Desperate Measures (30 page)

Janny watched the minute hand on her watch. When the small hand reached the two minute mark, she hung up, redialed, and said she was cut off. A moment later Nester's voice rang over the wire. “Detective Nester, this is Janice Hobart. You do remember me?”

“Very well. Where are you?”

“Listen, okay? Don't ask questions. Maddie is with me. She's . . . acting funny. I think she's going to have a nervous breakdown. She said as much. Before Maddie started . . . she said she thought we should call you. All of you lied to us. Nothing is the way those people said it would be. I need to hear you say you all lied. About Pete and his uncle. You have thirty seconds and then I'm hanging up. Did you or didn't you?”

“Miss Hobart, listen to me, I just take orders. I do what I'm told. You could be in danger, whether Pete or his uncle are involved or not. What in the hell made you two leave the program?” His voice was that of a chastising big brother.

“Time's up. I guess that means it all was a lie, that's what I'm getting out of what you said. Shame on you. You've ruined our lives, and it's on your conscience.” Breathlessly, she hung up the phone. “Servant of the people, my ass,” she muttered.

“Who were you talking to, Janny?” Maddie said, stretching her legs out in front of her.

“I called Pete's apartment and then I called Nester. That's what you wanted me to do, isn't it?”

“I guess so. Did you talk to Pete's friend?”

“She said he wasn't there and doesn't know when he'll be back. She asked me twice where we were, but I didn't tell her. I also forgot the time difference here.”

Maddie's eyes sparked momentarily. Janny ran with the spark and started to babble. “Nester almost admitted he lied . . . they lied . . . someone lied . . . they all lied ... whatever. He said he just followed orders. To me that's an admission. He said we could be in danger, even if not from Pete's uncle, and wanted to know why we left. Sometimes people are so stupid. I told him you were on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Are you?”

Maddie stirred, her eyes full of tears. “I've never felt like this before. There's no incentive to make me want to move, to do anything. I don't even want to think. That's what's scaring me, so if that means I'm having a nervous breakdown, then I guess I am. I want to go to sleep and never wake up.”

Janny's eyes filled with panic. “Are you telling me,” she said carefully, “that we should sit down and wait for the marshals to come back and get us? If you're telling me that, then you're going to sit here by yourself because I am not going to sit around and wait to go someplace more deadly than this. I made a mistake listening to you. I thought you had all the answers, and now you're sitting there sucking your thumb. You don't care that I gave up my life, gave up hope of ever finding my mother. You gave up Pete and your business. Big, fucking deal. I gave up my
mother
. Do you hear me, Maddie? Until now I just diddled with the idea of finding her, it was something to dream about, something to hang on to. Now that I know I can't ever do that, it's suddenly the most important thing in the world to me. So you just go ahead and sit here and do whatever it is you're going to do. I'm getting out of here.”

“Where are you going?” Maddie asked, fear seeping into her voice.

“I have no idea, but I'm going. As far away as I can go or until my money runs out. Good luck, Maddie.”

Maddie was out of her chair running after Janny a second later. “Wait. Cut me a little slack, okay? Let's sit here on the steps and try to formulate a plan.”

“Maddie, that's what we've been doing. Neither one of us is any good at this. We need to admit to ourselves and to each other that we are not cut out to ... live on the run. You know it too, or you wouldn't have told me to call Nester. At best we have a day, maybe a day and a half, until Mrs. Isaacson comes home.”

“When did you get so uppity and persnickety?” Maddie demanded.

“When you curled into a fetal position,” Janny shot back. “Now, what's it going to be?”

Maddie picked up the phone and dialed Pete's number. It rang five times before it was picked up on the other end. “Annie, this is Maddie. Has Pete returned?”

“No, Maddie, he hasn't.”

“Is Pete's phone bugged?”

“It was. Mr. Jakes said he removed the device. I personally don't know much about things like that. I understand your reticence in disclosing your location. I don't know what to tell you. I think you should know Pete's going to be leaving shortly on a business trip. His uncle called earlier. What do you want me to tell him?”

“Tell him,” Maddie said, her eyes locking with Janny's, “that Janny and I are back in the program. Tell him I did everything I could to reach him so he could help me. I needed him. Tell him . . . tell him I don't need him anymore.”

