Jack said, "Can I get your honest opinion on something?"
"Absolutely."
"Is Fernando Redden the kind of guy who could get the FBI to back off an investigation?"
Harry groaned. "Jack, that's-"
"I know, it's purely speculation. But you said yourself that you've always trusted your instincts. So I want to know what your gut says about this one. Does Fernando Redden have that kind of pull?"
"Why do you need to know?"
"I just need to."
Harry wrung his hands. Speculating was against his nature, but Jack was giving his father little choice in the matter. "I can't say for sure," said Harry, "but let me put it this way. If Fernando Redden called the White House right now, I'd bet money that his call would go through."
Jack smiled just enough to show his appreciation. "Thanks," he said, rising.
"Where are you going?"
"I wish I could tell you."
Harry followed him out of the library, down the hall to the front door. There was concern in his eyes. "Does this have anything to do with your FBI friend – Andie Henning?"
"It might," said Jack.
Harry nodded knowingly. "Your grandmother told me about you and Rene. I don't ever get involved in that stuff, but-"
"Dad, this is really not a good time," said Jack, reaching for the doorknob.
Harry held the door shut. "Just hear what I have to say okay? Thirty seconds of your time. Please."
Jack wanted to fly but the quickest way out was always just to let his father have his say." Okay I'm listening."
Harry glanced down the hall toward the bedroom, then back at Jack. "Your stepmother and I have been together forever, and I love her very much. But once upon a time, I was a young, blue-blooded college student with political aspirations. I was doing everything right at UF. Just got tapped into the Florida Blue Key Honorary Society and was lining up support to run for student-body president. Even had my eye on the president of Tri-Delt sorority. Then I came down to Miami on break and met this beautiful Cuban refugee who was working as a waitress and spoke English like a female Ricky Ricardo."
Jack had to snicker.
Harry continued, "She was completely wrong for me. I was night, she was day. This was back in the day when Miami was still called 'My-amma,' for Pete's sake. But you know what? I could not stop thinking about her."
Harry went quiet. Jack said nothing. Over the years, they'd had surprisingly few conversations about Harry's first wife – Jack's mother. As much as Jack's abuela liked to tell him that he had the heart of his Latina mother, he was still a Swyteck, and there was no end to the list of things that went unsaid between men.
Harry said, "Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"I – I'm not sure. You think Rene's like that for me?"
"No – no," he said, making a face. "I'm talking about Andie."
Jack wasn't sure how to respond. Not since Jack's divorce had Harry Swyteck weighed in on the women in Jack's life. "Did Abuela ask you to say something about this?"
"Not at all. This all occurred to me months ago, when you first dated Andie. I never really got to meet the girl, but Theo told me you were pretty taken with her after just two or three dates. And then you broke it off, apparently for no good reason. I don't know what happened, but here's an old geezer's two cents. Andie's an FBI agent; you're a criminal defense lawyer. I was a police officer before getting into politics, and Lord knows you and I have had our differences over the years. Maybe that… that lawyer-cop incompatibility is in the back of your mind. But give some thought to what I'm saying about your mother and me. People don't have to be cut from exactly the same cloth to be right for each other."
Jack was speechless. He and his father were close now, but there was a time – back when Harry was Florida's law-and-order governor and Jack defended death row inmates – when they couldn't even speak to one another. The rift: went back much further than that, however, with roots in Jack's childhood and Harry's remarriage to a good woman with a terrible weakness for gin martinis. A lot of history with a sad bottom line: Jack and his father didn't have many moments like this one.
"Thanks," was all Jack could say.
Harry opened the door for him, seemingly pleased that Jack took his meaning. "You're welcome."
Jack went to his car and gave his old man a mock salute as he backed out of the driveway. He was less than half a block away, headed down Alhambra Circle, when he dialed Andie Henning on his cell. He wasn't sure if his father's words had actually prompted him to make the call, but he knew it was the right thing to do. He apologized for the hour but let her know right away how serious this was.
"I need your help," he told her.
"You mean the FBI's?"
"No," said Jack. "Just yours."
"What's wrong?"
He could have started with Uncle Cy, but again he was mindful of the kidnapper's warning about calling the cops. "It's Theo," he said.
"What happened?"
"I think he's on self-destruct."
"What does that mean?"
Jack wanted to explain, but he needed her sworn assurance that he was lining up her alone, not the entire FBI. That was a difficult maneuver by telephone. "I need to meet with you. Tonight. It's important."
She hesitated for half a second. "Okay. We can talk here at my place. You know the way."
That he did. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes. And just to give you a heads-up, you might want to start checking on something."
"What?"
"Dig up whatever you can on a guy named Fernando Redden."
Chapter 45
Twenty minutes later – traffic was worse than expected – Jack was in Andie's Coconut Grove apartment, seated on Andie's overstuffed couch. It still had the stain from the glass of red wine he'd spilled the first time they'd really kissed, but he held that thought for only an instant. He was about to tell her what happened to Cy, but she had some information of her own for him.
"Redden's quite a character," said Andie.
"In what way?"
"I made a phone call and hit the jackpot. Can't share everything I know. But I can tell you what will be all over the newspapers before long. The guy has taken millions of dollars in public money to build housing projects in low-income neighborhoods, and he's built absolutely nothing. Unless you want to count the four-million-dollar mansion he built for himself in the Ponce Davis area."
“Nice guy.”
Andie said, "But I didn't learn anything about him that couldn't wait till morning."
Jack took her meaning and realized that he owed her a pretty full explanation of what he was doing here at almost midnight. "Can you take off your FBI hat for one minute?"
"Only if what you want to tell me isn't illegal."
"Choosing not to report a kidnapping is not against the law," Jack said. And then he told her about Uncle Cy.
She listened without interrupting, and Jack could see that she was trying to show no emotion, though it was hard not to show feelings for Uncle Cy. She remained silent and pensive for at least a minute after he finished. Finally she said, "What would you like me to do?"
"You're trained in kidnappings. I need you to walk me through this. And I need someone to help me keep Theo from getting himself killed."
"You're putting me in a tough spot. You want the FBI, but you don't want the FBI."
"I want the expertise of the FBI. I don't want all the baggage."