Private affairs : a novel (80 page)

"Don't be an ass," said Saul. "You can't cook him or his son without burning yourself, and you know it. You took bribes from men who work for Rourke, you faked legislative reports to push through his project . . . how the hell could we leave you out? Why should we? This is the truth we're writing, not a campaign pamphlet."

Bent gazed at him expressionlessly. "You know, I like your newspaper. It's one of the best around. But I don't like you."

"It's not required," Saul replied casually.

"I like Elizabeth," Bent said. He turned his back on Saul. "I'll tell you, is that all right?"

He was like a child, Elizabeth thought. His dreams had crumbled around him, and he had become like a child. "That's fine, Thaddeus."

He nodded. "It seemed very simple, you know. Everybody knew Andy was going to retire, even though he hadn't announced it, and Chet came by one day, introduced himself as an associate of this rich used car dealer from San Diego, Terry Ballenger, who was building a resort at Nuevo, and said Ballenger and some other powerful men thought I should have Andy's seat. And he said Ballenger was concerned about Nuevo: wanted to make sure the proceedings went smoothly. We drove up there, Chet

and I, and he talked about the lake and the park and the resort—a man'd be crazy not to want them for his state—and he said Terry wanted to give me one of the condos that'd be built on the lakefront. That's all there was to it"

"And then it grew," Elizabeth said.

Bent spread his hands. "Ballenger had already funded the impact reports. The ones on jobs and tourism showed the project was a good deal for the state; they were legitimate and everybody was happy. But then the preliminary ones on the environment came in and they were a disaster. Animal habitats gone; plant life destroyed; and the water experts said no way in hell did that area need flood control or irrigation. Chet took them back and in a few weeks the final reports came in and they said nothing serious or long-term would impact the environment, and the valley was a perfect watershed for flood control and irrigation. By that time Bal-lenger's PAC had made a couple of major contributions to my campaign fund and I thought it would be damned ungrateful if I started being suspicious about a couple of reports. Then, later, the people of the town started making noises, having meetings in the church, we heard, and then that woman, Aragon, was running for the legislature, so they quick wanted an official report on resettlement help—to convince newspaper editors the people were taken care of. And Chet asked me to write it."

"And you did," Elizabeth said when he stopped.

"I did after Andy Greene called and promised me the moon. And then some other donations came in from the PAC, and a pile of cash from Ballenger for what he called my discretionary fund."

Saul had been taking notes; he slipped the pad of paper into his inside jacket and re-entered the conversation. "You'll have to tell that story a few times. And give the names of everyone else on your committee or in the rest of the legislature who got political contributions. And name Colfax and Ballenger. You won't forget the details, I suppose."

Bent grimaced. "Shit, I'd forget the whole thing if I could, but then I think about the Senate. . . . Goddammit, I told my whole family I'd be elected! My son already started calling me Senator Bent! Goddammit!" He glared at Saul. "I want Rourke identified. I want his plans and his picture all over the newspapers and television; I want everybody to know he's a lousy crook."

"Father or son?" Saul asked.

"Both of them! I'll be damned if I'll let either of them come out clean! And that pretty boy won't ever be called Senator!"

"It's a safe bet he won't be," said Saul, standing up. "I'd guess he'll spend the rest of his life working for his daddy. But that's not your

problem, or ours. We'll bring Rourke into it; you'll bring in Colfax and Ballenger and your committee. And yourself. That'll clean out a lot of dingy corners and sweep Tony away with the rest of the dirt." He turned to Elizabeth. "Anything else?"

She was replacing her notebook and pen in her briefcase. She held out her hand. "Goodbye, Thaddeus."

He took her hand. "I guess I should have been interested in that story on you. Chet shouldn't have done that."

"None of you should have done what you did." Withdrawing her hand, she walked to the door where Saul waited. "Will you be in town this week? We may have questions, to check our facts."

"I'll be here. Where would I go?"

They left him standing alone in his office. "I'm going to the office and call Matt," Saul said to Elizabeth. "I promised I'd call in, like the good reporter I am. Why don't you come along? The three of us can have an editorial conference on the phone."

"No thank you, Saul. You'll make a very thorough report without me. But let me know what he's planning; he got on the story first and I won't write anything until I know what he's going to do."