Janny watched her friend hang up the phone. “Why did you say a thing like that?” she hissed.

“It's true, isn't it?” Maddie's voice was flat, devoid of any emotion.

“Now what?”

“Now you call Nester back. Tell him to call the marshals to pick us up. Our only stipulation is we go together. If he can't agree, then we start to hitchhike.”

The United States Marshals picked up Maddie and Janny at four o'clock in the morning. They climbed into the backseat of a maroon sedan. They huddled together and were asleep almost instantly.

The driver headed north.

 

The hour was early. The room was in shadows cast by the overhead light fixture, which was missing two bulbs. It was a dusty room, a room in the narrow basement at 600 Army Navy Drive. Mostly an unused room that now hosted six angry, belligerent men.

Otis Nester looked around at the faces staring at him. He knew the resentment he felt at this middle-of-the-night summons showed clearly on his face. He'd driven all night to make this particular meeting. He felt irritable because his clothes were wrinkled and he needed a shave. And he had to drive all the way back to New York shortly.

There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Otis Nester was pissed off. Big-time.

Introductions were made by a young man who, Nester thought, still hadn't shaved: the Attorney General, the Security Chief of the U.S. Marshals Service, William Monroe of Justice, and Carl Weinstein of the FBI. Three marshals in uniform stood against the wall. All their eyes were on Nester. His own eyes were narrowed, mostly because they were full of grit as he gazed at first one man and then another until he completed his scrutiny of the room's occupants.

“I told you it wasn't going to work,” Nester said. “Did you listen? Those young women suspect we lied about Leo Sorenson to get them to cooperate. Sure you have them now, but you aren't going to keep them. I'd bet my pension on it. Just because you agreed, which you should have done in the first place, to let them be together, won't keep them in hiding. You screwed up, and I for one don't blame them for bolting.
They found each other. Maddie got away and you lost her. What the
fuck does that say for you guys? Not much to me, and even less to them.”

“They trust you,” the Attorney General said quietly. “They called you.”

“And called me a liar. They aren't stupid. They're going to remember all this, and when they get antsy again in a month or so, they're going to do the same thing. Jesus Christ, you took Miss Stern's lover, her wedding, her business away from her. Your program,” he said, eyeing the Chief of Security, “is not designed for people like Maddie Stern and Janice Hobart. You needed to make concessions, and you didn't. What you're doing now isn't going to work any better. Those women are
intelligent.
And Maddie Stern is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. If that happens, Janice Hobart will be your worst nightmare come to life.”

“We have rules,” the Security Chief said.

“Fuck your rules. They didn't work the first time out, and they aren't going to work this time either. Get that through your head,” Nester snarled.

“We don't have the money for first-class hotels, and we can't provide the kind of jobs they desire. We can't give them cars and privileges. We aren't set up that way.”

“Exactly!”
Nester shot back. “You can find the money to do what has to be done. Keep them happy and content, tell them the truth, and you might have a chance of keeping them in the program. If you don't, I'm going to get another midnight call. Jesus Christ, don't you get it? They got away from you. Maddie Stern is in love, and you didn't have the decency to bring about a meeting so Sorenson could be told what was going on. Well, let me be the first to tell you he's on their trails. I know Maddie Stern called him. She didn't tell me that, I figured it out for myself. This guy loves her too, and he isn't going to let it die down. You ripped all that out from under her and then you didn't follow through on what you promised,” Nester said, his voice as chilly as his eyes.

“What do you suggest?” the Security Chief asked quietly.

“Be good to them. They don't deserve anything less. I realize you can't give them back the life they had, but you can come damn close. Pull strings, make calls, do what it takes, for Christ's sake. With Maddie Stern's testimony, she's giving you what you only dreamed about. Without her you have no case.”

“They trust you. Why is that, Detective Nester? You lied to them too.”

“Yes, but under orders. I told you they were smart. They saw through that once they had time to think. They know cops follow orders. That was the first thing they asked me last night.”

“And your reply was . . .” the Attorney General said.

“My reply was, I do what I'm told, I follow orders. If I had lied, they would have hung up. Give me some credit, sir.”

