Private Affairs

by Judith Michael

  The governor's jet was furnished like a Santa Fe living room; the carpet was woven in geometric Indian designs; the upholstery on the oak couch and armchairs was a tapestry-like fabric striped in blue and maroon, beige and black. Outside, the airport baked in the early April sun; inside, the plane's air conditioning worked overtime and the men had tall glasses of gin and tonic, and bowls of pinon nuts and sunflower seeds on the tables

  beside them. Laidlaw, Rourke noted, had a bulging soft-leather briefcase at his feet.

  "Well, Mitch," Rourke said after they had made their own drinks. "You've aroused my curiosity. Shall we begin? I'm flying from here to visit my son in Los Angeles and I told him I'd be there this afternoon."

  Laidlaw nodded gloomily. An enormous man with dark eyes, a square jaw, and leathery skin, he wore a cowboy shirt and faded blue jeans that somehow, because of his size and authority, made the other men, even Rourke, look stiff and uncomfortable in their dark business suits. "I appreciate your coming in, Keegan. I think you'll understand why I insisted on secrecy as soon as we—" He was looking through the window and suddenly stood. "This makes our group complete." He opened the door of the plane, letting in a blast of hot air.

  Rourke heard a whimper. He saw Chet's eyes glaze with fear, and he followed his look to see Matt Lovell duck his head and step into the plane, shaking Laidlaw's hand, calling him Mitch, apologizing for being late. "The flight was delayed and there weren't others to choose from." He wore casual pants and an open-necked shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Nodding briefly to Rourke and Chet, he shook hands with Senator Greene. "How are you, Andy?"

  "Not too well, Matt, but I expect I'll survive to choose my successor. We're serving ourselves; help yourself."

  The governor resumed his seat. "Now that Matt's here, I want to get started—"

  "Not with me," Rourke said flatly, standing up. "I fired this man from my organization two weeks ago; I have no intention of sitting in a meeting with him. I'm surprised at you, Mitch, springing this on me without warning—"

  "Keegan, get your ass back in that chair," Greene said wearily. "It's too late for you to call the shots."

  Chet sat fixed and rigid. The others heard a slight sound and looked at him. He was grinding his teeth.

  Rourke wavered. "What the hell does that mean?"

  "Sit down and we'll tell you," said Laidlaw. "I won't begin, Keegan, until you're sitting down."

  Rourke took his chair. "I don't like this, Mitch. You and I don't operate this way; we've always gotten along well. And I don't have to remind you of my help in your campaigns."

  Laidlaw was opening his briefcase. "I have a campaign coming up; that's why I'm worried." He pulled out a page of handwritten notes. "This meeting is Matt's idea and I've asked him to run it, but I want it

  understood that he speaks for both of us. A few days ago he called to tell me about a newspaper story he's writing. He wouldn't send me a copy but he told me the gist of it—that's why we're here—and I want him to tell you. Matt?"

  Matt nodded. "The simplest way is to quote the opening two sentences of the story."

  Chefs teeth were like fingernails scraping a blackboard. "Chet," Rourke said, and the teeth were silent as Matt read.

  "State legislators were bribed to approve a dam and resort in Nuevo, New Mexico, it was admitted today by Thaddeus Bent, Chairman of the Committee on Land Use and Recreation. Bent named the developer, Terry Ballenger, and an associate, Chester Colfax, as the men who bribed him and other committee members, and also—"

  "What the devil—!" Rourke turned on Chet, his face dark. "Bribes? To state legislators? You and Terry? What the hell is he talking about?"

  "Lies!" Chet's head swung from side to side. "He's lying!"

  "I don't want interruptions," Laidlaw said. "Go on, Matt."

  Again, Matt nodded. He looked directly at Rourke and Chet, but Rourke's eyes were hooded and Chet was staring fixedly at his clenched hands. Quietly, his voice level, Matt described Bent's talk with Elizabeth and Saul. Some instinct told him to leave out Tony Rourke, but he went quickly through the rest of it. When he finished, there was no sound but the scraping of Chet's teeth.

