The sound of an engine rises in the alley behind the back door. Nadine looks up at a small window set high in the wall, then reaches out and snuffs the flame of the candle.
“A wavering light might look weird,” she whispers, “no matter how dim.”
“Do you still have your gun?”
“In my purse, on the floor. But I’d rather not shoot a cop if we can avoid it.”
I hear my heartbeat in my ears as the engine grows louder. It seems to stop outside the door, but after several seconds, it moves on.
“Why don’t we go sit in the banquette up front?” I ask the barely discernible form in front of me.
“Because even with the lights out, it’s visible from the street if you press your face to the glass. We’d better stay back here. There’s a little bathroom over there. I’ll turn on the light and crack the door in a minute.”
“Okay. Hey, how did you recruit Tim Hayden to pick me up?”
I sense more than see an affectionate smile. “He and the guy I’m staying with are lovers. I got my friend Chris to call Claude Buckman and deliver the threat that sprung you from jail. Tim volunteered to pick you up and bring you here. If I don’t hear from him soon, I need to call and check on him.”
“Why don’t you call him now? I’ll call my mother.”
“You can’t power up your phone.” Nadine’s cell flashes to life between us, and I see a snarky look on her face. “Either of them. Use mine.”
She dials my mother’s cell from her contacts list, then holds the phone to my ear. After five rings, Mom answers in a ragged voice, “Nadine? Have you heard anything about Marshall?”
“It’s me, Mom,” I say, taking the phone. “I’m out of jail, and I’m okay.”
“Thank God. They didn’t hurt you, did they?”
“I’m fine. Nadine got me out.”
“I told you she’s good people. I like that girl, Marshall.”
“Me, too. Is Dad awake yet?”
“No. They’re thinking about bringing him out of the coma later this morning. I’m trying to stay optimistic.”
“I’ll check back soon. I wanted to tell you something. I had a sort of epiphany, I guess, while I was in jail. I realized why you asked me whether I hadn’t punished Dad enough by now.”
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you were right. I—”
“Don’t tell me, Marshall. Tell him. You’re going to get your chance.”
I feel my mother’s invisible hands pushing me toward forgiveness, and maybe redemption. “I’ll be there after it’s light, unless you need me sooner. Just call Nadine’s cell phone.”
“I will. Be careful.”
I click end. “I guess you heard all that?”
By the phone’s light, I see Nadine smile to herself.
“So . . . are you ready to tell me what’s in the cache? Or are you still trying to decide whether you can trust me?”
Her smile vanishes. She looks over her shoulder to the faint outline of her worktable. “Why don’t we sit down? Let me get some light on.”
She crosses the room in the dark, then turns on the bathroom light and leaves the door cracked, enough to throw a faint wedge of fluorescent light into the room. I take my coffee and sit on the near side of the table. She sits opposite me and absently picks up a pen resting on a notepad.
“There are three main issues,” she says, doodling on the pad. “First, what’s in the cache. Second, how I got it and what Sally intended should be done with it. Third, what are we going to do with it? A lot of this is going to get very personal for you. But we have to talk about it. Where do you want to start?”
“What’s in the cache? I need to know what’s at stake for everybody.”
“A lot,” she begins, tapping the pad like an attorney framing a question in a deposition. “There’s a staggering amount of general business corruption. Political manipulation, bribery, tax evasion, you name it. Most of that’s local, except the tax stuff, which involves accounts in the Seychelles. There’s a local dimension to the paper mill and the interstate and bridge as well. The Poker Club wired those deals every way they could think of, skimmed in ways I’ve never seen before. All the new infrastructure, the ancillary businesses—every angle has been maximized for graft and spread among the local constituencies, including the black leaders. But all that’s nothing compared to the central knot. The plum on the wedding cake. It’s the crime of the century, Marshall—I kid you not.”
“That’s enough foreplay.”
Nadine mimes disappointment. “Don’t deny me my little triumphs. It’s been killing me to be the only person who knows this shit. Scaring me, really. This mill deal is like the ultimate expression of Trump’s America. It took the new EPA granting an unprecedented exemption to allow construction on top of the old electroplating factory, which was almost declared a Superfund site ten years ago. But who cares, right? It’s moneymaking time. And that mill is the golden anchor that made the interstate and the bridge and all the rest possible.”
“Jesus, would you tell me the heart of the thing already?”
There’s wicked pleasure in her eyes. “Can’t you tell me? I’ve been pushing you toward the answer for three days. Think. Why did Azure Dragon choose Bienville, Mississippi, for their billion-dollar paper mill? At least five other towns on their list were far superior in every respect.”
I throw up my hands. “Why?”
She sighs with disappointment. “Avery Sumner.”
“Judge Sumner? The Poker Club member who got appointed to fill the vacant Senate seat?”
“Yes!” She looks as though the whole truth should be self-evident.
“I must be a moron. Explain, damn it.”
“God. Bienville was in the running to get the paper mill, but way down the list. It was a cattle call. Most potential site cities sent distinguished delegations to China to make their pitches. Some state governors flew over. Everybody’s singing the same song. They compete to give the biggest tax breaks and best infrastructure package, a contest Bienville couldn’t possibly win. Right?”
“I imagine not.”
“But somebody in the Poker Club—I’m pretty sure it was Max Matheson—got the brilliant idea of offering the Chinese something nobody else could.”
“Which was . . . ?”
She extends an open hand as though offering me something of immense value. “A U.S. Senate seat.”
Avery Sumner. “How could they offer the Chinese Sumner’s Senate seat?”
“Not the seat itself. They offered votes. Pro-China votes on major pending legislation. Especially trade legislation.”
I must have been more exhausted than I knew. But now my heart is racing. “The Poker Club guaranteed Sumner would vote pro-China in exchange for Azure Dragon building their paper mill in Bienville?”
“Bingo. For a cool six billion yuan invested in southwest Mississippi, China got a guaranteed Senate vote.”
“Christ. But . . . leaving aside the treason, or whatever crime that is, Avery Sumner was only appointed to serve out the remainder of a term. How many votes affecting China will come up in the time he has left?”