When The Devil Whistles (21 page)

“But you were already in law school.”

“And loving it.” He took a sip of wine. “I was a round peg in a round hole. It was great. So I went through on cruise control, happy as a shark in a school of tuna. Then I graduated and took a job with a big firm because that’s what you do when you graduate from Harvard Law and you’ve got good grades.”

“And here you are today.”

He nodded. “And here I am today.” He lifted his glass. “To Harvard Law and Doyle & Brown.”

She lifted her glass and clinked it against his. “Would you change anything? If you could start all over with a fresh slate, what would you do?”

“Put more money in Google and less in GM and AIG.”

She laughed. “But other than that, you’d do it all again. Harvard Law, Doyle & Brown—all that?”

“Sure. Why not?”

She shrugged. “Well, it just seems like you took kind of a step down. You know, from a senator who’s helping shape the course of the country—the world—to a lawyer who sues people. No offense.”

“None taken. Actually, I think it’s a step up.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“I get to work with people like you.”

She blinked and looked down. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I most definitely mean it. Dad had to make deals with criminals. His proudest achievements were—at best— compromises. I don’t have to make deals with criminals, I take them down. No compromises, no dirty friends. I get to spend my days representing people who put themselves on the line to clean up the system. People like you, Allie. I’m honored to be your lawyer.”

She kept her eyes down and studied her wine intently. “You don’t know me.”

He searched her for any hint of false modesty, but found none. A warm glow came over him. He wanted to know her. He needed to know her. “So tell me about yourself. You asked how I wound up where I am. Now it’s your turn. How did you wind up being a professional whistleblower?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I didn’t really plan on it. I had my CPA certificate but no job. So I started temping. One of my jobs was at NorCal Corporate Trust, remember them?”

“Oh, yeah. The bank that kept making errors in their favor when they managed state bonds. Our first case together.”

“And the rest is history. Simple as that.”

Connor regarded her for a moment. “Is it really as simple as that? I know what you’ve done, but not why. Is it just to make money so you and your boyfriend can live the sweet life and go snowboarding? Or is there something more?”

“He’s my ex-boyfriend, but other than that, yeah, basically.” She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry to be so shallow.”

An uneasy thrill swept through him. A gate had just vanished from a path he didn’t dare take. “Ex-boyfriend?”

She nodded and sighed. “As of today.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he lied. “Are you okay?”

“I am now. Thanks for taking me out. I’m having a great time.”

“Me too.” He looked into her eyes. Her beautiful face was right there—he could reach out and touch her cheek, caress her skin. He was exhilarated and unsettled by what he saw there—and what she probably saw in his face. He wasn’t ready to cross this line. She was an important client and a friend— what would happen if she became more? He’d lose his job and all he had worked for. Worse, Devil to Pay would be compromised and she’d never blow another whistle. He couldn’t do that to her.

He broke away from her gaze. “So, why do you keep transferring hundreds of thousands to an account in Elmhurst, Illinois? I don’t think the slopes there are all that good.”

Her eyebrows went up. “Didn’t think you read Devil to Pay’s bank statements that closely.”

“Hey, I’m the general counsel. I’ve got a duty to read them. You own all the stock, so you can do what you want with the money. I’m just curious why you want to send it to Elmhurst.”

She sighed and a look of pain clouded her face. “That’s where my mom lives with my sister and her kids. They’re on their own, so I help them out.”

Connor smiled with satisfaction. “See? I knew there was more to it than having a good time.”

The clouds thickened. “Yeah, well I wish there weren’t. Trust me—sending money doesn’t make me a hero.”

“So why do you do it?”

“Because of my dad.” Her answer was quick, almost automatic. Her eyes widened a split second after the words came out. “I mean, I… it…” Her voice trailed off and she drained the last of her wine. “I mean I owe my parents, you know, for raising me and everything. So, I guess I’ll always be in their debt.” She glanced quickly at him and then looked out into the night crouching beyond the reach of the patio lights.

“What did you mean before you meant that?”

She gave a short laugh and looked back at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Man, you’re good.”

She dabbed her eyes with her napkin and took a deep breath. He watched her in silence, waiting until she was ready to go on. His heart raced. He knew she was opening the door to a private room. A room that had been locked for years. He felt like he was watching a butterfly come out of its chrysalis.

She took another deep breath and looked him in the eyes. “Cone of silence?”

He smiled. “I’m your lawyer and your friend. How many secrets am I already keeping for you?”

“This is different.”

“Okay. Cone of silence.”

“I’m the reason they’re on their own. I killed my dad.” Her voice shook and she paused for a moment. She swallowed and went on. “I was home from college for winter break. I needed to get some software for one of my classes and the school bookstore was out, so I decided to go to Best Buy. Of course, Dad had to come if someone was going to Best Buy.” She sniffed and took a sip of water. “Anyway, we went together. It was snowing and Mom said, ‘Pete, you should drive.’

