Greg Iles - The Devils Punchbowl

“Grab Sands or Quinn off the street and squeeze them until they tell us where she is. You told Sands yesterday that you’d kill him if he fucked with my family. Well, Caitlin is family.”

“She is, absolutely. But we won'’t be able to get to them now. They’ve gone to the mattresses.”

Carl seems to be breathing better, but he’s not yet coherent.

“But

why

?” I ask. “Sands isn’t stupid. Why take the risk of me calling the FBI and blowing up the whole Po sting?”

“I told you, either Caitlin gave them no choice, or you have something they want.”

“But I don'’t!”

“Maybe they think you do. Sands thinks there’re still variables floating around out there. The USB drive, for instance. And whatever that computer kid had on him. The bird lover. And don'’t forget Linda Church.”

Kelly’s right, especially about Linda. “I could see Caitlin trying to find her.”

“The worst scenario,” he says, “is that Caitlin was planning to go public, and they found out about it. They probably have somebody on their payroll down at the paper. Only makes sense.”

“Jesus. Do you think they took her just to kill her? Kill her and lose her body?”

“No. They’d have taken Carl too. This is like when kings used to exchange hostages to prevent wars from happening. Gangs still do that kind of thing.”

“How is this like that? They have Caitlin, and we have nothing.”

“Sands must

think

you have something. Probably Ben Li’s insurance.”

As soon as these words leave Kelly’s mouth, I know what to do. I

take out my cell phone, but before I punch a key, Kelly says, “Whoa, what are you doing?”

“Watch and learn.” I speed-dial Seamus Quinn, and the Irishman answers with his usual smug sarcasm.

“Top of the morning to ya, Mr. Mayor.”

“It’s after lunch, Quinn.”

“Is it? I'’ll bet some people are just wakin’ up, though.”

I nod meaningfully to Kelly. “We both know what happened last night, so let’s skip the games. I know you won'’t talk about it. I just want you to know one thing.”

“You’re not gonna threaten me again, are you? I'm getting a bit tired of that.”

“Do you remember our conversation on the

Queen

on Monday?”

“I remember your bodyguard assaulted me. With a deadly weapon. I'm thinking of pressing charges.”

“Listen to me, you stupid bastard—”

Calm down,

Kelly mouths, shaking his head.

“Your boss discussed some missing data. Do you remember that?”

Quinn’s answer is silence.

When we left the

Magnolia Queen

yesterday morning, Kelly assumed that Quinn had possession of the missing USB drive, and was holding it to use in a possible deal with Hull. I agreed. But if Sands and Quinn are desperate enough to kidnap Caitlin, something tells me that they have neither Ben Li’s stash nor the USB drive. And if Quinn doesn’'t have it, logic leaves only one other likely candidate—someone who heard the voice memo Tim made on his cell phone before he died. Knowing Shad Johnson as I do—as a political creature above all else—I judge that it’s worth the risk of bluffing Quinn on this point.

“I’'ve got it, Quinn.”

“You’re lying,” says the Irishman, and for a moment my confidence wavers. But something in his voice tells me to push on, and with the dizzying rush that a cliff diver must feel, I say, “I’'ve got your boss by the short hairs, you bastard, and there’s only one way he’s getting it back. A trade.”

“Even if you have it, you can’t use it,” Quinn says with more certainty. “Your own government would bury you. You still don'’t know what you’re dealing with.”

Hope and excitement have filled my chest. “I'’ll tell you what I know. Your government buddy Hull’s like a vampire—he can’t stand the light. If I go public, he’ll vanish into a puff of smoke. Keep your focus, Quinn. The thumb drive is the thing. And if you put one scratch on Caitlin, you and Sands will spend the rest of your lives on Parchman Farm. You think Irish prisons are tough? You’d be better off dead,

mate.

You’ll be hearing from me soon.”

“Wait—”

When the connection goes dead, I pump my fist. “They don'’t have it.”

“That'’s great,” says Kelly, cradling Carl’s head. “The problem is, you don'’t either.”

“No. But I know who does.”

The wail of a siren echoes up Washington Street at last.

“Just in the nick of time,” mutters Kelly. “Christ.”

“Stay with him until they get here,” I say, backing through the door.

“Where are you going?”

“The DA’s office. You can find me there or City Hall.”

