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"Do you deny the existence of the memo?"
"It's a fabrication."
"There's no lawsuit, Mr. Velmano, and I think you know it."
Silence, then, "You son of a bitch."
The phones clicked, and they were listening to the dial tone. They smiled at each other in disbelief.
"Don't you want to be a journalist, Darby?" Smith Keen asked.
"Oh, this is fun," she said. "But I was almost mugged twice yesterday. No, thanks."
Feldman stood and pointed to the recorder. "I wouldn't use any of that."
"But I sort of liked the part about ruining lives. And what about the lawsuit threats?" Gray asked.
"You don't need it, Gray. The story takes up the entire front page now. Maybe later."
There was a knock at the door. It was Krauthammer. "Voyles wants to see you," he said to Feldman.
"Bring him in here."
Gray stood quickly and Darby walked to the window. The sun was fading and the shadows were falling. Traffic inched along the street. There was no sign of Stump and his band of confederates, but they were there, no doubt waiting on darkness, no doubt plotting one last effort to kill her, either for prevention or revenge. Gray said he had a plan to exit the building without gunfire after the deadline. He wasn't specific.
Voyles entered with K. O. Lewis. Feldman introduced them to Gray Grantham, and to Darby Shaw. Voyles walked to her, smiling and looking up. "So you're the one who started all this," he said in an attempt at admiration. It didn't work.
She instantly despised him. "I think it was Mattiece," she said coolly. He turned away and took off the trench coat.
"Can we sit?" he asked in general.
They sat around the table - Voyles, Lewis, Feldman, Keen, Grantham, and Krauthammer. Darby stood by the window.
"I have some comments for the record," Voyles announced, taking a sheet of paper from Lewis. Gray began taking notes.
"First, we received a copy of the pelican brief two weeks ago today, and submitted it to the White House on the same day. It was personally delivered by the deputy director, K. O. Lewis, to Mr. Fletcher Coal, who received it with our daily summary to the White House. Special agent Eric East was present during the meeting. We thought it raised enough questions to be pursued, but it was not pursued for six days, until Mr. Gavin Verheek, special counsel to the director, was found murdered in New Orleans. At that time, the FBI immediately began a full-scale investigation of Victor Mattiece. Over four hundred agents from twenty-seven offices have taken part in the investigation, logging over eleven thousand hours, interviewing over six hundred people, and going to five foreign countries. The investigation is continuing in full force at this time. We believe Victor Mattiece to be the prime suspect in the assassinations of Justices Rosenberg and Jensen, and at this time we are attempting to locate him."
Voyles folded the paper and handed it back to Lewis.
"What will you do if you find Mattiece?" Grantham asked.
"Arrest him."
"Do you have a warrant?"
"We'll have one soon."
"Do you have any idea where he is?"
"Frankly, no. We've been trying to locate him for a week, with no success."
"Did the White House interfere with your investigation of Mattiece?"
"I'll discuss it off the record. Agreed?"
Gray looked at the executive editor. "Agreed," Feldman said.
Voyles stared at Feldman, then Keen, then Krauthammer, then Grantham. "We're off the record, right? You cannot use this under any circumstances. Do we understand this?"
They nodded and watched him carefully. Darby was watching too.
Voyles looked suspiciously at Lewis. "Twelve days ago, in the Oval Office, the President of the United States asked me to ignore Victor Mattiece as a suspect. In his words, he asked me to back off."
"Did he give a reason?" asked Grantham.
"The obvious. He said it would be very embarrassing and seriously damage his reelection efforts. He felt there was little merit to the pelican brief, and if it was investigated, then the press would learn of it, and he would suffer politically."
Krauthammer listened with his mouth open. Keen stared at the table. Feldman hung on every word.
"Are you certain?" Gray asked.
"I recorded the conversation. I have a tape, which I will not allow anyone to hear unless the President first denies this."
There was a long silence as they admired this mean little bastard and his tape recorder. A tape!
Feldman cleared his throat. "You just saw the story. There was a delay by the FBI from the time it had the brief until it began its investigation. This must be explained in the story."
"You have my statement. Nothing more."
"Who killed Gavin Verheek?" Gray asked.
"I will not talk about the specifics of the investigation."
"But do you know?"
"We have an idea. But that's all I'll say."
Gray glanced around the table. It was obvious Voyles had nothing else to say now, and everyone relaxed at the same time. The editors savored the moment.
Voyles loosened his tie, and almost smiled. "This is off the record, of course, but how did you guys find out about Morgan, the dead lawyer?"
"I will not discuss the specifics of the investigation," Gray said with a wicked grin. They all laughed.
"What do you do now?" Krauthammer asked Voyles.
"There'll be a grand jury by noon tomorrow. Quick indictments. We'll try to find Mattiece, but it'll be difficult. We have no idea where he is. He's spent most of the past five years in the Bahamas, but owns homes in Mexico, Panama, and Paraguay." Voyles glanced at Darby for the second time. She was leaning against the wall by the window, hearing it all.
"What time does the first edition come off the press?" Voyles asked.
"They roll off all night, starting at ten-thirty," said Keen.
"Which edition will this story run in?"
"Late City, a few minutes before midnight. It's the largest edition."
"Will it have Coal's picture on the front?"
Keen looked at Krauthammer, who looked at Feldman. "I guess it should. We'll quote you as saying the brief was personally delivered to Fletcher Coal, who we'll also quote as saying Mattiece gave the President four point two million. Yes, I think Mr. Coal should have his face on the front, along with everyone else."
"I think so too," Voyles said. "If I have a man here at midnight, can I pick up a few copies of it?"
"Certainly," Feldman said. "Why?"
"Because I want to personally deliver it to Coal. I want to knock on his door at midnight, see him in his pajamas, and flash the paper in his face. Then I want to tell him I'll be back with a grand jury subpoena, and shortly after that I'll be back with an indictment. And shortly after that, I'll be back with the handcuffs."
He said this with such pleasure it was frightening.
"I'm glad you don't carry a grudge," Gray said. Only Smith Keen thought it was funny.
"Do you think he'll be indicted?" Krauthammer asked innocently.
Voyles glanced at Darby again. "He'll take the fall for the President. He'd volunteer for a firing squad to save his boss."
Feldman checked his watch and pushed away from the table.
"Could I ask a favor?" Voyles asked.
"Certainly. What?"
"I'd like to spend a few minutes alone with Ms. Shaw. That is, if she doesn't mind."
Everyone looked at Darby, who shrugged her approval. The editors and K. O. Lewis stood in unison and filed out of the room. Darby took Gray's hand and asked him to stay. They sat opposite Voyles at the table.
"I wanted to talk in private," Voyles said, looking at Gray.
