IN MIAMI, Mark Birck personally delivered to Eva the wonderful news that her father had been released.
He had not been harmed; in fact, had been treated quite well.
He told her that with a little luck, she might be released herself in a day or two.
Chapter 34
SOLEMN-FACED and noncommittal, they returned to the Camille Suite and took their same seats. Most had left their jackets in the other room, and had rolled up their sleeves and loosened their ties, as if all manner of hard work was under way. By Sandy's watch, they had been gone for almost an hour and a half. Sprawling was now their spokesman.
"About the money," he began, and Sandy instantly knew they had a deal. It was just a matter of the details. "About the money, how much is your client willing to return?"
"All of it."
"All of it being?"
"All ninety million."
"What about interest?"
"Who cares about interest?"
"We do."
"Why?"
"Well, it's only fair."
"Fair to whom?"
"Uh, the taxpayers."
Sandy practically laughed at him. "Come on. You guys work for the federal government. Since when do you worry about protecting the taxpayers?"
"It's standard in cases involving theft and embezzlement," Maurice Mast added.
"How much?" Sandy asked. "At what rate?"
"Prime is nine percent," Sprawling said. "That would be fair, I think."
"Oh you do? What does the IRS pay when it determines I've paid too much and it sends me a refund?"
No one could answer. "Six percent," Sandy said. "Six lousy percent is what the government pays."
Sandy, of course, had had the benefit of planning this. He had anticipated the questions and had crafted the answers, and it was enormous fun watching them squirm as they tried to catch up.
"So, are you offering six percent?" Sprawling asked. His words were careful and slow.
"Of course not. We have the money; we'll determine how much we'll pay. It's the same principle used by the government. We figure the money'll simply go back into the black hole at the Pentagon."
"We can't control that," Jaynes said. He was already tired and in no mood for a lecture.
"Here's the way we see the money," Sandy said. "It would've been lost entirely, paid to some very slick crooks and never seen again. My client prevented this, has held the money, and is now willing to return it."
"So we give him a reward?" asked Jaynes.
"No. Just back off the interest."
"We have to sell this to some people in Washington," Sprawling said, not pleading but needing help. "Give us something to work with."
"We'll pay half the IRS rate, and not a penny more."
With a serious poker face, Sprawling said, "I'll run it by the Attorney General. I just hope he's in a good mood."
"Give him my regards," Sandy said.
Jaynes looked up from his notetaking and asked, "Three percent, right?"
"That's right. From March 26, 1992, until November 1, 1996. Total comes to a hundred and thirteen million, plus some change, which we'll ignore. One hundred thirteen million, even."
The figure had a nice ring to it, and it certainly sounded good to the government boys. They each wrote it on their legal pads. It looked large. Who could argue with a deal that brought so much back into the hands of the taxpayers?
To offer this much meant only one thing: Patrick had taken the ninety and invested well. Sprawling's boys had crunched some numbers earlier. Assuming Patrick placed all the money in investments earning eight percent a year, the loot would now be worth a hundred and thirty-one million. Ten percent, and the value would be one hundred and forty-four million. Tax free, of course. Apparently, Patrick hadn't spent much of it, so he would remain a very wealthy man.
"We're also concerned about this lawsuit you filed on behalf of Mr. Lanigan," Sprawling said.
"We'll dismiss the FBI from the lawsuit, but I'll need a quick favor from Mr. Jaynes. We can discuss it later. It's a minor point."
"All right. Moving right along. When will your client be prepared to testify before the grand jury?"
"Whenever you need him. Physically, he's able to do it anytime."
"We intend to move quickly with this."
"The sooner the better for my client."
Sprawling circled items on his checklist. "We will insist on confidentiality. No press whatsoever. This deal will be subject to a lot of criticism."
"We're not saying a word," Sandy promised.
"When would you like for Ms. Miranda to be released?"
"Tomorrow. And she needs to be escorted from the jail in Miami to the private air terminal. We would like FBI protection until she is on the plane."
Jaynes shrugged as if he didn't understand. "No problem," he said.
"Anything else?" Sandy asked, rubbing his hands together as if the fun was about to start.
"Nothing from the government," Sprawling said.
"Good. Here's what I suggest," Sandy said, as if they had a choice. "I have two secretaries here with PC's. We have already prepared a rough draft of a settlement agreement and order of dismissal. It shouldn't take too long to hammer out the finer points, then you guys can sign off. I will then drive it over to my client, and hopefully within a couple of hours we'll be finished. Mr. Mast, I suggest you contact the federal Judge and arrange a conference call as soon as possible. We'll fax him the order of dismissal."
"When do we get the documents and tapes?" asked Jaynes.
"If everything gets signed and approved in the next few hours, you can have them at 5 P.M. today."
"I need a phone," Sprawling said. So did Mast and Jaynes. They scattered throughout the suite.
REGULAR INMATES received an hour each day outdoors. It was late October, a cool and cloudy day, and Patrick decided to demand his constitutional rights. The deputies in the hallway said no; it had not been authorized.
Patrick called Karl Huskey and got everything approved. He also asked Karl if he could stop by Rosetti's on Division Street near the Point and pick up a couple of Vancleave Specials-crabmeat and cheese po'boys-and join him for lunch, outside. Karl said he would be delighted.
They ate on a wooden bench, not far from a small fountain and a sad little maple. The various wings of the hospital surrounded them. Karl had brought po'boys for the deputies as well, and they sat nearby, just out of earshot.
Karl knew nothing of the meeting under way at the hotel suite, and Patrick didn't tell him. Parrish was there, and before long he would tell His Honor.
"What are people saying about me?" Patrick asked after he finished a third of his sandwich and put it away.
"The gossip has died down. Things are back to normal. Your friends are still your friends."
"I'm writing letters to some of them. Would you deliver them?"
"Of course I will."
"Thanks."
"I hear they caught your lady friend in Miami."
"Yeah. But she'll be out soon. Just a small problem with her passport."
Huskey took a large bite of his sandwich and chewed in silence. He was growing accustomed to the long quiet intervals in their dialogue. He struggled with what to say next. Patrick did not.
"The fresh air is nice," he finally said. "Thanks."
"You have a constitutional right to fresh air."