Solomon & Lord Drop Anchor (30 page)

Lisa fought to control her rage. She had
worked so hard to be independent, to be free of anyone else’s
control, that she felt violated by the man’s presence in her home.
“You can’t invade my privacy like this! You can’t take over my
life.”

Shank didn’t move. He looked amused, watching
her as a fleck of ash fell from his cigarette to the red and gold
Persian rug.

Lisa wheeled toward Max, waiting for an
explanation, for something that would make sense. After a long pull
of the screwdriver, he said, “A matter as sensitive as this, I had
to bring in Shank.”

“And who else?”

“The general counsel, but no one else.”

“You told Flaherty! Why not just take an ad
in the 
Post
?”

“Flaherty had to know. He’s the one who ran
the projections. All the judges’ opinions were run through the
computer and stacked up against the facts of our case. The vote
came out four-four. Truitt’s new. He’s the swing vote. If we get
him, we win. If we don’t, we lose.”

She walked toward the faux fireplace, turning
away from both men to gather her thoughts. “Then you’re in a lot of
trouble. Has Flaherty read Truitt’s law review articles, his
speeches? Does he know Truitt was a card-carrying member of the
ACLU when he was a young professor? That he did a stint in the
Peace Corps? Does he know that every Thanksgiving he still dishes
out sweet potatoes at a homeless shelter? In a dispute between
corporate executives and widows and orphans, which way do you think
he’ll vote?”

“Everyone has his price!’ Max said.

“Wrong! Everyone 
you
 know
has his price, but you don’t know Sam Truitt. He really believes
the stuff that’s carved into the marble, the basic decency of
people, the rule of law. Trust me. He’s not the kind of man you can
buy.”

Shank cleared his throat. “That’s exactly why
you’re so important, Lisa.”

It was the first time he’d ever called her by
her given name, and for a reason she couldn’t articulate, she
didn’t like the familiarity.

“We’re counting on you to persuade your boss
that Atlantica should win,” Shank said. “Simple as that.”

“When two hundred eighty-eight people die in
a plane crash, it’s not so simple.” She was growing even more
furious.

“The trial court ruled for us,” Shank said,
smirking, “and so did the appeals court. It’s not Atlantica’s fault
if some crazy Cubans bombed the plane.”

“Shank’s right,” Max piped up. “The trial
judge found we weren’t negligent.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about, do
you? You don’t need my help.”

Shank smiled, or at least, he bared his
teeth, small and jagged like eroded slivers of rock. “Maybe not,
but we like to think we’ve bought some insurance.”

“Sorry, I’m not for sale.”

Shank’s teeth vanished, and little vertical
furrows appeared on his sloping forehead. “Max led me to believe
you’d already been paid for.”

Damn him!

“Max,” she said, casting him a murderous
glance, “is behind the times. Here’s a news flash. I didn’t go to
law school to join some conspiracy that could put me in jail. I
don’t work for Atlantica, and I don’t work for Max. As of today,
I’m an employee of the United States government, and I’m not going
to prostitute myself for you or anyone else.”

“What!” Max was staring at her, wide-eyed.
“Lisa. Lisa, darling, I thought we had a deal.”

“There are no more deals, and there never
will be. Now, you two are conspiring to obstruct justice, and I
want you out of here.”

Shank’s laugh crackled like dead leaves
underfoot. “Hey, Max. Call a cop. We’re obstructing justice
here.”

Looking worried, not laughing at all, Max
hurriedly stood and walked toward Lisa, who stiffened and folded
her arms across her chest.

“Lisa, just hear Shank out,” Max said,
agitated. “Please. For me.”

She’d never seen him this way, so nervous and
unsure. There was i a shift of power going on here, but why?

Jesus, Max. You’re his boss. Why are you
deferring to this glorified security guard?

“You’ve got five minutes,” she said, “and
then the two of you can get out of here.”

Max nodded thankfully and returned to the
sofa and his drink.

Shank ground out his cigarette in a crystal
bowl on the coffee ! table and said, “We need you to use whatever
legal mumbo jumbo you can come up with to win the case.”

Mumbo jumbo? Oh, that’s clever. Try to fool
the guy who’s maybe the smartest legal mind in America.

