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"For Christ's sake, Garth, I delivered up a whole tanker filled with Hudson River water that was illegally being hauled. That's no allegation, it's a fact. Are you going to tell me the hull cracked open and all that water leaked out?"

"Nope. But it's virtually irrelevant. I told you I got the pollution and water-shipping stories out. I also told you these people we're up against are worthy opponents. They haven't exactly been sitting still; Carver Shipping has squads of lawyers and public relations people, and they have their own sympathetic reporters to talk to. Within an hour after this story hit the street, their CEO held a press conference to announce that the company itself had uncovered a plot by Julian Jefferson and a few other so-called rogue captains to line their own pockets. The company categorically denies knowing anything about it, and they officially deplore what was happening. At the same time, they are agreeing to take responsibility, to pay all appropriate fines, and even donate half a million to various environmental groups-including a hundred thousand to the Cairn Fishermen's Association, in Tom Blaine's name. Now, that's public relations, brother."

"Now you really are bringing tears to my eyes."

"But wait; there's more. The very next day, our beloved Secretary of the Interior, the same one who's giving away all the timber, coal, and marshlands, held a press conference in Washington to praise-and these are his words-'Carver Shipping's exemplary record of good citizenship and corporate responsibility.' He also took the opportunity to deplore the actions of a 'well-known vigilante type.' Anybody who knows us realizes that I'm the vigilante type in the family, but I believe he was referring to you. He also used the word 'terrorist' a few times. So, for what amounts to pocket money for the company, probably only a fraction of what they've already made selling water to Kuwait, Carver Shipping is looking to come out of this not only with their profits secured, or most of them, but with a new and burnished image as a kind of New Age corporation that really cares about the environment. You get a thirty-year prison sentence. The CEO's even called for a full shareholders' meeting in six weeks to ask for a vote of confidence in himself and the board of directors."

"I love it."

"I knew you would. Get the picture? Make a peep about murder now, and they'll just say it's the self-serving rantings of that well-known vigilante type and soon-to-be-convicted felon. So you just sit tight. We're going to save our ammunition, if we can find any, for the trial."

I looked away. Now I wished I'd just gone back to sleep when Garth had suggested it. The nightmare I'd been dreaming suddenly seemed pale in comparison to the one I'd awakened to, and at least that had only been a bad dream. "What about the other captains involved?" I asked quietly. "Maybe one of them will come forward and tell the truth."

"You think so, huh? Maybe a few captains really have been fired, like the company claims, but it's more likely they've been transferred to cushy jobs somewhere else in the world, where we won't be able to subpoena them, in exchange for keeping their mouths shut. And you'll never get a member of any crew to testify; half of them are probably illegal aliens."

"What about Carver and Roger Wellington?"

Garth shrugged. "What about them? Nothing's going to happen to them, and they'd certainly lie on the stand. They're in administration, remember? And for the company to can anybody in administration would be to acknowledge that higher-ups might have been involved, and they won't risk that. No, the official line is that it was a conspiracy of captains only, to earn extra money. Carver and Wellington will stay at their desks."

"And so Chick Carver, and the men responsible for him, get away with murder."

"Hey, I hope I don't have to tell you that I'm no happier about that than you are. But right now, you're up to your ass in alligators, and that's what we have to focus on. For now, we let things simmer. Lots of people have seen the photographs of those loaded tankers, and some people-except for the Secretary of the Interior, of course-are already beginning to wonder out loud how a half dozen ships could cart millions of tons of water, month after month, without somebody at the corporate headquarters being aware of it. When the current publicity dies down, then we spring you to tell at least part of your side of the story. Who knows? By that time, we may be able to make a deal."

"Maybe I don't want to make any deal."

"That's easy for you to say; you're not the one who'll have to spend all that time commuting to a federal prison for thirty years to visit his brother. You'll do what this quarterback says, Mongo. I'll call you off the bench when Ira and I think the time is right. Just sit tight; catch up on your reading. Now go back to sleep."

I went back to sleep, allowed my body to heal, read the newspapers, watched television, and otherwise sat tight.

Ten days later Bennett Carver demonstrated his political influence by managing to get in to see me. I could have refused to talk to him, but I was curious as to what he had to say. Although I was still in the hospital ward, on narrow-spectrum antibiotics and a blood thinner, I actually felt much better. I didn't think Bennett Carver could say the same. The silver-haired man's walk was unsteady, and he was using his wife's cane, which was too short for him. His pale green eyes had lost their brightness, and were watery. I was sitting up in bed, reading, when he was admitted to my cell. He nodded curtly, then pulled up a chair next to the bed and eased himself down on it.

"I came to cut a deal with you, Frederickson," he announced with his characteristic bluntness. "I hope you're going to be happy with the terms; but even if you're not, I hope you'll have the good sense not to reject the offer."

"If I had good sense I wouldn't be in this pleasure palace, now would I, Mr. Carver? I hope you have other business in the city, because otherwise you've come all the way down here for nothing."

"The company will drop all charges and lawsuits against you. If that happens, the chances are good that, with a little prodding-which I guarantee will be provided-the Justice Department can be persuaded to drop its charges; if Carver Shipping denies that its ship was hijacked, it's difficult to see how the government can claim otherwise. In exchange, you promise not to discuss the matter with the media. When asked questions, you'll reply, 'No comment.' All this publicity is bad for the company."

"I thought Carver Shipping had the glowing imprimatur and praise of the Secretary of the Interior."

Carver made a sound of disgust. "Those fools on the board of directors think that's worth something; it isn't. I didn't found that company to have its reputation depend on the praise of a man who's a hypocrite and bullshit artist. There are people I respect, and friends of mine, who believe Carver Shipping is guilty of something precisely because that man said the things he did."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Mr. Carver, because the company you founded is damn well guilty of a lot of things. You know it, and I know it. But I'm still not sure what you're worried about. Those people you're referring to are a distinct minority. I read the papers, watch television. Their public relations people, it seems to me, have done a pretty good job of turning things around and making Carver Shipping look like a paragon of an environmentally concerned corporation. It's already old news."

"It won't be when you get out of here. I don't know what you're going to say, or how you plan to prove any of the allegations I'm sure you're going to make, but none of it can be good for the company. With your reputation, you could have been out of here on bail; since you're not, I have to assume that keeping you secluded in here is a ploy by your lawyer to eventually mount a second publicity assault on Carver Shipping. You're a dangerous man, Frederickson."

"Thank you. Have a nice day, Mr. Carver."