The Switch

52

Will waited for the scheduler, Rachel, to finish with the senator. He caught the senator’s eye, nodded to let her know he was okay with waiting. Rachel got up two minutes later and blurted out, “Sorry!” when she saw that Will had been waiting.

“No problem,” he said.

He closed the office door, turned, and folded his arms. “They’ve just released Tanner in Boston.”

“Who, NSA?”

He nodded.

“What do you mean, ‘released’ him? I didn’t even know they’d found him. Didn’t you say they’re looping you in?”

“They agreed to keep me apprised of their efforts to locate the guy, yes. But they didn’t say they’d do it in a timely fashion.”

“Damn them. I don’t understand — what’s the point of releasing him?”

“It’s a deal they made with him. He’s agreed to retrieve the laptop and bring it to them.”

“That cannot be allowed to happen.”

“I know.”

“Will, when someone tells me something is handled, I expect it to be handled.”

Will didn’t answer. He just waited for her to speak again, as he knew she would.

“Did he talk to them?” Robbins said. “Do they know whose laptop it is? They’ve got to know.”

Will closed his eyes, shook his head. “If they knew, we’d know.”

“What are you—?”

“One of their legal folks would have been in touch with you already.”

“All right, then, can we — can you—?”

“Susan, this guy isn’t going to cooperate. I don’t know what he’s up to, but he refuses to admit he even has it.”

“Is it possible he doesn’t?”

“No. He has it, and NSA knows that too. Problem is, he’s got it hidden somewhere. I tried the sneaky approach; I tried the direct approach; nothing works. When—”

“Olshak,” she said abruptly.

“Bruce Olshak? The—”

“He owes me a favor.”

“Bruce Olshak does?” That was one of those names you didn’t let pass your lips casually, Will reflected. Not, at least, in this town. Bruce Olshak was a notorious, near-legendary lawyer and fixer for the New England crime family. He was involved, in some way, with the Teamsters’ East Coast operations. He was known for paying off judges. It had been said of him that he lost his moral compass when Roy Cohn died. Olshak was basically Lord Voldemort with a collar bar. What was remarkable about him was that he’d never been caught doing any of the things he was famous for doing. He had never once been indicted for anything. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be calling a guy like that.”

“We’re friends.”

“It doesn’t look good.”

“Get me his phone number,” she said.

“But you’re not talking about—”

“Desperate times,” she said. “Desperate measures.”