Ice Fire: A Jock Boucher Thriller Read Online Free PDF

given a pass and told to mend his ways. I guess he did. That was the end of it.” He sat back up and added a further reflection.
    “Though he was long dead then, Hoover’s shadow still loomed large over the Bureau. Maybe it always will. Anyway, Epson owed us. I’m pretty sure we used the occasion to remind him of that over theyears. It’s a bad position to be in, Jock. Don’t ever let yourself get in hock to the Bureau.”
    Neely stood up and offered a handshake. “My advice to you is to forget about this. Don’t make waves. It was good to see you. Take care.”
    Both hands were cold and clammy from the ice cream. Neely left. Boucher looked down at his cup. His Rocky Road had melted.

CHAPTER 5
    J UDGE EPSON WAS RELEASED from the hospital with his doctor’s admonitions: “No visitors, and please try to stay off the phone.” John Perry was waiting for him at the house, the judge having called him from his cell saying he was on his way home. So much for the doctor’s advice.
    “You’re looking good,” Perry said.
    “Bullshit. I look like one of those cartoons that’s just seen a ghost. Maybe I did. Maybe it was me.”
    The two men sat in Epson’s study. The room was modeled after a Victorian-era library, with bookshelves floor to ceiling on three walls. Behind the desk were French windows that opened onto a backyard with large shade trees. Designed for tranquillity and contemplation, it hit the mark, though tranquillity was not in the air this afternoon.
    “We didn’t find Palmetto,” Perry said. “God only knows where he’s gone.”
    “I just wonder where he’s been for twenty years,” Epson said.
    “I’d sure like to know what he said to that judge.”
    “I can find out easily enough.”
    They were interrupted by a knock on the door. A maid stuck herhead in. “Your office is on the line, Judge. Do you want me to take a message?”
    “No, I’ll take it.” He picked up the phone. Perry watched as Epson’s face turned from pale to a ghostly white.
    “What’s wrong?” Perry asked.
    “The son of a bitch has gone to the FBI. He was asking about that inquiry twenty years ago.”
    Perry showed no reaction, not the faintest hint of emotion. This ability was his strength, had won him many a boardroom battle, and helped him to climb and remain at the top of the corporate ladder. He studied his manicured nails and asked, “Can we make Boucher a friend?”
    “I doubt it,” Epson said. “He just got appointed. He’s probably full of himself and overflowing with ideals. Cynicism doesn’t usually set in till after the first five years.”
    “I leave him to you. Take care of it.” In this manner a federal judge received his orders as if he were a foot soldier. Perry got up to leave. “I hope you’ll be back at work soon,” he said. “Unpleasant things seem to happen when you’re away.”
    “I’ll be back within the week,” Judge Epson said. “Count on it.”
    John Perry didn’t need anyone to show him to the door; he’d been in this house before. He walked the flagstone path to the driveway and his car. In contrast to the slow pace of his footsteps, his mind raced. Despite what he’d just said, he would leave nothing to Judge Epson; there was too much at stake. He would take care of what had to be done. He got in his car, called his office, and was reminded he was expected at a charity function that evening and his wife wanted to know which of his tuxedos she should put out for him. He answered, hung up, and smiled at the range of thoughts that had just run through his brain in less than a minute. From the sublime to themundane, it was all in a day’s work for the man who would provide the greatest country on earth with enough energy to last the next two hundred years. Perry made a stop before going home, to arrange a matter that couldn’t be discussed over the phone.
    Matt Quillen hated the sight of blood, and had equal disdain for loud noises; ironic aversions for a professional