He picked up the phone. "Hi. What's up?"
"I'm sorry, but things are completely crazy here this afternoon. I'm tied up with the accountant for at least another hour. I know it's my turn to pick up Morgan today, but you think you can pinch-hit?"
"Sure."
"She gets out at two-thirty."
"Actually, on Tuesdays she gets out at three."
She paused on the line, as if both pleased he'd remembered and embarrassed she hadn't. "I guess I forgot." "Nobody's perfect."
"Are you sure you can get away?"
"Well, the boss is a real tyrant over here, but maybe just this once I'll look the other way while I'm sneaking out the door."
He could sense she was smiling. She said, "I'll be home around six-thirty."
"See you then."
He hung up and got his coat. He had plenty of time to pick up Morgan, but it was best to duck out early. If he was late, she would blame Beth, and he didn't want that. He was packing his briefcase when the phone rang. He signaled to his secretary that he'd "already left," but she overruled him.
"It's Ben Albergo," she said in the tone reserved for the pope. "He's calling from Washington."
It wasn't often Gus talked to Ben, one of the true friends he had left in high places. Ben was a power broker in the new administration, a golfing buddy to the president's chief of staff.
He closed the office door and answered, "Hey, Ben. To what do I owe this honor?"
"Believe it or not, I'm calling about Martha Goldstein." The excitement drained from his voice. "I think you dialed the wrong number."
"No, listen. She's on the president's short list for appointment to undersecretary of Treasury."
"Martha? That's a bit over her head, isn't it?"
"Your old firm is pushing her very hard."
"I'm surprised. I heard they can't stand her over there."
"That's putting it mildly. She's driving them all nuts. But from what I hear, a couple of dopes on the management committee exchanged some unbelievable e-mails about her. The 'B' word all over the place. The upshot is, they can't fire her without being sued for discrimination."
"So there's only one way to dump her," said Gus.
"Exactly. Call in all their political markers and get her appointed to a plum position here in Washington."
"What does it have to do with me?"
"You're obviously aware the president ran his campaign on a platform of moral integrity."
"Yeah, the 'I-only-sleep-with-my-wife' president."
"It works for him. But his standards have bitten a few of his appointees in the butt. We just can't take the embarrassment of another crash-and-burn nominee who hasn't exactly followed the president's fine example."
"Is this headed where I think it's headed?"
"I've heard scuttlebutt that Martha can't withstand scrutiny."
"Are you asking if she and I had an affair?"
"This is completely confidential, Gus. Personally, I don't even think she's qualified for the appointment. She's not worth fighting over. If there's dirt out there, tell me. I'll put a bug in the president's ear, we'll cross her off the short list, and move on to the next candidate. I don't intend to make this a public spectacle for you?'
"So, you're saying that if I confirm to you right now that Martha has a skeleton in her closet, she loses the appointment?"
"Yes."
"Which means that my old friends over at Preston and Coolidge will be stuck with her as managing partner for life." "That's about the size of it."
"That's really interesting." Gus knew his old buddy was serving him a lob, a chance to confess in confidence and settle an old score with Martha and the others at P&C. The truth was, however, he had never slept with Martha. But he still had an angle.
"This is a delicate matter," said Gus. "I'm not in a position to say that Martha Goldstein slept with a married man. Namely me."
"I understand."
"But I can tell you she sent a letter in her own handwriting to my wife saying that a certain married man had given himself to her."
"No kidding?"
"I swear, I read it myself just a few months ago."
"The president will have very strong feelings about that." "I would expect nothing less from a divinity-school grad." "Thanks for the help, Gus."
"No, thank you."
"You doing okay with the new firm?"
"Terrific."
"Business is good?"
"Couldn't be better." His secretary flashed him a message on the digital display phone. Morgan would be waiting for him. "Hate to cut you off, buddy, but I'm afraid I gotta run."
"Busy, busy. Still the same old Gus, I see."
He went to the closet to get the present he had bought for Morgan over lunch. "Yup," he said with a thin smile.
"Same old Gus."