The First Billion

Cate patted Gavallan's arm. "Jett!"

"Just a second," Gavallan whispered. Then, "I'm sorry, Mr. Dodson, but that's the best I can do."

"I am trying to be civilized about this. Make no mistake, I have a nasty side. If you choose not to cooperate, I'll slap a warrant on your behind faster than you can say Strom Thurmond and we can conduct our powwow from a federal detention facility instead of a beautiful hotel."

"Believe me, I am sorry. If there were any way I could share with you what I know, I would, sir. For now, I can only say I had nothing to do with Ray Luca's murder. I saw what happened on the news and I'm as shocked by the events as you."

"Two hours, Gavallan. That's what you got to come into our Miami offices. Then we come looking for you. And I mean all of us. The United States government."

"Don't waste your time, Howell. We both know you're looking in the wrong direction. Turn ninety degrees until you're facing due east. Right out over the ocean. That's where you want to go. Catch my drift?"

"Jett!" This time Gavallan could not ignore Cate's plea. "What?" he asked, peeved.

Cate gave her head a slight nudge, behind them. Gavallan eyes fell to the side-view mirror, where a white and blue Palm Beach police cruiser had taken up position on his tail. Behind the car, he could make out a lanky figure beneath the portico charging up the stairs into the hotel.

"Just drive," he said, ending the call.

34

Five minutes later, the police car was still riding their tail.

They were doing the tourist trail, thirty miles an hour along Ocean Boulevard, past Mar-a-Lago, the old Meriwether Post estate Donald Trump purchased in 1990 and renovated to its jazz age glory, past Bethesda-by-the-Sea, the Kennedys' chapel of choice during long-ago winter visits, past the Flagler estate, Worth Avenue, and Green's Pharmacy and Luncheonette. A few billowy clouds hovered low over the ocean- "puffy white fuckers," they'd called them when he was flying.

"Jett, what do I do?" Cate's voice was pitched high, her features frozen in a brittle mask.

"Just keep going," Gavallan advised. "If he hasn't pulled us over yet, he isn't going to."

"I'm not very good at this."

"At what?"

"Running."

"We're not running. Once you see a siren and I tell you to floor it, then we'll be running."

"The police only want to talk with you," she said. "We'll give them the evidence we've gathered about Mercury and tell them the truth."

"I can't do that."

"But you're innocent."

Gavallan gave a quick, bitter laugh. "You know that and I know that. But right now, Howell Dodson isn't looking for the truth. He's looking for a suspect… any suspect." He turned in his seat, wanting to engage her fully. "By eight o'clock tonight, pictures of Cornerstone and the horror of what happened there will be burned into the memories of every man, woman, and child in this country. This is the biggest case the FBI has going. They're not looking for the murderer, they're looking for meat. They need to utter the magic words, 'Suspect in custody.' "

"Dodson said he just wanted to talk," Cate persisted. "You can help them."

"Are you listening to me?" Gavallan retorted. "Haven't you heard a single word that's been said? Dodson threatened to put out an arrest warrant on me. Frankly, I can't say I blame him. You don't need to be Perry Mason to see that I've got 'prime suspect' written all over me." He counted on his fingers. "One: Seventy million dollars in fees that hinge on the successful completion of the Mercury IPO. Absent that, the fifty-million-dollar bridge loan we'll lose if the deal goes south. That's a hundred-twenty-million-dollar swing. Two: Back there in Ray Luca's house, I put my hands all over a snazzy Glock nine-millimeter that for all I know was the murder weapon. And three: I'm here, aren't I? You don't need any more than that for a conviction."

Cutting his gaze to the side-view mirror, he noted that the police car had edged closer, sniffing at their rear like a horny dog. A brown Chrysler hung behind it, and Gavallan wondered for a moment whether he had two cops on his tail. He looked at Cate. She was sitting too straight in her seat. The color had left her cheeks and a sheen of sweat clung to her forehead.

"Just cancel the deal," she said. "Tell the FBI you're pulling Mercury from the market. What more proof do they need than that? Why would you kill Luca if you were going to shutter the IPO?"

"And Graf? What about him? You may not give a good goddamn about what happens to other people, but I do."

Cate started in her seat, turning her head, raising a hand in protest. She stopped halfway there. Mouthing a silent obsenity, she sank back in her seat and locked her gaze straight ahead of them.