They talked among themselves for the next thirty minutes, arguing and snapping and snarling at one another. Nester sipped at his coffee, which tasted like his running shoes smelled.

“Adam Wagoner promised Maddie Stern a meeting with Pete Sorenson,” Nester said when he finished the coffee.

“Adam Wagoner passed away,” the Security Chief said quietly. “That promise is not binding to the rest of us.”

“I'd rethink that if I were you. Maddie Stern is going to be thinking about it a lot. If there's nothing else, gentlemen, I'd like to get on the road and out of Washington before rush-hour traffic.”

Outside in the early morning air that was clear and fresh, Nester contributed to the day's pollution by lighting a cigarette. He wanted to kill someone or something at that moment.

As Nester headed for I-95 he wondered when the muckety-mucks would tell Maddie and her friend it would be at least three years before the case came to trial. Not for a year at least, and then it would go on a month-to-month basis. He consoled himself with the fact that both women were safe and they were together.

For the moment.

Pete dated the check September 4, 1983, scribbled an
amount, signed his name, and handed it to Simon Jakes. “Thanks for everything, Jakes. Have a nice weekend,” he said wearily.

“What are you going to do, Pete?”

“Well, I thought I'd drive up to Connecticut, meet with a new broker and see if I can move things along a little faster. I'm going to sublet the apartment to Annie, and I'll move into a new house. I have a few days to get things in order before I have to make another trip. Jesus, Jakes, I can't believe Maddie said . . . said she doesn't need me now. How could she say a thing like that?” Pete said brokenly. “Christ, I did everything I could think of. For days, I tried to get a line on that woman who sold Maddie her cat Tillie. Zip. Fucking zip. I was so sure that was the answer. She was in, then she was out, now she's back in. Maddie I mean. Annie said she sounded disgusted. What the hell does she want from me? Disgusted. Jesus.”

“Look, Pete, it was meant to be this way. Accept it and be grateful that Maddie and Janny are in safe custody. That should be your main concern. How long does it take a trial to come to court?”

Pete snorted. “A trial like this? At the very least, a year. They'll want to make sure the case is as airtight as they can make it. Time . . . time doesn't always make things right. When this is all over, if it's ever over, none of us will be the same as we are now. I'm changing already, and I know Maddie is too.”

Jakes nodded. “Well, if you need me, you know where to find me,” he said. “Good luck, Pete. Say good-bye to Annie for me.”

“I'll do that. Stay in touch.”

“That trip you mentioned—where are you going this time?”

“Montana,” Pete said. “The consortium I work for decided they want to buy up cattle ranches. I'm actually looking forward to this job. I can't wait to smell the great outdoors and eat home-cooked food. That was one of the promises they made to me. They tell me ranch life is good for the soul. I'll send you a postcard.”

“Do that.”

When Jakes left, Pete wandered around the apartment feeling lost. He thought about Maddie until his vision blurred. He wished he could blink his eyes and have Barney materialize. Barney would have answers for him.

In a fit of something he couldn't define, Pete stomped his way to the hall closet and yanked out his surfboard. He carried it back to the living room, where he laid it on the floor. He had wax, polish, and a bag of old rags. He started to work on the board, not knowing if what he was doing to it was right or wrong. He worked for two hours before he threw down the rags in disgust. Who was he fooling? He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to do anything. But most of all, he didn't want to be alone. Annie. Annie always made things better. Good old Annie.

The surfboard went back into the closet, the rags and polish placed on the overhead shelf.

It was ten-thirty according to the clock on the mantel. The long day stretched in front of him. Did he really want to go to Connecticut? Not alone he didn't. A moment later the phone was in his hand. Annie answered on the third ring. “How'd you like to go to Connecticut with me? Close up.”

“I'd love it if you can manage to work a little enthusiasm into your voice. I can't close, though, I have the Labor Day sale going on and business is very good. I expect it will slow down around three or so. How about if I give you a call around two?”

“Okay. I'm going out, so if I'm not back, leave a message. Oh, Jakes said to tell you good-bye.”

“Pete, I'm sorry you couldn't make things work for you. I know you don't want to hear this, but you have to think about what's best for Maddie.”

“You're right, I don't want to hear it. I'll talk to you later.” Maddie doesn't need me, he thought. Maddie sounded disgusted.

