The Partner by John Grisham Read Free Book Online

them.
    And so they figured he was simply being nice, happened to be downtown for something, probably wanted a cup of coffee, and this would be routine and quick.
    Cutter said, “We have Patrick in custody.”
    Charlie Bogan closed his eyes and displayed every one of his teeth. “Oh my God!” he exclaimed, then buried his face in his palms. “Oh my God.”
    Vitrano’s head fell back, his mouth too fell open. He gazed in utter disbelief at the ceiling. “Where?” he managed to ask.
    “He’s at a military base in Puerto Rico. He was captured in Brazil.”
    Bogan stood and walked to a corner, next to some bookcases, where he hid his face and tried to hold back the tears. “Oh my God,” he kept repeating.
    “Are you sure it’s him?” Vitrano asked in disbelief.
    “Positive.”
    “Tell me more,” Vitrano said.
    “Like what?”
    “Like how did you find him? And where? And what was he doing? What does he look like?”
    “We didn’t find him. He was given to us.”
    Bogan sat down at the table, a handkerchief over his nose. “I’m sorry,” he said, embarrassed.
    “Do you know a man named Jack Stephano?” Cutter asked.
    They both nodded with some reluctance.
    “Are you part of his little consortium?”
    They both shook their heads in the negative.
    “You’re lucky. Stephano found him, tortured him, damned near killed him, then gave him to us.”
    “I like the part about the torture,” Vitrano said. “Tell us about that.”
    “Skip it. We picked him up last night in Paraguay, flew him to Puerto Rico. He’s in the hospital there. He’ll be released and sent here in a few days.”
    “What about the money?” Bogan managed to ask, his voice scratchy and dry.
    “No sign of it. But then, we don’t know what Stephano knows.”
    Vitrano stared at the table, his eyes dancing. Patrick had stolen ninety million dollars when he disappeared four years earlier. It would be impossible to spend all of it. He could have bought mansions and helicopters and lots of women and still have tens of millions left. Surely they could find it. The firm’s fee was a third.
    Maybe, just maybe.
    Bogan worked on his moist eyes and thought of his ex-wife, a congenial woman who’d turned vicious when the sky fell. She had felt disgraced after the bankruptcy, and so she took their youngest child and moved to Pensacola where she filed for divorce and made ugly accusations. Bogan was drinking and using coke. She knew it and beat him over the head with it. He couldn’t offer much resistance. He eventually cleaned himself up, but was still denied access to the child.
    Oddly enough, he still loved his ex-wife; still dreamed of getting her back. Maybe the money would get her attention. Maybe there was hope. Surely they could find it.
    Cutter broke the silence. “Stephano’s in all sorts of trouble. There were burns all over Patrick’s body where they tortured him.”
    “Good,” Vitrano said with a smile.
    “You expect sympathy from us?” Bogan asked.
    “Anyway, Stephano is a side issue. We’ll watch him, maybe he’ll lead us to the money.”
    “The money will be easy to find,” Vitrano said. “There was a dead body. Somebody got killed by our boy Patrick. It’s a death penalty case, open and shut. Murder for the sake of money. Patrick will sing when the pressure is applied.”
    “Better yet, give him to us,” Bogan said, without a smile. “Ten minutes, and we’ll know everything.”
    Cutter glanced at his watch. “I gotta go. I have to go to Point Clear and break the news to Trudy.”
    Bogan and Vitrano snorted in perfect unison, then laughed. “Oh, she doesn’t know?” Bogan said.
    “Not yet.”
    “Please video it,” Vitrano said, still laughing quietly. “I’d love to see her face.”
    “I’m actually looking forward to it,” Cutter said.
    “The bitch,” Bogan said.
    Cutter stood and said, “Tell the other partners, but sit on it until noon. We’ve scheduled a press conference then. I’ll be in