The Lasko Tangent (26 page)

The words had a sickening accuracy, and he could make them come true. The indifference was the underside of the wholly adaptable man. At bottom, he didn’t give a damn about anything except himself. And he was slick enough to bury the evidence without a trace.

We were both to the side of the desk now. Three feet between us. Woods was framed by the dark window. We watched each other.

“Try to stop me, Paget, and I’ll leave you here for Lasko’s friends.” He pointed behind me to Mary. “Her too, if you care about that.”

“No more middlemen, Woods,” I answered. “If you want to walk out of here you’ll have to kill me yourself. I know it all now. Most important, I know where the money was going.”

“I’ll bite,” he said negligently. “Where?”

“The President.”

Woods’ eyes froze, but his voice was unnaturally calm. “Just how did you reach that amazing conclusion?”

“It explains everything. You just have to put the facts in order. You start with the antitrust case, which would almost surely ruin Lasko. There’s only one man in the government who could kill that case. Lasko’s friend, the President.

“The price was one and a half million, with Catlow the perfect middleman. But getting the money was harder. Lasko’s first problem was that his company’s cash poor. So he used Green to hype the stock offering an extra one-point-eight million, laundered a million-five through Martinson, Carib, and the First Seminole Bank, then assigned Lehman to get the money to Catlow. They probably called it a ‘campaign contribution.’”

Woods seemed numbed by my recital—or perhaps he was deciding what role to play next. But the anger seized me now; he had to hear it all. “I could never see why a smart man like Lasko would use men like Green, Lehman, or Martinson. The only answer was that someone big was shaking him down and that the trial was coming soon, too soon for Lasko to plan properly. He had to use what help he could and hope he could slide by, or fix any problems later.

“Lehman was the first problem, and Lasko’s men fixed that. I was the next and you became chief fixer, not out of loyalty to Lasko, but to the President. You thought you had me wired. But none of you knew I had Lehman’s memo.”

Woods’ eyes weighed it all, then seemed to snap to a decision. I tensed, awaiting his move. “You’ve lost,” he said coolly. “The entire government’s against you—and without the memo, no one will believe any of this.” The words covered his careful slide toward the door. Part of me couldn’t believe we were going to fight. But the part that remembered Alec Lehman knew we were. He kept inching. I slid back my right foot, to brace myself.

Woods suddenly dipped his shoulder and shot forward, knocking me against the desk. I bounced off and punched up from the rib cage. It caught him while he was admiring his block. His teeth clicked, then the pain ripped through my forearm. Woods rocked, then caught himself against the wall.

I lunged for the memo. But Woods was too quick and too strong. He sidestepped as I stumbled past, off balance. Then his fist crashed into my cheekbone. I staggered, then sprawled face first on my desk, seeing a sudden purple haze. The haze cleared. In front of me was an onyx bookend, a squat hunk of rock. I grabbed it left-handed and spun.

What I got was teeth. His hands jerked up to clamp his mouth, as if to hold it together. I cocked the bookend, then hacked at his forehead. I heard Mary scream. Woods tottered on his heels. I hit him again. He staggered, eyes glazed. Then he slid slowly down the wall. I gaped at him, breathing hard.

I turned. Mary stood in the doorway, staring with shocked eyes. “Are you all right?” she asked in a strangled voice.

“I guess so.”

“What should we do?”

I couldn’t answer. My face ached and my right hand was a doughy pincushion. I tried to flex it. Woods was sprawled gracelessly on the floor, like the victim of a sudden stroke. His mouth was bloody. I stooped by him, thinking of Lehman and Tracy, McGuire and Lasko—and Mary. Woods didn’t care. He was out cold.

I got up. Mary was still staring at Woods. “I can’t believe it, Chris.”

“Neither can I.”

She looked up then and saw it in my face. She froze, irresolute, then turned to run. I caught her and threw her against the wall. She made a little sound, like a hurt cat. Her fingers covered her mouth. I moved toward her.

She shook her head like a mechanical doll. “No. No, Chris. You heard him threaten me too. You can’t believe—”

I shook her hard. “Lehman,” I demanded. “It was you and Woods.”

She stared at my face, mouth working, as if something were stuck in her throat.

“Tell me, before I mash your fucking face into the wall.”

