Garth shook his head.
"Jefferson was just something broken that Carver used as a murder weapon. But Chick Carver's kind of broken too. I want to nail him, but I want even more to nail the gray suit or suits responsible for hiring a freak like Carver in the first place, and then giving him free rein to act as an enforcer to cover up their illegal water-transport business. Maybe that's Roger Wellington, but I suspect it's somebody even higher up, somebody Mama Carver could pressure. Damn it, Garth, this whole thing is about responsibility, and I want to nail the people responsible for making policy."
Garth grunted, then stared at me for some time with an enigmatic expression on his face. Finally he asked quietly, "Just what the hell did you think you were doing, Mongo?"
"Uh. . bringing things to a head?"
"You mean onto a head; your head. I can't understand what you hoped to accomplish, aside from almost killing yourself, by playing Tarzan off the Tappan Zee Bridge, and then trying to hijack a tanker."
"Hijack a tanker? I wasn't trying to hijack that thing, I was trying to park it, for Christ's sake! And don't give me any more of this 'what did you think you were doing' crap. I was pretty pissed off when I left the hospital, because you were where I am right now. I went to have a little chat with Bennett Carver, to show him the photos and ask what the hell his company and son were up to. He was pretty shocked by the whole thing, especially since he disowned his shithead son years ago. But Mama wasn't shocked; she wasn't even surprised."
"She got him the job?"
"Right. She's a tough one. The lady as much as told me to go to hell, because there wasn't a damn thing I could do about any of it. That kind of annoyed me. I got even more annoyed when I got back and found the tanker gone; obviously Mama had called somebody, probably her boy, to tell him the tanker should get out of there fast. I took off after it in the car, because I knew if it ever got out of New York Harbor, we'd never see it or Julian Jefferson around here again. I was intending to make a last-ditch effort to get the Coast Guard to stop them, but while I was on the road I realized that was a waste of time. I saw the construction equipment on the TZ, and I just went for a head-to-head with the captain; I knew it was probably the last chance I'd ever have. If you'd been in my place, you'd have done the same damn thing."
"Yeah," Garth said mildly. "You're probably right. These goddamn people and their attitudes, and the attitude of the authorities toward these people with attitudes, is enough to give you an attitude. Well, you certainly stopped that ship, brother, and you sure as hell made sure the situation would get a public airing. But we're left with a few problems."
"Like what? Everything you've told me so far sounds like good news."
"Care to guess where you are?"
"Uh, Cairn Hospital?"
"Try the hospital ward on Rikers Island."
"Oh-oh."
"Even as we speak, the state and federal authorities are arguing over who gets to beat on you first. Since Carver Shipping claims you caused three million dollars' worth of damage to their tanker, they want at you first in a state court so they can sue you for everything we've got. But the feds' position is that what you did was an act of terrorism, and they want to make an example of you by first trying you on charges of attempted hijacking of a ship and then putting you away for twenty-five or thirty years. Naturally there's politics involved. We don't have anything but enemies in this administration, and this is probably their way of punishing both of us for what they believe to be our close ties to our dear ex-President."
"Who's winning? State or federal?"
"Your lawyers, I hope."
"Who are my lawyers?"
"Benson, Quadratti, Kratz, and Pringle."
"Hoo-boy," I said, raising my eyebrows. "Ira's on the case, is he? Talk about heavy hitters."
"Yep. He's working pro bono, no less. Any number of the firms we've done business with over the years volunteered to represent you. I thought it best to let Ira handle it."
"Why pick a Washington firm?"
"Because that's where the real pressure in this case is coming from, and Ira does have friends in this administration. Even more important, he has friends in high corporate places, and, to my thinking, it's in the boardroom that this little drama you've produced is going to play itself out."
"Your thinking? What about my thinking? I'm the one they're trying to brand and try as a terrorist!"
Garth grunted. "I'm taking over as quarterback. You worry about resting and getting your strength back. You're going to need it. Right now you're being held without bail, so there's no place you can go, and nothing you can do if you could go someplace. Your P.I. license has been suspended."
"I don't need a goddamn license to hunt Chick Carver."
"Ah. But you're not going to do anything unless Ira or I tell you." Garth's tone, as usual, was mild, but I knew he was deadly serious. He continued, "When Mary and I couldn't think clearly, you did our thinking for us. I appreciated it, and I cooperated. Now the situations are reversed, and you're going to cooperate. Sacra Silver isn't our main concern right now; he's not even a secondary concern. These are worthy opponents you're up against now, Mongo, and if we're not very careful, they're going to blow you right into prison. Now that you've come around, there'll be a formal arraignment. Ira and I haven't made a decision yet whether or not to even ask for bail."
"Give me a break, Garth. You'd let me sit in the can because you're afraid of what I might do if I get out?"
"Frankly. . maybe. But the main point in keeping you locked up is so reporters can't get to you."
"I would think we'd want reporters to get to me."
"At a time and place of our choosing. When I bring you the papers, you'll see that the situation is getting plenty of ink, and what makes it more than just another corporate scandal story, frankly, is the involvement of Mongo the Magnificent. For some reason, there seem to be a lot of people who find you a colorful figure."
"It sounds to me like you've been orchestrating the media campaign."
"To the extent that I can, sure. The photographs of the tankers went to all the right people in the press, and I've emphasized that Mongo the Magnificent was working on the same matter that killed a heroic, small-town riverkeeper."
"Have you told anybody the whole story about what happened to Tom?"
"Two people-Henry at the Times and Beverly over at the Post. But nobody's going to print any of that, because they'd be sued for libel, but it should guarantee that now we've got investigative reporters looking deeper into the story. We need all the help we can get. But what's keeping this story hot at the moment, dear brother, is the image of the aforementioned colorful figure lying forlorn and alone, near death, in a hospital bed here on Rikers Island."
"It brings tears to my eyes."
"There are a lot of people who don't believe that a man of your reputation would trash a multi-ton tanker over a minor environmental infraction and water-hauling scheme, and they're waiting to hear the whole story-from you. But it will do absolutely no good to just talk to reporters; what's introduced and said at your trial is going to be what counts. In order to explain your motivation for going aboard that tanker, we have to at least strongly hint that Carver Shipping is guilty of corporate murder, not just corporate skulduggery. Ira says that won't be easy. He's thinking that we should let you sit tight here for a while and let the investigative reporters keep digging. There's no sense in tipping our hand, and it could backfire if you make allegations we can't prove."