Sleeping Dogs (21 page)
I exercised in the hotel gym the next morning and then had room service bring me up a poached egg and a slice of toast and a pot of coffee. After the food and a shower, I called Warren.“Where are you now?”
“I just visited three plant gates. Why?”
“I want you to come up to my hotel room.”
“We finally going to have sex, are we?”
“Nobody else. Alone.”
“I was hoping for a three-way.”
“When can I expect you?”
“You sound pissed.”
“When can I expect you?”
“You're taking over, huh? How about half an hour?”
“I'll see you then.”
While I waited for him, I called my daughter and asked her how she'd like to see me for a few days. She was just as excited as I'd hoped
she'd be. I sure was excited. Then I got on my computer and arranged for a round-trip plane ticket four days hence.
she'd be. I sure was excited. Then I got on my computer and arranged for a round-trip plane ticket four days hence.
Warren arrived five minutes early.
He wore his tan camel's-hair overcoat, one of his best blue suits, a white shirt with the golden collar bar, and his favorite blue rep tie. He put on some swagger to back up his first words to me: “I don't like being pushed around by somebody on my payroll.”
“Tough shit, Warren. And you won't have to worry about taking any more shit from me. I'm resigning here and now.”
“What?”
“There's coffee on that table over there. There's also a videotape.
The
videotape. I've been assured that that's the only copy.”
The
videotape. I've been assured that that's the only copy.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Sure, Warren. This is all a gag. All the shit I've been through, I did it just for fun.”
“My God,” he said, slipping out of his overcoat and draping it on a leather chair.
He sat down and picked up the tape. He held it up as if he could see it simply by staring at the black plastic encasement. “I don't believe this. So they fell for it, huh?”
“You mean the way you shortchanged them by eight hundred thousand? No, they knew about it right away.” Laura and I checked the briefcase just before I let her out of the car. Good old Warren had cheated again.
I sat across from him at the table.
“God, Dev. I really appreciate this. All that bullshit is behind us now. That is if they were telling you the truth about this being the only copy.”
“I'm positive it is.”
“How the hell did you pull it off?”
“It doesn't matter. You have the tape. They have your two hundred thousand.”
He leaned back. The pleasure in his gaze was replaced by suspicion. “You keep saying âthey.' Who are we talking about here exactly, anyway?”
“I have no idea.”
“What?”
“Something went wrong on their end. A falling-out. Or somebody just got scared. We did everything by telephone. The guy I talked to said he just wanted it to be over. He was obviously an amateur. He was also very nervous. He brought up the subject of copies of the tape. He explained that there was only one copy, because if there were others floating around the police could trace them back to him. That's why I think they or whoever just got terrified of getting caught. A pro would never have accepted the two hundred thousand. If his motive was political, he would have turned it over to a TV station. If it was just money, he would've added on another quarter million just because you screwed him. But like I said, this guy was no pro.”
Still suspicious: “He have anything to do with queering my drink?”
“He said he did it and that it wasn't difficult.”
After a long pause, he said, “You're not telling me the truth here, Dev. Something's wrong with your story.”
There was a lot wrong with my story, but I didn't want to involve Laura. If she was to be found out, he'd have to do the finding himself.
“Accept your good fortune, Warren.”
“So you're going to leave it like that?”
“Just like that.”
“I want the truth.”
“You've got the truth as far as you need to know it. Now take the tape and get the hell out of here.”
“The cops could make you talk.”
I enjoyed laughing at him. “Think about it, Warren. You sic the cops on me and the tape story'll be front and center. You really want that?”
“You don't have the right to do this.”
“Sure I do. Now get up and get out.”
I walked around to the side of his chair and said, “Let's go, Warren. I've got things to do today.” I was burning to tell him that I knew about Kate's child, but I was afraid that if I did he'd know I'd learned about it from Laura.
He stood up and did a very stupid thing. He swung on me. He was a better puncher than I'd thought. He didn't hit me square in the face, but his punch landed hard enough on my ear to induce great momentary pain. He was getting ready to throw another one but I was quicker. I hit him right below the sternum, hit him hard enough to drive him back a few feet. I not only took his breath, I brought him to nausea. He covered his mouth and stumbled toward the bathroom. Even senators sound disgusting when they're puking. He stayed in there for a while washing up.
When he came out, I was holding his overcoat in one hand and his tape in the other. He angrily swiped the tape from me and shoved it in the pocket of the overcoat, which he took with his other hand. Then he walked straight to the door and out without once looking back. He closed the door gently behind him.
I wished I'd been able to beat him up, but he had a campaign to run. Black eyes and a broken nose are a bitch to explain.
A campaign luncheon was scheduled for Warren, sponsored by a civic group famous for the food it served. Gabe, Kate, Laura, and Billy would be there. So it would be a good time to sneak into the office, get my stuff, and sneak back out.I sat drinking coffee in the hotel restaurant, waiting for noon and allowing myself a few moments of orgasmic self-pity.
Gosh, and here we had Mrs. Conrad's little boy Dev, always trying to make this a better world, getting stomped on for all his troubles. What a decent, righteous hero-type he was. And such a giving man, too. The perfect husband, the perfect father. If only those around him could see past his cynicism and pain and recognize him for the gallant man he really was.
