"What happened to your good buddy Steve?"
"There's something going on and Steve may be part of it."
"Going on?"
"A, uh, cover-up." Peter said the word hesitantly, knowing that it would make him appear paranoid.
"Something'like the Kennedy assassination?" Geary asked with a snort. "Something involving.the CIA, perhaps? Go home, Hale. You sound ridiculous."
"Please, Mr. Geary. I know I let you down.. .
"You didn't let me down. I expected you to fuck up.
In fact, Peter, you've confirmed my faith in my ability to judge the merits of my fellow man."
Geary almost had the door shut. Peter was desperate.
"Goddamn it," he shouted, "this isn't about you or me. It's -about Gary. That poor bastard is in jail for a murder he didn't commit."
Geary held on to the screen door and looked at Peter over his shoulder.
"Whose fault is that, Hale?"
"Mine! Are you happy? There, I said it. It's my fault.
I'm everything you said I was. I'm a self-centered shallow asshole and I'm asking for your help because I'know I don't have what it takes to save Gary."
"My advice to you is to return the retainer you took under false pretenses to the Harmons, confess your misrepresentations and tell them to hire a real lawyer to represent their son."
"It's not that simple. Please, hear me out. There's more to this than the murder in the park. I think Steve Mancini and Becky O'Shay have been working together to cover up something. I don't know what it is, but it's tied into the arrest of Christopher Mammon and Kevin Booth at Whitaker State."
Peter thought that Geary's eyes suddenly looked clearer and that the old lawyer was standing a little taller. Geary pushed the screen door open.
"Come inside. It's too cold to talk on the porch."
"Thank you," Peter answered.
The inside of Geary's house was in as much disorder as the exterior. The living room couch Geary indicated was covered in a flower pattern that had nothing to do with anything else in the room. It was worn and the prings sagged when Peter sat on it.
Youwant a drink)" Geary asked.
"Actually, yes."
Geary shuffled out of the room and returned with a fifth of Johnnie Walker and two moderately clean glasses. He poured a liberal amount of scotch in each glass and handed one of them to Peter.
"Talk," he said after taking a sip.
Peter started at the beginning. He told Geary how Steve Mancini had manipulated him into taking Gary's case and he explained his suspicions about the ways Mancini had sabotaged it. Finally, he told Geary about the day's incidents, ending with his discovery that the reports and the phone message slip were missing and his suspicion that they had been removed by Steve Mancini.
I "That's quite a story," Geary said when Peter was finished. "Some people might think that you're inventing excuses to explain why you lost Gary Harmon's trial."
"I can see how someone might think that," Peter answered, his eyes locked on Geary's.
"The way I understand it, with the DEA reports missing and Mancini and O'Shay denying their existence, you have no evidence at all to support your highly unbelievable story of a government cover-up."
"That's true."
"Then why do you think I can help you?"
This was the hard part. Peter took a deep breath.
"When I learned the reports were missing and Steve was most probably the one who'd removed them, I decided that the only thing left was to go to the source. I called the DEA office in Portland. There was only one agent on duty because it's a weekend, but eventually I was put through to Guy Price, the agent in charge. I told him everything and I told him how important it was to get copies of the reports so I could go to judge Kuffel and ask him to reopen the case. I was certain Price would help me. He isn't some ambitious, small-town D.A. like Becky. He's a federal agent."
Peter paused. He was exhausted and remembering one of the most depressing moments in his day didn't make him feel any better.
"He didn't help, did he?" Geary said.
Peter shook his head. "He told me that he couldn't confirm or deny any ongoing investigation."
"Is that all he said?"
"No," Peter answered with a tired smile. "He wished me good luck."
Geary laughed. "That sounds like your government in action, . son. If nothing else, you're certainly learning a lot-about the real world here in Whitaker."
"Yeah," Peter answered ruefully.
"You still haven't told me how you think I can help YOU.
"I almost gave up after my call to Price. Then I remembered that there was one person I knew who had enough clout to make someone like Price talk."
