Authors: Robert Ellis
Frank looked back at the gun in his hand, wondering if he would have to use it or not. It was a .45. One loud pop was all it would take, if it came to that.
He heard Tracy shriek from her desk, calling out his name.
He looked through the glass and saw Merdock and Jake marching though the war room with their attorney in tow. Frank lowered the gun and pushed the drawer closed. Norman was with them, providing security, Frank guessed, along with two geeks in khakis who looked like typical campaign losers but might be trouble.
Frank stepped out of his office. He’d expected a telephone call, not a personal appearance. As they came closer, Merdock pointed a shaky finger at him.
“You’re trying to sabotage my campaign,” Merdock shouted. “You’re fired. This is my attorney.”
The attorney turned to Frank. He was the same man Frank had spent an entire afternoon with when scouting his office for Merdock’s last set of campaign ads.
“Frank Miles?” he asked unnecessarily.
Frank nodded slowly as their eyes met. Merdock’s attorney was short and stocky like a pit bull terrier still not recognized by the American Kennel Club. He was pushing sixty and everything about his grooming appeared meticulous. Judging from the client list the man had shown him last month, Frank guessed that he had been well fed over the years, and that the tan he sported came from the tennis courts rather than a chaise longue.
The attorney held his needlepoint eyes on Frank as he handed him a court order.
“This is a writ of seizure,” the pit bull said. “A writ of seizure ordering you to turn over everything pertaining to Mr. Merdock’s campaign for the U.S. Senate.”
Frank looked the papers over as the two geeks in khakis dispersed, one gathering videotapes, the other opening a briefcase and sitting before the computer at an intern’s desk. The computers were networked. They could access any data they might want from the entire system.
Randolph walked in, nodded at Frank but kept his distance as if he were a neutral observer. Then the attorney cleared his throat, his tail still up and the hair behind his ass standing on end.
“These men are authorized by the court to recover everything, whether it be stored on paper, computers or videotape without interference by you, your remaining partner, or any of your employees.”
The pit bull’s words had an understated weight about them. Merdock’s voice was more shrill.
“I’m going to sue your ass off,” Merdock said, still pointing that finger. “After my press conference this afternoon, you’ll be finished.”
Frank glanced at Merdock. He could tell that his former client was delighted with himself and the situation Frank was in. Standing with Jake and using their attorney and Norman’s hulking figure for cover, the two brothers looked like bookends dressed in expensive suits. Both of them cocky and showing big smiles. Frank looked back at the court order without saying anything. He checked the signatures and began reading it from the top with everyone watching him. The pit bull seemed annoyed by this and took a step forward.
“It’s a writ of seizure,” he said. “There are no conditions. You have no say whatsoever in the matter.”
“Did you hear that?” Jake added. “You’ve got no say, big shot.”
Frank didn’t react to either one of them, continuing to read the document until he was finished. When he looked up, he noticed the pit bull shaking slightly, and guessed that direct confrontations like this weren’t exactly a part of his normal routine anymore.
“Harry,” Frank said to his intern in a calm voice. “I want you to watch the guy on your computer. Tom, keep an eye on the other one. Make sure that they only take what’s theirs. I want a complete inventory. If there’s any question, any doubt whatsoever, I want to know about it before they take it.”
Merdock and Jake smiled as Frank seemed to be giving in to their power play. Frank glanced at Linda standing by the fax machine and Tracy seated at her desk. Then Merdock noticed the callers working the phones in the conference room with the door closed.
“What’s going on in there?” he asked in a loud voice.
Frank looked at him steadily. “That’s not part of this order, Mel.”
“But what are they saying? I demand to hear what they’re saying.”
Merdock lunged for the door knob. Frank met his hand and squeezed it before pulling it away. The glint in Frank’s eye was quiet and dangerous, and Merdock and his attorney took a step back.
“Try your radio on the way home,” Frank said.
Merdock rubbed his hand like it might be broken. When they got started with their search, Frank stepped into his office, followed by Randolph, who closed the door. They didn’t speak. The detective moved to the window, glancing outside at the press as he lit a cigarette. Frank pulled a chair away from the table and sat down, keeping a sharp eye on the war room. He didn’t need to see the press. They had followed him to work and it had paid off for them, simple as that. Frank knew every camera would be rolling as Merdock and Jake packed their Lincoln with files and videotapes. The story had a new, unknown dimension about it. Merdock would have a full house at his press conference. The president would be there to back him up. Frank would be skewered in public this afternoon and he knew it.
Randolph sat down on the couch and sighed. “I know a judge,” he said quietly. “We could probably get them to stop.”
“I don’t want it stopped. Not yet anyway.”
Randolph shrugged like he didn’t get it. Frank turned back to the war room, keeping watch by the glass door.
“People with money pay others to do their dirty work for them,” Frank said after a moment. “When they show up themselves, they’ve usually got a reason.”
“What reason is that?”
“Pretend you’re a detective. Take a look for yourself.”
Randolph smiled and shook his head, moving in for a closer look. Grimes stood by the lobby door, leaning against the wall and grinding his teeth as he stared at Jake.
“Looks like my partner got tired of waiting in the car,” Randolph said.
“Take another look.”
Randolph turned back to the war room. After a moment, Frank saw the change on his face. He was seeing what Frank was seeing. It may have been subtle, but the confirmation was there. Merdock and Jake looking around, searching the office casually, here and there.
“They’re still looking for the pictures,” Randolph said. “You think there’s any chance your partner made contact with Olson?”
“I wouldn’t bet on it.”
“You don’t have them, do you?”
Frank gave him a look without saying anything.