CHAPTER

51

It’s only three blocks from Caitlin’s house to the DA’s office. I use the brief drive to call Chief Logan at police headquarters.

“Haven’t heard from you in a while, Mr. Mayor,” Logan says with subtle sarcasm.

“I could say the same. I’'ve been pretty busy. What about you?”

“You could say that.”

“I'm calling to give you a head’s up on something. There was a kid named Ben Li who worked on the

Magnolia Queen

. Computer specialist. I think he’s in trouble—maybe even dead.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Just trust me, Chief. You ought to look into it. I’d pay special attention to things like safe deposit boxes or storage rooms the kid might have rented. You could search his house too, but I don'’t think you’re going to find anything there.”

Logan doesn’'t speak for a few seconds. Then he says, “I sure wish you’d decided to tell me this a little earlier. Like yesterday.”

“Why’s that?’

“Did this Li kid live on Park Place?”

“I don'’t know. Why?”

“Because a house owned by someone of that name burned to the ground before dawn this morning.”

A cold blade of premonition slices through me, but Logan pushes on too quickly for me to read its significance.

“I’d like to ask you a couple of questions, Penn. Face to face, if possible.”

I’'ve reached City Hall, and just in time. “I’d like that too, Don, but I'’ll have to get back to you. I'm about to go into a meeting with the district attorney.”

“That right? Be sure and give him my warmest regards.” The sarcasm drips from Logan’s voice. “Not that he gives a shit. He thinks the only thing we’re here for is to fix speeding tickets for his buddies—who are few and far between.”

“I hear you. I'’ll get back to you when I can.”

“I'’ll see what I can find out about this Li kid.”

I tell Logan I appreciate it, then park in my private spot and start toward the building that houses the DA’s office. The lunch crowd is returning to the city offices, but I hardly respond to their greetings, my mind on a fire that was surely no accident, and that must have meaning for those with the wits to read it.

It’s a measure of what Sands has done to this town that as I pass long-familiar faces, I wonder whether I can trust any of them.

Rose, my secretary, is walking up the sidewalk from the parking lot.

“Paul Labry’s waiting for you in your office,” she calls. “Apparently he showed up halfway through lunch, and he’s been there ever since. Dora says he’s very upset.”

“Why didn't you call me?”

“I just found out myself. He didn't want you disturbed. Said you had to talk face-to-face and nobody should mention him to you on the phone.”

Veering right, I trot across the grass to the door of City Hall.

Two women in the foyer dart out of my path with a cry as I take the steps two at a time. All I can think of is that it was Labry who first gave me the name of Edward Po, from his Golden Parachute files. Asking him had been a selfish thing to do; it put both him and his family at risk. But now I sense that this act is going to come back to haunt me—or has already cost Labry dearly. If he looked deeper into the Golden Parachute investors on his own

“Where is he, Dora?” asks a loud and insistent male voice. “Damn it, he never gets back this late from lunch!”

“Paul?” I call, opening the door. “I'm here, man. What’s going on?”

The man who stumbles toward me looks like a caricature of the dignified civil servant who accepted the citizenship award from me at the Ramada two days ago. He looked tired at Tim’s burial yesterday, but now his eyes are bloodshot, his cheeks flushed, and his clothes in disarray, the front left tail of his poly-cotton-blend button-down hanging askew.

Dora gives me a look bordering on desperation.

“Let’s go in my office, Paul. Come on back.”

Labry stares at me like he’s about to burst into tears, then throws his hand twice in the direction of my office, walks into it, and collapses in the chair opposite my desk.

I give Dora a placating gesture just as Rose comes in behind me. “Is everything okay?” she asks.

“We’re fine,” I tell her. “Will you check and see whether Shad Johnson’s in his office?”

“You want me to buzz you or wait till you’re done?”

“Buzz me when you know.”

Shutting the door softly behind me, I lay my hand on Paul’s shoulder and squeeze it. “What’s happened, Paul? I’'ve never seen you look like this.”

“I’'ve never felt like this,” he says, staring over my desk as if I'm sitting on the other side of it, and not looking down at the top of his head.

When he remains silent, I go around my desk and take my seat.

“I wanted to come talk to you this morning,” he says, “but…I couldn'’t get up the nerve.”

“What is it, Paul? Is it what I talked to you about yesterday? Running for mayor?”

Labry laughs so hard at this that mucus drips from his nose. He wipes it with his sleeve, but when he lowers his arm, the smile is gone. “I can’t ever be mayor now. Never.”