But I couldn't kid myself very long. I was just as dirty as the rest of them. I pretended otherwise. I needed to or I couldn't do my job. I had to try and function as a conscience of sorts. But what kind of conscience was I? I was doing everything I could to destroy Jim
Lake. I believed he would continue to perpetuate the lies and constitutional perversions of the current administration. I believed that he would continue to use the real threat of terrorism for nothing more than political gain. This crew couldn't stick up a gas station let alone win a war.
Lake. I believed he would continue to perpetuate the lies and constitutional perversions of the current administration. I believed that he would continue to use the real threat of terrorism for nothing more than political gain. This crew couldn't stick up a gas station let alone win a war.
But vile as Lake was, I was just as vile. I was going to use his onetime venereal disease to bring him down. I fought his fight on his terms and had no regrets. And if Warren was a deceitful, arrogant peacock, so be it. All these stories we're taught about George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. They make me cringe with their sentimental bullshit. Most great leaders are deeply flawed men. George Washington mightily abused his open-ended expense account during his first term. But it's what they do for the common good that matters. So we put up with them because in general they're no better or no worse than the rest of us.
My trouble with Warren now was that he wouldn't do right by Kate and that he'd helped destroy a decent but troubled friend named Phil Wylie. Warren's flaws weren't all that exotic, but I cared deeply about Kate and had come to admire Phil Wylie in the days since his death.
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I
spent twenty minutes in my office filling up a small cardboard box with goodies I probably wouldn't be needing to look at ever again. The last things I took down were the eight hardcover books I kept on a shelf above my computer. Novels by Fitzgerald, Nathanael West, Raymond Chandler, Doctorow, Theodore Dreiser, David Madden, Joyce Carol Oates, and Richard Matheson. I read them when I needed to zone out of here, desperate to remind myself that there were other and equally important worlds.
spent twenty minutes in my office filling up a small cardboard box with goodies I probably wouldn't be needing to look at ever again. The last things I took down were the eight hardcover books I kept on a shelf above my computer. Novels by Fitzgerald, Nathanael West, Raymond Chandler, Doctorow, Theodore Dreiser, David Madden, Joyce Carol Oates, and Richard Matheson. I read them when I needed to zone out of here, desperate to remind myself that there were other and equally important worlds.
Only after I dealt with the books did I take a closer look at the notes
on my desk. There were three of them, from Gabe, Laura, and Kate respectively. Kate had also left me the two-week expense breakdown, which, for some reason, I started looking through. No reason to, now that I was no longer associated with Warren. I suppose it was just habit. Seeing if we were anywhere near our goal of containing costs.
on my desk. There were three of them, from Gabe, Laura, and Kate respectively. Kate had also left me the two-week expense breakdown, which, for some reason, I started looking through. No reason to, now that I was no longer associated with Warren. I suppose it was just habit. Seeing if we were anywhere near our goal of containing costs.
The report ran to three pages with airline charges listed last. One line stood out. A round-trip ticket had been purchased, but the ticket holder had canceled before the flight.
The round-trip had been to Galesburg, Illinois. The trip I'd sent Billy on. The trip he'd written a very persuasive field report about.
Apparently without ever having gone there.
I wanted to check that date against another piece of information. I hadn't closed my computer up yet. I logged on and went through several days of
Tribune
headlines until I came to the story I wanted.
Tribune
headlines until I came to the story I wanted.
On the same morning Billy had canceled his flight, R. D. Greaves had been found dead in his hotel apartment.
I was shrugging into my coat when the phone rang.
“I'm calling on my cell, Bunny. I'm in the ladies' room. This luncheon is really dull.” Kate. Trying hard to sound happy. But not succeeding. “What are you up to?”
“Just packing things up.”
“You make that sound so final.”
“Just for the weekend.” I wasn't ready to tell her the truth, that I was leaving the campaign. I had other things I needed to do first. “You okay?”
“Pretty much.”
“That's not real convincing.”
Long silence. “I guess I might as well tell you.”
I was half-afraid to hear. “You're unhappy. I'd appreciate knowing why. Maybe I can help.”
“Not with this, Bunny. Teresa found out that Warren and I once had a little thing.”
No mention of the baby.
“Enterprising lady. Hired a hacker. Went through our e-mails.”
“E-mails are dangerous.”
“But it was very civilized, actually. She came over to my place and told me she'd found out. What she wanted was for me to tell her that it was over. That now we just worked together, Warren and I.”
“That must have been some conversation.”
“I left a message on your room machine. I just needed to hear your voice.”
“You think things are cool now?”
“She doesn't want any publicity. She wants to go back to Washington and pick right up where she left off. And I sure don't want any publicity. Wouldn't want anything of this to touch on my sweet little daughter.”
“Your daughter's all that matters.”
“What's so funny is that I don't give a damn about Warren anymore and neither does she. We were both laughing about that. All she's worried about is that the scandal might hurt him politically and that would hurt her in getting back to Washington.”
“Good old Warren.”
“Well, I need to get back to that boring luncheon. Bye, Bunny.”
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