Someone Always Knows (21 page)

9:17 p.m.

A
busy day had passed since I'd escaped Renshaw's clutches. Now, finally, I was in my living room waiting for a call from Hy and talking with John about his new housing. He had a sheaf of brochures that contained floor plans and descriptions of the condos in the new high-rise in SOMA where he'd decided to buy.

“I kind of like the three-bedroom unit with the Bay-view balcony,” he said. “Plank floors. Appliances by some classy European company I've never heard of. Granite slab countertops. Ample space for outdoor barbecuing. Walk-in closets. I could save a bedroom for guests and turn the other into a home office. I'd need rugs, though—I hate to walk on bare floors when I get up in the morning. Blinds. All kinds of furniture. And color schemes. D'you think I'd need a decorator?”

This from a man who, till recently, had been holing up in the deteriorating family home.

I pulled one of sister Patsy's quilts over me and stared into the guttering fire. “Buy the condo, John,” I said.

“You really think I should?”

“Rooftop pool and tennis courts? Health club? Deluxe catering from two Zagat-recommended restaurants on the ground floor, that offer in-home dining? What's not to like?”

“It's awfully upscale. Ma would call it snooty and selfish.”

“Yeah, until she visited and you ordered up the first Zagat-rated dinner for her.”

“I don't know…maybe it
is
kind of selfish.”

“So volunteer for a charity. Become a Big Brother—you're good at that. Use your surplus income to do some good.”

“I could, couldn't I? I'd like being a Big Brother—I've done it again and again.”

“Go for it, John. And now shut up because my phone's ringing.”

Hy was at JFK, waiting for his flight home to SFO. “How're things there?” he asked.

I related the story of my ordeal with Renshaw, omitting some of the more unpleasant details.

His voice shook when he said, “That was a pretty narrow escape you had.”

It was the first time I'd been able to talk with him since it happened. In all the chaos of the past day we'd missed connecting with one another several times. The happiness I now felt at the sound of his voice was immeasurable. “Yeah, it was bad, but it's over.”

“McCone, I thought you and I were supposed to preside over M&R like elder statespersons, and let the others take the risks.”

“So did I, but you know what? Elder statesperson isn't what either of us is cut out to be.”

“No, it isn't. No elder statesperson could be as pissed as I am at the FBI without succumbing to a heart attack. The second hostage negotiation was critically important, yes, but they shouldn't have kept me in the dark about what was happening with you and Renshaw. Personally I think they wanted to nab him themselves and grab all the glory. They underestimated you.”

I sat down at our kitchen table and covered my other ear, blocking out the drone of a football game John had turned on in the living room. “What
was
all that nonsense about them sending a plane to Miami to take you to D.C.?”

“Initially it was intended to confuse the hostage takers in case they intercepted any communications and found out I was on my way. Which, of course, was totally ridiculous because the guys who took the woman hostage in upstate New York didn't know me from Barack Obama.”

“These guys—can you talk about them?”

“Not on an open line. And they're not particularly interesting. Just a couple of not-very-bright pseudo-patriots who thought they could save the country by holding the local school superintendent until their demands were met. The second negotiation—the senatorial candidate—was much more serious. I'll tell you about that when we're together. But Renshaw—what's his status?”

“He's recovering under guard at SF General from the superficial chest wound I inflicted on him. He's gone completely mental. Keeps ranting about wanting his money. He earned it legitimately, and Ordway is just holding it for him. Macy's a buddy from way back who loaned him a room in his house while he was waiting for Ordway to deliver the cash. He's going to sue—me, you, the City and County of San Francisco, our state government. He'll take it all the way to the Supreme Court if necessary.”

“The old criminal's complaint. Does the money even exist?”

“Probably Ordway has it, but there's no way anybody—not even our government—will be able to prove it or wrest it from him.”

“This Macy—he confessed?”

“To any number of things; he just couldn't stop talking. Put it all on Renshaw: Gage planned the whole thing; Gage forced him into going along with his scam. Macy tried to stop him, but finally went along with him because of his crazy raving and threats of physical harm. There may be some truth in that; Macy certainly hopped to it every time Renshaw snapped his fingers. But from the tapes of their interview that the police let me listen to, Macy was definitely not a victim of Stockholm syndrome.”