“I said, ‘No, it’s my car. I’m driving.’

“So we started arguing. She trotted out all her favorite lines. ‘Dad’s a safer driver.’ ‘You drive too fast.’ On and on. I got mad and started yelling back at her about how I’m just as good a driver, how I’m an adult and she shouldn’t treat me like a child.

“Eventually Dad just says, ‘All right, I’m going by myself.’

“I went after him and said, ‘Hey, my car has antilock brakes. Let’s take it.’

“He said, ‘Fine. Give me the keys.’

“I said, ‘Daddy, it’s my car. I know how to drive it. Don’t you trust me?’ ”

She bent her head and pressed her napkin to her eyes.

Connor wanted to reach out to her. “And you drove.”

She nodded. “I drove. I drove too fast. And we spun out—
I
spun out—on some black ice on the highway. The car flipped over and landed on the passenger side. I had a broken nose and some cuts, but Dad—” she broke off and buried her face in her napkin, sobbing uncontrollably now.

A few diners and restaurant staff cast curious glances their way, but Connor couldn’t care less. Against his better judgment, he reached across the table and took her hand. “Oh, Allie. I’m so sorry. ”

Her face was blotchy and her makeup was a mess when she looked up again. “The last thing he said was, ‘Mom won’t understand. Say I was driving.’ He made me promise to tell Mom and everyone that he was driving, so I did.”

“And you’ve kept the truth bottled up all these years.”

She nodded. “I promised I would. He was right too—Mom wouldn’t understand. She’d still love me, but she’d never get past the fact that she told me not to drive and I drove anyway and Dad died.”

Now he understood. “And you send money to take care of her because your dad can’t.”

“I can never pay her back. I can’t bring Dad back. I can’t fill that hole in her life. In all our lives. All I can do is take care of them like he would have.”

“You’re a good woman, Allie.”

She shook her head and gave a smile that completely took his breath away. She was a mess—red eyes, smeared make up, blotchy cheeks—but she was more beautiful than he had ever seen her. Her face held a sweet, natural openness he had never seen in it before. “You just won’t see through me, will you?”

He chuckled. “I think I just did.”

“No, you’re too good a man to.” She squeezed his hand and released it. She opened her mouth, but then paused for an instant—as if she was revising what she had been about to say. “Thank you, Connor. For tonight. For being my lawyer and my friend. For listening and keeping my secrets. For everything.”

She got up suddenly and walked around the table. He started to rise, but she was standing over him and leaning down. She kissed him, and her hair cascaded around their faces, shielding them from the world. Her lips lingered on his for a long moment, soft and insistent. She smelled of sun and Chardonnay and flowers.

She pulled back and smiled. “Good-bye.”

Then she turned and walked away. The night swallowed her, and she was gone.

35

F
IRST
M
ATE
J
ENKINS STOOD AS
C
HO AND
M
R
. L
EE ENTERED
C
APTAIN
Wither’s stateroom. “So that’s what you were after.” He whistled and shook his head. “What’s down there is worth more than ten Nazi subs full of gold.”

Mr. Lee took a seat across from the captain. Cho stood behind him, hands in the pockets of his jacket. Neither hand was empty. One gripped a pistol and the other a Taser.

Mr. Lee inclined his head. “Yes, it is quite valuable. I apologize for misleading you. If the wrong people had learned that we were looking for a Soviet submarine, there would have been serious problems.”

Jenkins folded his arms. “Not just any Soviet submarine. That’s a Soviet missile submarine.”

“It is indeed.” He and Jenkins regarded each other silently for several seconds. “What do you think of that, Mr. Jenkins? Captain Wither?”

Jenkins scratched his beard. “It was a surprise. Big surprise.”

“Yes. Yes, it was,” echoed the captain.

Mr. Lee leaned forward and rested his elbows on the small table. “Does it bother you?”

Jenkins shrugged. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“Let’s start with your plans. What are you going to do next? Salvage the missiles?”

Mr. Lee nodded. “Two of them should be sufficient.”

“For what?”

Mr. Lee’s face hardened. “That’s not your concern.”

“Really? Then why are you here talking to us?”

Mr. Lee said nothing. Cho tightened his grip on his weapons and visualized what he would do. Sidestep and draw in one motion. Take down Jenkins first, then turn to the captain. If he was a threat, take him down too.

Jenkins suddenly grinned and chortled. “See, I’m thinking that you’re planning to take these things back to Oakland. Go anywhere else and you’ll get searched by customs and port security. But not in Oakland. We won’t get searched there because the
Grasp II
didn’t make port in another country and because they know the ship, the captain, and me. But if the captain and me aren’t on board or we don’t cooperate, then all bets are off. So you need us.”