TOTAL CONTROL By: David Baldacci

“You work hard building something and it’s never enough, you know?

Always somebody trying to take it away from you. Always somebody trying

to screw you.”

“If you’re looking for sympathy, look someplace else. You can’t spend

all the money you’ve already got. What the hell do you care?”

Gamble exploded. “Because you damn well get used to it, that’s why.” He

calmed down quickly. “You get used to being on top. Having everybody

measure themselves against you. But a lot of it is about the money.” He

looked over at Sawyer. “You want to know what my total income is per

year?”

Despite himself Sawyer was curious. “If I say no, why do I feel like

you’re going to tell me anyway?”

“One billion dollars.” Gamble unceremoniously dropped the ice cube from

his mouth into his glass.

Sawyer swallowed a mouthful of beer as he absorbed this stunning

information.

“My federal income tax bill alone this year will come to about four

hundred million dollars. With that you’d think I’d qualify for a little

TLC from you Feds.”

Sawyer glared at him. “If you’re looking for TLC, try the hookers down

on Fourteenth Street. They’re a lot cheaper.”

Gamble stared over at him. “Shit, you guys just don’t get the big

picture, do you?”

“Why don’t you enlighten me as to what exactly that is.”

Gamble put down his glass. “You treat everybody the same.” His tone was

one of disbelief.

“Excuse me–are you saying that’s wrong?”

“It’s not only wrong, it’s stupid.”

“I guess you never bothered to read the Declaration of Independence-you

know, that warm, fuzzy part about all men being created equal.”

“I’m talking reality. I’m talking about business.”

“I don’t make distinctions.”

“Like I’m gonna treat the chairman of Citicorp the same as I would the

janitor in the building. One guy can loan me billions of dollars and

the other can scrub out my toilet.”

“My job is to hunt down criminals, rich, poor, in-between. It doesn’t

make any difference to me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not a criminal. I’m a taxpayer, probably the biggest

damned taxpayer in this whole country, and all I’m asking for is a

little favor that I’d get in the private sector without even asking for

it.”

“Hooray for the public sector.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Not for one second was it supposed to be.” Sawyer stared him down. When

Gamble finally looked away, Sawyer glanced down at his hands and then

took another swallow of beer. Every time he was around this guy his

heartbeat seemed to double.

Down on the court a slam dunk by the home team brought the crowd to its

feet.

“By the way, you ever think there’s something wrong with you being

richer than God?”

Gamble laughed. “Like those guys down there?” He pointed at the

basketball court. “Actually, based on the world’s present condition, I

think I had a better year than God.” He rubbed at his eyes.

“Like I said, it’s not the cash anymore. You’re right, I have more than

I’ll ever need. But I like the respect being on top brings. Everybody

waits to see what you’ll do.”

“Don’t confuse respect with fear.”

“In my book they go hand in hand. Look, I got where I am by being one

tough sonofabitch. You hurt me I’ll hurt you back, only better. I grew

up poorer than dirt, took a bus to New York when I was fifteen, started

on Wall Street as a courier making a few bucks a day, worked my way to

the top and I never looked back. Made fortunes, lost fortunes and then

made them back. Hell, I got a half dozen bullshit honorary degrees from

Ivy League colleges and I never finished the tenth grade. All you have

to do is make donations.”

He arched his eyebrows and grinned.

“Congratulations.” Sawyer prepared to stand up. “I guess I’ll be

heading on, then.”

Gamble grabbed his arm and then immediately let it go. “Look, I read

the paper. I’ve talked to Hardy. And I can feel RTG breathing down my

neck.”

“Like I said before, that’s not my problem.”

“I don’t mind playing on a fair field, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna

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