JAKE’S FINGERS worked the keyboard, and without looking up, he said, “Quinton may wake up tomorrow morning and change his mind.”
“There are more patient men,” Dora said.
Jake got into the secretary of state’s Web site and input the account name and password Casey had set up that morning.
“With a little luck,” he said out loud, tapping the enter key. The computer beeped and the screen changed. Waiting for him were two PDF files, which he opened.
“It’s the same guy,” he said, pointing to the name and signature on the screen at the bottom of the document.
“John Napoli?” Dora said. “The same guy as who?”
Jake snatched up his cell phone and began dialing Don Wall.
“An old man in a wheelchair who has some goon driving him around town in a silver Mercedes SUV,” Jake said, listening as Don’s phone rang. “He’s the lawyer for the city on some project, but he’s much more than that… Don? It’s me, Jake.”
“I’m thrilled,” Don said. “My first two days at home in a month, so I wouldn’t expect anyone else. How may I serve you?”
Jake heard the sound of kids in the background, but pressed on. “Remember that John Napoli?”
Don heaved a sigh and said, “You got a corrupt attorney? Wow. Come out to Des Moines with me and do a story. They’re calling this guy the next Adam Gadahn.”
“Right,” Jake said, “Al Qaeda in America. I’m serious. Napoli’s plugged in.”
“Jake, listen to yourself,” Don said. “D’Costa? Fabrizio? Napoli? You think everyone whose name ends in a vowel is plugged in with organized crime? I told you, D’Costa was a cop who now runs a seventy-million-dollar business.”
“At this moment,” Jake said, “I am looking at a certificate of incorporation with Napoli’s name on it for a company that owns a billion dollars in gas leases in the Marcellus Shale Formation.”
“In the what? What is that, French?” Don said.
“It’s an underground geological formation,” Jake said, “in the Atlantic states. Lots in New York. One of the biggest natural gas reserves in the world. Napoli is tied in with Robert Graham and a bunch of other names who are trying to keep the courts in New York from ruining their chance to get it out of the ground. There’s some environmental issues, and these guys have enough at stake that Graham just spent a lot of time and money to ruin the person next in line for the court, Patricia Rivers.”
“Rivers? I saw that in the airport last night on CNN,” Don said. “Figured that Graham guy couldn’t get his dad to play catch in the yard growing up and he just needed some attention.”
“There’s a lot more to it,” Jake said. “I’ve got information about Graham that goes back for years. He’s had some mysterious silent partners, and now this. The game within the game.”
“Sounds interesting, Jake, and when I get back to Des Moines, I’ll ring you up and we can chat, but I’ve got Melissa showing me the five-hundred-dollar bill she just got for hitting Free Parking and it’s my turn.”
“Don, wait,” Jake said, using his shoulder to pin the phone to his ear so he could work the computer. “I’m coming there. I need you to get me the old organized crime files from Buffalo. Anything with Napoli. Something’s got to be there, somewhere. You said you had a guy in Philly who used to work western New York. He’ll know. The cops there said something about Buffalo twenty years ago. I need that stuff. I need Napoli’s role. I need the other names, and I bet half of them are on the list I’ve got from the political action committee that tried to bribe the judge Graham just destroyed.”
“Look,” Don said, “I’ll get to it, Jake.”
“I know,” Jake said, his fingers dashing across the keys, “I just found a flight to Reagan National out of Syracuse that arrives at five-thirty. We can have dinner at the Legal Sea Foods right there in the airport. I’ll be sitting down to a pint of Sam Adams and a bread bowl of that chowder they serve at the inaugurations by six o’clock. Did I mention I’m buying?”
“I’m not having dinner with you, Jake,” Don said, anger creeping into his voice. “I haven’t seen my family in three and a half weeks and I’ve only got two fucking days before I fly back to Bum-fuck.”
“Remember that agent who was giving you a hard time?” Jake asked. “The one who got personally involved with that stripper?”
“And I thanked you repeatedly for that,” Don said.
“And you owe me,” Jake said. “That would’ve added a lot to my piece. But you asked me to think of his family while he was out with dollar bills in his teeth and all you really wanted was something to hold over his head.”
“What the hell, this is it?” Don said, raising his voice. “This is your marker? I’ve got hotels on Boardwalk and Park Place and you’re sending me into the office? You’re calling in your marker? ’Cause you don’t get two of these, my friend.”
“You ever get the oysters at Legal’s?” Jake said. “I love those things.”
“For the record, he didn’t put the dollar bills in his teeth,” Don said. “But I think he stuck ’em everywhere else.”