He slept until housekeeping got tired of waiting. Checkout1 was noon, no exceptions, and when the maid banged on the door at eleven forty-five he yelled something through the door and jumped in the shower.
His car looked fine, no pry2 marks or dents3 or scrapes around the rear. He unlocked the trunk and quickly peered inside: three black plastic garbage bags stuffed with money. All was normal until he got behind the wheel and saw an envelope tucked under the windshield wiper in front of him. He froze and stared at it, and it seemed to stare back at him from thirty inches away. Plain white, legal size, no visible markings, at least on the side touching4 the glass.
Whatever it was, it couldn't be good. It wasn't a flyer for a pizza delivery or some clown running for office. It wasn't a ticket for expired parking because parking was free at the Acropolis casino.
It was an envelope with something in it.
He slowly crawled out of the car and looked around on the chance he'd spot someone out there. He lifted the wiper, took the envelope, and examined it as if it might be crucial evidence in a murder trial. Then he got back in the car because he figured someone was watching.
Inside was another trifold, another color digital picture printed off the computer, this one of unit 37F at Chaney's Self-Storage in Charlottesville, Virginia, 930 miles and at least eighteen hours away by car. Same camera, same printer, no doubt the same photographer who no doubt knew that 37F was not the last unit Ray had used to hide the money.
Though he was too numb5 to move, Ray drove away in a hurry. He sped along Highway 90 watching everything behind him, then suddenly veered6 to the left and turned onto a street that he followed north for a mile until he abruptly7 pulled into the parking lot of a Laundromat. No one was following. For an hour he watched every car and saw nothing suspicious. For comfort, his pistol was next to his seat, ready for action. And even more comforting was the money sitting just inches away. He had everything he needed.
THE CALL from Mr. French's scheduling secretary came at eleven-fifteen. Crucial matters had conspired8 to make lunch impossible, but an early dinner would be his pleasure. She asked if Ray would come to the great man's office around 4 P.M., and the evening would proceed from there.
The office, a flattering photo of which appeared on the Web site, was a stately Georgian home overlooking the Gulf9, on a long lot shaded with oaks and Spanish moss10. Its neighbors were of similar architecture and age.
The rear had recently been converted into a parking lot with tall brick walls around it and security cameras scanning back and forth11. A metal gate was opened for Ray and closed behind him by a guard dressed like a Secret Service agent. He parked in a reserved place, and another guard escorted him up to the rear of the building, where a crew was busy laying tile while another planted shrubs12. A major renovation13 of the office and premises14 was rapidly winding15 down.
"The governor's coming in three days," the guard whispered.
"Wow," Ray said.
French's personal office was on the second floor, but he was not in it. He was still on his yacht, out in the Gulf, explained a comely16 young brunette in a tight, expensive dress. She led him into Mr. French's office anyway and asked him to wait in a sitting area by the windows. The room was paneled in blond oak and held enough heavy leather sofas, chairs, and ottomans to furnish a hunting lodge17. The desk was the size of a swimming pool and covered with scale models of great yachts.
"He likes boats, huh?" Ray said, looking around. He was expected to be impressed.
"Yes, he does." With a remote she opened a cabinet and a large flat screen slid out. "He's in a meeting," she said, "but he'll be on in just a moment. Would you like a drink?"
"Thanks, black coffee."
There was a tiny camera in the top right corner of the screen, and Ray assumed he and Mr. French were about to chat via satellite. His irritation18 at waiting was slowly building. Normally, it would've been boiling by now, but he was captivated by the show that was unfolding around him. He was a character in it. Relax and enjoy it, he told himself. You have plenty of time.
She returned with the coffee, which, of course, was served in fine china, F&F engraved19 on the side of the cup. ?-? "Can I step outside?" Ray asked.
"Certainly." She smiled and returned to her desk.
There was a long balcony through a set of doors. Ray sipped21 his coffee at the railing and admired the view. The wide front lawn ended at the highway, and beyond it was the beach and the water. No casinos were visible, not much in the way of development. Below him, on the front porch, some painters were chattering22 back and forth as they moved their ladders. Everything about the place looked and felt new. Patton French had just won the lottery23.
"Mr. Atlee," she called, and Ray stepped inside the office. On the screen was the face of Patton French, hair slightly disheveled, reading glasses perched on his nose, eyes frowning above them. "There you are," he barked. "Sorry for the delay. Have a seat there, if you will, Ray, so I can see you."
She pointed24 and Ray sat.
"How are you?" French asked.
"Fine. You?"
"Great, look, sorry for the mix-up, all my fault, but I've been on one of these damned conference calls all afternoon, just couldn't get away. I was thinking it would be a lot quieter here on the boat for dinner, whatta you think? My chef's a damned sight better than anything you'll find on land. I'm only thirty minutes out. We'll have a drink, just the two of us, then a long dinner and we'll talk about your father. It'll be enjoyable, I promise."
