own independent review of the evidence."
That was total bullshit, as Hennessey well knew. "I'll be working on the summary today. I can have a packet to him in a couple of days. He should be able to review it in a few hours."
"It's more than that."
"Even I could figure that out."
"They want Young's vote on the Tax Reform Act, which is scheduled for December first. Once you go before the grand jury, they're afraid the investigation will leak to the press. Young will be so pissed that he'll work against the Tax Reform Act. Brewster's whole economic program will go down the tubes."
"But if I delay thirty days, there could be a leak, and my witnesses will end up in Lake Michigan wearing concrete shoes."
"I told Slater that."
"And?"
"He doesn't give a shit. He's got one interest in lifeâhelping Brewster. He could care less about anything else."
Ben felt his face getting red with rage. He was sick and tired of White House interference in criminal investigations. It always happened, no matter who was president. "Then call Slater back," he told Hennessey, "and tell him to stick it up his ass. We're doing the jobs we're paid to do."
"Take it easy, Ben," Hennessey said.
Those words fueled Ben's anger. Hennessey was such a wimp. Why didn't he stand up to Slater?
"I hate it when somebody tells me that."
"Don't be so damn emotional. We're talking about a thirty-day delay for chrissake." Hennessey was sounding exasperated. "This is no big deal. You don't always have to do things your own way."
"Why don't you and I go to Ches Hawthorne? The AG will back us in a fight with Slater. There's no love lost there."
"The AG's in Tokyo for a conference on law enforcement in the Pacific Rim. He won't be back until next weekend."
"Then call Slater back and tell him that we want a personal briefing with the President on the issue."
"You don't have a choice," Hennessey said. His sharp, emphatic tone let Ben clearly know that Hennessey was in charge and that he could and would fire Ben if Bert didn't follow his orders.
The message came through loud and clear to Ben, who shook his head in disbelief. For three years Hennessey had done everything the White House had wanted, without a demur, in the hope that he would be nominated for a judgeship on the court of appeals in Washington. So far, all that ass kissing hadn't gotten Hennessey his prize, even though two vacancies on the court had been filled by Brewster in his first three years in office. There was another vacancy now, and Hennessey had redoubled his efforts.
"All right," Ben said, resigned. "Your eggs are getting cold. I'll wait the thirty days. Slater will have a summary of the evidence by five on Tuesday afternoon."
"Thanks, I appreciate that. But don't hang up. Slater raised something else that concerns you as well."
Ben saw Amy walk across the living room, dressed in one of the long black dresses Nan had used for piano recitals, with her mother's lipstick caked across her mouth.
"Will I like this one any better?" Ben asked.
"I don't think so."
Amy was sitting down at the baby grand piano in the living room. "I'll be right there," he called to her.
"What'd you say?" Hennessey asked.
"I was talking to Amy. What did you want?"
"Slater says Brewster's all worked up about the Winthrop killing."
"Based on what I read in the morning Post, he should be. It doesn't say much for his anticrime program if the President's best friend, and this country's secretary of state, is murdered in his own house."
Ben heard the piano. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amy's little fingers, not pounding, but dancing and gliding on the piano, as Nan had taught her.
"The FBI's going to need help from our office," Hennessey said, "and Slater made me promise to give it to my best lawyer. I immediately thought of you, of course."
"I'm flattered, but then you remembered that I'm working full-time, seven days a week on the Young investigation. So you went to second best."
"Fortunately, I
The Big Rich: The Rise, Fall of the Greatest Texas Oil Fortunes