He sighed heavily, but then opened it.
What he found was about the size of a forefinger. It was a small flash drive. My copy of the original.
“There’s a printout in the file, too. Funny thing, though. It’s not terrorist funds, Frank.”
“No?” said Walsh, and calmly shook his head. “What is it, John?”
Finally I had to smile. “You know, I’m not entirely sure, and I have to preface this by saying that I’m not a huge fan of either political party. I’ve sort of liked presidents along the way, on both sides. Don’t know what that makes me. Agnostic?”
“What’s on the printout, John?”
“What I think it is, somebody in the Bureau tracked money coming and going to several offshore accounts. People trying to hide cash, lots of it, close to a billion and a half dollars. And as best I can tell, Frank, everyone on the printout is a contributor or ‘friend’ of the political party not currently in power. How about them apples?
“Now that would be embarrassing to the Bureau, and the administration, if it had come out during Nora Sinclair’s murder trial. That would be considered very unlawful, highly unethical too. Even worse than screwing Nora Sinclair, which I’m incredibly ashamed of, by the way.”
I stood up and noticed that my legs were a little shaky now. For some odd reason, I reached out and shook Frank Walsh’s hand, maybe because we both knew I was saying good-bye.
“Leave of absence, with pay,” he said. “You’ve got it, John. You deserve it.”
Then I walked out the door and headed home—to Riverside.
To Max, John Jr., and Susan—if she’d have me. And I’ll tell you what, the whole ride to Connecticut, I prayed that she would.
And that Susan, that incredible, wonderful Susan—eventually she did.
He’s made a living saving others, but what’s he going to do when he’s the one in deep water?
For an excerpt, turn the page.
“DON’T MOVE,” I said to Tess, sweaty and out of breath. “Don’t even blink. If you so much as breathe, I know I’m gonna wake up, and I’ll be back lugging chaise longues at poolside, staring at this gorgeous girl that I know something incredible could happen with. This will all have been a dream.”
Tess McAuliffe smiled, and in those deep blue eyes I saw what I found so irresistible about her. It wasn’t just that she was the proverbial ten and a half. She was more than beautiful. She was lean and athletic with thick auburn hair plaited into a long French braid, and a laugh that made you want to laugh, too. We liked the same movies, Memento, The Royal Tenenbaums, Casablanca. We pretty much laughed at the same jokes. Since I’d met her I’d been unable to think about anything else.
Sympathy appeared in Tess’s eyes. “Sorry about the fantasy, Ned, but we’ll have to take that chance. You’re crushing my arm.”
She pushed me, and I rolled onto my back. The sleek cotton sheets in her fancy hotel suite were tousled and wet. My jeans, her leopard-print sarong, and a black bikini bottom were somewhere on the floor. Only half an hour earlier, we had been sitting across from each other at Palm Beach’s tony Café Boulud, picking at DB burgers—$30 apiece—ground sirloin stuffed with foie gras and truffles.
At some point her leg brushed against mine. We just made it to the bed.
“Aahhh,” Tess sighed, rolling up onto her elbow, “that feels better.” Three gold Cartier bracelets jangled loosely on her wrist. “And look who’s still here.”
I took a breath. I patted the sheets around me. I slapped at my chest and legs, as if to make sure. “Yeah,” I said, grinning.
The afternoon sun slanted across the Bogart Suite at the Brazilian Court hotel, a place I could barely have afforded a drink at, forget about the two lavishly appointed rooms overlooking the courtyard that Tess had rented for the past two months.
“I hope you know, Ned, this sort of thing doesn’t happen very often,” Tess said, a little embarrassed, her chin resting on my chest.
“What sort of thing is that?” I stared into those blue eyes of hers.
“Oh, whatever could I mean? Agreeing to meet someone I’d seen just twice on the beach, for lunch. Coming here with him in the middle of the day.”
“Oh, that…” I shrugged. “Seems to happen to me at least once a week.”
“It does, huh?”” She dug her chin sharply into my ribs.
We kissed, and I felt something between us begin to rise again. The sweat was warm on Tess’s breasts, and delicious, and my palm traveled up her long, smooth legs and over her bottom. Something magical was happening here. I couldn’t stop touching Tess. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel this way.
Split aces, they call it, back where I’m from. South of Boston, Brockton actually. Taking a doubleheader from the Yankees. Finding a forgotten hundred-dollar bill in an old pair of jeans. Hitting the lottery.
The perfect score.
“You’re smiling.” Tess looked at me, propped up on an elbow. “Want to let me in on it?”
“It’s nothing. Just being here with you. You know what they say: for a while now, the only luck I’ve had has been bad luck.”
Tess rocked her hips ever so slightly, and as if we had done this countless times, I found myself smoothly inside her again. I just stared into those baby blues for a second, in this posh suite, in the middle of the day, with this incredible woman who only a few days before hadn’t been conceivable in my life.
“Well, congratulations, Ned Kelly.” Tess put a finger to my lips. “I think your luck’s beginning to change.”
AS SOON AS Ned left, Tess threw herself back on the bed with an exhalation of joy and disbelief. “You must be crazy, Tess! You are crazy, Tess.”
Crazy, to be opening herself to someone like Ned, especially with everything else going on in her life.
But something about Ned wouldn’t let her stop. Maybe his eyes, his charm, his boyish good looks. His innocence. The way he had just come up to her on the beach like that, like she was a damsel in distress. It had been a long time since anyone had treated her that way. Wanted. And she liked it. What woman didn’t? If only he knew.
She was still cozied up on the sheets, reliving every detail of the delicious afternoon, when she heard the voice.
“Next.” He stood there—leaning, smirking—against the bedroom door.
Tess almost jumped out of her skin. She never even heard the key open the door to the suite.
“You scared me,” she said, then covered herself up.
“Poor Tess.” He shook his head and tossed the room key in an ashtray on the desk. “I can see the lunches at Boulud and Ta-boó have started to bore you. You’ve taken to going around to the high schools, picking up guys after SAT practice.”
“You were watching?” Tess shot up. That would be just like the bastard. Thinking he could do that. “It just happened,” she said, backing off, a little ashamed. And a lot ashamed that she had to justify herself. “He thinks I’m something. Not like you…”
“Just happened.” He stepped into the bedroom and took off his Brioni sport jacket. “Just happened, like, you met on the beach. And then you went back a second time. And you both just happened to meet at lunch at Boulud. A lifeguard. How very romantic, Tess.”
She sat up, angry. “You were following me? Go fuck yourself.”
“I thought you knew,” he said, ignoring her response. “I’m the jealous type.” He started to remove his polo shirt. Tess’s skin broke out in goose bumps. She was sure he could sense her alarm as he began to unbuckle his pants.