“I knew it would be bad. But you insisted on going.”
“Oh, I’m glad I went. Some things you can’t learn any other way. And that was one of them. Penn . . . think about spending tax dollars to protect that trash. I say give them to Snake. Or better yet, throw them in Angola and let the black gangs eat ’em up. That’d be fair payback right there.”
“I think somebody needs a drink.”
She catches my upper arm and squeezes hard. “Boy, you read my mind.”
“I have to call Kaiser first.”
“I’m good,” she says, glancing up at my town house in the middle of the block. “I’m actually glad to be out of the house for a while. Cabin fever, you know?”
I already have my cell phone out. Speed-dialing Kaiser, I have to wait only two rings.
“Penn?” he says. “What’s up?”
“Are you alone, John?”
“Give me five seconds.”
I hear shuffling and rustling, then Kaiser says, “Go.”
“Think about Dolores St. Denis and her potential as a witness against the Double Eagles. Are you doing that?”
“Uh . . . yeah. What kind of game is this?”
“Now multiply that by ten.”
Kaiser says nothing for several seconds. Then he whispers, “You son of a bitch. You flipped an Eagle.”
“Affirmative.”
“Where are you?”
“Don’t even think about coming to me. I’m busy. And this witness is not, repeat not, with me. Not even close to me. But he is going to make you the most famous FBI agent in recent history.”
“You know I don’t give a damn about that.”
Kaiser’s telling the truth about this. “I know. But there’s nothing wrong with a little well-deserved acclaim. Especially for someone in trouble with his bosses.”
“You’re right. Thank you. Now, why do I feel like you’re applying Vaseline all of a sudden?”
“Because I have one condition.”
“Oh, shit. What’s that?”
“Before he testifies for you, he testifies for my father. Tomorrow.”
This time the silence lasts so long I think we’ve dropped our connection. But then Kaiser says, “There’s no way in hell we’re going to get a plea deal negotiated by tomorrow. Not in time.”
“This witness is sui generis, John. He can bring down all that remains of the deadliest domestic terror cell in U.S. history. You can sell that. I know you can.”
“Then I’d better get started. I need the guy’s name.”
“Not over the phone.”
“Of course not.”
“Serenity and I are headed to a bar. Say . . . the Corner Bar. You know it?”
“I’ve enjoyed many a scotch there since my confinement in Natchez. Me and my boys also get to steak night there now and again.”
“We’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Chapter 46
Quentin Avery had driven his wheelchair down the sidewalk that ran along the bluff from Edelweiss to where the old pecan-shelling plant used to stand. He’d thought of getting Doris to drive him to the meeting, but he knew that Joe Elder would feel safer with no one else around. Too, he’d wanted to feel the wind that raced up the face of the bluff after crossing the whole flat plain of Texas and Louisiana. The first part of his journey had been well lighted, and he’d passed a few lovers strolling along the fence back toward the center of town. But the streetlights grew farther apart out by the old pecan plant site. He was glad to see Elder’s tall silhouette waiting for him when he arrived.
“That you, Quentin?” Joe called.
“It is.”
“Where’d you come from?”
“Edelweiss. Penn Cage’s house down by Silver Street.”
“All that way in your wheelchair?”
“I’ve got good batteries. And I’m not an invalid yet.”
“I didn’t mean that. It’s just late for a . . .”
“A stroll?” Quentin said with a bitter chuckle.
“Yeah.”
Elder had been gazing out over the river, but Quentin turned toward what was left of the foundations of the old plant. “You know, when I was a boy, I used to sell pecans to this place. We’d sneak onto people’s land and pick up what we could before they chased us off. Then come sell them here.”
“Nobody ever arrested you?”
“I got bit by a couple of dogs, but no cops got me.”
“What a loss that would have been to the legal profession.”
Quentin laughed at Elder’s sarcasm.
“What are we doing out here, Quentin?” the judge asked. “This is improper as hell.”
Quentin then took a folded piece of paper from beneath the comforter on his lap. He unfolded the paper and held it out to Judge Elder. “Joe, this is a photocopy of one page taken from a ledger kept in the early 1960s by Albert Norris. You remember him, don’t you?”
“Of course. Albert used to give me jellybeans when I walked by his store as a kid. What the hell is this about, Quentin? Ancient history?”
“Just look at the page.”
Elder regarded the paper as though it might bite him. As a judge, he knew that a document could be as dangerous as a venomous snake. After leaning down and squinting in the dark, he took the page and moved closer to the streetlamp on the edge of the bluff.
“You see the names on the third line?”
Elder didn’t answer at first, but Quentin could see that his hand was shaking.
“Are you trying to blackmail me, Quentin?”
“You know better than that. It’s just something I thought you should be aware of.”
“You have the original?”
“No. There are several ledgers, but they’re not in my possession. You’re looking at a copy of the only page with those two names on it. But the rest of the story is on the following page.”
“Who has the originals?”
“I’d rather not say. He can be trusted, though.”
“I don’t know any mortal who fits that description.”
“The man who possesses those ledgers could have turned the towns on both sides of this river upside down any time during the last forty-one years, but he never has. He hasn’t exposed a single person named in them.”
“He must be a saint to fight that temptation.”
“Close to it, Joe.”
“White or black?”
“Black.”
Elder nodded. “I repeat my question. Why are you showing me this?”
“Joe . . . to be frank, I’ve sensed some bias from the bench during this trial. I’m not alone in that, but I doubt the general public perceives it. And I was puzzled by it myself, until I read this entry in that ledger.”
“What do you think it means?”
“Come on, brother. I watched you when you read those names. You weren’t surprised at all.”
Impatience tightened Elder’s expression. “What do you want, Quentin?”
“Only what every defendant is entitled to under the law. A fair trial under an impartial judge.”
“No court of appeals would say you’re not getting that. They might say you’ve got Alzheimer’s disease, but that’s not my lookout.”
Quentin just waited.
“Why are you defending Tom Cage?” Elder asked finally. “A man like that, who took advantage of a sister back in those days?”
“My brother, you need to take a couple of steps back from this case. All you see in it is your mama and yourself. Or Claude Devereux.”