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thing. A mess of whatever hope had once guided the arc of his
life. He had crossed the lines of every oath he had ever taken.
As a lawyer. As a husband.
A dad.
Over the years, that line had blurred so many times he no
longer recognized it.
He had an urge to just fly. He had to figure a way out, and
up there, the world always seemed clearer to him. He knew Ty
wouldn t let up. He needed a way out. To get Ginny and the
kids clear. And not to end up in the Witness Protection Pro-
gram somewhere. He doubted if his family would even go along
with him.
Yeah, that needs a whole lot of work too.
Okay, think . . . You ve always landed on your feet. You hit
a drive into the woods, you find the angle to the green. You fly
without instruments, you find the path through the clouds.
So where s the path now?
Ty was right. He suddenly realized he was the weak link
now. He was the exposure. Even though Casey s man had come
306 Andrew Gross
to him first and explained in the vaguest way how he needed
something done.
All those deals, Warren. The fancy house, the clubs . . . It s
payback time now. The senator needs a little favor in return,
Wachman had said.
At first it horrified him. What they were asking. He laughed.
He thought it was a joke.
A fucking federal attorney . . .
But no, it wasn t a joke. It was serious. Serious as cancer.
You set it up, Warren. You find someone to do the job. Just this
once, he said. He thought where he could go. He didn t know
those types of people. Then he got the idea. First, he broached
it to Turner, on the casino s board, who was deeper into Casey
than he.
That led to Raines.
It was just one time, he kept telling himself. One more little
line to cross. Then it would be over. Ty was never supposed to
be involved. That had just been a freak. He had told Raines to
take care of it. The fewer details the better.
How did he know they would choose to do it right in the
middle of his brother s goddamn town?
His eyes filled up with hot, shameful tears. Where, Warren,
where is the angle through the clouds?
Where are the lines now?
Warren heard a noise. From outside, the front door open-
ing. He figured it was Ty again. He couldn t just leave him like
that! What would he say to him now? How could he explain?
How could he make things right?
Warren mashed the tears against his cheeks.  You back?
 Yeah, Warren, we re back.
Two people stared at him in the doorway. One had a long
Don t Look Twice 307
scar running down the side of his face. The other, in a baggy
sweatshirt and Mets cap, pointed a gun.
 Jesus, hombre, the guy said, shaking his head.  You don t
fuckin look so good, Mr. Hauck!
Warren was surprised. He always thought if this would
come he would be taken with fear.
And now he didn t feel any. In fact, he felt lighter. Free, fi-
nally.
Almost like he was flying.
CHAPTER EI GHTY
Hauck drove out of town, heading back toward I-84 and
Greenwich.
He had no idea what to do. He knew his brother was deeply
involved. That was clear. Warren knew where the pieces led.
But what could Hauck do? Arrest him? Throw him in a cell?
Hand his own brother over to the FBI? With what? Warren was
right, Vern would laugh in his face.
He had nothing on him.
Seeing Foley s name on that phone tore a hole in Hauck s
heart. He thought of the slick, polished manner in which the
executive had made his offer to him. His familiarity with
Hauck s cases and personal history. Dropping in how his old
boss at the NYPD had recommended him.
You ve been on our radar for a while, Ty . . .
All the way up here, since finding Warren s name on those
Pequot Woods documents, Hauck prayed it was all just some
big coincidence. Something he was reaching for in the vacuum
of no other answers.
Now he knew. Warren had set it up.
Set him up.
Now he had to figure out what his brother knew.
Don t Look Twice 309
It all came back to Raines. He could arrest him. Put him and
Warren in a room. Let the chips fall where they may.
Hauck flicked on the radio. Desperate to clear his thoughts.
The news. There had been an avalanche somewhere in the
Rockies. Two off- trail skiers killed. Another suicide bomber
had blown up a market outside of Baghdad.
But his mind wouldn t clear.
Instead, he was brought back to how the road growing
up had made them so entirely different. The reckless, self-
destructive choices Warren had made.
The sight of leaving him there. Broken. In tears. Why
couldn t you just take the lucking job? Ty . . .
His entire life had always been on a collision course with
ruin.
It s all about power, Ty . . .
Hauck was about to switch stations when another story
came on.
 In local news, Richard Scayne, the Greenwich industrialist
accused of making improper payments to secure no-bid con-
tracts for Iraq, is set to go on trial in federal court in Hartford in
February. Scayne s power generator unit, SRC, has been impli-
cated in payments to Republican figures to obtain a two-billion-
dollar contract for Nova 91 power generators in Iraq. The
September suicide of Lieutenant Colonel Mark Shafton, a
member of the U.S. Army s General Purchasing Office, has
been linked to the scandal. Scayne, in deteriorating health,
has maintained he cannot stand up to the rigors of a pro-
tracted trial . . . [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]