Have you heard back from Sam?
When she’d told him she’d heard nothing from Sam, that was when Danny had told her about the book.
Maybe Sam wasn’t holding up his end of the bargain. Whatever the bargain was.
She considered her choices. There weren’t very many.
If she wanted to get Danny out, she’d have to make a bargain with someone, and that someone was either Sam or Gary.
She took her last remaining burner phone out of her suitcase and headed downstairs. She’d make the call outside.
“What can I do for you?”
Where to start?
“We have a situation,” she said to Sam.
After she’d finished, there was silence on the other end of the line. Typical, Michelle now realized. He did this kind of thing and answered questions with questions, making her force the conversation-a way of keeping her off-balance.
Why did Danny have so much faith in him?
“Did you get all that?” she finally said.
“I did.”
“And… do you have any recommendations?”
Silence.
“You know, this is a burner phone with limited minutes,” she said.
A chuckle. “Let the process run its course,” he said.
Now it was her turn for silence. “Are you shitting me?” she finally said. “I’m actually curious.”
“Of course not. It’s always best to see if the easiest path opens up. You waste much less energy and the calling in of favors that way.”
“You know, Sam,” she said, “it’s funny, because Danny really trusted you. He was counting on you to help. And so far, all you’ve done is make vague promises and tell me to let it all play out.”
“You think I haven’t helped him already?” he said sharply. “That I haven’t helped you? Do you think all of the arrangements I make happen by magic?”
“No. I think they happen because you or somebody else owed him some favors. And now you’re adding up who owes who.”
Funny. It wasn’t until she’d said it that she knew she’d spoken the truth.
She thought she heard his intake of breath. But that might have been wishful thinking. This man was cold. It wasn’t about loyalty for him, not primarily, anyway. It was all about the balance, about the calculation, how the numbers added up.
“Our best option is to wait and see if this administrative appeal gets him out of the facility. If it doesn’t, then we can escalate the pressure.”
“Okay. Then I’ll call you tomorrow or the day after. We should know where we stand by then.”
After they disconnected, she stared at the burner phone in her hand. She wondered if the low heel on her boot was hard enough to crush it.
What an asshole.
She hadn’t told Sam everything. She wasn’t going to lay down all her cards at once. She hadn’t told him about Danny’s logbook or the passports, and she was pretty sure that Sam didn’t know about them. Danny wasn’t naïve. He was always hedging his bets.
But it was clear that Sam didn’t care all that much about Danny being in prison, in a place where it was reasonable to assume people were willing to do him harm. Sam didn’t care at all that she was being squeezed by Gary and the DEA, or that she was likely being set up in some kind of scheme to help keep Safer America the convenient little money machine that it was, one pumping out ads to support the interests feeding it all the cash that kept it running.
She was willing to wait a few days. After that, Sam was going to get something in his mailbox that he might not much like.
After that, she decided to take a walk. She needed to buy another burner or two, for one thing. It was close to 5:30, still plenty of sun left, and the day was pleasant, cloudy and in the mid-sixties.
She wandered around Union Square in search of a Walgreens. Those were everywhere, so she figured it wouldn’t take long. She was always struck by what a beautiful city San Francisco was, but she especially noticed it now, after spending so much time in Houston. All these older, elegant buildings, framed against a pink and purple sunset. Now filled mostly with luxury chain stores. Tiffany. Gucci. Marc Jacobs. Kate Spade. Burberry, Brooks Brothers and Bloomingdale’s.
So much money here.
By the time she got back to the hotel, it was nearly 7:00.
I should eat something, she thought. Maybe just in the hotel restaurant. It was on Safer America’s dime, after all, and sushi sounded as good as anything. After that, she had no idea. Go to the gym, maybe. Watch a stupid movie. Work on her story for the DEA, that is, if she decided to make that appointment. She really wasn’t sure if it made sense, if it would actually do any good.
And if they were planning to arrest her, if she met with them and they knew where she was, even if she was traveling as Michelle…
Panic fluttered in her chest. I’ve got to get Danny out of jail, she thought, and then we have to get the fuck out of here.
The restaurant was called Kendo and was decorated in black with red and gold accents, with swords hung on the walls here and there and a sculpture tangle of branches sitting in the center of the space lit by gauzy blue and red spotlights.
There was a place at the sushi bar. Michelle eased her way in.
“Something to drink?” The waitress, dressed in what looked like a fashion version of a black martial arts outfit, was young, cute. Everyone here would be young and cute, Michelle was willing to bet.
“I’d like cold sake,” she said.
“Our house cold sake is Ozeki. But we have a big list if you want to try something more unusual.”
“What do you recommend?”
“We have so many good ones. But I like Akita Seishu Dewatsuru Hihaku. It’s Junmai Daiginjo sake, so very high quality.”
“Sure,” Michelle said. Why not? She wasn’t paying for it.
The sushi chef closest to her seat finished searing the albacore he was preparing, and as he shaped the rice for the nigiri, said: “What would you like?”
“Omakase,” Michelle said, managing a smile. “You choose.”
Just let someone else make the decisions.
The waitress brought her the sake, a full crystal glass in a wood box nearly overflowing with sake. Michelle sipped. It really was delicious: crisp, floral, with a hint of some fruit she couldn’t place.
I should have some water, she thought. Her mouth was dry-she was probably dehydrated from the flight. She turned to catch her waitress’s attention.
There at a table on the other side of the tangled branches were Caitlin and Troy. She couldn’t see Troy’s face from this angle, but she could see Caitlin, and she was laughing, as though Troy had just told her a joke.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to have been an administrative error.”
Michelle nodded, though of course Marisol couldn’t see that. The lawyer had called her late in the afternoon, after Michelle and Caitlin had gotten back from clothes shopping, with the news that Michelle had expected.
“We filed the request for the transfer, and if we don’t get a favorable response or if they drag their heels about it, we’ll take the next step.”
Marisol sounded tired. Maybe even discouraged. Michelle didn’t know her well enough to be certain.
“How long before they make a decision?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
“Two to four weeks. Though I’ve seen it happen in as soon as five days.”
She was pretty sure it wouldn’t happen in five days.
Two to four weeks. Could she afford to wait that long? With Danny in that place and with whatever Gary was planning?
“Okay,” she said. “And… Jeff. How is he doing?”
“Well, you know Jeff,” Marisol said. Like she actually knew him. “He’s hanging in there, making the best of it.”
“Can he… is he able to call me?”