The Bookmakers (27 page)

“It was quite a scheme,” said McClain with what sounded to Mack like admiration.

“A hell of a scheme,” Reggie agreed. “No hard feelings, I hope.”

“Not if you get out of town and stay away from Mack,” said McClain. “Of course, he keeps the hundred thousand from the movie offer.”

“A deal’s a deal,” Reggie said.

“The way I look at it, this Russo owes you for that,” said McClain.

“Plus the original eighteen and the vig,” said Reggie.

“And don’t forget the twenty-five you gave Packer.”

“That was my mistake,” said Reggie. “I’ll collect that one separately.”

McClain nodded at the fairness of Reggie’s distinction. “Come on, Mack,” he said, rising. “Let’s get back to Oriole.”

Reggie reached out and caught McClain’s arm. “I’d appreciate a private word with you first,” he said.

“Private word my ass,” said Mack.

“No, it’s okay,” McClain said. “Mack, wait for me in the lobby.”

Green frowned, started to say something and then walked away, shaking his head.

“Nice young man,” said Reggie. “You obviously have a good relationship.”

“What can I do for you, Herman?” asked McClain.

“Let me know when Buddy Packer gets back,” said Reggie. “It’d be worth 20 percent—three thousand, six hundred dollars. Interested?”

“Not if you’re planning something like today.”

“No, it’s just debt collection,” said Reggie. “I can’t promise it’ll be nonviolent, but it won’t be lethal.”

“In that case, leave me your number,” said McClain. “I don’t want the money, though; giving you Packer will be my pleasure.”

“In that case, I’ll owe you a favor,” said Reggie.

“Yeah,” said McClain. “You will, won’t you?”

John dropped Mack off at home and drove over to the Nutmeg Village Day Care Center, where Joyce was fingerpainting with a bunch of four-year-olds. “Honey, I’ve got to talk to you,” he said.

“Can’t it wait?” she said. “It’s playtime.”

“No,” said McClain. “We were wrong about Mack’s diary. It’s just a novel.”

“I know,” said Joyce, wiping her hands on a rag.

“Which means Wolfowitz scammed me. All this time I’ve been sending—what do you mean, you know?”

“Linda told me.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want to trouble you,” said Joyce. “I didn’t see the point.”

“You didn’t see the point,” McClain repeated, enunciating each word distinctly.

“John, don’t you take that po-lice tone with me.”

“Sorry,” McClain muttered. “It’s been a tough day. Herman Reggie made his move this morning, over at the condo.”

“Oh—”

“Don’t worry, Mack’s all right,” said McClain quickly. “As a matter of fact he did great.”

“Where’s he now?”

“Home, sleeping off a hangover.”

“Where’s Reggie?”

“I let him go,” said McClain. “In return for a promise to leave Mack alone.”

“And you believed him? Just like that?”

“Joyce, he’s famous for keeping his word.”

“The man made a big impression on you, I see.”

“There’s something about him,” said McClain. “Anyway, now I’ve got to tell Mack about me stealing his book.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” she said. “When he knows why you did it, he’ll be grateful. Linda thinks so, too.”

“You told Linda about me and Wolfowitz?”

Joyce looked at her husband steadily. “Yes, I did.”

“Jesus, this thing is out of control,” said McClain miserably. “Now I don’t know what to do.”

“What we’re going to do is drive over to the mall and pick up Linda, go find Mack and get everything on the table. Everybody’s going to tell everything they know about everything. We’ve all got to get on the same wavelength.”

“I guess you’re right,” said McClain reluctantly.

“And then,” she said in a quiet, angry voice, “we’re going to put our heads together and see about Mister Wolfowitz.”

Three days later, Mack, Linda and the McClains flew to New York. Mack wanted to book a suite at the Waldorf, two double bedrooms connected by a sitting room, but Linda insisted on staying alone. “I’m here as your lawyer, not your girlfriend,” she told him.

“When this is over, I want to get married,” said Mack. He was sitting on the bed, watching her unpack.

“Let’s not go into that right now,” said Linda. “We’ve got enough to deal with as it is.”

“On your terms.”

“Since when?”

“Since I realized that everybody I ever trusted has betrayed me in some way. Wolfowitz, Tommy, John and Joyce—”

“They’re different,” said Linda. “They thought they were doing it for your own good.”

“—even you. You knew about Wolfowitz and didn’t say anything. And you dumped me for a quarterback.”

“That was a lifetime ago.”

“Maybe, but it was my lifetime. I’ve been thinking about it, wondering how I could have been so oblivious to what’s going on around me, and I realized you’re right—I do see my life as a novel. Everybody’s my character, so how can my characters be doing something I don’t know about? I didn’t get it before, but I do now.”

“All of a sudden.”

“People change, Linnie. You did. You’re not the same person you were in California.”

Linda stared at Mack. “I hope you’re not saying all this just to screw me while we’re in New York,” she said.

“Linnie, honest to God—” Mack said. Then he saw her crooked grin and pulled her down on the bed.

They split up after lunch. Joyce and John took a cab up to Harlem. Linda walked over to the Gothic Building on Fifth Avenue to see Carter Lang, Gothic’s in-house attorney, about setting up a meeting. And Mack went to the Flying Tiger, were he met Otto and Walter T. Horton for a drink. Then he went to see Tommy Russo.

Mack brushed past Russo’s secretary and found the agent in his office, talking into a speaker phone. When he saw Green he smiled and frowned at the same time.

“Mack!” he called, shutting off the machine, leaping from behind his desk and bustling toward him. Green plopped down on the sofa, leaving Russo in the middle of the room with his plump arms outstretched and a tentative expression on his dark face.

