LITMIR.BIZ

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‘Not exactly. Soul sick, maybe.’

      Tim looks at me in disbelief. ‘ Soul sick? Are you kidding? I’m soul sick too! Man, you stood up all over this town and told people you were going to change things. You made people believe it. And now you want to quit? The Eagle Scout wants to quit? Why? Because it’s tougher than you thought? Did somebody hurt your feelings or something?’

      I start to explain, but before I can get a sentence out, Jessup cuts in, ‘Wait a minute. They came to you with money or something, right? No…they threatened you, didn’t they?’

      ‘No, no, no.’

      ‘Bullshit.’ Tim’s eyes flash. ‘They got their claws into you somehow, and all you know to do is run—’

      ‘Tim!’ I grab his leg and squeeze hard enough to bruise. ‘Shut up and listen for a second!’

      His chest is heaving from the excitement of his anger.

      I lean close enough so that he can see my eyes. ‘Nobody from any casino has come to me with anything. Not bribes or threats. I wanted to be mayor so I could fix the school system in this town, which has been screwed since 1968. It’s been our Achilles’ heel for nearly forty years. But I see now that I can’t fix it. I don’t have the power. And my child is suffering because of it. It’s that simple, Timmy. Until tonight, all this stuff you’ve told me was just whispers in the wind.’

      ‘And now?’

      ‘Now I can’t get those goddamn pictures out of my head.’

      He smiles sadly. ‘I told you. I warned you.’

      ‘Yeah. You did.’

      He rubs his face with both hands, so hard that his mustache makes scratching sounds. ‘So, what now? Am I on my own here or what?’

      ‘You are unless you tell me who Mr X is.’

      Jessup’s eyes go blank as marbles.

      ‘Come on. I know law enforcement people who aren’t local. Serious people. Give me his name, and I’ll get a real investigation started. We’ll nail his hide to the barn door. I’ve dealt with guys like this before. You know I have. I sent them to death row.’

      With slow deliberation, Tim stubs his cigarette out on the mossy bricks behind him. ‘I know. That’s why I came to you. But you have to understand what you’re up against, Penn. This guy I’m talking about has got real juice. Just because someone’s in Houston or Washington doesn’t mean they’re clean on this.’

      ‘Tim, I took on the head of the FBI. And I won.’

      Jessup doesn’t look convinced. ‘That was different. A guy like that has to play by the rules. That’s like Gandhi beating the British in India. Don’t kid yourself. You go after Mr X, you’re swimming into the shallow end of Lake St John, hoping to kill an alligator before one kills you.’

      This image hits me with primitive force. I’ve cruised the shallow end of the local lake from the safety of a ski boat at night, and there’s no sight quite like the dozens of red eyes hovering just above water level among the twisted cypress trunks. The first thrash of an armored tail in the water triggers a blast of uniquely mammalian fear that makes you pray the boat’s drain plug is screwed in tight.

      ‘I hear you, okay? But I think you’re a little spooked. The guy is human, right?’

      Jessup tugs at his mustache like the strung-out junkie he used to be. ‘You don’t know, man…you don’t know. This guy is smooth as silk on the outside, but he’s got scales on the inside. When the dogs are tearing each other to pieces, or some girl is screaming in the back of a trailer, his eyes turn from ice to fire right in front of you.’

      ‘Tim—’ I lean forward and grasp his wrist. ‘I don’t understand what you want from me. If you won’t go to the professionals, how do you propose to stop this psycho? What’s your plan?’

      A strange light comes into Jessup’s eyes. ‘There’s only one way to take down an operation like this, and you know it.’

      ‘How’s that?’

      ‘From the inside.’

      Jesus. Tim has been watching too many cop shows. ‘Let me get this straight. The guy you just described as Satan incarnate, you want to wear a wire on?’

      Jessup barks out a derisive laugh. ‘Fuck no! These guys carry scanners into the john with them.’

      ‘Then what?’

      He shakes his head with childlike stubbornness. ‘You don’t need to know. But God put me in this position for a reason.’

      When informants start talking about God, my alarm bells go off.

      ‘Tim—’

      ‘Hey, I’m not asking you to believe like I do. I’m just asking you to be ready to accept what I bring you and do the right thing.’

      I feel obligated to try to dissuade him further, but beneath my desire to protect a childhood friend lies a professionally cynical awareness of the truth. In cases like this, often the only way to convict the people at the top is to have a witness on the inside, directly observing the criminal activity. And who else but a martyr would take that job?

      ‘What are you planning to bring me?’

      ‘Evidence. A stake to drive through Mr X’s heart, and a knife to cut off the company’s head. Just say you’re with me, Penn. Tell me you won’t quit. Not until we take these bastards down.’

      Against all my better judgment, I reach out and squeeze Tim’s proffered hand. ‘Okay. You just watch your back. And your front. Informers usually get caught because they make a stupid mistake. You’ve come a long way. Don’t go getting hurt now.’

      Tim looks me full in the face, his eyes almost serene. ‘Hey, I have to be careful. I’ve got a son now, remember?’ As if suddenly remembering something, he seizes my wrist with his other hand, like a pastor imploring me to accept Jesus as my savior. ‘If something does happen, though, don’t blame yourself, okay? The way I see it, I’ve got no choice.’

      Your wife and son wouldn’t see it that way, I say silently, but I nod acknowledgment.

      Now we sit silently, awkwardly, like two men who’ve cleared the air on some uncomfortable issue and have nothing left to say. Small talk is pointless, yet how else can we part? Cut our palms and take a blood oath, like Tom and Huck?

      ‘You still dating that lady who runs the bookstore?’ Tim asks with forced casualness.

      ‘Libby?’ I guess word hasn’t spread to Jessup’s social circle yet. ‘We ended it about a week ago. Why?’

      ‘I’ve seen her son down on the Queen a few times in the past couple of weeks. Looked high as a kite to me. Must have a fake ID.’

      After all I’ve heard tonight, this news falls on me like the last brick of a backbreaking load. I’ve spent too much time and political capital getting my ex-girlfriend’s nineteen-year-old son out of trouble with the law. He’s basically a good kid, but if he’s broken his promise to stay clean, the future holds serious unpleasantness for us both.

      Tim looks worried. ‘Was I right to tell you?’

      ‘Are you sure he was high?’

      Suddenly Tim hops to his knees, tense as a startled deer, holding up his hand for silence. As he zeros his gaze somewhere past the wall between us and the river, I realize what has disturbed him: the sound of a car coming up Cemetery Road. We listen to the rising pitch of the engine, waiting for it to crest and fall…but it doesn’t. There’s a grinding squeal of brakes, then silence.

      ‘Stopped.’ Tim hisses. ‘Right below us.’

      ‘Take it easy,’ I whisper, surprised by my thumping heart. ‘It’s probably just a police

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