jg.thepelicanbrief-第43章

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　　〃I'll　open　it　in　just　a　second。〃　Grantham　spoke　with　both　palms　facing　the　editor。　Yes；　it　was　serious。　〃Let's　talk。〃
　　
　　〃Okay。　What　is　it？〃
　　
　　〃It's　big；　Smith。〃
　　
　　〃I　know　it's　big。　You　shut　the　damned　door；　so　I　know　it's　big。〃
　　
　　〃I　just　finished　my　second　phone　conversation　with　a　young　lady　by　the　name　of　Darby　Shaw；　and　she　knows　who　killed　Rosenberg　and　Jensen。〃　
　　
　　Keen　sat　slowly　and　glared　at　Grantham。　〃Yes；　son；　that's　big。　But　how　do　you　know？　How　does　she　know？　What　can　you　prove？〃
　　
　　〃I　don't　have　a　story　yet；　Smith；　but　she's　talking　to　me。　Read　this。〃　Grantham　handed　over　a　copy　of　the　newspaper　account　of　Callahan's　death。　Keen　read　it　slowly。
　　
　　〃Okay。　Who's　Callahan？〃
　　
　　〃One　week　ago　today；　he　handed　a　little　paper　known　as　the　pelican　brief　to　the　FBI　here　in　town。　Evidently；　the　brief　implicates　an　obscure　person　in　the　killings。　The　brief　gets　passed　around；　then　sent　to　the　White　House；　then　beyond　that　no　one　knows。　Two　days　later；　Callahan　cranks　his　Porsche　for　the　last　time。　Darby　Shaw　claims　to　be　the　unidentified　female　mentioned　there。　She　was　with　Callahan；　and　was　supposed　to　die　with　him。〃
　　
　　〃Why　was　she　supposed　to　die？〃
　　
　　〃She　wrote　the　brief；　Smith。　Or　she　claims　she　did。〃　
　　
　　Keen　sank　deeper　into　his　seat　and　placed　his　feet　on　the　desk。　He　studied　the　photo　of　Callahan。　〃Where's　the　brief？〃
　　
　　〃I　don't　know。〃
　　
　　〃What's　in　it？〃
　　
　　〃Don't　know　that　either。〃
　　
　　〃Then　we　don't　have　anything；　do　we？〃
　　
　　〃Not　yet。　But　what　if　she　tells　me　everything　that's　in　it？〃
　　
　　〃And　when　will　she　do　this？〃　
　　
　　Grantham　hesitated。　〃Soon；　I　think。　Real　soon。〃　
　　
　　Keen　shook　his　head　and　threw　the　copy　on　the　desk。　〃If　we　had　the　brief；　we'd　have　a　helluva　story；　Gray；　but　we　couldn't　run　it。　There's　gotta　be　some　heavy；　painful；　flawless；　and　accurate　verification　before　we　can　run　it。〃
　　
　　〃But　I've　got　the　green　light？〃
　　
　　〃Yeah；　but　you　keep　me　posted　every　hour。　Don't　write　a　word　until　we　talk。〃　
　　
　　Grantham　smiled　and　opened　the　door。　
　　
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　　THIS　WAS　NOT　forty…bucks…an…hour　work。　Not　even　thirty；　or　twenty。　Croft　knew　he'd　be　lucky　to　squeeze　fifteen　out　of　Grantham　for　this　needle…in…the…haystack　Mickey　Mouse　crap。　If　he'd　had　other　work；　he'd　have　told　Grantham　to　find　someone　else；　or　better　yet；　do　it　himself。　
　　
　　But　things　had　been　slow；　and　he　could　do　a　lot　worse　than　fifteen　bucks　an　hour。　He　finished　a　joint　in　the　last　stall；　flushed　it；　and　opened　the　door。　He　stuck　the　dark　sunglasses　over　his　ears；　and　entered　the　hallway　that　led　to　the　atrium　where　four　escalators　carried　a　thousand　lawyers　up　to　their　little　rooms；　where　they　would　spend　the　day　bitching　and　threatening　by　the　hour。　He　had　Garcia's　face　memorized。　He　was　even　dreaming　of　this　kid　with　the　bright　face　and　good　looks；　the　slim　physique　draped　with　an　expensive　suit。　He　would　know　him　if　he　saw　him。　
　　
　　He　stood　by　a　pillar；　holding　a　newspaper　and　trying　to　watch　everyone　from　behind　the　dark　shades。　Lawyers　everywhere；　scurrying　upward　with　their　smug　little　faces　and　carrying　their　smug　little　attache　cases。　Man；　how　he　hated　lawyers。　Why　did　they　all　dress　alike？　Dark　suits。　Dark　shoes。　Dark　faces。　An　occasional　nonconformist　with　a　daring　little　bow　tie。　Where　did　they　all　e　from？　Shortly　after　his　arrest　with　the　drugs；　the　first　lawyers　had　been　a　group　of　angry　mouthpieces　hired　by　the　Post。　Then　he　hired　his　own；　an　overpriced　moron　who　couldn't　find　the　courtroom。　Then；　the　prosecutor　was　of　course　a　lawyer。　Lawyers；　lawyers。　
　　
　　Two　hours　in　the　morning；　two　hours　at　lunch；　two　hours　during　the　evening；　and　then　Grantham　would　have　another　building　for　him　to　patrol。　Ninety　bucks　a　day　was　cheap；　and　he　would　give　this　up　as　soon　as　he　got　a　better　deal。　He　told　Grantham　this　was　hopeless；　just　shooting　in　the　dark。　Grantham　agreed；　but　said　to　keep　shooting。　It's　all　they　could　do。　He　said　Garcia　was　scared　and　wouldn't　call　anymore。　They　had　to　find　him。　