An hour later Pete was driving through Saddle River Park on his way to his uncle Leo's. He loved the park, had come here often on foot and then on his bike the first summer he spent with Leo. As he made his way down Ridgewood Avenue he wondered if he should have called ahead. Leo could have gone away for the holiday weekend. In the end it didn't matter. He liked driving, it was a way to pass the time. Besides, this talk was long overdue. It was something he'd put off for years and wasn't sure why. So why did he feel it was time to do it now? Because, he answered himself, if I'm to go on with my life, I have to go with no excess baggage loading me down.

Leo himself answered the door. He managed to cover his surprise with a weak smile. “Peter, it's nice of you to come by. Is anything wrong?”

Suddenly Pete wanted to cry, to sob into his uncle's shoulder, to feel the older man pat him on the back and mouth soothing words of comfort. “There's a lot that's wrong. There isn't much that's right these days. I need to talk to someone. I guess you think you're a last resort ... and in a way, you are.”

“Come in, Peter. Let's go out on the patio and talk. I've been closing up the pool. Can you stay for lunch? I gave the staff the weekend off. I made pickled eggs this morning. My cook made a tray of vegetable lasagne and a pot of stuffed cabbage, all the things I'm not supposed to eat.”

“Why is that? Sure, I'll have lunch with you.”

“Because my heart isn't so good. I cheat once in a while.”

“I didn't know that. You never said anything,” Pete said.

“A man doesn't go around talking about his . . . weaknesses. Our family was always robust and . . . healthy. Well, your father wasn't exactly robust, but he was in good physical shape.”

“I think you should have told me,” Pete said with annoyance.

“Would you have been nicer to me? Is that what you mean, Peter?”

“Yes . . . no. I'm your only living relative. You should tell me things like that.”

“Shouldn't that work two ways? You weren't going to invite me to your wedding. I don't want us to argue, Peter. I'm just glad you stopped by. I don't even care what the reason is. Why don't we ... visit for a bit, and then you can tell me why you're here.”

Pete settled himself in a padded lounge chair under a gaily striped, oversize umbrella. His uncle handed him a glass of ice tea.

“Tell me about my father, and don't bullshit me,” Pete said. “Tell me all the things you
didn't
tell me when we first met. I know he didn't like you. My dad liked everyone. Everyone but you.”

Leo sipped at his ice tea. “Harry was younger than me by three years. When we were young, we were inseparable. I looked out for him. I was the robust-looking one, big for my age, and I was also a bit of a bully I suppose. Harry was tall and thin. Very thin. Children picked on him, in the beginning. He wasn't much of a fighter. I'm not saying that was wrong. He didn't do all that well in school because he was a bit of a dreamer. He didn't want to go to college, so he did all manner of things. For a while he was a mechanic, and then he was a salesman. He was also a house painter and a roofer. He managed to keep himself going. I wasn't in much of a position to help him because I was working my way through college and law school. We stayed in touch, though. Harry wrote faithfully, and I did too. In the beginning.”

Pete held his glass out for a refill. He noticed the way his uncle's hands shook when he poured from the heavy cut-glass pitcher.

“The year I graduated from law school I met a lovely young woman and I invited her to go home with me for the Memorial Day weekend. I loved her dearly. She became my reason for getting up in the morning. I introduced her to Harry, and it was love at first sight for both of them. I didn't take it well and neither did Harry. We had a fistfight, and of course I, in my anger, beat the crap out of him. The object of both our affections called me every unthinkable name she could think of. I watched her kiss away every bruise, every cut, every mark on your father. She wanted to spit on me, but she was too much of a lady to do that. Calling me names was okay, though.

“I left, my heart in shreds. I sent a wedding present, and at one point I offered to loan your father money for a down payment on a little house, the one you grew up in. Your father refused the offer. There was no contact after that for a long time.

“Then, when I found you, it all came back. Now you were mine, and I didn't know the first thing about kids. You were a sassy, arrogant boy, and I didn't know how to handle that. I'm not making excuses here, I'm telling you how it was.

“I thought if I gave you everything under the sun, it would make things right. It drove you further away. I gave you every advantage, and you still thumbed your nose at me. I likened that to what your mother did to me. I wanted you to be everything your father wasn't. And you are. You're bright, you're successful, you're rich. I made you what you are today, Peter.”

