“You can introduce us,” said the Eagle.
She looked toward the building, hoping the other two members wouldn’t come walking through the door any second.
“Aren’t you coming?” He stood at the top of the stairs in the plane’s open door, looking down at her.
She had no choice. Grimes climbed the stairs as quickly as she could. Once inside, she was greeted by the copilot. “Hank, this is Mr., uh. . Mr. Black. He’ll be flying with us today.” She looked nervously over her shoulder. “We should take off immediately.”
“I thought there were two today. Another passenger?”
“He canceled at the last minute,” said Grimes. “I’d like to get moving as quickly as possible.”
“You got it.” The copilot whistled. Two guys came out and rolled the stairs away. He closed the door and threw the lever to lock the pressurized seal. Then went forward. A few seconds later the engines started.
The Eagle settled into one of the cream-colored overstuffed executive swivel seats in the cabin. It was a nice plane, but not as nice as the one he owned himself, which was a later model.
The Gulfstream moved slowly out of the hangar onto the taxiway and started out toward the runway. Grimes leaned over and looked back through one of the windows.
“You might want to sit down, buckle up,” said the Eagle. “But then I guess you own the plane, you make the rules. You wanna become jelly on the rear bulkhead, you paid for it, why not.”
She dropped into one of the chairs on the other side of the cabin, buckled herself in, crossed her legs, crossed her arms, and glared at him.
“Blue Crocodile.” He looked at her shoes. “Do they come that way? I mean snapping up out of the bayou? Or do they have to dye ’em?”
“What do you want?” She said this through lips stretched tight as a drum.
“I’ll bet those are a real hit with the green-granola set. But then they probably don’t know about the airplane either, do they?” He lowered his head a little and leaned forward so he could see out through the little porthole window just behind her. “Hey, isn’t that Jim Bellows? Maybe we should wave.”
She turned around in the chair. Bellows, a congressman from the Bay Area, was standing out in front of the hangar waving his arms frantically, motioning for them to come back.
Suddenly the door to the flight compartment opened. The copilot stuck his head out. “Looks like your other passenger showed up after all. You want to go back?”
“No!” said Grimes. “Just keep going.”
The guy shrugged his shoulder and closed the door.
“My attitude entirely,” said the Eagle. “Man wants to fly, he ought to be here on time.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to say to him next week,” said Grimes.
“Tell him he got bumped.”
“What do you want?”
“Oh, yeah, business. Well, let’s see. It’s going to be a long flight. We’ve got a lot of time. What is it, five hours?”
She ignored him. “I suppose the next thing you’re going to want is a drink.”
“Wouldn’t hurt,” he said. “Is there a flight attendant on board or will you be serving?”
“Get on with it.” One of the blue high heels was now tapping the floor.
“Well, if you’re gonna be that way, fine. Let’s talk business. I take it you took care of the two judicial vacancies? Called the White House?”
“Is that what this is about?”
“Among other things,” said the Eagle. He looked around, noticed the door at the rear of the cabin. “This thing got a bed back there? I could use some Zs later.”
“Yes, I made the call! Just like you asked.”
“What did they say?”
“They weren’t happy. I’ll tell you that. They wanted to know the names of the people I was leaning toward.”
“And what did you say?”
“I told them I’d let them know as soon as my staff was finished checking them out. Exactly what you said.”
“And?”
“What could they do?”
“Exactly,” said the Eagle. “See? You have more power than you think.”
“Against my better judgment.”
“Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” said the Eagle. “It wouldn’t be the first time that let you down. Now what I want you to do. . I think you know a lawyer out in L.A. by the name of Cletus Proffit?”
“Never heard of him,” said Grimes.
“Mandella, Harbet, Cain. You know, Serna’s old partners?”
“OK, maybe I know the name. I may have met him once or twice. I can’t remember.”
“Well then, it’s time to get reacquainted. I want you to call him, ask him for a favor.”
“I don’t even know the man.”
“That’s all right. He knows you. He was a giver to your last campaign. Of course, he gave to your opponent as well. What you call an equal opportunity opportunist. When you talk to him, use his first name. Call him Clete. When he calls you senator, tell him your friends call you Maya. You know, polish his apple. Get his head in the trough with you. Make him think he’s part of the club. He’ll do whatever it is you ask. Tell him you want him to act as an intermediary on some highly sensitive pending judicial appointments. If you do it right, he’ll be flattered,” said the Eagle. “Now here’s what I want you to tell him. . ”
THIRTY-TWO
So what did you find out?” A half hour out on the flight and Harry and I settle into the coach seats and listen to the drone of the jet engines. We’re on our way to Amsterdam, the first leg of the trip.
“It’s a moving target,” says Harry. “Some of the numbers Alex gave us at his parents’ house that night are dwarfed by more recent news accounts.” Harry has been living at the Del’s business center for the last three days. Doing research.
“One Swiss bank alone claims there are fifty-two thousand Americans with secret numbered accounts.”
I shoot him a glance. “You’re kidding.”
“We’re obviously in the wrong business,” says Harry. “But I have to say, the IRS played hardball. They turned the screws on the overseas banks. Threatened them with heavy withholding taxes on their US operations if they didn’t cooperate. Threatened some of them with criminal sanctions for aiding and abetting tax evasion. Most of the banks were forced to make concessions to open their books. One bank alone paid fines totaling seven hundred and eighty million dollars to the US Treasury,” says Harry.
I whistle low and slow. This is probably a measure of the value of their American operations. The fine is likely a drop in the bucket compared to their US business.
“Plus the disclosure of forty-five hundred names,” says Harry. “American depositors and their account numbers to be drawn at random and delivered to the IRS. That’s intended to scare everybody else into disclosing offshore assets on their tax returns.”
“That would do it for me,” I tell him. “But then I wouldn’t have enough money to open a numbered account in the first place. What about this guy, Korff? Any lead on him?”
“I have a few addresses in and around Lucerne. It’s not an uncommon name. Strange thing is,” says Harry, “Lucerne is not a big banking center. Zurich, Bern, even Geneva, but not Lucerne. There are a few of what they call cantonal banks, local provincial institutions. But why this one, Gruber A.G., is in the middle of Graves’s story, I don’t understand. Doesn’t make sense.”
“We’ll have to ask the man when we find him,” I say.
“Also the whistleblower, Betz. There’re a number of articles about him online. And it’s true what Alex said. He did claim to have information about American politicians with secret numbered accounts in Switzerland. I printed some of the stuff out. It’s in my briefcase. What’s more,” says Harry, “there doesn’t seem to be a lot of interest in finding out who they are.”
“Don’t you think that’s strange?” I ask.
“Maybe. I don’t know. Then again, not necessarily,” says Harry. “Powerful people in D.C. are often allowed to skate. We always think of ourselves as head and shoulders above any banana republic. In the end, are we really that different? Human nature being what it is,” says Harry.