“Why not?”

“I wouldn'’t get fifty votes. I don'’t deserve fifty votes.”

“Why not? What’s the matter?”

“I'’ll be bankrupt in a month. My father too, only he doesn’'t

know it. We’re going to lose everything. The business…our houses. All of it.”

“What?”

“I told you yesterday that retail’s gone down the toilet. Well, I did some things to try to compete with the big guys. Expand, you know? But I just made things worse. The debts just grew and grew. Then I did some gambling, hoping to make up the shortfall.”

This takes me completely off guard. “I didn't know you gambled.”

“I don'’t, really. Just enough to get to know some of the people who run the casinos. Which is crazy, when you think about it, because I didn't even want the damned casinos here. But it was Sands who bailed me out, man. He got me out of—”

“Sands?” I ask sharply. “Jonathan Sands?”

“Right. One night I got a little drunk and started bitching about the banks hounding me, and Sands offered to help out. He did too. But now…” Paul looks helplessly at me, then grabs his own shirtfront and jerks it upward. “They own me, man. They

own

me. I owe them so much money, I could never pay it back. There’s no way I can be mayor with them pulling my strings like a puppet. It’d be a travesty of everything you and I ever talked about doing.”

“Jesus, Paul…I had no idea. Why didn't you come to me? I would have tried to help.”

“Come to you? Do you have

any

idea how hard that would have been? Come to you and tell you I'm a total fuckup? My old man already thinks I drove the business into the ground. He doesn’'t get it, how the world has changed.”

“Paul—look, I know you’re in trouble, but I’'ve got something really big going on right now. I’'ve got to make some calls.”

He’s shaking his head again. “No, no, I told you, I was supposed to come see you this morning. I just couldn'’t do it. That'’s why I started drinking. I couldn'’t face you, man.”

“What are you talking about?”

At last all his frenetic twitching stops, and he looks me dead in the eye. “They sent me to talk to you. To give you a message.”

“Who did?”

“Sands’s security guy. Quinn. It’s about Caitlin.”

For a moment I'm not sure I’'ve heard right, but then my face goes cold.

“Whatever it is you’re doing,” Labry says, “you'’ve got to stop it for thirty-six hours. That'’s the message. They don'’t have any intention of hurting her. They’ve got her in a hotel somewhere.”

I'm pushing myself slowly away from my desk, trying to process what I'm hearing as panic and rage rise in me. “How long have you known this, Paul?’

“Quinn came to the store this morning. Look, I know it sounds bad. But they have some big deal about to go down, and they said you guys were going to screw it up somehow, by going public with something. I don'’t even know if you know about it. Maybe it was mostly Caitlin, but…Penn, don'’t look at me like that. You look like I took her or something. I love Caitlin. She’s got more—”

“Get out of my sight, Paul.”

Labry stares as though I’'ve slapped his face, then begins sobbing. I stand and walk past him, heading for the stairs.

“Where are you going?” he cries, running after me as Rose gapes.

“To see Shad Johnson.”

“Shad? Why?” He catches up with me on the staircase and pulls me to a stop. “Penn, if you report this, they’ll kill her.”

“You just said they wouldn'’t!”

Labry is fidgeting again, trying to think of anything he can to stop me. “I don'’t

know

! I have no idea what’s really going on. But you must, right? Just do whatever it is they need, and she’ll be fine!”

“Get out of my way, or I'’ll throw you down these stairs. I'm not going to Shad about the kidnapping.”

He backs away, looking stricken. “Why, then?”

“He has something I need.”

“What?”

“You’re still trying to get something for Sands, aren'’t you?”

“No! I had to do this, Penn. He was going to tell my father everything! Pop would die of shame, man.”

I leap down the stairs and race out of the building, headed down the block to the DA’s office. Labry chases after me, yelling where anyone can hear. A deputy going into the sheriff’s office looks up and stares after us.

“Let me make it up to you, man!” Labry screams. “I'’ll do anything.”

“Get her back for me!” I shout over my shoulder. “Can you do that? That'’s the only way to make this up.”

As I enter the building that houses the district attorney’s office, a sudden epiphany hits me. I run up the stairs, knowing that Labry will follow. When I reach the top, Paul calls out from the landing, trying to keep from being heard by the people on the upper floor.