“But if you can’t persuade him with the law,”
Shank continued, “we have a backup plan.”

“Really? And what would that be?”

His smile was a leer. “Max showed me your
bedroom, all frilly and smelling of powders and perfumes.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Lisa exploded.
“What do you think I am?”

“I don’t know,” Shank said. “What do you
think you are?”

She was so astonished by his tone, by the
insinuation, that she was momentarily speechless. Who was this thug
to insult the boss’s girlfriend, to throw his weight around with
Max standing right there? Jesus, she didn’t have to take this.
Incensed, she turned to Max. “Are you going to let him talk to me
like that?”

Max looked as if he might have a stroke.
“Lisa, please—”

“It’s not enough that you’re planting an
agent on the Court you want me to seduce Truitt, too.”

“We’re just counting on you to do what you do
best Lisa,” Shank said.

“And what would that be?” she asked, eyes
narrowing. “Say it!”

Shank moved closer, drilling her with his
dark eyes. His face was just above hers, invading her space, making
her skin crawl, as if she’d just walked into a cobweb. She fought
the urge to flinch and turn away.

Max, how could you let this lowlife bully
me?

When Shank was close enough for Lisa to see
every acne crater and smell his sour breath, when he filled her
entire range of vision, . when she felt both a distinct revulsion
and a palpable fear, he spoke in a snarl, “You’ll fuck him, Lisa.
You’ll fuck him real good.”

“Bastard!” She whirled toward Max. “Did you
hear that? This has gotten way out of hand. Since when am I taking
orders from your rent-a-cop flunky?”

Shank laughed again, the sound of a
rottweiler barking. “Is that what you told her, Max, that I’m your
flunky?”

“Now see here, Shank … ,” Max said, making a
jerky gesture with his arm and spilling his drink, his voice
trailing off.

Lisa looked at Max in astonishment.

“
Now see here?” Like some effete character
in a tux straight out of Noel Fucking Coward.

“Get the hell out of my apartment, both of
you!” Lisa shouted.

Seemingly amused again, Shank turned to Max.
“How ‘bout it, boss man, should we leave? Should we vacate the
premises?”

Max started to say something, but nothing
came out. He seemed to be nailed to the sofa and to have lost the
power of speech. He meekly turned his palms upward in a gesture of
surrender.

“Max is plumb out of ideas,” Shank said, “so
I’ll do the talking. In case you missed it the first time, you’ll
fuck the judge till he’s blue in the face. You’ll fuck him till
he’s cross-eyed. You’ll fuck him till he’s deaf, dumb, and blind.
You’ll turn him upside down and inside out and suck him dry. And
when he’s so dizzy he doesn’t know his own name, you’ll get his
vote because he’ll do any damn thing you ask.”

Stunned, a flood of bitter memories swept
over her: her father telling her that she’d always be able to make
a living on her back, the guys at the Tiki offering her wads of
bills to meet them in the parking lot after closing, Crockett
trying to pimp for her, then beating her up when she wouldn’t go
through with it. Max had protected her then; now, he was pushing
her into it. The realization came to her with sickening clarity.
After all these years, Max had become her pimp!

“In short, Lisa,” Shank went on, seeming to
enjoy every moment, licking each word with his tongue, “you’ll do
the judge just like you did old Max here, though frankly, jailbait
pussy was probably sweeter. That so, Max? Was it better in the old
days?”

“Now Shank, there’s no need for that,” Max
said, standing up but not moving toward the other man. Not leaping
across the room and decking the foul-mouthed pig, which is what
Lisa imagined Scrap Truitt would have done. She pictured Truitt
slugging the swine, breaking his jaw, citing some principle of
natural law that empowers a man to defend his woman’s honor.

“Oh, ex-cuse me,” Shank said, dragging out
the words, taunting them both. “You two were in love. The horny
executive whose wife didn’t understand him and the stripper with
the genius IQ who could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch.”

She slapped him,
the 
cr-aack
 of hand on skin seeming to echo in the
apartment. Finally, Max moved, dancing around the coffee table,
coming up to Shank, apologizing, begging forgiveness, the girl
doesn’t get it yet, it’s not her fault, Jeez Shank, it’ll be
okay.

