“What was the name of Whitney’s attorney, Burton?”
Burton thought for a moment. “Graham. Jack Graham.”
“The name sounds familiar.”
“Works at Patton, Shaw. He’s a partner there.”
The President’s eyes froze on the agent’s face.
“What’s the matter?”
“I’m not sure.” Richmond unlocked a drawer in his desk and took out a
notebook he had compiled on this little extracurricular matter. “Don’t
lose sight of the fact, Burt6n, that one very important piece of
incriminating evidence, for which we happened to have paid five million
dollars, has never turned up.”
The President flipped through the pages of his notebook.
There were numerous individuals involved, to various degrees, in their
little drama. If Whitney had given his attorney the letter opener along
with an account of what had happened, the whole world would’ve known by
now. Richmond thought back to the awards ceremony for Ransomed Baldwin at
the White House. Graham was clearly no shrinking violet.
Clearly he didn’t have it. But then who, if anyone, would Whitney have
given it to?
As his mind spun out neat blocks of analysis and possible scenarios, one
name suddenly stood out at the President from within the lines of
precise writing. One person who had never really been accounted for.
JACK CRADLED THE CARRY-OUT IN ONE ARM, HIS BRIEFCASE IN the other, and
managed, to wiggle the key out of his pocket.
Before he could put it in the lock, though, the door opened.
Jack looked surprised. “I didn’t expect you home yet.”
“You didn’t have to stop. I could’ve made something.”
Jack went inside, dropped his briefcase on the coffee table and headed
to the kitchen. Kate stared after him.
“Hey, you work all day too. Why should you have to cook?
Women do it every day, Jack. Just look around.”
He emerged from the kitchen. “No argument there. You want sweet and sour
or moo goo gaily pan? I got extra spring rolls too.”
“Whichever you don’t want. I’m not that hungry really.”
He withdrew and came back with two fully stocked plates.
“You know if you don’t eat more you’re going to blow away. I half feel
like stuffing rocks in your pockets as it is now.
He Sat cross-legged next to her on the floor. She picked at her plate
while he devoured his.
“So how was work? You know you probably could have stood to take a few
more days off. You’re always pushing yourself too’hard.”
“Look who’s talking.” She picked up a spring roll and then put it back
down.
He put down his fork and looked over at her.
“So I’m listening-”
She pulled herself up onto the couch and sat there playing with her
necklace. Still dressed in her work clothes, she looked exhausted, like
a flower collapsed in the wind.
“I think a lot about what I did to Luther.”
“Kate,@
“Jack, let me finish.” Her voice snapped at him like a whip. In an
instant her features relaxed. She continued more calmly. “I’ve come to
decide that I’m never going to get over it, so I might as well accept
that fact. Maybe what I did wasn’t wrong for a lot of reasons. But it
was definitely wrong for at least one reason. He was my father. As lame
as that might sound, it should’ve been a good enough reason.” She
twisted her necklace some more until it congealed into a series of tiny
clumps. “I think being %i lawyer, at least the kind of lawyer I am, has
made me become someone I don’t really like a lot. That’s not a real good
revelation to arrive at when you’re hitting thirty.” Jack reached out
his hand to stop hers from shaking. She didn’t move it. He could feel
the blood pumping through the veins.
“With all that said, I think I’m due for a radical change. In my life,
my career, everything.”
“What are you talking about?” He got up and sat down beside her. His
pulse had accelerated as he anticipated the line she was taking.
“I’m not going to be a prosecutor anymore, Jack. In fact I’m not going
to be a lawyer anymore. I submitted my resignation this morning. I have