Flashpoint (19 page)

‘I love this old town,' she said.

‘You'd never move?'

‘Probably not. I'm sort of a hometown girl and I know that probably sounds ridiculous. This isn't exactly a cultural center.'

‘Neither are big cities except in certain places. They're just a lot of small towns sharing the same turf.'

She slid her arm through mine. Then kissed me on the cheek. ‘I've never thought of big cities that way before. Or if I have I've forgotten it. Or maybe I'm such a hayseed I'm easily impressed by obvious ideas.'

‘Well, if it's obvious ideas you want, baby, you've come to the right place.'

An easy-going laugh. ‘Oh, God – I didn't mean it that way. I'm so sorry.'

‘I know. I was just kidding you.'

‘I hate to interrupt this fascinating conversation, but can I have some water here? You may not have noticed, but I'm dehydrated.'

Less than two minutes ago he'd looked unconscious. Now he was not only awake, he was his usual spoiled-brat insulting self, and being ridiculous on top of it.

I walked back to him and pointed to the pitcher on the nightstand. ‘Jane thought of everything. Believe it or not, we're trying to keep you comfortable.'

‘Only because you think I'm going to rat some people out for you.'

I lifted the pitcher and picked up an empty glass. ‘True enough, Howie. Otherwise I'd throw this in your face.'

‘Huh-uh,' Ruskin said.

‘Huh-uh what?'

‘Huh-uh, I don't want you to handle the water. I want her to.'

She stood next to me now. ‘I told her you'd try and put the moves on her.'

‘Normally I'd try but in case you haven't noticed I came close to dying a couple of hours ago and I'm kind of laid up as a result.'

‘“Close to dying,”' I mumbled as I handed Jane the empty glass.

‘I heard that,' Howie said. ‘You ever think that maybe I have a heart condition and that the trauma of being shot might kill me?'

‘You have a heart condition like I have this big eye on the back of my head.'

‘I saw that episode of
The Twilight Zone
, too,' Ruskin said. ‘That big eye was pretty cool.'

‘Now you just lie back and I'll pour you some water,' Jane said. The maternal softness of her voice would have struck me as endearingly sweet if it hadn't been wasted on a slug like ‘Howie' Howard Ruskin.

Around dawn – my travel alarm clock said 5:30 a.m. – I was awakened by a strange voice intruding on a dream that vanished instantly.

‘You bastard. Wake up and help me, Conrad.'

My brain slipped from Park into Drive. Ruskin. Summoning me. I sat up, nudging against the Glock I'd kept next to me.

‘You're supposed to be watching over me, remember, asshole?'

Good to know he was still as obnoxious as ever. I swung around and sat on the edge of my bed in my boxers. ‘Oh. Right. What's going on?'

‘I need to piss but every time I try to sit up I get dizzy. So I need some help to get to the john.'

‘All right. Just a second.'

As I came around the far side of his bed to help him he said, ‘You didn't plank her. I sure as hell would've.'

‘What the hell're you talking about?'

‘The chick. That lady lawyer. I woulda banged her.'

‘You were supposed to be unconscious.'

‘Oh, right. It was in my contract. I was supposed to be unconscious while you and the lady lawyer got to second base. A guy as old as you are, second base is pretty pathetic.'

‘Good to know you're back to normal.'

‘Some of the dialogue was pretty corny, let me tell you.'

‘We'll work on it for the next time.'

By now I was easing him out of the bed. Well, not exactly easing. In fact, I pretty much tore him out of the bed and he yelped when I did it.

‘Hey, asshole, take it easy. I'm wounded, remember? Just because you couldn't close the deal with the chick, don't take it out on me.'

Funny, I was under the impression I'd more than closed the deal. When everything was wrapped up here she was going to visit me for a three-day weekend in Chicago. I wasn't about to sully my anticipation of that by sharing it with him.

‘Somebody's trying to kill you, Ruskin. I'd be more concerned with that than with my love life.'

His hyena laugh. ‘Man, you don't got no love life. Not from what I heard last night. You don't know jack about chicks.'

I shoved him into the john and pulled the door shut.

