“It’s hard.”
“I know, but it’s time to move through the resentment to something better.” A fist pump, a quick swallow. “Something together.”
“Okay,” said Kyle. “You’re right. Cheers.”
“Cheers back to you, boyo. Cheers back to you.”
And later . . .
“Don’t doubt that you were marvelous in there, boyo,” said Liam Byrne after a few more drinks. The old man’s breathing was heavier now, his anxious gait slowed as he shuffled about the room. “You had that popinjay believing in your evident sincerity all the while you were playing your part in our little joke. It is a talent, yes it is. Don’t turn your back on it. The law is a possibility. And if not the law, then something else. You could be an actor. A politician. My God, man, you could even be a mortgage broker.”
“You’re sending me lower and lower,” said Kyle.
“Now, when you meet the senator, you have to play the same kind of role. You can’t come right at him, he’s far too dangerous. Remember what I said about giving a feint?”
“Yes, I remember,” said Kyle. “But I wasn’t sure what you meant.”
“You have to let him think we’re after the commonest thing, the one thing he’ll be sure to believe. The one thing men like that think everyone is after.”
“Sex?” said Kyle.
“Well, it is always that or money, isn’t it? But for this it makes more sense to go with money. And lots of it.”
“How much?”
“Half a million, I think.”
“You’re cracked.”
“No, it’s enough for him to know we’re serious, but not too much to get his hands on.”
“I don’t want his money.”
Liam looked at his son for a moment, then sat on the stained bedspread right across from Kyle and put his free hand on Kyle’s knee.
“I know you don’t. We don’t, I mean. It’s just a feint, remember. But he’ll be sure to believe it, and that’s the point. What other motive could he hope to find other than sheer venality? We have to let him think he can buy the file and buy your silence. It’s the way to keep him interested, the way to keep his violence at bay. And then, when he comes to make the payment, that’s when we have him.”
“How?”
“With a wire.”
“You’re really cracked.”
“We need more than your word about what he tells you. With a wire we can hoist the mealymouthed fish on his own petard. I’ll tape it onto your chest myself. He’s got more crimes to cover up now than what he perpetrated upon poor Colleen O’Malley. There’s what he did to Laszlo, too. And your mother’s house, don’t forget that. When he hands over the money, he’ll admit it—that kind always does—and we’ll record it all. And then we’ll turn everything over to the police. It’s the only way. And only you can do it.”
“I don’t know, Dad.”
“Oh, boyo, don’t underestimate yourself.” He took a drink, patted Kyle’s knee, struggled a bit to stand again, lurched to the left as he tried to catch his balance. “You told me how you pushed that Malcolm into arranging the meeting. I saw what you did to Sorrentino. There is no limit to what you can achieve, if only you believe in yourself. Believe in yourself, boyo. You’re a Byrne, never forget it.”
“I never do,” said Kyle, taking a sip of his whiskey.
“Good boy,” said Liam as he moved to refill his glass. “So how about a toast? To a successful partnership and one burned senator. More for you, boyo?”
“I’m good.”
“Yes, I know you are.” He poured. “To the partnership of Byrne & Son.”
“Here, here,” said Kyle.
And later . . .
“It’s quite a town, San Bernardino,” said Liam. He had grown weary enough from the sound of his own voice to find respite atop the checkerboard bedcover, his head propped on a pile of pillows, his legs straight out, the tips of his socks flopping over his toes. His voice was soft with reminiscence, and his drink, still in his hand, rested upon his belt buckle. “Nice, friendly, sunny. I’ve lived a fine life there after I was forced to flee. And yes, it’s been hit hard by the real-estate slump, but that only means it’s ripe for easy picking. Have you ever thought of coming out to California?”
“I guess everybody does,” said Kyle.
“You ought to, boyo. The sun. The girls. The girls lying in the sun. It’s a land of opportunity. Especially now. Why, there are banks so laden with bad loans they are practically giving away houses just to get the losses off their books. A bit of money, a bit of shrewdness, the ability to close a sale, that’s all it would take for a partnership to make a fortune.”
“I don’t know much about real estate.”
“But I do, boyo. I do. After this you could come out, take a vacation, look around. And if the place captures your fancy, maybe we could go into business together for real. Byrne & Son. You know, my father was in real estate. Tenements and the like. He came over from the old country and made a roaring success of himself. Not such an easy thing. A hard man he was, and many was the time I was on the wrong end of his belt. But I was his boyo, his only one. He tried to bring me into the business, I opted for the law instead. But I understand him now in ways I never did before. The human desire for a legacy. There is nothing I’d like better than to work with you, side by side, to build our empire.”
“That’s nice, Dad.”
“So you’ll come on out?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Byrne & Son. Our signs will be all over that town, like a plague, striking fear in every timid heart playing at the real-estate game. Byrne & Son.”
“Sounds good.”
“That it does, boyo. That it does.”
And still later . . .
As Liam Byrne lay sleeping noisily on the bed, the garbage disposal cycling on erratically, Kyle stepped out of the room and stood in front of the door, leaning on the railing that overlooked the parking lot. The traffic on the highway was intermittent, the sky was gray, the cement under his feet was stained with all manner of foul fluid. A car pulled into the lot, and a mismatched couple fell out, laughing as they collapsed on each other. Kyle watched as they struggled to their feet and made their way, in fits and starts, to their door, the thin old man staggering, the heavy young woman holding him up, a brown paper bag clutched in her hand.
Just as the night was being burned away by the encroaching dawn, Kyle felt the exuberant joy he had experienced earlier in the evening being burned away, too. Maybe he was just tired, or maybe deeper truths were roosting in his psyche. There was something his father had said in his nightlong soliloquy that had stayed with him. To be armed only with your words and your wits, but all the while keeping the audience rapt as you push it to do your will. That’s what it is to be a lawyer. And tonight, Kyle knew, he was the audience.