“And it was Macy who killed Adam Smithson?”

“Yes. He claims it was self-defense, that Smithson showed up just after he found the bonds and attacked him. Then he panicked and set the fire.” I paused, then asked Hy about his exposure of Renshaw and Kessell to the CIA.

“It's all true. You saw my documentation.”

“They never did anything about it. Do you think we should go public?”

Long silence. “Normally I'd say to let it be. M&R doesn't need any more exposure in the media than we've already had. But in this case, a hell of a lot of prominent people and corporations worldwide got away with heinous acts. None that were named in those documents were ever prosecuted or even sanctioned. Some are probably still going about bad business as usual in places like Iran and Iraq.”

I'd been thinking along the same lines. “So we go public. How?”

“I've got a contact who's pretty high up at the
New York Times
. And you're in tight with the
Chronicle
.”

“One of my old college friends is an op-ed writer for the
Washington Post
. And my high-school friend Linnea Carraway recently moved from the Pacific Northwest to New York, where she hosts a syndicated talk show.”

“And then there's the Internet.”

“The Internet. YouTube. Twitter. Bloggers. Yes!”

“We'll have to go about it very carefully. Consult good lawyers.”

“We can do it.”

“Forward into battle.”

“Amen to that.”

8:21 a.m.

T
here was a crowd gathered outside the M&R building when I arrived. I whipped my car into the underground parking garage and took the elevator to the ground floor.

“What the hell is going on?” I asked Lex, the guard at the double street doors.

“There's been an accident.”

It must not have been much of an accident, because he was smiling.

“Look out there,” he added, motioning toward the glass.

Six or seven large pieces of concrete lay on the pavement, and dust wafted above them in the sunlit air. The edges of the largest pieces were curved, like the edges of…

“The clamshell?” I asked Lex.

He nodded, and I started to smile too.

“How long ago?” I asked.

“Oh, maybe fifteen minutes. Big crash, almost scared me to death.”

“Nobody was hurt, I hope?”

“Nobody was around.”

“Nobody?”

“Yeah, nobody.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

I pushed through the doors and skirted the wreckage. Studied it. Irreparable. Then I looked up at the gaping place where it had been attached to the building's wall. No structural damage; the wall shouldn't be too difficult to repair.

A hand touched my arm. Laura Banks, a reporter for the
Chronicle
, whom I knew reasonably well. “What happened here, Sharon?”

“I guess the installation was faulty.”

“But it was a Flavio St. John installation. He's known for his perfection. When he finds out what's happened he's going to be livid.”

I was looking beyond her to where two men in dusty work clothing stood grinning at me.

“Well, everyone makes a mistake sometimes, and I can't say I'm sorry about this one.” I raised my voice as I added, “That sculpture was as ugly as my husband's aunt Stella Sue's butt.”

Then I excused myself and went to join Hy and John.

THE NIGHT SEARCHERS

LOOKING FOR YESTERDAY

CITY OF WHISPERS

COMING BACK

LOCKED IN

BURN OUT

THE EVER-RUNNING MAN

VANISHING POINT

THE DANGEROUS HOUR

DEAD MIDNIGHT

LISTEN TO THE SILENCE

A WALK THROUGH THE FIRE

WHILE OTHER PEOPLE SLEEP

BOTH ENDS OF THE NIGHT

THE BROKEN PROMISE LAND

A WILD AND LONELY PLACE

TILL THE BUTCHERS CUT HIM DOWN

WOLF IN THE SHADOWS

PENNIES ON A DEAD WOMAN'S EYES

WHERE ECHOES LIVE

TROPHIES AND DEAD THINGS

THE SHAPE OF DREAD

THERE'S SOMETHING IN A SUNDAY

EYE OF THE STORM

THERE'S NOTHING TO BE AFRAID OF

DOUBLE (With Bill Pronzini)

LEAVE A MESSAGE FOR WILLIE

GAMES TO KEEP THE DARK AWAY

THE CHESHIRE CAT'S EYE

ASK THE CARDS A QUESTION

EDWIN OF THE IRON SHOES

 

CAPE PERDIDO

CYANIDE WELLS

POINT DECEPTION

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