When he finally shut up, Ray said, "Will my car be secure here?" '. - :
"Of course. Hell, it's in a compound. I'll tell the guards to sit on the damned thing if you want."
"Okay Do I swim out?" : "No, I've got boats. Dickie'll bring you."
Dickie was the same thick young man who'd escorted Ray into the building. Now he escorted him out, where a very long silver Mercedes was waiting. Dickie drove it like a tank through the traffic to the Point Cadet Marina, where a hundred small vessels25 were docked. One of the larger ones just happened to be owned by Pat-ton French. Its name was the Lady of Justice.
"The water's smooth, take about twenty-five minutes," Dickie said as they climbed on board. The engines were running. A steward26 with a thick accent asked Ray if he'd like a drink. "Diet soda," he said. They cast off and puttered through the rows of slips and past the marina until they were away from the pier27. Ray climbed to the upper deck and watched the shoreline fade into the distance.
ANCHORED TEN miles from Biloxi was the King of Torts, a hundred-forty-foot luxury yacht with a crew of five and plush quarters for a dozen friends. The only passenger was Mr. French, and he was waiting to greet his dinner guest. "A real pleasure, Ray" he said as he pumped his hand and then squeezed his shoulder.
"A pleasure for me as well," Ray said, holding his ground because French liked close contact. He was an inch or two taller, with a nicely tanned face, fierce blue eyes that squinted28 and did not blink.
"I'm so glad you came," French said, squeezing Ray's hand. Fraternity brothers couldn't have pawed each other with more affection.
"Stay here, Dickie," he barked to the deck below. "Follow me, Ray," he said, and they were off, up one short flight to the main deck, where a steward in a white jacket was waiting with a starched30 F&F towel folded perfectly31 over his arm. "What'll you have?" he demanded of Ray.
Suspecting that French was not a man who toyed with light booze, Ray said, "What's the specialty32 of the house?"
"Iced vodka, with a twist of lime."
"I'll try it," Ray said.
"It's a great new vodka from Norway. You'll love it." The man knew his vodkas.
He was wearing a black linen33 shirt, buttoned at the neck, and tan linen shorts, perfectly pressed and hanging nicely on his frame. There was a slight belly34, but he was thick through the chest and his forearms were twice the normal size. He liked his hair because he couldn't keep his hands out of it.
"How about the boat?" he asked, waving his hands from stern to bow. "It was built by a Saudi prince, one of the lesser35 ones, a coupla years ago. Dumb-ass put a fireplace in it, can you believe that? Cost him twenty million or so, and after a year he traded it in for a two-hundred-footer."
"It's amazing," Ray said, trying to sound sufficiently36 awed29. The world of yachting was one he had never been near, and he suspected that after this episode he would forever keep his distance.
"Built by the Italians," French said, tapping a railing made of some terribly expensive wood.
"Why do you stay out here, in the Gulf?" Ray asked.
"I'm an offshore37 kind of guy, ha, ha. If you know what I mean. Sit." French pointed, and they lowered themselves into two long deck chairs. When they were nestled in, French nodded to the shore. "You can barely see Biloxi, and this is close enough. I can do more work out here in one day than in a week at the office. Plus I'm transitioning from one house to the next. A divorce is in the works. This is where I hide."
"Sorry"
"This is the biggest yacht in Biloxi now, and most folks can spot it. The current wife thinks I've sold it, and if I get too close to the shore then her slimy little lawyer might swim out and take a picture of it. Ten miles is close enough."
The iced vodkas arrived, in tall narrow glasses, F&F engraved on the sides. Ray took a sip20 and the concoction38 burned all the way to his toes. French took a long pull and smacked39 his lips. "Whatta you think?" he asked proudly.
"Nice vodka," Ray said. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had one.
"Dickie brought fresh swordfish out for dinner. Sound okay?"
"Great."
"And the oysters40 are good now."
"I went to law school at Tulane. I had three years of fresh oysters."
"I know," French said and pulled a small radio from his shirt pocket and passed along their dinner selections to someone below. He glanced at his watch and decided41 they would eat in two hours.
"You went to school with Hassel Mangrum," French said.
"Yes, he was a year ahead of me."
"We share the same trainer. Hassel has done well here on the coast. Got in early with the asbestos boys."
"I haven't heard from Hassel in twenty years."
"You haven't missed much. He's a jerk now, I suspect he was a jerk in law school."
"He was. How'd you know I went to school with Mangrum?"
"Research, Ray, extensive research." He swigged the vodka again. Ray's third sip went straight to his brain.
"We spent a bunch of dough42 investigating Judge Atlee, and his family, and his background, his rulings, his finances, everything we could find. Nothing illegal or intrusive43, mind you, but old-fashioned detective work. We knew about your divorce, what's his name, Lew the Liquidator?"
