The Charity (48 page)

Michael remained leaning across the desk. “Are you calling me a liar, Mr. Shea?”

Shea rose from his chair slowly. He met the gaze of his visitor and brought his demeanor and his tone just up to the point of outright confrontation but was careful to stay on the side of civility. “I’m saying no such thing,
Sheriff
. I’m saying that the police have to complete their investigation before my office becomes involved. I will promise you total co-operation of any and all information gathered on the case at the point in time that it is reopened
by this office
. Until such time, I must devote the efforts of my staff to more concrete affairs. Good afternoon.” He nodded his head in the direction of the door, dismissing his guest.

“Good afternoon. Thank you for your time.” Michael turned to leave, and his hand brushed a stack of papers on the floor. “Excuse me.” He gathered them up and carefully replaced them on the desk. He gave the attorney general one last penetrating look. “My apologies.”

Shea watched from his office door as the broad back of his visitor retreated through the reception area and waited until the elevator doors closed behind him. Shea vaulted into action.

“Abbey! Get in here, now!” In seconds, the summoned attorney materialized beside his desk. “Close the door and sit down.” The command satisfied, he began. “Prepare the proper documents for filing actions and draft the indictment for Magnus M. Connaught on charges of all actions relating to money laundering, racketeering, and income tax evasion.” Shea handed her a note and held up one finger to his lips reminding her that his office may not be secure. “Prepare a second set for the same defendant on conspiracy to murder and accessory to murder. Hold these aside until further notice. You will prepare a third and fourth set of pleadings for a Jane Doe and a John Doe on one count of manslaughter.” He looked at his watch. “File the first set of documents today before the court closes.”

Abbey sat stunned, overwhelmed with the request. Shea tossed a file at her. “This will give you a head start on the first set of pleadings. You will talk to no one. This is the real thing. Now go.” He had taken his time while at the camp to review his actions taken on various cases with the counter actions taken against him by opposing counsel. Consistently, only those cases or points worked on by Abbey remained untainted by any leaks. Granger had specifically told Shea to stay away from her. That was enough for Shea to trust her. For now.

Abbey dashed from the office already scribbling madly on a long yellow legal pad. Shea paced back and forth in front of his desk. He quickly caught himself and walked over to the window. Placing his palms down on the sill, he leaned on his arms and used the motion to loosen his shoulder muscles. He wanted to drop his head down and stretch his back muscles but resisted. He kept his head and eyes up in a posture of relaxed confidence. He stayed there for as long as he could stand it. Sounds of phones ringing and muffled voices sifted through the closed door. He looked at his watch. The call had to be timed perfectly.

Minutes dragged on like hours. He forced himself to walk slowly in his office, to look calm and composed. Another ten minutes. Then five. Now one. The second his watch showed two minutes before five o’clock he picked up the phone.

“Commissioner Davenport, please. Urgent.” He paused. “I don’t care if he’s in conference with the Pope himself, tell him Owen Shea is on the line.”

He waited a full five minutes before the line was picked up by the commissioner. It was just enough time for him to see Abbey return from filing the papers with the court. She gave him a thumbs-up through the open door and waved a thick file of papers at him.

“Commissioner! Thank you for taking my call. Yes, I spoke with the sheriff this afternoon. Interesting development. I don’t have the time or the resources to focus on that case at the moment. I promise you I will at the first opportunity. I’m calling you to request a marshal and a police escort for an arrest. The complaint has been filed, and an arrest warrant has been issued by the magistrate. I have copies of all necessary search warrants as well. No, I can’t say who on the phone. Security you know. Will you accompany me yourself? Right. I’ll look for you in five minutes. Good-bye.”

Shea replaced the phone in its cradle. He could feel the adrenaline pulse through his veins. “Jesus H. Christ. This is it. This ain’t no dress rehearsal,” he said to himself as he gathered up the last of the papers. “Just sit tight, Jessica. Just sit tight.” He willed his thoughts to travel over the miles as if he could communicate with her directly. It was as useless as if he was talking to her in person.

The ringing phone was retrieved from its rich cherry wood case.

“Yes?” The old man hid his irritation at his meal being disrupted. “I see. How much time is there to prepare?” He listened intently to the response. “Have you located the girl? Good. Excellent. It seems that all is working nicely. Good night.”

Magnus dabbed the corners of his mouth with a linen napkin and resumed eating his dinner. After another mouthful, he nodded in the direction of a servant. “Please pack a few things for me. I will be gone overnight.”

Catherine looked at him with inquiring eyes. He responded to her look with a statement. “It’s time you returned to the Florida house, my dear. The weather here is getting much too harsh for you.”

She smiled and resumed eating.

Magnus pushed a morsel of veal around his plate with the silver tines of his fork and spoke to the bowed head of his wife. “Everything I have done in my life has been so perfect. Look around you. Our loyalty to our cause glows at us from every corner of our home. I have everything a man could desire. Money. Power. Now, my son has returned to take his rightful spot at the top of my enterprise. It’s perfect. Just so perfect.”

“I’m happy for you, Magnus. You’ve worked so hard all of your life.”

“Blood ties always win over love.”

“Do you think he’s matured enough to take your place?”

