like Mark Jackson and his FBI thugs. Worse yet, the rhetoric of the prosecutors sounded hollow and defensive leaving people to wonder who, exactly, was in charge and who, exactly, had their best interests at heart. Through it all, Allan Lassiter remained silent. Listening. Watching. Conferring with his partner. Checking in with Lauren. Unfortunately, he didn’t learn a thing from her.
When he coaxed her to lunch, she had been as close to silent as Lauren could ever get. When she did talk, it was about Eli Warner, an FBI agent who seemed to have captured her imagination but left Allan’s wanting. She chatted about Eli’s love of books and music, his M&M habit. She tried to convince Allan that Eli Warner was not like other agents. This afternoon, Allan ordered a drink during the silence between stories of Eli Warner and reports on the status of her car.
“You know, Lauren, you’re getting really boring. You’re not telling me much I don’t know.”
“I heard you’re the one who knows things. Edie swears that Wilson is going to rule against us. She says she has it on good authority. Intimate authority, no less. You know, it would be better if you would just shut up in situations like that.”
“It was speculation. You’re not giving Edie anything and she’s worried. I gave her my best guess.” The waitress brought his drink, but he didn’t really want it now.
“Well she’s spouting your speculation like it’s God’s own truth, Allan, and Mark Jackson believed it. I swear, this could do more harm than good if Mark’s bad-mouthing Wilson in Washington. I’d never second-guess the judge.”
“Now there’s a news flash. If you had, Henry Stewart might still be in custody.” Contrite, he reached out and ran a hand down her arm. “I didn’t mean it. Nobody could have done more.” They were quiet for a few seconds before Allan tried to make up. “How’s it going on the new research?”
“Fine. Everything’s good. I’ve got the final P and A’s to deliver to chambers.”
“Great. I’ll come with you.”
“He won’t see you.”
“I just want to say hello,” Allan insisted and finished his drink.
“If you know Wilson well enough to call his decision, then you know him well enough to know that he means what he says. You’ll be lucky if he talks to you ever again. What did you say to him to make him banish you?”
“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I make up. I’ve been talking out of both sides of my mouth to anyone in Washington who will listen.”
“That must have been taxing,” Lauren drawled. He reached for the check. She let him take it and finished her iced tea.
“How are you feeling?” Allan asked.
“What about?” Lauren asked, busying herself with her lipstick, sans mirror.
“Your accident? Or has the M&M treatment miraculously cured you?”
Lauren leaned over, crossing her arms on the table. “You should take a lesson. It would be cheaper than the way you treat your women.”
“I don’t need candy to make any woman melt, Lauren.”
“You’re disgusting, but I’ll admit I feel pretty fine. The car’s another matter. Probably won’t be out of the shop for at least a month. It breaks my heart to look at it.”
“It’s a cherry vehicle.” Allan slid out of the booth and reached for her. She took his hand and patted her chignon with the other. “What are you driving now?”
“The insurance got me one of those little four-door things. Smoother ride than that old MG but it doesn’t even compare when it comes to class.”
“Just like you, compact, a tough drive, but wouldn’t give her up for the world.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. At least it doesn’t look like every other car in the world. Your Lexus looks exactly the same as the government issue.”
“Inside is where luxury counts when you’re talking cars,” Allan assured her. “Now, let’s go see Wilson.”
“Bet you a dollar he won’t even come out of chambers.” Lauren looked over her shoulder and grinned.
“I’ll take that bet,” Allan said and put a hand on the small of her back wondering why she hadn’t figured out the obvious yet. He never lost.
9
“Barbara, come on. Pencil me in on Wilson’s calendar. I just want to say hello. I promise I won’t upset him. I won’t talk business. You know me. I can’t go a week without sitting down and chewing the fat with my friend in there.”
Barbara held up her hand. “Judge says he doesn’t want to see you until the fourteenth, Allan. He’s tired of you haranguing him about George Stewart.” She turned with a smile to Lauren, “What have you got for me?”
“Final points and authorities.” She handed Barbara her paperwork and the secretary turned toward chambers.
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed that this convinces him.” She cast a glance over her shoulder. “I imagine you two will be gone by the time I come out, so I’ll say goodbye now.”
She disappeared behind the door and Allan grabbed for the appointment book and a pencil.
“You’re being ridiculous now,” Lauren laughed as she stopped him. “Barbara memorizes that calendar. She’d notice if you penciled yourself in.”
“Just a joke, Lauren.”
Lauren wasn’t laughing, she was grinning from ear to ear at the man who walked through the door.
“Eli!” Lauren exclaimed, obviously surprised to see him and more obviously delighted. She started for him. “I thought you’d be finished with this.”
“Not quite. But you’re the last person I expected to see here. Thought you’d be worn to a frazzle by now.” He met her halfway and put his hand out. She took it. He put his other hand on hers and neither seemed to notice Allan was there.
“My nose was knocked out of joint by the grindstone, but I think I’ve got the situation under control. How’s it going on your end?”
“I’m plugging along.” He let go of her hand and put it out to Allan. “Mr. Lassiter, you’re on my list.” They shook hands briefly.
“Eli’s doing the background check on Wilson,” Lauren said.
“I’ve heard. A number of times, Lauren.” Allan looked back at Eli and smiled. “Kind of boring, considering your subject.”
“I don’t know. The subject matter is getting more interesting all the time. Think we could sit down sometime soon?”
“Nothing I like better than talking about Wilson. Call my office. My secretary’s name is Shelia. She’ll set you up.”
“I have called. Sheil
a’s great, and you’re a busy man.” Eli reached in his back pocket then handed Allan his card. Allan pocketed it without looking.
“Sorry about that. I’ll carve out some time. Why don’t you call again?”
Lauren nudged him. “You could call after you check your calendar, Allan. It might make it easier.”
“Nope. That’s fine. I track everyone down eventually.” Eli smiled but it was clear he wasn’t amused. Neither was he curt. Agents had a wonderful way of remaining polite while getting their point across. “I’ve tracked down a whole lot of people who knew the judge, but I’ve really been anxious to talk to you about a few things in particular, Mr. Lassiter.”
Lauren’s eyes flicked toward Allan and back to Eli. She was about to suggest they simply make a date and stick to it, when the doors opened in front and behind. The two men looked one direction and saw Barbara close the door to chambers. Lauren glanced the other way as a messenger blew in.
“It’s a party,” Barbara said drily, accepting and signing for the envelope the messenger handed her as she raised a brow at Allan. She nodded at Eli. “Goodbye, Allan. Hello, Mr. Warner.”
“Barbara.” Eli nodded deferentially. “Is he in?”
“Yes. Do you need to see him?”
“Christ, everyone is on Wilson’s calendar but me.” Allan’s laugh was strained, and Eli’s answer was full of camaraderie that galled Allan.
“Guess some of us are just lucky.” Eli nodded at Allan and took a step around him.
“Yeah. Some are luckier than others. But then I guess you knew that, since you’ve been poking around in Wilson’s life.” He leaned over and kissed Lauren’s cheek. “I’ve got to go.”
“Well, I’m not too great at interpreting innuendo, Mr. Lassiter, so I’ll just wait until we can talk plainly to know whether I should be upset.” Eli’s grin didn’t falter until Barbara’s cry cut the exchange short.
The Mentor Page 14