Saul opened his car door for her. "I'll tell him you said that; we don't see much courtesy among journalists these days." He got in on his side and started the car, then, before pulling away from the curb, he leaned over and kissed her. "You were terrific in there, Elizabeth. You got everything you wanted. May it always be so."

Keegan Rourke had tried to get the governor to be more specific, but all he would say was that he wanted Rourke to meet him as soon as possible, in absolute secrecy. And so, because Mitchell Laidlaw, governor of New Mexico, was not a man Rourke could ignore, he found himself two days later sitting in the luxurious interior of a small jet parked at the side of the tarmac in the Las Cruces airport. Chet was on his left ("Bring that clever assistant of yours," the governor had said), and, on a couch across the aisle, Mitch Laidlaw and Andrew Greene, who had flown in together from Santa Fe.

The governor's jet was furnished like a Santa Fe living room; the carpet was woven in geometric Indian designs; the upholstery on the oak couch and armchairs was a tapestry-like fabric striped in blue and maroon, beige and black. Outside, the airport baked in the early April sun; inside, the plane's air conditioning worked overtime and the men had tall glasses of gin and tonic, and bowls of pinon nuts and sunflower seeds on the tables

beside them. Laidlaw, Rourke noted, had a bulging soft-leather briefcase at his feet.

"Well, Mitch," Rourke said after they had made their own drinks. "You've aroused my curiosity. Shall we begin? I'm flying from here to visit my son in Los Angeles and I told him I'd be there this afternoon."

Laidlaw nodded gloomily. An enormous man with dark eyes, a square jaw, and leathery skin, he wore a cowboy shirt and faded blue jeans that somehow, because of his size and authority, made the other men, even Rourke, look stiff and uncomfortable in their dark business suits. "I appreciate your coming in, Keegan. I think you'll understand why I insisted on secrecy as soon as we—" He was looking through the window and suddenly stood. "This makes our group complete." He opened the door of the plane, letting in a blast of hot air.

Rourke heard a whimper. He saw Chet's eyes glaze with fear, and he followed his look to see Matt Lovell duck his head and step into the plane, shaking Laidlaw's hand, calling him Mitch, apologizing for being late. "The flight was delayed and there weren't others to choose from." He wore casual pants and an open-necked shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Nodding briefly to Rourke and Chet, he shook hands with Senator Greene. "How are you, Andy?"

"Not too well, Matt, but I expect I'll survive to choose my successor. We're serving ourselves; help yourself."

The governor resumed his seat. "Now that Matt's here, I want to get started—"

"Not with me," Rourke said flatly, standing up. "I fired this man from my organization two weeks ago; I have no intention of sitting in a meeting with him. I'm surprised at you, Mitch, springing this on me without warning—"

"Keegan, get your ass back in that chair," Greene said wearily. "It's too late for you to call the shots."

Chet sat fixed and rigid. The others heard a slight sound and looked at him. He was grinding his teeth.

Rourke wavered. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Sit down and we'll tell you," said Laidlaw. "I won't begin, Keegan, until you're sitting down."

Rourke took his chair. "I don't like this, Mitch. You and I don't operate this way; we've always gotten along well. And I don't have to remind you of my help in your campaigns."

Laidlaw was opening his briefcase. "I have a campaign coming up; that's why I'm worried." He pulled out a page of handwritten notes. "This meeting is Matt's idea and I've asked him to run it, but I want it

understood that he speaks for both of us. A few days ago he called to tell me about a newspaper story he's writing. He wouldn't send me a copy but he told me the gist of it—that's why we're here—and I want him to tell you. Matt?"

Matt nodded. "The simplest way is to quote the opening two sentences of the story."

Chefs teeth were like fingernails scraping a blackboard. "Chet," Rourke said, and the teeth were silent as Matt read.

"State legislators were bribed to approve a dam and resort in Nuevo, New Mexico, it was admitted today by Thaddeus Bent, Chairman of the Committee on Land Use and Recreation. Bent named the developer, Terry Ballenger, and an associate, Chester Colfax, as the men who bribed him and other committee members, and also—"

"What the devil—!" Rourke turned on Chet, his face dark. "Bribes? To state legislators? You and Terry? What the hell is he talking about?"