Her words escaped in twos and threes. “That night—you said you were going to Boston—to meet Gubner.” She paused for breath. “I called Jack after—I got in. He didn’t know Gubner either.”

“So?”

She hesitated, then spoke quietly. “So Jack called Lasko.”

“Go on.”

“The case was dangerous—politically—to the White House. I don’t know who Jack talked to over there. He never said anything about money—I don’t think he knew. Jack’s ambitious, if you hadn’t noticed.”

She had begun to sound more confident. She was still talking, and I hadn’t hurt her. My grip tightened. She spoke quickly, as if to stop me. “He said Lasko knew from the name Gubner that Lehman was involved.”

It fit. Gubner had said that Lehman’s co-workers knew they were friends. “When Woods let me go to St. Maarten, was that because you told him I knew Lane Greenfeld?”

Her eyes dropped. “Greenfeld’s been covering Lasko. Jack was afraid you’d leak things if you weren’t happy.”

“And transferring the case to Justice?”

She spoke to the floor. “Jack’s idea. He gave it to Catlow. Catlow sold it to McGuire.”

I clamped her shoulders. “Goddamn you.”

Her jagged voice jumped. “No one knew Lasko would kill Lehman. I could hardly sleep.”

I shook her. “I was there, remember?”

The personal thing was close to the surface. It passed unspoken between her eyes and mine. “Please, Chris,” she said evenly. “Let me talk.”

I slowly eased my grip. Her mouth worked soundlessly, then started. “I never talked to Lasko or anyone at the White House. I never wanted you hurt. I didn’t know, really. I didn’t know what I was into—I just tried to help Jack control the case. I couldn’t expose him after the Lehman thing. He said we were both in trouble, because I’d known what he was doing. That’s the only reason I went on.”

“Including tonight, when you called him from the airport?”

“Yes, damn it. Now let me go.”

“Did you call anyone besides Woods tonight?”

She shook her head. If that was true, I had time—a little time, maybe, before Lasko’s boys showed up. I needed that. I let my hands drop. She straightened and smoothed her hair. She reached deep within and pulled out some poise. I had to admire that, even then. “OK,” she said in her own voice. “You want to know about McGuire. He didn’t know. Really. That’s why he didn’t believe Lasko killed Lehman. Of course, he didn’t want to.”

“What was all that crap about settlement?”

“They dangled a commission seat in front of him. I don’t think it was a trade-off. But they made it easy for him to think about all the good he could do if he just let this one go.”

It was always “just this once” in this place. Mary went on. “You’re very clever, Chris, much more than Woods thought. But you were so hung up on McGuire, you just knew it had to be him. Jack set him up to agree to that settlement. Then Jack played the good guy. You’ve heard of the ‘good guy-bad guy’ act, haven’t you?”

I couldn’t say anything. “You know,” she said, “Woods even tried to get McGuire to take you off the case. McGuire wouldn’t do it. Jack said he seemed to have some notion that you represented his better side.”

I stood there feeling stupid. “All right,” I finally said. “You know so much, tell me who started all this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Who tipped McGuire on the stock manipulation?”

She smiled slightly. “Ike Feiner.”

“Try again.”

“I’m serious. We couldn’t figure out why Feiner didn’t catch it. He did, at least one of his market watch people did. I checked it out. Feiner told the guy that he’d take it to McGuire. He didn’t. I suppose that makes him the tipster.”

“Why in hell did he do that?”

“My God, Chris. He wants to be chief enough to poison McGuire’s soup. I suppose he thought that the case would either blow up in McGuire’s face or that McGuire would get promoted. It was a gamble.”

I shook my head. “I’m going to have a tough time accepting that all this happened so that Ike Feiner could be a GS-16.”

“I’m sure that wasn’t the idea.”

“That’s the way it turned out.” For a moment, I was lost in the last two weeks.

Mary’s eyes softened. She spoke quickly, looking at me. “Chris, you think I was with you because of the case. Maybe I used that a little. But I didn’t have to come the other night. And I didn’t have to stay. I did that because I wanted to.”

Two days ago she had been at my place. It seemed longer. I shook my head. “I’ve had the privilege of hearing one of your little speeches about politics, remember? The President’s your man. It’s a little tough to buy that you were just helping Woods under pressure, or hanging around me out of girlish adoration. You were just another weapon. If they couldn’t kill me, they could catch me at the airport. And if that didn’t work, they could use you to pry the memo out of me and give it to Woods. Even after that, you were going to play along.”