“Matured? I don’t know. He was so much like his mother. I loved her for her Irish fire. At first, I thought her independent mind was charming and somewhat amusing. It was exciting to have her disagree with me and fight for her own vision. Not like you, my love,” Magnus said as he smiled slightly at his wife.

Catherine blushed slightly. “I’m glad I gave you peace.”

“Ah, you did! I told you how over time Kathleen and I became constantly at odds with one another at how to raise our sons. One of our sergeants called it a battle for their hearts and minds and advocated that it should be campaigned for accordingly. If my son has outgrown his mother’s childish philosophies, then he’s matured enough to take over.”

Catherine raised her eyes briefly from her meal. Magnus rarely spoke of his first wife or sons. The fact that he did so now chilled her. She looked at the unfocused glaze in her husband’s eyes and tried to find a common ground that would calm him. “But at one time she shared your goals.”

“Yes. Yes. She shared my vision of a unified Ireland. But she saw power in having a unified mind to
negotiate
a withdrawal of British troops. She never saw the logic in physical strikes. Such a blind shame.”

“Tell me again about Liam.”

Magnus softened at the mention of his son. “My oldest son was the rightful heir to the position of chairman. Liam shadowed my every move and thought. Never could a man have loved a son more! He was magnificent at executing military strategy. He could implement a plan for an offensive bombing strategy in minutes. He was everything a father could want. Except,” his head dropped, “the Charity did not need another soldier in the field. It needed a leader. It needed someone who could
conceive
of a plan, not just
implement
one. I was so focused on cultivating my heir, I allowed my other boy to be raised by his mother. It was only after Liam faltered horribly in many crucial decisions that I realized it was my younger son who had the intelligence to make the Charity even more successful! It was the one mistake I made.”

Catherine placed her fork down on her plate and dabbed her eyes with her napkin. “To have lost such a son as Liam to war! Sweet Blessed Mother have mercy on his soul.”

Let her believe that. “Yes. The Lord dealt me a terrible blow with that.”

“But the Lord blessed you with a second son!”

“By the time I realized Liam’s constraints, the battle for my other son’s vision was lost to his mother.” It was a bitter loss.

A last morsel of veal remained in his mouth, delicate seasonings savored. The loss of his young son’s allegiance forced Magnus to the breaking point. His passionate wife had taken one action too many. The creases on his weathered face deepened in a smile as he reminisced about the anguish she felt before her, um, suicide. He gained a great deal of respect from his soldiers and sympathizers for his handling of the situation. Much loyalty flowed toward him. He swallowed the veal.

Their discussion was disrupted with pounding at his front door. Excited voices could be heard coming down the hallway toward him. Catherine stood up and nervously wiped her hands against her smooth skirt. Magnus indicated that she should sit down. The doors to the dining room burst open.

Commissioner Davenport and Attorney General Owen Shea stood dwarfed in the grand doorway to the candlelit room. The old man did not acknowledge their presence.

“Magnus M. Connaught,” the commissioner drew in a large breath and lowered his voice to impart the firm sense of solemnity such occasions required. “You are hereby arrested on the following charges.” He read each count clearly, holding the warrant like a town crier would hold a parchment. “Five counts of income tax evasion. Four counts extortion. Seven counts of aiding and abetting the felony of income tax fraud.” His rib cage closed around the knot forming in his stomach. Reaching the end of the charges, his voice deepened in timbre. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present. If you cannot afford one, an attorney will be appointed for you—”

Magnus snorted his disdain. The absurdity of the moment forced his brows to lower into a single bar across his forehead.

Uniformed officers ushered Magnus to his feet and placed his arms behind his back. The metallic click of the handcuffs sounded strangely out of place in the rarefied air of the grand room as they were secured around the paper-thin skin of the old man’s wrists.

“Commissioner. Surely these cuffs are not necessary? Think of the hardship you are imposing on my wife to witness such an act.” Magnus looked around the room, filling with officers of various ranks. He made eye contact with a few and smiled. “I can see I am in very good hands. I hardly think this is necessary. Please undo these and I shall accompany you quietly.”

Two officers stepped forward to respond to the request and were stared back into their places by the commissioner. “I think we have all that we need here.” He looked at Shea who had not taken his eyes off the old man. “Ready?”

Shea looked around the room. “Where’s the office?” A joint nodding of heads pointed him in a direction further down the hall. He handed the commissioner another thick fold of papers. “Search warrant. I’ll be back.”

It was not long before he returned with several officers, each with an armload of papers and boxes. “The likelihood that the most important papers will be scrubbed by the morning is high. This is important information. We’ll get what’s left tomorrow.” He already had what he was looking for.

One contingent of men trooped out of the front doors of the warm home and sped away in their official cars. A second group of men watched them go.

The bank clerk looked at the tarnished set of keys with surprise. “I haven’t seen keys like this in ages. We reissued keys years ago.” She gave a quick look at the woman who presented them to her. “I have to check with my manager to figure out how to handle your request. It’s a little odd, you know? Please wait here.”

Jessica sat obediently in the indicated wooden chair and looked around the interior of the small institution. The bank where her aunt had rented the safe-deposit box had been acquired and reacquired several times over the years. Fortunately the location of the bank had not changed, indicating that the safe-deposit boxes must still be inside and untouched.