Private Sector
Page 42
So I looked at Spinelli and said, “That guy was two inches from altering my life, you asshole.”
He said, “Ah, Jesus, you’re such a friggin’ ingrate.”
“What took you so long?”
“How the fuck were we supposed to know the guy made it in here?”
How about because the guy wasn’t supposed to have made it in here in the first place? They had stakeouts set up around this building, and around the BOQ. Make sense? Sure did to me.
But an MP, who was studying the array of tools on the floor, looked up and said, “Chief, the guy wore a uniform. No wonder he got past us. It’s right here. He’s an Army guy, and his name’s Smith.”
Spinelli looked at me, and said, “You see what I got to work with here?” He shook his head and repeated sarcastically, “Says his name is Smith.” Then he asked, “Hey, think this will get me promoted to chief warrant five?”
I shook my head.
Meany, looking not at all apologetic, said, “When we saw your class depart, we decided to give you fifteen minutes. We thought you were packing your materials, maybe a student stayed after to talk, whatever.”
Right. And I’ll bet George was out there arguing to give me thirty minutes. But I left that one alone.
Well, it had been damned close, and my legs were still a little shaky and wobbly, but I stumbled to the window, where I stared up at the sky for a while. Everybody sensed I needed a moment of privacy and left me alone.
As I mentioned, I’m Catholic. Yet, I have to confess I harbor a few visceral doubts about that heaven and hell thing. If God had a criminal lawyer’s soul, it would make sense, Saint Peter at the gate with his ledger of sins, the whole pattern of eternal justice, the blessed and the damned, good people in one chamber, evil people cast into another.
It has a nice ring, but it’s a little too pat. But I most definitely do believe in a spirit that exists after death, and I hoped Lisa had seen this bastard get his due.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
THE DAY WAS BITTERLY COLD, AND THE SNOW WAS COMING DOWN IN SHEETS of frozen white tears.
The chapel ceremony was blessedly short. Lisa would have appreciated that—it wasn’t her way to overstate her case to a jury, or to dwell too long on a point, or to overstay her welcome. Her killer had been stopped, the investigation was ended, so the coroner finally released her body for the funeral. The Episcopalian minister who had flown down from Boston had known her from birth, and interspersed his eulogy with tales of her childhood, of her steady progress through life, of her goodness and her spiritual loveliness. There were no dry eyes when he was done.
The Army’s Old Guard did their usual splendid job, and we all fell into step with the steady clomp-clomp of the horse hooves dragging the caisson, and her body.
And so I looked out at all the souls who had gathered here, who had all, in some way, large or small, been touched by Lisa. I picked out Clapper and a large retinue of JAG officers in Army greens. I saw Imelda Pepperfield, my hard-bitten legal assistant, who tried to appear stoic and miserably failed. I picked out the faces of Jack MacGruder, and his boss Phyllis, and she was looking at me in a way that worried me a bit. I think I had impressed her with my slyness and my ruthlessness. I had gone into that room and strangled my wife, and the CIA doesn’t forget people like that.
I saw Lisa’s family, of course, Mr. Morrow in a wheelchair, Aunt Ethel glowering angrily at the skies, and Elizabeth, and Carol, and of course, Janet. I had picked up Felix, Lisa’s apartment manager, on my way over. I couldn’t see him, but he was there. Cy had sent flowers, but he was not there.
And I looked out at them all, a quiet, huddled mass, and I then looked at the black casket poised over the rectangular hole. I said, “I have the great honor to say the last words. I promise to be brief, because Lisa would not want me to be otherwise. Seneca once warned, ‘Men do not care how nobly they live, but only how long they live, although it is within the reach of every man to live nobly, but within no man’s power to live long. ’”
I paused and we all examined the snowflakes bouncing off Lisa’s casket. I said, “She lived nobly—as a soldier, and as a lawyer, she epitomized the best of both. She was my friend, she was all our friend.”