“Tommy!” said Mack, in a sour imitation of the agent’s greeting.

“Hey, something the matter?”

“You could say that. I had a visit from my agent the other day,” said Mack. “Herman Reggie.”

Russo went back and sat behind his desk. “I guess I better explain what happened,” he said.

“Herman already explained,” said Mack. “Just after he tried to have me killed.”

“
Wha
’?”

“He figured my diary would make a better movie if it was nonfiction. He was right, too. I’m surprised you didn’t think of it yourself—you could have sold me for more than eighteen thousand bucks.”

“Mack, this is crazy. Honest to God, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I mean, yeah, I gave your contract to Herman, it was either that or get beat to death, but the rest of it, him trying to kill you, on my mother’s eyes, I had no idea.”

“I guess you had no idea about Wolfowitz, either.”

“What about Wolfowitz?” said Tommy. He was sweating now, and he shifted uneasily in his chair.

“I was just over at the Tiger. Otto and Horton told me about Walter T.’s new book. They say he told you all about it Christmas Day.”

“I didn’t think he was serious,” said Tommy. “I mean, the guy was dead drunk.”

“What did Wolfowitz say when you asked him about it?”

“I, ah, never talked to Wolfowitz,” Tommy said. “I didn’t see any reason to. I mean, what was I gonna say, ya know?”

“You think if you keep talking long enough I’m going to start
believing this bullshit? Wolfowitz has been screwing up my books all along, hasn’t he, Tommy?”

“You’re the one who wanted him,” said Russo. “Remember, I told you you’d be better off someplace else.”

“But you didn’t tell me why. Just like you didn’t tell me about Horton. Wolfowitz was setting me up for a plagiarism thing, wasn’t he?”

“I don’t know that.”

Mack stared at him, holding his eyes until the little agent sighed and looked away. “You don’t know because you didn’t want to know,” Mack said. “You sold me and you sold me out.”

“I had to do business with him,” said Tommy. “I never meant for you to get hurt, honest to God. I thought after all this time Wolfowitz had gotten over it.”

“Gotten over what?” asked Mack.

“I told you the first time we ever met, a guy screws another guy’s wife, there’s trouble.”

Mack stared at Tommy. “Another guy’s wife? You mean Louise?”

“Yeah, Louise.”

“Jesus, that was more than twenty years ago. Even then it didn’t mean anything.”

“It meant something to him, Mack.”

“And you just sat there all this time and said nothing. How could you have done that to me?”

The mildness of the rebuke caught Russo off guard; he felt tears well up in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mack,” he said. “I’m ashamed. If I could make it right I would, but it’s too late. I can’t even ask you to forgive me.”

“I’m not doing one of those ‘
te absolvo
’ scenes, if that’s what you’ve got in mind, but I’m not looking for any revenge, either. What I want from you is a written statement, everything you know or even suspect about what Wolfowitz has been doing to my books. Have it at the Waldorf by five.”

“I’d feel better if you kicked my ass. I deserve it.”

Mack rose, walked to the door and paused. “Don’t worry, Father Tomas, you’ll pay for this,” he said.

“My Catholic conscience,” said Tommy.

“No, your Catholic bankbook. You may not know it, but you owe Herman Reggie a hundred and eighteen thousand dollars.”

When Mack and Linda arrived at Gothic, they were greeted in the reception area by an effusive Stealth Wolfowitz. “The book’s great,” he said. “You’ve really got your old touch back.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Mack said noncommittally.

“Is everyone here?” asked Linda.

“Floutie and Carter Lang are in the conference room,” said Wolfowitz. “And Fassbinder. Jesus, Mack, I don’t know why you insisted on him being here. This better be important.”

“It is,” said Linda.

“Before we go in, would you please tell me what’s going on?” said Wolfowitz to Mack.

“It’s a surprise,” Linda replied.

Wolfowitz gave Linda a wintry smile. “I see you’ve got a new spokeswoman,” he said to Mack.

“Sorry. This is my lawyer, Linda Birney.”

“I hope you’re not here to renegotiate Mack’s contract,” said Wolfowitz. “The book is terrific, but we’ve got a deal.”

“Oh, nothing as painless as that,” said Linda breezily, returning the editor’s false smile. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

They followed Wolfowitz down the long hall to the book-lined conference room where Floutie, Fassbinder and Carter Lang, Gothic’s chief legal counsel, were seated on one side of the big mahogany table. Floutie and Lang rose graciously, but Fassbinder remained seated, glowering at them.

“Well now,” said Linda briskly.

“I wonder if you’d be good enough to begin with an explanation of why we’re here,” said Floutie. “The purpose of this meeting is rather obscure.”

“I’ll see if I can’t clarify it for you,” said Linda, catching the rhythm of Floutie’s fake Oxbridge tone. It was hard for Mack to repress a grin as he recalled how, only a few hours before, this self-possessed attorney in her severe black silk suit had been tumbling around with him, wild eyed and panting, in her king-sized bed at the Waldorf. “There are several items on the agenda. Let’s begin with Mr. Wolfowitz’s criminal bad faith.”

“Bad faith?” asked Wolfowitz, spreading his hands in a gesture of innocent confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about your arrangement with Walter T. Horton.”

Wolfowitz stared at her and shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well, I thought you might not remember, so I’ve gone to the trouble of getting a notarized statement from Mr. Horton.” She snapped open her briefcase and slid copies across the table to Lang and the others. “Why don’t you all take a minute and read it. It’s not too long. Or too complicated.”