"I hope you don't mean me?" Geary asked incredulously.
"No, Mr. Geary. I .. I came here tonight to ask you to please call my father and ask him to talk to me."
Chapter TWENTY-EIGHT.
Peter had not slept well and the five-hour drive from Whitaker should have exhausted him, but he was floating by the time he saw the skyline of downtown Portland and the high green hills that formed its backdrop.
He was home and he was welcome once again in his father's house.
The night before, Amos Geary had talked to Richard Hale on the phone in his den for almost half an hour while Peter waited nervously in the living room. When Geary finally told Peter that his father wanted to talk to him, he had hesitated. Now that his opportunity for reconciliation had arrived, he was afraid.
When Peter entered the den, the receiver lay on its side on the edge of an old, rolltop desk. Peter had reached toward it, then stopped just before his fingers touched the plastic. What was he going to say to Richard? He hadn't thought that far ahead. Should he tell his father that he loved him? Should he say how sorry he was for disappointing him so often?
Should he ask forgiveness for falling so far below his father's expectations? In the end, all he managed was "Dad?" in a voice choked with emotions he was not yet able to express.
"Amos gave me an outline of your problem, but I'd like you to tell me everything from the beginning," Richard had responded.
It was as if there had never been an Elliot case or the intervening months of exile. One part of Peter was relieved that he was able to avoid the emotional exchange he assumed would precede their discussion of Gary's case, but there was another part of him that longed for a tearful reconciliation in which he confessed his sins and inadequacies and Richard forgave him. Thinking about it during the drive, Peter came to the conclusion that his father was not capable of crushing his son to him in a warm and forgiving hug. Peter knew he would never see tears trickling down his father's cheeks.
Richard Hale was simply not the type of man who could express his emotions.
This assistance in his hour of greatest need might be all his father was able to give.
The office of the United States Attorney for Oregon was in downtown Portland, a few blocks from the offices of Hale, Greaves. It was a little after five when Peter studied his reflection in the glass at the entrance to the office building. He had worn a charcoal gray pinstripe suit, a Berm8 tie and his best silk shirt for the meeting.
Sunlight rebounded from the shine on his black wing tips.
When Peter entered the lobby, Richard was standing off to one side. He had put on weight since the day he sent Peter into exile, but Richard was still thinner than Peter's mental image of his father.
"How was the drive?" Richard asked.
"Long and boring."
Richard smiled.
"Thanks for doing this for me," Peter said.
"You're my son," Richard answered simply. Then he turned toward the elevators.
"I don't know what to expect, Peter. There are no guarantees. Katherine probably knows nothing about what's going on in Whitaker. At best, one of the assistant U.S. attorneys is working with the DEA agent in charge of the case. Price might not even know that much about the operation or, if he does, his people may not be involved in this cover-up. That might be the work of the D.A. in Whitaker and your friend, Mancini."
"I know that. I just want to find out if Whiley was working for the DEA and whether O'Shay knew it. And I want copies of any reports that will prove O'Shay knew about the Mammon-Whiley connection."
The elevator doors opened into a reception area.
Richard announced their presence to a receptionist who sat behind a window of bulletproof glass. Minutes later, a door opened and a tall, welldressed woman with glasses and short black hair walked into the waiting area.
Katherine Hickox owed her appointment to the state circuit court bench to Richard Hale and others at Hale, Greaves, and it was to Richard Hale that she had turned when she decided to apply for the position of United States Attorney. Richard had quietly touted her to Oregon's United States senators and had made a phone call to a high-ranking official in the justice Department with whom he had served on a committee of the American Bar Association. So, it was no surprise when Hickox agreed to meet with Peter's father at five-thirty and to make certain that Guy Price attended the meeting.
"Richard," she said, offering him her hand.
Richard took it, then motioned Peter forward.
"This is my son, Peter. He's just driven in from Whitaker."
"It's nice meeting you," Hickox said warmly. If she knew about Peter's disgrace she hid her feelings well.
"Let's go back to my office. Guy is waiting for us there."
