Overkill(63)

Now, addressing his nemesis, Cal said, “You got me here, Eban, what do you want?”

Eban drained his beer, then looked around for a place to set the empty bottle and settled on the floor beside his chair. He clasped his hands and held them beneath his chin, smiling beatifically. “What do I want? Your loyalty, of course. You know, blood oath. All for one, one for all. Band of brothers.”

He smiled at them in turn. When neither responded, he said, “Okay, I can see you’re not sold on the idea. Soooo,” he said, “I suppose now would be an ideal time to remind you that the tie that binds us is the night our boisterous three-on-one left that whore without a brainwave.”

Cal clenched his teeth as well as his fists.

Theo blurted, “She tried to say the safe word, Eban!”

“Did she?” Eban scratched his cheek as though searching his memory. “That’s not what you testified to on the witness stand, Theo.” He sucked in a sharp breath and looked aghast. “Don’t tell me you lied under oath. To the jury, the judge, your own attorney?”

“Our attorney never asked us if we were lying or not.”

Eban laughed loudly. “He didn’t want to know, you dimwit! He’d negotiated a plea bargain that got you probation if, at my trial, you swore on the Bible that Rebecca didn’t utter a peep, or make a motion, or signal in any way, shape, or form of communication that she was running out of air. Am I right?”

Theo looked over at Cal, who said, “Theo and I perjured ourselves, yes.”

Eban winked. “I’ll bet not solely out of the goodness of your heart or affection for me. Be honest now.”

“That lackey of your dad’s showed up at my house,” Cal said. “He had a handful of canceled IOUs that he’d paid off for my old man.”

Eban grinned. “Nobody greases the skids more efficiently than sweet, corrupt Uncle Up.”

“He paid off my sister’s student loan,” Theo mumbled.

“To the tune of eighty grand or thereabouts,” Eban said. “See how well that all worked out? Well, except for the fact that I spent over two years in an orange jumpsuit. Let’s not forget that.” Then he waved his hands in front of his face. “No, let’s do. Let’s forget about the past and focus on the present.”

He got up and began pacing as he stroked his chin, much like a calculus professor trying to decide how best to explain a maximum value to a classroom of numbskulls.

“For instance,” he said, “if—and it’s a big if—Zach Bridger pulls the plug and sends Rebecca to the great beyond, and if—an even bigger one—this Lennon chick constructs a case for murder that actually goes to trial, you two couldn’t recant your previous testimonies without admitting to perjury.”

He stopped pacing and faced them, arms spread from his sides, palms up. “Unless I’m missing something?” He waited; neither Cal nor Theo spoke.

“No? Good. We agree on that point of law.”

He left them with that thought as he went into the kitchen and helped himself to another beer. After uncapping it and taking a long swig, he belched. Laughing, he said, “Mine still aren’t as loud or fragrant as yours, Cal.”

Cal didn’t react.

“But we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Eban said, “because it would be damn near impossible for Kathryn Lennon to build a case without eyewitnesses, i.e., you two. Her only legal maneuver would be to try to strike some kind of deal with you.

“For instance, she might approach you with an offer of clemency, to which you’ll say, ‘No fucking way, bitch,’ or something as emphatic. ‘We wouldn’t throw our blood brother Eban to the sharks. No, ma’am. Not us.’

“See? All this unpleasantness can be avoided if you simply stick to your original story. You remember the one. The one about the hot piece of ass who had a lively spirit of adventure. If ever asked, you give your account of what happened in that bedroom from beginning to end exactly as you did before, and all this will—” He fluttered his fingers up into the air. “Go away.”

Campaign speech completed, he returned to his chair and sat.

Theo cleared his throat. “I think you might be underestimating Kathryn Lennon. The research I did for you? Everything I read made her sound like a go-getter. I don’t think she’ll back down.”

“Excellent point, Theo. Flip on the TV, please.”

Theo darted a confused look toward Cal before going back to Eban. “What for?”

“Because I asked you so nicely.” He batted his eyelashes.

Cal wondered if he should simply get up and walk out now. Why give Eban another single moment of his time? But he stayed because he didn’t trust Eban’s complacency. If he was doing the Devil’s work, Cal was better off knowing so he would be prepared for its sting, which one could count on being vicious and painful.

While Theo fumbled with the TV remote, Eban checked his wristwatch. “Eleven o’clock. Perfect timing. Tune in to one of those sports networks. They’ll be doing a recap of the day’s events for your viewing pleasure.”

In silence, they watched the news about a basketball player’s drug issues, then, when up popped a video of Zach Bridger in close company with a hip-looking, attractive young woman, Cal knew this was what Eban had wanted them to see.