‘Hey, easy, man!'

I walked over to the nightstand between the beds, picked up the remote and clicked on the tube.

The supposedly liberal channel had a talking head who said – the newsreader said this was a sound bite from yesterday – ‘Right now, we have to face the facts. A senator on our side is not only fighting for his political life. He's fighting the suspicion that he may have murdered his mistress.' The man speaking was a rough-hewn fifty with gray hair and a pockmarked face. He was a reporter for a large Midwestern daily and was usually able to use facts to argue our case. But now he was calling Tracy Cabot Robert's ‘mistress' and in so doing sounded as if he was auditioning for a slot on Empire News.

I clicked it off immediately. And in the silence that followed I heard faint sounds coming from the bathroom. Voice sounds. I walked over there and listened. I couldn't catch the exact words but Ruskin was definitely talking to somebody. I tried the knob but the door was locked.

‘You wanna see me naked you'll have to wait in line!'

No point in standing here. I went over and made myself some coffee in the microwave. While it was becoming radioactive I grabbed my trousers and stepped into them. I was just retrieving my cup from the microwave when Ruskin came out of the john.

‘Hey, dude, you gotta help me.'

He did look bad. Pale and weak and sweaty. And wobbly. I reached him in time to keep him from slumping to the floor. I got my arm underneath him and walked him carefully to his bed. I sat him down and then turned him around and helped him settle into his sleeping position.

‘You need to take it easy, Ruskin.'

‘I'm not some pussy. I can handle it.'

I wasn't rude enough to remind him that two minutes ago he'd called out for my help. ‘Just lie there and relax and tell me who you were talking to.'

He was too wasted to call me a name. He just said, ‘Sarah.'

‘I've been trying her phone but she never answers.'

‘Two phones.' Out of breath now.

‘She has two cell phones?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Clever.'

He didn't speak for two or three minutes. Eyes closed, breathing starting to settle down. Sleeping already?

‘She has a place for us.'

‘Where?'

‘Oh, no. That'll be our secret.' He waved me off. ‘Sleep,' he said. Then he muttered: ‘Sleep.' A few seconds later he had gone off. Or did a good imitation of going off anyway.

Now it was my turn in the john. A quick shave and shower and when I came back out he was snoring. I put on a gray button-down shirt, my charcoal sport coat and black pants, black ribbed socks and black loafers.

I spent twenty minutes on my laptop checking up on all the internals of our campaigns, plus I looked at all the messages. All my employees hoped that the Robert matter would turn out well and soon.

It was then I looked at my travel alarm again and realized that it was six forty-three a.m. What the hell could I do at six forty-three a.m.?

But an answer came soon after in the form of a knock and in the person of the little waif Sarah. Her face froze when she saw the Glock I held in my hand. It was pointed down and pressed flat against my leg. ‘Howard has one of those and it terrifies me.'

A blue knit bag large enough to contain a small refrigerator was slung over her left shoulder. Whatever was inside bulged against the sides of the bag.

I stepped back to let her in. Without another word she went to him. He still seemed pretty groggy but that didn't deter her careful hugs and kisses and declarations of worry and love. I wondered if, even if she encouraged it, he would be strong enough to get to second base.

Then he started declaring his own worry and love.

It went on until I said, ‘I hate to mention it to you people, but somebody's trying to kill him. And, Sarah, you're trying to take him away from here.'

She whipped around and that wan little face was just this side of nasty. ‘We don't know anything about you!'

‘He called
me
, remember?'

‘So? We're desperate. We don't know who to trust. But that doesn't mean you won't turn us over to—' She caught herself.

‘Turn you over to who? Or whom, if you prefer?'

‘We're not sure. That's the big problem.'

I tried to play the reassuring father role. Acting 101. The voice a little deeper, the tone a little softer, the pace a little slower, the plea for understanding the most important part of it all. ‘I have a vested interest in keeping him safe, Sarah.'

‘I know, but I don't see what this has to do with me taking him now. I've picked out a good hiding place for us. And I've got a plan for sneaking us out of town.'

‘What if they've been watching you?'