She nodded her concession. “All right. But that doesn’t have anything to do with the other. If I kept you away from Lasko, or got this memo, you would be safe. I cared for you. You were good at things, gentle underneath—and so free. Money does make you free, you know.”

“No, I don’t know.”

“Chris, please let’s not lose this too.”

It was no good. “I’ve lost more, and long ago. My martinis will still taste good, and I’ll still like the first day of fall. And I mean to live for more of both.”

A touch of panic crossed her face. She grabbed my wrists. “Give me the memo, Chris, and I can protect you. There isn’t anywhere you can go with this. Not Woods, the White House, or anywhere else.”

She was right. I looked over at Woods. Still out. The only glint in his eyes came from the light on the ceiling. But time was running out. I had to do something to stay alive. I turned to Mary and pointed to the chair behind my desk. “Sit over there.”

She did that, looking faintly triumphant. “Can we talk this over now?”

I reached for my phone. “First you get to listen to the end of a brilliant career.”

Her tone mixed doubt and asperity. “What are you doing?”

“Just sit still.” My right hand throbbed as I dialed. It was my last shot.

A man and a woman answered together. I spoke to the man. “Mozart lived to be thirty-five, you idiot. I looked it up.”

Greenfeld sounded mildly astonished. “Chris? I thought something had happened to you.”

“No. Listen, I’m in a hurry. You still want the Lasko story?”

“Sure.”

Mary’s fingers gripped both sides of the chair. “I’ll meet you tonight,” I went on. “But let me run through it, quick, in case I get held up. That may help protect me. Got a pencil?”

“Yup. Go.”

“OK. Lasko’s company is cash poor. Lasko drove up his stock price to get extra money out of an offering. Your source is the testimony of Sam Green. Lasko took the one-point-five million and laundered it through a dummy corporation on St. Maarten, run by a Peter Martinson—”

“He was the guy with you yesterday, right?”

“Uh-huh. Martinson passed the money through a bank in Curaçao and then Alec Lehman passed it through on July 28 to a vault at the Mariner Bank in Miami. I’ve got a memo from Lasko and bank records. The box was in the names of Lehman and Robert Catlow.”

“Jesus. Why? A payoff?”

“I figure they were going to make a ‘contribution’ to the President. The timing fits with your source’s story that the antitrust case almost settled. But our investigation held settlement up, so the money didn’t move from the second bank and I can’t prove it. Can you print this?”

I heard him exhale. “All except the bit about the President. It’s probably true, but the money never got there. You’ve got documentation or sources for everything else.”

“Good enough. Put me down as an additional source.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yup. Fame is the best way to keep me breathing. Listen, what do you see happening to Lasko and Catlow?”

“When we print this? The President will be forced to drop them, and Justice will have to prosecute on manipulation and embezzlement. And the antitrust case against Lasko will go to trial.”

I looked over at Woods. Still out. “There’s more. Two weeks ago Lehman’s lawyer called me to set up a meeting.” Mary leaned forward waiting to hear her name. “Jack Woods called Lasko to tip him off. Lasko had Lehman killed before he gave me the memo. A Boston cop, Lieutenant Di Pietro, is working on it now. This—and publicity—should light a fire under him. And that’s my way out.”

I could imagine Greenfeld scribbling furiously. “This is incredible,” he finally said. “Can you document the part about Woods?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s the one weak part.”

“I’ll work on that. Anyhow, I went out to Lehman’s place and found the memo from Lasko with the deposit box numbers on it. I hid it in my desk.” Mary tensed, as if holding her breath. I went on. “Woods found out about it and tried to jimmy my desk. He’s currently stretched out on my floor, where he fell after I hit him with an onyx bookend.”

“Goddamn, Chris.” He paused, mind racing. “What about McGuire?”

The courtship of McGuire was a link to the White House. But McGuire would never be a commissioner now.

“Chris, you still there?”

“McGuire’s not involved.”

“Certain?”

“Yeah, I’m certain. Listen, can you get this in the morning paper?”

“The later edition, if we move.”

“Fine. How long will it take you to get to my office?”

“Ten minutes.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah.”