Hickox led them along a series of corridors to a corner office with a panoramic view of the city. When they entered, a short, muscular man in a brown sports coat stood up. After she made the introductions, Hickox sat down behind a large oak desk and Price sat beside it.
"Why don't you tell us why you needed to meet?"
Hickox suggested.
"Mr. Price," Richard said, looking directly at the DEA agent, "my son called you from Whitaker yesterday."
When Richard called Hickox to set up the meeting, he had not mentioned that his son would be accompanying him. Price suddenly made the connection. He did not looked pleased.
"For your benefit, Katherine ' Peter has been trying a death penalty case in Whitaker. Last week, his client was convicted of murdering a woman named Sandra Whiley.
Ontil yesterday" there did not appear to be anyone'else in Whitaker with a motive to murder the young woman.
Then, Peter discovered two DEA reports in the files of a Whitaker attorney named Steve Mancini. The reports, coupled with other information, led him to conclude that Wbiley had been working as an informant for the DEA in a case in Whitaker involving a very dangerous and violent drug dealer named Christopher Mammon.
"These IDEA reports were mixed in with police reports that had been given to Mancini in the drug case by the district attorney who is prosecuting the death penalty case. When Peter asked her about the reports, she denied knowing anything about them. Peter returned to his office to make copies of the reports and found them missing. He called Mr. Price for assistance and was told that it was against policy to confirm or deny the existence of an ongoing investigation. I'm here to ask Mr. Price to tell Peter if Sandra Whiley was working for the DEA in a case involving Christopher Mammon so that Peter can try to avert a miscarriage of justice."
Price looked uncomfortable. "I told your son that I can't discuss ongoing investigations, even to confirm or deny them. I'm afraid that's still my position. I wish you'd called me before having your son drive all the way here from Whitaker for nothing."
"I understand the official position of your office, Mr. Price. What you need to understand is the effect of following it," Richard told the agent coldly. "If Sandra Whiley was working for the DEA and the Whitaker ths Peter, she is guilty of a gross violation of the discovery trict attorney intentionally concealed this fact from rules. If she cons' i pired to have the reports destroyed to prevent Peter from provine her misconduct, she may be Guilty of a crime.
"Mr. Hale, I know you want to help your son, but I'm not going to discuss DEA business with either of you. If this D.A. is violating some law, your son should take it up with the judge we's trying the case."
Hale stared hard enough to make Price break eye contact. Then, in a level tone, he said, "Katherine will tell you that I am not without influence. If I find out that you're aware that Sandra Whiley was an informant for the DEA in the Whitaker case and you kept quiet about it, knowing it could cost a young man his life, I will personally make sure that you wish you were never born."
Price's eyes widened and he leaped to his feet.
"Guy!" Hickox said, holding out her hand in his direction. Price remained standing, but he restrained himself. The U.S. Attorney turned to Richard.
"I won't have you threatening Guy in my office, Richard."
"You're quite right," Richard said, in a tone that let Price know he still meant to keep his romise. "I a lo p PO gize, Mr. Price. I'm sure you probably don't linow ,hat's going on in Whitaker and I'm equally certain that you'll do the right thing, if you discover that an obstruction of justice is occurring there."
Price glared t Richard, but held his tongue.
"Thank you for meeting with Peter and me, Katherine."
"Let me show you out," Hickox answered stiffly.
As soon as they were out of Price's hearing, Hickox said, "How dare you pull a stunt like that? I don't work for. you and I'won't let you involve me in one of your cases."
Peter's father stopped and looked directly at Katherine Hickox.
"You don't work for me, but you are the chief law enforcement officer for the United States Government in this district. I wanted you to know that something very dirty maybe going on in your bailiwick. Something you don't want to be part of. Have a talk with Mr. Price after we're gone. Listen carefully to what he tells you.
Price may be clean, but he can find out someone else is dirty and he can make certain that Peter gets a copy of those reports. I've known you a long time, Katherine, and I know you'll do what is right."