  Laidlaw turned gloomy eyes on Rourke. "That's a lot of shit to hit the fan all at once. I'd be covered in it if I was running for re-election today. I'll be covered in it next year and the year after if we don't do something about it."

  "You mean you believe it," Rourke said contemptuously.

  "I believe it, and we're going to deal with it. God damn it, I'm worried about my campaign! I'm worried about every fucking campaign our party's going to lose if we have to drag this muck with us. It stinks to high heaven—and you know it—and I intend to take care of it! Today, damn it! This morning! Matt, I'm sorry, I took over your meeting."

  Matt smiled at him. They liked each other and it showed; Rourke's eyes narrowed even more as he saw it. "It's your plane," Matt said. "I'll be glad to listen."

  "Well, then." Laidlaw became brisk; he'd never been able to turn meetings over to other people, even someone like Matt, without itching to do his own questioning. "First things first. Keegan, do you own Ballenger and Associates?"

  "Of course." Rourke crossed his ankles and meticulously straightened

  the crease in his pants. "I own a number of corporations. It would be foolish for me to buy land openly; it would only drive prices up. Now, listen to me, Mitch." He lowered his voice, it became almost soothing. "This man has put together a clever story; he's used all the skills that attracted me to him in the first place. He's personable and talented and he takes in a good many people. I admit he took me in for a while. But he's a pathological liar and he's personally involved in Nuevo because his wife has investments there; she's been using her column to protect them. He's also had a long affair with a close friend of mine, and when she kicked him out recently he chose to believe I'd encouraged her to do it, and it's clear he's trying to ruin me. As for Terry Ballenger, I don't know much about him; this is the first time we've worked together. He offered to form a corporation to buy land in Nuevo and develop it: Rourke Enterprises would own ninety-eight percent; he would own two. Chet did a search on him and found him acceptable and so I agreed. If he's in the habit of doing business with bribes, I didn't know about it—though now I wonder if Chet discovered it in his search and knew about it all along—"

  "What?" Chefs eyes bulged. "What?"

  "Or if he corrupted Chet; I can't be sure. Either way, I deeply regret it; Chefs been with me a long time. It will be a serious loss to have to let him

  "You son of a bitch!" Chet cried.

  "Chet, you don't say a word," Rourke said, his voice like a knife. "Is that clear?"

  Chefs glazed eyes slid to Matt, then back to Rourke, and abruptly his face changed. They've made plans for this, Matt thought. Chefs the front man; he'll be the one to spend some time in jail; and Rourke will take care of him with a job and a healthy bonus when he gets out.

  "Why would you fire Chet?" the governor was asking Rourke. "If Matt is lying, why would you believe he bribed anyone?"

  A small twitch appeared at the corner of Rourke's mouth. Forcibly, he stopped it. "I don't like inquisitions, Mitch. I don't have to explain my actions."

  "You'll explain every goddam thing I tell you to explain. You're in trouble, damn it! We all are! When Matt publishes that story, you and your friends, and all of us, will be tarred with bribing legislators! That's not a practical joke; it's criminal!"

  "So is faking legislative reports," Matt added quietly.

  "Keep out of this!" Rourke flung at him. "Mitch and I are talking; you keep out of it!"

  "Keegan, shut up." Senator Greene sighed. "I've been nice and quiet

  and haven't put in my two cents, which is most unusual for me, but it's time I did. I heard Matt's story yesterday and it made me feel dirty. I'm only on the edges, but still I feel soiled. Matt left something out just now, when he told you about it; he left out your little boy, Keegan, an
d that gets me involved."

  "Little boy?" Chet asked. "Tony? What about him?"

  "My, my," Greene marveled. "You didn't tell Chet."

  "Tell me what?" Chet looked at Rourke. "Tell me what?"

  When Rourke was silent, Matt said, "Tony has been promised Andy Greene's Senate seat for his birthday."

  "The hell he has!" Chet pounded the arm of his chair. "What the hell is going on here? Since when are you buying Tony a Senate seat?" he demanded of Rourke. "You told me I could promise it to—"

  U I told you to be quiet!" Rourke's fury struck Chet like a gale. "If you can't control yourself, you'll leave."

