Put a Lid on It by Donald E. Westlake Read Free Book Online

turned to Meehan. “What was the other? A lawyer? Francis, what do you want with a lawyer?”
    “I wouldn't negotiate with you people without one,” Meehan said. “If we're gonna get serious here.”
    “Very well,” Benjamin said. “Who is this lawyer?” And he made himself ready to take a note.
    “Goldfarb,” Meehan told him. “Wait a minute, Eileen? No. Elaine! Elaine Goldfarb.”
    Sounding outraged, as though someone were pulling his leg, Jeffords said, “Elaine Goldfarb? She's your court-appointed attorney at the MCC!”
    Meehan shrugged. “What other lawyer am I gonna have?”
    Benjamin said, “You don't want some public defender hack, Francis. If you feel you need an attorney, and you may be right about that, I wouldn't argue the issue, we can surely find you one in the greater DC area who would—”
    “Yeah,” Meehan said, “and I know where you'd find him, too. Not very far down in your pocket. The great thing about Elaine Goldfarb is, I
know
she isn't one of yours.”
    “Certainly not,” Jeffords said.
    “Very well,” Benjamin said. “We'll see what we can do about a secure telephone and obtaining the services of Ms. Goldfarb. She won't be licensed in the state of Virginia, you realize.”
    “If I have to take you birds to court,” Meehan told him, “I'll get somebody local.”
    His smile thin, Benjamin said, “Yes, that would be a new role in court for you, wouldn't it? In the meantime, if you've done breakfast…”
    “Long ago,” Meehan said.
    “Fine.” The smile turning sad, Benjamin said, “I am sorry, but I know you understand, you'll have to return to your room awhile. There are magazines on that table over there, you're welcome to take some with you.”
    They all stood. “It's a boring room,” Meehan said. “I just wanna mention that.”
    “We'll make your stay in it as short as possible,” Benjamin promised. “In fact, I'll hope to see you in the cafeteria at lunch.”
    “I think I can probably make it,” Meehan said.

13
    A T LUNCH, IN another room in the same building, this one a plain bright cafeteria on the second floor with much the same view as everywhere else in this place, surrounded by people in olive drab uniforms or scruffy civvies, everybody carrying around brown trays with blah food on them, Benjamin said, “It's all worked out.”
    Meehan looked up from studying his cheeseburger. “What is?”
    “Ms. Goldfarb will arrive at Norfolk International at two thirty-five this afternoon,” Benjamin said. “You will meet her.”
    “With an escort,” Jeffords added.
    “I know,” Meehan said, around the cheeseburger, which tasted better than it looked.
    “While at the airport,” Benjamin went on, “you will be able to make a phone call from any one of the pay phones there, with your escort nearby but not listening.”
    “Sounds good,” Meehan said. “I'll need change,” he said, and bit into more cheeseburger.
    Benjamin blinked. “Change?”
    Jeffords explained, “They don't have cash money in the MCC.”
    “Oh, of course.” Benjamin turned politely to Meehan. “How much?”
    His mouth full of cheeseburger, Meehan raised his left hand and splayed the fingers out twice.
    Benjamin's look turned sardonic. “Ten dollars? I think not. Jeffords will give you three.”
    Neither Meehan nor Jeffords was happy about that.
    Meehan kept an eye on the route, in case he ever had to take it on his own some time; another of the ten thousand rules. Grandy, Currituck, Moyock; the town names in North Carolina were weird, but somehow not easy to remember. Then they crossed into Virginia and got Hickory and Great Bridge, and there they were on Battlefield Boulevard; can't these people get over it? Battlefield Boulevard led them to an interstate, which snaked them through Norfolk to the airport, right in the middle of town.
    It was the same car as last night, with the same team; Jeffords next to Meehan in back, the two Busters up front. They'd changed their shirts,