The Fixer

65

Rick was surprised-pleasantly-at how quickly he was able to write the exposé. He knew the subject matter well.

Still, it took him all night. He was powered by caffeine and outrage.

In the morning he e-mailed the piece to Dylan, the copy desk guy at Back Bay.

Half an hour later Rick’s phone was ringing.

“Dylan.”

“Dude, you’re serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“I post this, I could lose my job.”

“Dylan, I wouldn’t want to put you in a situation where you-”

“No, no,” Dylan interrupted. “I put that in the plus column.”

It had been one gaseous speech after another. The head of the Boston Redevelopment Authority boasting about the Olympian Tower-“the tallest structure in Boston at twelve hundred feet high and sixty-five stories”-and the mayor had talked about “this gleaming silver tower on the site of what was once Boston’s blighted Combat Zone.” A brass band played a John Philip Sousa march. Confetti fluttered down over the VIPs, blasted high into the air from six confetti cannons. The TV lights barely made a difference on this bright sunny day.

Groundbreakings were deadly dull, no matter how much confetti you pumped in, whether you use a silver spade or gold. Everyone wanted to claim some piece of credit. Nobody really wanted to be there. No ground was actually broken. Everything was theater.

Thomas Sculley understood this instinctively. He’d had countless groundbreaking ceremonies for the buildings he had put up. So his remarks were blessedly brief.

The mayor of Boston had introduced Sculley, whom he called “a man of singularly philanthropic bent.” Sculley, dressed in a beautiful blue suit, had taken the microphone and spoken just a few sentences.

“When I came to this country fifty-two years ago from Belfast with just a shovel and a wheelbarrow, I’d never in a million years have imagined that one day I’d be standing up on a stage with the mayor of Boston. I’d never have imagined people would someday be waiting just to hear the words come out of my mouth. Oh, wait. As my wife reminds me, they’re not.” Polite laughter. “So with no further ado, let’s break ground for the greatest building in the greatest city on earth!”

Andrea hadn’t been invited to the ceremony, but it took no more than a quick call to Sculley’s office to wangle an invitation for her and a guest. After all, Geometry Partners was to be given office space in the new Olympian Tower. She was here to celebrate, too.

After the dignitaries had dug a few symbolic shovels of dirt, to wild applause, Andrea sidled up to the low stage. She was beautifully dressed in a white dress and looked poised, but Rick could see she was nervous. Of course she was.

Reporters thronged around the mayor. Sculley they largely left alone. Finally, Andrea found her moment. She slid up to Sculley and handed him a folded sheet of paper.

Rick watched intently as Sculley looked at the note wonderingly, grinned, then took out a pair of reading glasses from his suit pocket. His brow creased.

He read the note. It was only a few sentences. His eyes lifted from the page and met Andrea’s. Then they scanned the crowd, squinting, right to left, then left to right.

And then his eyes found Rick.

Sculley’s smile faded. His expression was dead, but Rick was sure that in Sculley’s eyes he could detect something very close to fear.