“For all the wrong reasons, Leo. What good is all that if I can't have the woman I love? I never married. You never forgave my father. You didn't do it for him, you did it all for yourself. You wanted to prove—and I don't know how you prove things to dead people—but you wanted to prove to them you were the better one. When my parents were alive, we were happy. You never once made me happy.”

“I didn't know how, Peter.”

“Damn it, couldn't you learn? Listen, I'm not blameless here. As long as we're in a confessing mode, I need to tell you a few things. I thought, believed, that you were searching for me. I honest to God believed that. Just the same way I believed Barney would come for me when I was sixteen. In the beginning I wanted to go to you so many times and bawl my head off. I ached to have you hug me and take me in your arms and thump my back. You know, guy stuff.

“Another thing, I don't hate the law. I know I say I do. It was a way of jamming it to you. I truly don't know if I would have made a better engineer. I guess what I'm trying to say here is nobody gets it all, and I am grateful for everything you've done for me.”

“And I'm grateful you allowed me to do it,” Leo said quietly.

“I guess neither one of us tried hard enough,” Pete went on. “I'm sorry for the years we lost. I think I turned out to be a pretty nice guy.” Leo beamed. “Okay, you had a little to do with it.” Leo kept on beaming. “I really don't
like
the law, though,” Pete blurted.

“I know. Explain to me how you can do so well at something you hate so much.”

“I think I've been trying to prove to you that I'm better than you are. At what I do,” Pete said hastily.

“Spoken like a true lawyer. I'm so proud of you I could burst.”

“Where do we go from here?” Pete asked quietly.

“One day this will all be yours,” Leo said, gesturing broadly. “It ain't shabby, kid. I busted my ass to get it, and it isn't tainted, if that's your next question.”

“What about all those sleazebags your office represents?”

“Those sleazebags, as you call them, are less than one percent of our clients. Sure, I know members of the crime families. Hell, your father and I went to school with them. I call them by name, they call me by name. They do what they do for a living, and I do what I do.” Leo paused for a moment and eyed his nephew speculatively. “Are you trying to find out from me if there's a way I can intervene on your behalf?” he asked quietly. “Is that where this is going?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Pete brought him up to date on the past several weeks.

“My advice is to wait it out, let the authorities do their job, and you, Peter, sit back and wait. It's the only sensible, logical, reasonable thing to do. To do anything else would be very foolhardy.”

“I haven't had the time to go back and read up on what happened. The detective I hired gave me highlights, enough to go on. How good a case do the authorities have? How long before it comes to trial?”

“From what I've read and heard, they have a very good case. My best guess would be two years before this case sees a courtroom, maybe three. They can't afford to make any mistakes.”

“Is this where you tell me to keep busy, work my ass off and the three years will go by like lightning?”

“In a manner of speaking. You cannot penetrate the Witness Protection Program, Peter. It's never been done.”

“There was a tap on my phone.”

Leo made an ugly sound in his throat. “There's been one on my phone for years. The feds are experts at things like that. Don't pay any attention to it. I don't. When you don't do anything wrong, they can't do anything to you. That alone should answer any questions you have about me. Now, how about those pickled eggs?”

“My mother used to make pickled eggs, but only on Easter.”

“I know. That's where I acquired the taste. I make them every week. I'm not supposed to eat them. Yolks are bad for you. When it comes right down to it, nothing's good for you. Sex is up for grabs, smoking will kill you, alcohol will rot your liver, eggs will bust your veins, and cake and pie will blow your heart right out of your chest. You know what I say to all those greedy doctors? I say fuck you, if I'm meant to die, then I'll die. When God's ready for me, I'll go, kicking and scratching, but not eating bean curd and brussels sprouts. Jesus, the gas alone can kill you.”

Pete laughed, and his uncle smiled in response, his face merry and relaxed.

His uncle, Pete noticed afterward, was at home in the kitchen, setting fine china on place mats, folding napkins, setting the bowls of food in two separate microwave ovens. “I like things to be ready all at the same time,” Leo said, pointing to the four microwave ovens lined up on the counter. “It's decadent, right?”