All the time we'd been talking, Howie had lain in place with his eyes closed. The way his mouth moved, his head jerked left and right sometimes and his lips made motions as if he was trying to speak, let me know that he was not only listening but also forming opinions about all this.

‘Oh, God. I hadn't thought of any of this stuff.' She took his hand in hers and brought it to her face. Touched it to her cheek. Her eyes were bright with tears. ‘I'm just trying to protect him, is all.'

‘I know you are, Sarah. But he's better off here. I'm going to hire somebody to sit in here and watch the door.'

‘Like a bodyguard?'

‘Basically, yes.'

‘Do we know we can trust him?'

‘Or her.'

‘I don't know about a “her.” Howard has too many “hers” around him.' Her possessiveness made me wonder about her relationship with Tracy Cabot. She would have had the opportunity to pay a visit to the cabin.

‘All right. I'll make sure it's a man.'

‘But I already told this guy we'd rent his little house.'

‘Tell him something came up.'

She still had her hand in his. ‘What do you think, Howard?'

‘I like the idea of a bodyguard.'

Before she could say anything else, I said, ‘Let me make a call.' For this I went over to the window. The streets of the small city were crowded now. The workday was beginning. Suddenly, being in my Jeep and soaring along the Dan Ryan to my offices sounded comfortable. I was almost sentimental about the idea. It was a much more enjoyable notion than spending the day trying to clear a senator of a possible murder charge and hiring bodyguards and trying to keep a guy I despised alive.

‘This is a great way to start the day. Hearing from you. Let me shut off my hairdryer. There.'

‘Nice to hear your voice, too. But I'm afraid I've got to ask you a favor before you even have your breakfast.'

‘Sure. Is everything all right?'

As Jane and I talked Sarah emptied the contents of her knit bag onto the bed. Two sweaters, two shirts, two pairs of pants, as well as socks and underwear. I wondered if Howie had any idea how lucky he was that she loved him.

‘I think so. But to make sure I need to hire somebody like a bodyguard. Do you know anybody like that?'

‘In fact, I do. I mean, we do at the office. His name is Leo Guild. He's a former detective who took early retirement to start doing investigations for law offices and individuals who can afford him. He does so much work for us we have him on a monthly retainer. We're by far his biggest client.'

‘Has he ever done anything like being a bodyguard?'

‘A few times, yes. And he also has a brother who was in a security detail in the Marines. We used both of them as bodyguards last year. We had a client who'd gotten crosswise with the mob downstate. He was terrified they were going to kill him before we could get him to the FBI. He wanted us to evaluate his connection and see how much he could be liable for. We all felt that the FBI would make a deal if he told them what he knew. So Leo put him in a hotel room and traded shifts with his brother for two days. There wasn't any problem.'

‘Think we could get him over here right away?'

‘We can try. I'll see what he says.'

‘Thanks.'

Sarah was sitting him up now. Carefully. Lovingly. ‘He's starving. Would you call room service, Mr Conrad?'

‘I will if you'll call me Dev.'

‘Dev, then.'

‘Are you hungry?'

‘Now that I think about it.'

‘Like bacon and eggs and hash browns and coffee?'

Ruskin said, ‘Yeah, God, get it up here right away.'

I went to the room phone and punched in the room service number. The clatter in the background signified that numerous guests were firing in their orders. Bacon, eggs, hash browns – I was making myself hungry just saying the words. Plus two pots of coffee.

In the meantime I used the remote. Rage would wake me up for sure so I turned on Empire News and there were the Three Witches, as they'd come to be called by people on our side. Between plastic surgery and Botox they were as close to being cyborgs as science had yet gotten.

My day had officially started. Within thirty seconds I was
muy
pissed.

T
he redhead, a recent ‘honors' graduate from Holy Shit University, was saying, ‘I hope this makes people look at Senator Logan's party and what it really stands for. If you don't have respect for capitalism and if you're not willing to use force to demonstrate that the United States is still the dominant force in this world – except for God, of course – you see the slippery slope this puts you on. You have a mistress, which is sinful enough, but then you go even further and take her life.'