wouldn’t hurt to talk, he decided. His options were dwindling by the moment.
He scanned the park. It was dusk, and wicked shadows jabbed at the few kids left on the playground. A few parents and nannies stood on the sidelines. Over a hundred yards away, two figures sat on a bench—Myth and Sabini.
Myth called out as soon as he was within earshot. “Glad you could make it.”
She rose to meet him, but Sabini remained seated, watching the playground intently. Then he glanced at Ken with tired eyes. “Thanks for coming.”
Ken shook his hand. Sabini’s attention immediately turned back toward the playground. He gestured to a small boy, about ten, playing on the monkey bars.
“That’s my son,” he said.
Ken looked at the boy. There was no resemblance between him and Sabini, but that was to the kid’s advantage.
“He’s here with his baby-sitter,” Sabini said wearily. “I haven’t been with him in over four months. My wife and Iare separated. She doesn’t want me seeing him until the trial is over. It’s been rough on him.”
Ken could see that it had been rough on Sabini too. The man’s eyes were bloodshot and his face was ashen.
Sabini let out a long, tired sigh. “I don’t like all this shady stuff any more than you probably do, Ken. But I want it all done with, and Ms. Daniels tells me passing the test might be the quickest way. Can you teach me to beat that machine?”
Sabini looked back at his son. Ken remembered his own father watching him play on the rocket-ship slide at Herman Park in Houston. Sabini looked at his kid with the same pride and wonder.
Ken realized that Sabini reminded him of his father. Dad never complained about anything, but as the years wore on, the stress of his job as foreman at a marble quarry took its toll. His posture slumped and he was always tired, but still he didn’t complain.
Ken studied Sabini. He wanted to believe the guy was innocent, if for no other reason than he loved his kid.
Myth held up the roll of bills. “Do you want this?”
The moment of truth.
All that money.
What would Bobby tell him to do? Forget it, probably.
Not probably. Definitely. But after all those years of getting screwed for doing the right thing, this one act could make everything okay again. He could take care of Bobby and get his own life back on track.
He could feel his heart pounding faster. Was he really going to do it?
“How much time would I have?” Ken asked.
“Twelve days.”
“It’ll take some long hours and a lot of practice, but it can be done.”
Myth handed him the cash and a manila envelope.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Everything you need to know about the case. Newspaper clippings, briefs, photos, miscellaneous documents.”
The deal was done.
He was committed.
He felt sick.
Ken crammed the money into his pants pocket. His hands were sweating.
Sabini smiled. “Thank you, Ken. When do we start?”
“I’ll need the weekend to get ready. How about Monday night?”
“Fine.”
“Meet me at my office around nine. The building should be cleared out by then.”
“I’ll be there,” Sabini said.
“Strictly confidential, right?” Myth said.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
—
Ken turned down Myth’s offer of a ride home, electing to ride the MARTA train. It probably wasn’t the brightest move to walk around town with ten grand in his pocket, but he needed time alone to convince himself he hadn’t just sold his soul to the devil.
It wasn’t as though he was hurting anyone. If Sabini was innocent, he wouldn’t know where the money was anyway. If he was guilty, chances were he would ride out a short jail term, then pick up where he left off with the fortune he’d stolen. The result would be the same. Vikkers Industries was out of luck.
Nice rationalization, Ken thought. He was almost as good at this game as his customers.
—
Vikkers Industries had outgrown its one-story complex several times in its twenty-six-year
He scanned the park. It was dusk, and wicked shadows jabbed at the few kids left on the playground. A few parents and nannies stood on the sidelines. Over a hundred yards away, two figures sat on a bench—Myth and Sabini.
Myth called out as soon as he was within earshot. “Glad you could make it.”
She rose to meet him, but Sabini remained seated, watching the playground intently. Then he glanced at Ken with tired eyes. “Thanks for coming.”
Ken shook his hand. Sabini’s attention immediately turned back toward the playground. He gestured to a small boy, about ten, playing on the monkey bars.
“That’s my son,” he said.
Ken looked at the boy. There was no resemblance between him and Sabini, but that was to the kid’s advantage.
“He’s here with his baby-sitter,” Sabini said wearily. “I haven’t been with him in over four months. My wife and Iare separated. She doesn’t want me seeing him until the trial is over. It’s been rough on him.”
Ken could see that it had been rough on Sabini too. The man’s eyes were bloodshot and his face was ashen.
Sabini let out a long, tired sigh. “I don’t like all this shady stuff any more than you probably do, Ken. But I want it all done with, and Ms. Daniels tells me passing the test might be the quickest way. Can you teach me to beat that machine?”
Sabini looked back at his son. Ken remembered his own father watching him play on the rocket-ship slide at Herman Park in Houston. Sabini looked at his kid with the same pride and wonder.
Ken realized that Sabini reminded him of his father. Dad never complained about anything, but as the years wore on, the stress of his job as foreman at a marble quarry took its toll. His posture slumped and he was always tired, but still he didn’t complain.
Ken studied Sabini. He wanted to believe the guy was innocent, if for no other reason than he loved his kid.
Myth held up the roll of bills. “Do you want this?”
The moment of truth.
All that money.
What would Bobby tell him to do? Forget it, probably.
Not probably. Definitely. But after all those years of getting screwed for doing the right thing, this one act could make everything okay again. He could take care of Bobby and get his own life back on track.
He could feel his heart pounding faster. Was he really going to do it?
“How much time would I have?” Ken asked.
“Twelve days.”
“It’ll take some long hours and a lot of practice, but it can be done.”
Myth handed him the cash and a manila envelope.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Everything you need to know about the case. Newspaper clippings, briefs, photos, miscellaneous documents.”
The deal was done.
He was committed.
He felt sick.
Ken crammed the money into his pants pocket. His hands were sweating.
Sabini smiled. “Thank you, Ken. When do we start?”
“I’ll need the weekend to get ready. How about Monday night?”
“Fine.”
“Meet me at my office around nine. The building should be cleared out by then.”
“I’ll be there,” Sabini said.
“Strictly confidential, right?” Myth said.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
—
Ken turned down Myth’s offer of a ride home, electing to ride the MARTA train. It probably wasn’t the brightest move to walk around town with ten grand in his pocket, but he needed time alone to convince himself he hadn’t just sold his soul to the devil.
It wasn’t as though he was hurting anyone. If Sabini was innocent, he wouldn’t know where the money was anyway. If he was guilty, chances were he would ride out a short jail term, then pick up where he left off with the fortune he’d stolen. The result would be the same. Vikkers Industries was out of luck.
Nice rationalization, Ken thought. He was almost as good at this game as his customers.
—
Vikkers Industries had outgrown its one-story complex several times in its twenty-six-year
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