The Fugitive's Trail by J.C. Fields Read Free Book Online Page B

obsession.”
    “You’re the goddamn liaison with Congress. Talk to your contacts. Take them to lunch and spread more money around. Every single one of them has a PAC you can pour money into.” He paused and sat back in his chair. “Hell, our activities increase the goddamn GNP.”
    Crigler chuckled. “You’re talking like a true Wall Street insider. You have no idea of how Main Street views our industry. Do you?” Crigler shook his head. “It takes enormous amounts of cash from this company and our fellow private equity brethren to keep Congress, the Justice Department, and the SEC out of our little sandbox. So like I said, get this episode behind you. Get it resolved before the FBI finds out exactly what happened.”
    Plymel’s face grew red. He jumped out of his chair and leaned across the desk. Pointing a finger at Crigler, he said, “Keep those moronic senators and the FBI off my back. That’s why you’re here enjoying the twilight of your career. You’re the one who’s supposed to take care of problems like this. I will not be lectured to by a semi-literate Senate Finance Committee chairman from Tennessee ever again…”
    Crigler raised his left hand with the palm toward Plymel. “Spare me your platitudes. Say a mantra and shut up, Abel. Your temper will cause you to have a heart attack or a stroke, probably both.”
    Plymel’s jaw clinched tight. He took a deep breath. His temper was flaring more lately and not dissipating as fast as it had in the past. Secretly, he was worried. His blood pressure was high, and he wasn’t sleeping well. Not that he had ever slept more than five or six hours a night. But now it was down to three hours or less. The presence of a headache reached his awareness. He walked to an armoire on the opposite wall from Crigler. He opened the doors, revealing a fully stocked bar. Grabbing a glass, he poured two fingers of twelve-year-old Glenfiddich. He turned to Crigler. “Want one?”
    Crigler shook his head with disgust. He glanced at his watch. “For god sakes Abel, it’s only eleven o’clock in the morning. No I don’t want one. Get a grip, man. You’re on the edge. The board is already asking questions about your stability, and quite frankly so am I. You haven’t produced a high-profit takeover in twelve months. In fact, they think we’ve been out-bid on several recent deals. Deals we should have won. Instead, we’re looking at them from the sidelines.”
    Plymel shrugged. “Tell them not to worry. We’ll make it up on the one I’m going to close in a few days.”
    Crigler stood and headed toward the door. Before he opened it to leave, he turned back toward Plymel. “I’m just the messenger. The board’s lost confidence in you. They said for me to tell you to get this mess straightened up or resign. In my opinion, it’s going to be hard for you to regain their trust.” He turned back to the door, opened it, hesitated, and looked back at Plymel. “It took a lot of arm-twisting to keep them from asking for your resignation this morning. I’m done sticking my neck out for you. The next messenger won’t be so congenial.” With that comment, Crigler walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
    Plymel stared at the door and started to tremble. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. He poured another scotch. Staring at it for a few seconds, he downed it in one gulp.
     
    ***
     
    When Kruger and Charlie arrived at the fugitive’s apartment, Alvarez was already there. He said, “Not sure what you’re trying to find. All our people found was a lot of DNA.”
    Kruger smiled. “Nothing against your team. Charlie just wanted to get a feel for the guy. If he finds anything, you will be the first to know.”
    Ten minutes into his search, Charlie said to Alvarez, “Is this how you found the apartment?”
    Nodding, Alvarez said, “Guy lived like a monk, if you ask me.”
    Charlie had just finished looking through a desk in one of the two