  "Leave! I was already pushed! Wasn't I? Did you say you were letting me go, or not?"

  "I said it would be a loss //1 did. If you can't control yourself, you'll leave the company and you'll leave this plane—"

  "When I tell him to," Laidlaw snapped.

  "Let me clarify it," said Greene. "Chet, Keegan supported me for reelection to keep the seat warm until young Tony was ready for it. I knew that and I didn't let it bother me much because I wanted another term and how else would a lazy old man like me get it? I promised I'd endorse him, and Keegan was planning to use the PAC he set up in Arizona, and of course newspaper support—plenty there to win an election, most likely. Now I found out the other day you and Ballenger promised the same to Thaddeus Bent."

  "You knew that! We told him we had your—"

  "I don't want arguments! Just listen. When Bent heard about Tony, he was . . . put out, you might say. You might say he is definitely not happy with Keegan. Come to think of it, who is?"

  The governor took over. "Keegan, we want some answers. You own Ballenger's company; you and Ballenger and Chet arranged to get the Nuevo funding through the committee and then the legislature. Right?"

  "They may have. I only instructed them to lobby for it."

  "You funded impact reports and when you didn't like what some of them said, you paid to have them altered. Right?"

  "Chet and Ballenger may have. I thought they were genuine."

  "The three of you bribed committee members to keep the project quiet, to schedule only one day of hearings, and to approve it no matter who

  testified what, and you bribed key men to get the bill through the legislature when it came to the floor. Right?"

  "They may have. I knew nothing about it."

  "And you promised your son you'd spend whatever it takes to get him elected when Andy retires. Right?"

  "Even if it is, it doesn't concern anyone here."

  "It concerns Thaddeus Bent's cooperation. You insist on denying all the rest?"

  "You heard me." Rourke stood. "I've listened to a string of accusations, with not a word of proof. If you're through, I'm leaving. Don't come to me again for campaign contributions, Mitch, or introductions to my friends—"

  "What about me?" Chet cried. "What the hell's going to happen to me if you leave me here?"

  "He's not leaving," Greene said.

  "Of course not," said the governor. "What will you do about Bent's testimony in court, Keegan?"

  "Nothing. Why should I? Even if anyone believed this man's cock-and-bull story, the only people Bent has named are Chet and Ballenger. What does that have to do with me?"

  "Goddammit, they work for you!" Greene bellowed.

  "And may have committed crimes I knew nothing about. You fools," Rourke spat. He stood beside the door, tall, straight, his dark suit impeccably cut, his gray hair perfectly in place. Only the line of his mouth betrayed his tension. "You have nothing to tie me to anything. You have the word of that deluded hick Thaddeus Bent, and that's all Ballenger is the one you should have ordered here today, and Chet, of course." He grasped the handle of the door. "Talk to them; I'm too busy to waste time on you."

  "Chet," Matt said casually, "will you tell Keegan about the microphones you have in his office, or shall I?"

  Rourke froze. His back to the others, he stood motionless, head tilted, as if he were listening to the echo of Matt's words.

  "You fucking bastard!" cried Chet. "I had a chance! He would have taken care of me! He always said he would if somebody had to take the rap—"

  "YOU DISLOYAL SON OF A BITCH!" Rourke's sleekness was gone; in one instant he lost fifty years of cultivated poise and assurance. His features contorted with fury, he leaned over Chet, his face close to Chefs wide, anguished eyes, and his voice dropped almost to a whisper. "Sneak-

  ing around at night? Hiding microphones? A clever little shit, aren't you? Spying on the only man who ever cared for you—"

  "You didn't! You never did! I thought you did, once, when you treated me better than Tony—shit, did I fall for that—I thought you liked me better than your son of a bitch son! And then you got Matt! And I was nothing! Go get Matt and the senator a drink. You hardly knew him, but you were giving him a party and I was the servant! I'm not a servant! If I was good enough to spread your money around Durango to get your ski resort built—"

  "Shut up!"

