Читать книгу The Payback - Mike Lawson - Страница 13

DeMarco and Emma were having lunch, Emma picking at a tuna salad while DeMarco consumed a cheeseburger the size of a catcher’s mitt.

The navy dominated the city of Bremerton and the county in which it was located. In addition to the shipyard in Bremerton, which employed about ten thousand people, there was the Naval Submarine Base located in Bangor, Washington, and the Undersea Warfare Center in Keyport, Washington. The place where they were dining reflected the community’s support – and financial dependence – on the navy. The walls were covered with photographs of submarines bursting from the water and fighters taking off from the decks of aircraft carriers. Two tables away from Emma and DeMarco sat a gentleman who wore a dark blue baseball cap emblazoned with the words U.S. NAVY RETIRED – a totally redundant statement as the man looked old enough to have sailed with John Paul Jones.

‘Why would Carmody lie about not knowing the person who had awarded his contract?’ DeMarco said.

‘So you thought so too,’ Emma said.

‘Yeah. But why’s he lying?’

‘I’m not sure.’

They sat there chewing in silence for a minute before DeMarco said, ‘Maybe he wasn’t really the low bidder and he gave a kickback to the guy who awarded him the contract. So maybe Whitfield’s right.’

‘I don’t know,’ Emma said. ‘I suppose that’s possible, but the bidding process is usually pretty transparent.’

‘Or maybe Carmody’s just being a prick,’ DeMarco said. ‘Since he didn’t give us a name, he knows that’s going to cause us to waste time tracking down the contract guy, and that’ll be time we don’t spend looking at him.’

‘Yeah, but he could be doing that,’ Emma said, ‘even if everything’s on the up-and-up, just to get us out of his hair.’ Emma pushed aside her salad, only half of it gone. No wonder the woman never gained an ounce. ‘At any rate,’ she said, ‘we – meaning you – need to find out who awarded Carmody’s contract. I’d suggest you start by—’

Emma was interrupted by the ringing of DeMarco’s cell phone.

‘Hello,’ DeMarco said.

‘Hey,’ Mahoney said, sounding abnormally cheerful. ‘I’m flyin’ out there. In fact I’m on the plane right now.’

Thanks to space-age technology, Mahoney could now jerk DeMarco’s chain from thirty thousand feet.

‘Why are you coming here?’ DeMarco said.

‘Ah, there’s a guy out there we’re runnin’ against the Republican in the fourth district. The Republican’s been there forever so Norm and I are gonna give a couple speeches tonight, pry open some wallets, give our guy a boost. But after that …’

‘Norm?’ DeMarco said.

‘Norm Dicks, Joe. The congressman from the Sixth. You’re right there in his backyard.’

DeMarco knew Norm Dicks; he liked the guy. Unlike Mahoney, he was a straight shooter.

‘Anyway,’ Mahoney was saying, ‘tonight I’ll make a speech, but in the morning, I’m gonna go catch a salmon.’

‘What?’

‘There’s a guy out there, a contributor, and he’s gonna take me out on his boat. We’ll do a little business …’

But not much.

‘… and then I’ll catch me a great big fish. He said he hooked into a fifty-pound king last week.’

‘Really,’ DeMarco said.

‘Yeah,’ Mahoney said. ‘So you need to pick me up tomorrow morning at my hotel. Get the details from Mavis. A fifty-pound king, Joe, can you believe it!’ Mahoney hung up.

‘Great,’ DeMarco muttered as he clipped his cell phone back onto his belt.

‘What?’ Emma said.

‘That was Mahoney. He’s coming out here to go fishing and I have to play chauffeur tomorrow.’

Emma shrugged, the gesture meaning: that’s what you get for working for Mahoney.

‘Maybe, uh, you could start looking for this contract guy while I’m taking care of Mahoney.’

Emma arched an eyebrow. This time the silent message was that she was more likely to marry Burt Reynolds.

‘I think tomorrow, while you’re drivin’ Mr Daisy,’ Emma said, ‘Christine and I will pay a visit to a spa near Snoqualmie Falls. They do seaweed facials and give hot rock massages. This thing with Dave Whitfield can definitely wait a day.’

DeMarco didn’t know what a hot rock massage was, but he had an immediate, vivid image of Christine lying bare-assed on a massage table, her legs and butt glistening with baby oil.