I turned to the captain in charge of the honor guard and said, “Begin.” Two sergeants stepped forward, removed the American flag, and folded it into a compact triangle. The flag was handed to the captain, who presented it to Janet, Lisa’s shadow, as her father had requested.
The shots rang through the air, and the crowd jumped a little, as they always do. The bugle sang its mournful song, and we all cried and watched the black casket descend with painful solemnity into the dark hole a ruthless killer had made her destiny.
I lingered and stared down into the grave as the crowd of mourners slowly trickled past and then made their slow trek back up the hill of Arlington National Cemetery where so many have trod. I had finally put together all the pieces of this, the last secret, if you will. Lisa had known something was seriously amiss in the firm. She had accepted their offer of partnership, because she wanted their trust, because she wanted to expose them, because it was in her nature to rid the world of evil things. But she had not understood the evil thing she was toying with, and that had cost her her life.
I would return here in a few days, and we would have a long and friendly chat. I would tell her how it all ended up, and I would tell her how much I missed her. I reached into my wallet and withdrew her Army photo, which had become crinkled and creased. I kissed it, and then dropped it in the hole.
When I finally looked up, Janet stood directly beside me.
She was staring at me, I think trying to figure out how to break this gently. We had been thrown together by murder and the tumultuous events that grew out of it, that had obviously led to weird emotional currents. Fear, desperation, love, jealousy, and great tidal waves of greed. But all that was over, and who knew what remained.
She said, “That was beautifully said, Sean. Thank you.”
I said nothing.
She stared down at the casket. “The news reported the L. A. Killer was killed, resisting arrest.”
“Live by the sword, die by the sword.”
“And that Jason Morris died in a diving accident.”
“I read that.”
“And Hal Merriweather committed suicide.”
“A fitting end for a miserable little man.”
She looked up at the sky, then back at me. “How did you do it?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yes you do. I want to know.”
“You should believe what you read in the newspapers, Janet.” But after a pause, I said, “Qui facit per alium facit per se.”
After a moment, she said, “He who does through another does through himself.”
“Is that what it means?”
She smiled. She then said, “Lisa once told me the thing she liked most about you was your loyalty.”
I shrugged. “And what do you most like about me?”
“Who said I like anything about you?”
“Right.”
She put her hand on my arm. “I’m joking.”
After another pause, I asked, “How’s George?”
“He wasn’t invited to the funeral.”
“Right.”
She said, “Thank you for the money, by the way. We decided to give it to charity. Twenty-two million dollars to the Old Soldier’s Home, in Lisa’s name and memory.”
Oh, yes, the money. Remember when I mentioned Clapper and I had that little chat? Well, I agreed to turn over my loot, but insisted that my lawyer, Janet Morrow, had earned her cut for fair and valid legal services rendered. She was not a federal employee, I had hired her for her services, and no law in the land could deprive her of that cash. He got back on the horn to the JAG School, and they agreed I had a good point. But half the money was out of the question; I’d been overly generous, they insisted. Well, I could
n’t argue with that, and I didn’t try. The generally accepted legal fee was one-third, approximately twenty-two million.
I informed Janet, “She would’ve liked that.” I saw old Felix up at the top of the hill, waiting patiently. I said, “She had a thing for old soldiers.”
“Yes, I think you’re right.”
After a quiet moment, I said, “Well, listen, I better get back to work. I’m back to working criminal cases, incidentally.”
I started to walk away, and Janet said, “Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“Do you think . . . would Lisa . . . would she be upset if I became involved with you?”
“She’d tell you you’re nuts.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
I took three more steps before I turned around. “What hotel did you say you’re staying at?”
“The Four Seasons again.”
“Nice place.”
She nodded.
I took three more steps and turned around again. “Seven o’clock sharp. I swear I won’t be late.”
She shook her head. “Take your time, I’ve still got my gun.”
Contents
Acknowledgments
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE