Blood Money

Chapter Thirty-One

Jack met Andie for happy hour at Ra Sushi in South Miami. It wasn’t so happy.

They had an outside table beneath a canvas umbrella that seemed about as big as a circus tent. The sidewalk was still damp from one of those reliable afternoon thunderstorms that cooled things down and made outdoor life possible in July. Andie was helping herself to the edamame with sea salt. Jack was studying the menu. Raw fish was not really his thing, but he was learning to love it since Andie lived on it. He ordered the “crispy shrimp tempura roll,” which was essentially fried shrimp in batter with rice. Not really sushi.

“Kind of like going to Il Mulino and ordering pizza,” said Andie.

Jack had never been to Il Mulino, but he’d heard that the only way to get a reservation was to have Bill Clinton make it for you, so he took her meaning. “I’m getting better,” he said.

She smiled, leaned across the table, and kissed him. “Yes, you are.”

Jack smiled back, but an obnoxious ringtone ruined the moment. It was a rap song unlike anything Jack would have downloaded, unless for reasons unknown he were specially commissioned by the Library of Congress to catalog the number of words in the English language that could be forced to rhyme with “suck” and “bitch.”

“What the heck is that?” asked Andie.

Jack pulled Theo’s phone from his pocket and silenced it. “Theo loaned me his phone.”

“Why?”

Jack checked the incoming caller-somebody named “Squeezeplay”-and let it go to Theo’s voice mail. “When we were at the airport today, Sydney Bennett called me on his phone.”

“You talked to her?”

“For about five seconds. Then she freaked and hung up. Theo let me keep his phone in case she calls back.”

“So she obviously thinks your phone lines aren’t secure.”

“And she would be dead right about that.”

“Our techies gave you a secure phone to call your clients.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know how to reach Sydney. She has to call me, and she seems to have made Theo’s cell her number of choice. So until she calls again, I’m serenaded by Lil Wayne and Shorty Shitstain.”

“Jack, that’s gross.”

“It’s no joke. There’s a rapper named Shorty Shitstain, and Theo has his ringtone.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

The waitress brought Jack his beer. Two twenty-two-ounce bottles of Kirin. “It’s two for one,” she said.

“You’re not drinking that,” said Andie.

Jack reflected on his day. “Wanna bet?”

He filled his glass. Andie watched him drink about half of it down. Before he could wipe the foam on his sleeve and say ahhh, she dropped the news.

“What would you do if you couldn’t see or hear from me for five months?”

“Huh?”

“That’s what I thought you’d say.” She shifted in her chair, sat up a little straighter. “The new assignment I’ve been training for. The only way I can do it is if I go all-in. No visitation. No phone calls.”

“Why?”

“There have been some concerns raised. All stemming from the fact that I fall into the category of ‘someone you love.’”

Jack knew exactly what she meant. If Andie went undercover, Rene’s killer was a potential threat to the entire operation.

“Have you thought about passing on this assignment?”

She looked away, then back at him. “Is that what you want me to do?”

Jack poured more beer. He was suddenly ten years younger, sitting across from the sandy blonde with steely blue eyes who looked absolutely nothing like Andie and would eventually be his ex-wife. Marriage-killing questions like this one had become Cindy’s trademark. Is that what you want me to do? Was Jack supposed to say, “No, honey, I want what you want”? Or was the correct answer, “I can’t live without you, please don’t go”? With Cindy, the right answer was, by definition, whichever answer Jack didn’t give.

“Is this a trick question?” asked Jack.

“Only if you make it one.”

Definitely a trick question.

“Okay, let’s say you go all-in. You’re committed for five months.”

“It might not be five months,” said Andie. “That’s the outside time range.”

“Let’s assume the worst, five months. What would happen if Rene’s killer were caught before then?”

Andie considered it, then seemed to light up, liking where Jack’s train of thought was leading. “That would mean the threat against me is eliminated.”

“Right,” said Jack. “And when the threat is gone, there would be no need for you to be all-in.”

“That’s true.”

“So the five months of ‘no contact’ might turn out to be only two months.”

“Or one month.”

“Or none,” said Jack, “if he was caught before your assignment even started.”

Andie reached across the table and slid her hands into his. “We have to make that happen.”

Jack thought about the coming week. “You think we can do it by Monday?” He was only half serious.

His phone rang. No rap music-really, his phone. Jack was so tired of hearing Gaines’ voice that he didn’t care who might be listening. He just took the call.

“A hundred thousand dollars,” said Gaines.

“For what?” asked Jack.

“Your client drops the case and we sign a confidentiality agreement.”

“Seriously, that’s your offer?”

“That’s my client’s offer. I’d offer you ten cents.”

“A hundred thousand dollars barely covers ten more days in the hospital.”

“That’s ten more days of hope than your clients have now. Who knows? Maybe ten days are just enough to get Celeste out of her coma and back on her feet. Maybe when you present this offer to her parents, you point out how a hundred thousand dollars could make all the difference in the world.”

“You’re all heart,” said Jack.

“Ah, sarcasm. So tiresome. And so rude.”

“Your offer is rude.”

“The offer is generous. It’s your ticket out of a very bad situation.”

“Because that’s just the kind of guy you are, Mr. Kill-’Em-with-Kindness.”

“You don’t know the first thing about me, Swyteck. Some people get angry at big corporations who refuse to write a big check to a family like the Laramores. I get angry at lawyers like you who try to force companies to write big checks when the company has done absolutely nothing wrong. So if this comes across as personal, I don’t apologize.”

“No, it actually doesn’t come across as personal. It comes across as unprofessional. So while I will comply with the rules of ethics and present your offer to my clients, I can virtually assure you that both your offer and your non-apology will be rejected.”

“The offer is open until five o’clock Sunday night. Tell your clients to take it, Swyteck. While there’s still a way out.”