  "What difference does it make? You've fired me. You're not going to take care of me. Why should I shut up? I never made any tapes until you got Matt, but then I started thinking maybe I ought to protect myself, and see, I was right, wasn't I. I taped all that shit about bribes and blackmail—everything you wanted me to take care of. And I took care of them! I got your fucking four-lane highway through that corner of Colorado where there was another one just twenty miles away, and I spread enough money around Santa Fe to build three lousy dams, not just one, and I promised Bent, that poor ass, he could be everything but president if he was a good boy—and what good did it do me? You still treated Matt like some fucking Greek god and me like a servant. And when Matt walked out—you didn't fire him; he walked out; it's all on tape; I heard it all—when he walked out, you didn't come to me—you were too busy taking care of Tony! Who takes care of me? Tell me that! Tell me who—" He ducked way from the blazing eyes and dead-white face just above his, and jumped from his chair, crying, "I want protection! He'll have me killed; I want protection!"

  "Why do you think that?" Laidlaw asked. He had been sitting very still, listening to Rourke and Chet; now there was a different kind of alertness in his eyes. "Has anyone else been killed?"

  "Not recently. Maybe never. I don't know. I just want it!"

  "You're not being honest, Chet!"

  "It doesn't matter! Promise me you'll take care of me!"

  "All right." Laidlaw sighed deeply. "I think we all know where we stand. Keegan, sit down. We're not through. When Matt gave me all this information, he also gave me some ideas for Nuevo. I approve of them; I expect you to, as well. He's going to explain them and you're going to listen and then you're going to agree to do what we say. Chet, sit down and be quiet; once you deliver the tapes to the state's attorney, we'll all do the best we can for you. Go ahead, Matt."

  "We're going to move the town," Matt said. "Money has been coming

  in steadily; I'm told volunteers are already arriving; Governor Laidlaw will provide emergency funding to make up the difference, if necessary, for moving the church and a few houses, building new homes and stores, and housing the people until their homes are ready. The new town will be on one hundred acres of high ground on the shore of Lake Nuevo, on the new road that's being cut into the valley and to the ski area. Keegan will donate the land and pay for the layout of the new townsite, including streets and utilities."

  There was a pause. No one spoke. Rourke looked steadily at the window between the governor and Senator Greene; very slightly, he shook his head. "The townspeople are forming the Nuevo Corporation to own the town," Matt went on, talking to Rourke's averted eyes. "The corporation will also buy back from you all the land you bought for a resort, at the same price they sold it for."

  "It's worth more now," Chet murmured. "The dam, the roads. . . ."

  "It is," Matt agreed. "However, Keegan will be paid exactly what he paid for it and the Nuevo Corporation will build the resort.
To get the money, they'll sell a percentage of the corporation to a developer. The governor's staff will help them find a suitable one."

  "Simple and neat," Senator Greene said. "Absolutely beautiful. Stuck in my craw to have Keegan make a profit on land that appreciated because of bribes. Of course after this I can't endorse Tony in the election, Keegan; in fact, I think you'd be wise to give up that idea. It was ill-advised, you know; he's a pleasant young man—might even make a good senator; couldn't be worse than a lot of them—but there would always be doubts about him because of your influence. Not good, you know. Empire-building causes problems."

  How quickly Andy Greene has become a moralist, Matt thought.

  "That's the plan, Keegan," said the governor. "You don't have to tell us you don't like it; we know. If nothing else, it'll cost you a good deal—"

  "Twenty-five million," Rourke said through thin lips. "But I have no intention of going along with this insanity. Why should I?"

  "Because you're a gambler," Laidlaw said. "You gambled on a resort bringing you a profit; this time you'll gamble on earning a few points with the state's attorney."

  "You're going to make a deal with him!" Chet cried. "What about me?"

  "I don't make deals. Our candidates can't run on a platform of deals; I'm going to see justice is done. But there are mitigating circumstances in every case. Helping save a town and helping poor people become part owners of a major resort are noble gestures and I believe they'd influence

  an attorney general to seek minimum penalties for criminal acts; they might even convince a judge to decide on probation instead of prison. One never knows what might happen."