“Then they’re covering their bases just to make sure. Someone with Merdock’s image gets caught in an affair and there’s pictures to prove it. TV loves that shit. I guess they always will. I’m sorry, Frank. I should have seen it before. I just kept thinking that there had to be something bigger going on.”
“You’ve found something?”
The detective nodded. “Their friend with the hair. His name’s George Raymond. He used to work for Merdock’s father. When the old man died, Raymond moved to Baltimore. He’s got a wife and two sons who think he sells mutual funds. His neighbors say that he keeps to himself and likes to listen to all those self-help tapes. And that’s fine with them because everybody in the neighborhood told Grimes that they think he’s a head case. The guy’s nuts.”
“What’s the U.S. Attorney think?”
“He loves the good life, Frank. The Merdocks can give it to him. You’re still
it
.”
Randolph’s pager buzzed. He opened his jacket and checked the number.
“That’s him now,” the detective said.
Frank grabbed the phone before Randolph could reach it. “Let me ask you something before you check in. After Woody was murdered, you searched his house, right?”
The detective shook his head and shrugged as he thought it over. “For the pictures?” he said. “We thought it was a robbery, remember? We thought it was about cash and credit cards. It happened here in this office. There wouldn’t have been a reason to search your partner’s house.”
Frank released the phone, listening to Randolph make his call as he stared through the glass into the war room. The conversation was brief. The U.S. Attorney wanted to see Randolph and Grimes in his office, but wouldn’t say why.
Chapter 63
It was a modest Victorian set close to the street within walking distance to Capitol Hill. Frank parked in the drive. As he walked to the front door, he dug into his pocket and fished out the spare keys that he’d found in Woody’s top desk drawer.
There were two locks on the door. Frank started with the deadbolt, found the key and turned the lock. When the lock in the handle clicked with the second key, he tried the door but it wouldn’t budge. Frank went back to the deadbolt, turning the key in the opposite direction. This time the door opened. Either Woody hadn’t used the deadbolt when he closed the door, which Frank doubted, or Raymond had already been here. Raymond had picked the lock at their office and wouldn’t have had any trouble getting past these. But he probably wouldn’t have taken the time or risk to lock the deadbolt on his way out. Instead, Raymond would have turned the lock on the handle and simply pulled the door closed.
Frank stepped into the foyer, listening to the house and overwhelmed by its eeriness. All the lights were on, and he could feel a chill crackling up his spine as he looked around. A small chest had been placed just below the stairway. The drawers were open and he found gloves and scarves packed and ready for the winter ahead. He could smell the wool and faint scent of cedar lining the drawers. The sense of finality—his friend’s death—was overwhelming.
A moment passed, deep and quiet, until he finally noticed the sound of a clock ticking. As he stepped into the living room, he saw an antique grandfather clock standing against the wall by the window. However faint, Woody’s house still had a measurable pulse. Frank checked the clock’s time against his watch. The pulse was fading, the time, six hours off. Frank couldn’t help wondering when the old clock had last been wound and didn’t want to think about what might click off in his head if he were to hear it finally stop. Opening the glass door, he found the clock key behind the face and tightened the spring. Then he reset the time. It was 4:30 p.m. Merdock’s press conference would just be getting started. Perfect timing for the evening news. Within the next half hour, Frank’s career would be over. Within the next thirty minutes, Frank would be the issue, not Merdock or Olson or even Woody.
He shook it off, turning to the writing table beside the bookcases set against the far wall. He’d start here, he decided. He’d search the first floor and work his way upstairs. As he approached the writing table, he noticed a photograph set in a silver frame and picked it up. It was a black-and-white picture of Frank and Woody taken in a parking garage a long time ago. The angle was cocked to one side. Frank remembered that they had taken the picture themselves using the camera’s timer. They had just started the business, working clients together and still a long way off from making any real money.
Frank wiped a water spot off the glass with his thumb. The mayor of Trenton, New Jersey had been up for reelection. Frank and Woody were handling his opponent and needed a shot of the acting mayor to go along with the newspaper headlines they’d collected. It was a shitty race, negative all the way. And there was talk that the mayor had mob connections, which added a measure of fear to the pot and made the whole thing a little crazy for two unknown consultants just finding their way.
The political go-to guy in the county, Vic Patterson, had told them over the phone that the mayor walked out of his office at City Hall every day at three sharp, got into his black Lincoln and drove home. He said that the mayor parked his car in front of the building, and that a garage stood directly across the way. The view would be perfect.
Frank and Woody had driven up from Washington with a camera and tripod, wondering how Patterson could know so much about the mayor’s routine. But when they finally arrived in Trenton and found City Hall, everything that the man had told them turned out to be true. They pulled into the parking garage, drove up to the third floor and found a spot for the camera. Then they waited.
They were an hour early and had a bird’s-eye view of the entire town. Trenton was an industrial city without any industry. Much of the landscape had been burned down or abandoned. It looked like the kind of place where the rules had been forgotten and everyone on the street was either somebody’s next victim or heavily armed.
Frank could remember how nervous they were as they waited out the hour. Even though they were hidden, their hearts were pounding and they were both chaining cigarettes down. But then at three sharp, the lobby doors swung open and out walked the mayor just as Vic Patterson had said he would.
Frank ran over to the camera and switched it on. The mayor was only about twenty-five feet away from the building when he spotted them three floors up and looked right down the barrel of the lens. The man stopped dead in his tracks and Frank could see fear in his eyes, like just maybe the camera was a rifle and he was about to die. The moment only lasted for a few seconds. Once the mayor realized what was actually happening, his fear for his life gave way to a heavy dose of indecision. It looked like he wasn’t sure if he should run back into the building or continue to his car. Another moment passed before he caught himself. Then he looked down at the ground, rushed over to his car and sped out of the lot into the ruined cityscape.