Ray just nodded. He wanted to say something derogatory about Lew Rodowski and he wanted to rebuke44 French for digging through his past, but for a second the vodka was blocking signals. So he nodded.
"We knew your salary as a law professor, it's public record in Virginia, you know."
"Yes it is."
"Not a bad salary, Ray, but then it's a great law school."
"It is indeed."
"Digging through your brother's past was quite an adventure."
"I'm sure it was. It's been an adventure for the family."
"We read every ruling your father issued in damage suits and wrongful death cases. There weren't many, but we picked up clues. He was conservative with his awards, but he also favored the little guy, the workingman. We knew he would follow the law, but we also knew that old chancellors46 often mold the law to fit their notion of fairness. I had clerks doing the grunt47 work, but I read every one of his important decisions. He was a brilliant man, Ray, and always fair. I never disagreed with one of his opinions."
"You picked my father for the Gibson case?"
"Yes. When we made the decision to file the case in Chancery Court and try it without a jury, we also decided we did not want a local chancellor45 to hear it. We have three. One is related to the Gibson family. One refuses to hear any matter other than divorces. One is eighty-four, senile, and hasn't left the house in three years. So we looked around the state and found three potential fill-ins. Fortunately, my father and your father go back sixty years, to Sewanee and then law school at Ole Miss. They weren't close friends over the years, but they kept in touch."
"Your father is still active?"
"No, he's in Florida now, retired48, playing golf every day. I'm the sole owner of the firm. But my old man drove to Clanton, sat on the front porch with Judge Atlee, talked about the Civil War and Nathan Bedford Forrest. They even drove to Shiloh, walked around for two days - the hornet's nest, the bloody49 pond. Judge Atlee got all choked up when he stood where General Johnston fell."
"I've been there a dozen times," Ray said with a smile.
"You don't lobby a man like Judge Atlee. Earwigging is the ancient term."
"He put a lawyer in jail once for that," Ray said. "The guy came in before court began and tried to plead his case. The Judge threw him in jail for half a day."
"That was that Chadwick fella over in Oxford50, wasn't it?" French said smugly, and Ray was speechless.
"Anyway, we had to impress upon Judge Atlee the importance of the Ryax litigation. We knew he wouldn't want to come to the coast and try the case, but he'd do it if he believed in the cause."
"He hated the coast."
"We knew that, believe me, it was a huge concern. But he was a man of great principle. After refighting the war up there for two days, Judge Atlee reluctantly agreed to hear the case."
"Doesn't the Supreme51 Court assign the special chancellors?" Ray asked. The fourth sip sort of slid down, without burning, and the vodka was tasting better.
French shrugged52 it off. "Sure, but there are ways. We have friends."
In Fatten53 French's world, anyone could be bought.
The steward was back with fresh drinks. Not that they were needed, but they were taken anyway. French was too hyper to sit still for long. "Lemme show you the boat," he said, and bounced out of his chair with no effort. Ray climbed out carefully, balancing his glass.
收听单词发音 |
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checkout
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| n.（超市等）收银台，付款处 | |
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pry
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| vi.窥(刺)探，打听；vt.撬动(开，起) | |
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dents
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| n.花边边饰；凹痕( dent的名词复数 )；凹部；减少；削弱v.使产生凹痕( dent的第三人称单数 )；损害；伤害；挫伤（信心、名誉等） | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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veered
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| v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的过去式和过去分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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conspired
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| 密谋( conspire的过去式和过去分词 )； 搞阴谋； （事件等）巧合； 共同导致 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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renovation
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| n.革新，整修 | |
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premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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18
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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sip
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| v.小口地喝，抿，呷；n.一小口的量 | |
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sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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lottery
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| n.抽彩；碰运气的事，难于算计的事 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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squinted
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| 斜视( squint的过去式和过去分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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starched
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| adj.浆硬的，硬挺的，拘泥刻板的v.把（衣服、床单等）浆一浆( starch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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specialty
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| n.(speciality)特性，特质；专业，专长 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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offshore
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| adj.海面的，吹向海面的；adv.向海面 | |
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concoction
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| n.调配(物)；谎言 | |
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smacked
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| 拍，打，掴( smack的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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oysters
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| 牡蛎( oyster的名词复数 ) | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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dough
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| n.生面团；钱，现款 | |
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intrusive
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| adj.打搅的；侵扰的 | |
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44
rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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45
chancellor
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| n.(英)大臣；法官；(德、奥)总理；大学校长 | |
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46
chancellors
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| 大臣( chancellor的名词复数 )； （某些美国大学的）校长； （德国或奥地利的）总理； （英国大学的）名誉校长 | |
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47
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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48
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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49
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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50
Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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51
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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52
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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53
fatten
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| v.使肥，变肥 | |
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