"Lies!" Chet's head swung from side to side. "He's lying!"

"I don't want interruptions," Laidlaw said. "Go on, Matt."

Again, Matt nodded. He looked directly at Rourke and Chet, but Rourke's eyes were hooded and Chet was staring fixedly at his clenched hands. Quietly, his voice level, Matt described Bent's talk with Elizabeth and Saul. Some instinct told him to leave out Tony Rourke, but he went quickly through the rest of it. When he finished, there was no sound but the scraping of Chet's teeth.

Laidlaw turned gloomy eyes on Rourke. "That's a lot of shit to hit the fan all at once. I'd be covered in it if I was running for re-election today. I'll be covered in it next year and the year after if we don't do something about it."

"You mean you believe it," Rourke said contemptuously.

"I believe it, and we're going to deal with it. God damn it, I'm worried about my campaign! I'm worried about every fucking campaign our party's going to lose if we have to drag this muck with us. It stinks to high heaven—and you know it—and I intend to take care of it! Today, damn it! This morning! Matt, I'm sorry, I took over your meeting."

Matt smiled at him. They liked each other and it showed; Rourke's eyes narrowed even more as he saw it. "It's your plane," Matt said. "I'll be glad to listen."

"Well, then." Laidlaw became brisk; he'd never been able to turn meetings over to other people, even someone like Matt, without itching to do his own questioning. "First things first. Keegan, do you own Ballenger and Associates?"

"Of course." Rourke crossed his ankles and meticulously straightened

the crease in his pants. "I own a number of corporations. It would be foolish for me to buy land openly; it would only drive prices up. Now, listen to me, Mitch." He lowered his voice, it became almost soothing. "This man has put together a clever story; he's used all the skills that attracted me to him in the first place. He's personable and talented and he takes in a good many people. I admit he took me in for a while. But he's a pathological liar and he's personally involved in Nuevo because his wife has investments there; she's been using her column to protect them. He's also had a long affair with a close friend of mine, and when she kicked him out recently he chose to believe I'd encouraged her to do it, and it's clear he's trying to ruin me. As for Terry Ballenger, I don't know much about him; this is the first time we've worked together. He offered to form a corporation to buy land in Nuevo and develop it: Rourke Enterprises would own ninety-eight percent; he would own two. Chet did a search on him and found him acceptable and so I agreed. If he's in the habit of doing business with bribes, I didn't know about it—though now I wonder if Chet discovered it in his search and knew about it all along—"

"What?" Chefs eyes bulged. "What?"

"Or if he corrupted Chet; I can't be sure. Either way, I deeply regret it; Chefs been with me a long time. It will be a serious loss to have to let him

"You son of a bitch!" Chet cried.

"Chet, you don't say a word," Rourke said, his voice like a knife. "Is that clear?"

Chefs glazed eyes slid to Matt, then back to Rourke, and abruptly his face changed. They've made plans for this, Matt thought. Chefs the front man; he'll be the one to spend some time in jail; and Rourke will take care of him with a job and a healthy bonus when he gets out.

"Why would you fire Chet?" the governor was asking Rourke. "If Matt is lying, why would you believe he bribed anyone?"

A small twitch appeared at the corner of Rourke's mouth. Forcibly, he stopped it. "I don't like inquisitions, Mitch. I don't have to explain my actions."

"You'll explain every goddam thing I tell you to explain. You're in trouble, damn it! We all are! When Matt publishes that story, you and your friends, and all of us, will be tarred with bribing legislators! That's not a practical joke; it's criminal!"

"So is faking legislative reports," Matt added quietly.

"Keep out of this!" Rourke flung at him. "Mitch and I are talking; you keep out of it!"

"Keegan, shut up." Senator Greene sighed. "I've been nice and quiet

and haven't put in my two cents, which is most unusual for me, but it's time I did. I heard Matt's story yesterday and it made me feel dirty. I'm only on the edges, but still I feel soiled. Matt left something out just now, when he told you about it; he left out your little boy, Keegan, and that gets me involved."

"Little boy?" Chet asked. "Tony? What about him?"

"My, my," Greene marveled. "You didn't tell Chet."

"Tell me what?" Chet looked at Rourke. "Tell me what?"