　　
　　In　his　pocket　he　had　two　photos　just　in　case；　and　from　the　directory　he　had　made　a　list　of　the　firms　in　the　building。　It　was　a　long　list。　The　building　had　twelve　floors　filled　mainly　with　firms　filled　with　nothing　but　these　fancy　little　esquires。　He　was　in　a　den　of　snakes。　
　　
　　By　nine…thirty　the　rush　was　over；　and　some　of　the　faces　looked　familiar　ing　back　down　the　escalators；　headed　no　doubt　for　the　courtrooms　and　agencies　and　missions。　Croft　eased　through　the　revolving　doors；　and　wiped　his　feet　on　the　sidewalk。　
　　
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　　FOUR　BLOCKS　AWAY；　Fletcher　Coal　paced　in　front　of　the　President's　desk　and　listened　intently　to　the　phone　in　his　ear。　He　frowned；　then　closed　his　eyes；　then　glared　at　the　President　as　if　to　say；　〃Bad　news；　Chief。　Really　bad　news。〃　The　President　held　a　letter　and　peered　at　Coal　over　his　reading　glasses。　Coal's　pacing　back　and　forth　like　Der　Führer　really　irritated　him；　and　he　made　a　mental　note　to　say　something　about　it。　
　　
　　Coal　slammed　the　phone　down。
　　
　　〃Don't　slam　the　damned　phones！〃　the　President　said。　
　　
　　Coal　was　unfazed。　〃Sorry。　That　was　Zikman。　Gray　Grantham　called　thirty　minutes　ago；　and　asked　if　he　had　any　knowledge　of　the　pelican　brief。〃
　　
　　〃Wonderful。　Fabulous。　How'd　he　get　a　copy　of　it？〃　
　　
　　Coal　was　still　pacing。　〃Zikman　knows　nothing　about　it；　so　his　ignorance　was　genuine。〃
　　
　　〃His　ignorance　is　always　genuine。　He's　the　dumbest　ass　on　my　staff；　Fletcher；　and　I　want　him　gone。〃
　　
　　〃Whatever。〃　Coal　sat　in　a　chair　across　the　desk　and　folded　his　hands　in　a　little　steeple　in　front　of　his　chin。　He　was　very　deep　in　thought；　and　the　President　tried　to　ignore　him。　They　thought　for　a　moment。
　　
　　〃Voyles　leaked　it？〃　the　President　finally　said。
　　
　　〃Maybe；　if　it　was　leaked。　Grantham　is　known　for　bluffing。　We　can't　be　certain　he's　seen　the　brief。　Maybe　he　heard　about　it；　and　he's　fishing。〃
　　
　　〃Maybe；　my　ass。　What　if　they　run　some　crazy　story　about　that　damned　thing？　What　then？〃　The　President　slapped　his　desk　and　bolted　to　his　feet。What　then；　Fletcher？　That　paper　hates　me！〃　He　moped　to　the　windows。
　　
　　〃They　can't　run　it　without　another　source；　and　there　can't　be　another　source　because　there's　no　truth　to　it。　It's　a　wild　idea　that's　gone　much　further　than　it　deserves。〃　
　　
　　〃The　President　sulked　for　a　while　and　stared　through　the　glass。How　did　Grantham　find　out　about　it？〃　
　　
　　Coal　stood　and　began　pacing；　but　much　slower　now。　He　was　still　painfully　in　thought。　〃Who　knows。　No　one　here　knows　about　it　but　you　and　I。　They　brought　one　copy；　and　it's　locked　away　in　my　office。　I　personally　Xeroxed　it　once；　and　gave　it　to　Gminski。　I　swore　him　to　secrecy。〃　
　　
　　The　President　sneered　at　the　windows。　
　　
　　Coal　continued。　〃Okay；　you're　right。　There　could　be　a　thousand　copies　out　there　by　now。　But　it's　harmless；　unless　of　course　our　friend　actually　did　these　dirty　deeds；　then〃
　　
　　〃Then　my　ass　is　cooked。〃
　　
　　〃Yes；　I　would　say　our　asses　are　cooked。〃
　　
　　〃How　much　money　did　we　take？〃
　　
　　〃Millions；　directly　and　indirectly。〃　And　legally　and　illegally；　but　the　President　knew　little　of　these　transactions　and　Coal　chose　to　stay　quiet。　
　　
　　The　President　walked　slowly　to　the　sofa。　〃Why　don't　you　call　Grantham？　Pick　his　brain。　See　what　he　knows。　If　he's　bluffing；　it'll　be　obvious。　What　do　you　think？〃
　　
　　〃I　don't　know。〃
　　
　　〃You've　talked　to　him　before；　haven't　you？　Everyone　knows　Grantham。〃　
　　
　　〃Coal　was　now　pacing　behind　the　sofa。Yeah；　I've　talked　to　him。　But　if　I　suddenly　call　out　of　nowhere；　he'll　be　suspicious。〃
　　
　　〃Yeah；　I　guess　you're　right。〃　The　President　paced　on　one　end　of　the　sofa；　and　Coal　on　the　other。
　　
　　〃What's　the　downside？〃　the　President　finally　asked。
　　
　　〃Our　friend　could　be　involved。　You　asked　Voyles　to　back　off　our　friend。　Our　friend　could　be　exposed　by　the　press。　Voyles　covers　his　tail　and　says　you　told　him　to　chase　other　suspects　and　ignore　our　friend。　The　Post　goes　berserk　with　an