“Shut up, Max,” Shank said with a certainty
that his order would be followed.

It suddenly occurred to Lisa that if Max was
afraid of Shank, she probably should be, too. 
Who was he,
anyway?

Shank turned back to Lisa and lowered his
voice to a frightening whisper. “You’re not fully aware of the
situation here, Lisa, and I’m taking that into account. Max has
protected you, and I let him. I didn’t want to embarrass him, to
cut off his balls in public, so I always walked two steps behind
him, like the wife of the Japanese emperor. Except now, I’m a
little tired of getting fucked up the ass. It’s important for you
to know exactly how it is, to appreciate Max’s position and your
own.”

He’s talking about Max as if he weren’t
here. But then, he really isn’t.

Shank smiled at her, but it was the smile of
the wolf contemplating the hen. Then his right hand shot out, quick
as a snake, and seized her by the. wrist. His left hand grabbed her
above the right elbow, and he twisted hard, spinning her around,
bending the arm painfully until the back of her hand pressed
against her shoulder blade. She couldn’t see his face as he spat
out the words, “You’re nothing but a little slut who’s forgotten
where she belongs. You think you’re smart, but if you were, you
would have sized up the situation long ago. You would have shown
respect. You would have had fear.”

He cranked her arm higher, and a searing pain
shot through her shoulder. She thought of a chicken’s wishbone
snapping in two.

He leaned even closer to her, brushing his
lips through her hair, exhaling foul breath. “Do you know why they
call me Shank?”

“It’s … it’s your name,” she said,
confused.

“No! My name is Shakanian. A shank is a blade
that cuts fast and deep. I’m a knife, and I’ll cut right to the
meat of you. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” But she didn’t understand. It was
beyond comprehension.

“What do you know about me, Lisa?”

“Nothing,” she said, her voice barely a
whisper.

“So let me tell you. I live alone. I don’t
have a wife or a friend or a parakeet. What I’ve got is a lot of
time to think. Lately, I’ve been thinking about you and how much
you owe Max here, which really means how much you owe Atlantica. Do
you follow me, Lisa?”

Wordlessly, fighting the pain, she
nodded.

“Good.” He released the pressure on her arm
slightly but did not let go. “Do you like the movies, Lisa?”

Whether it was the pain or the fear, or the
utter inanity of the question—for a second, she thought he was
asking her out—Lisa couldn’t answer.

“I’ll bet you do,” he said. “I’ll bet you
like foreign films with subtitles or love stories with sappy
endings. Me, I go to the movies by myself, and I like to laugh,
forget my troubles. So I see the comedies. 
Reservoir
Dogs
, 
Bad Lieutenant
, 
Natural Born
Killers
. Ever see any of them?”

“They’re not comedies,” she heard herself
say.

“Sure they are. Take the scene
in 
Reservoir Dogs
. One of the robbers has a cop tied
up. He wants to know who’s the informant in the gang. The cop won’t
tell him, so the robber cuts his ear off.”

With his free hand, Shank roughly grabbed
Lisa’s ear, twisting it, painfully. “Now, here’s the funny part.
I’d already done it. I cut a guy’s ear off maybe ten, twelve years
before I saw the movie. So I’m watching it, thinking you don’t get
that much blood from an ear. That wasn’t realistic. But the
screams. The screams were real.”

He’s a madman, and he’s going to cut me.

She knew a girl from the Tiki whose jealous
boyfriend slashed her breasts to keep her from dancing. Lisa was
paralyzed with fear. Her eyes searched frantically to see if he was
holding a knife.

He let go of her ear and his hand brushed
against her neck, seductively, stopping to fondle the single pearl
earring. Then he kissed her neck, and unleashing his tongue like a
serpent, he licked her. With a repulsive slurping sound, his tongue
slithered up the slope of her neck.

I’m going to throw up. Jesus, if he doesn’t
stop, I’m going to …

His tongue withdrew and his teeth clenched
the pearl earring, holding it there a second, freezing her with
terror. Then he wrenched his head downward, ferociously tearing the
post through her earlobe, yanking it free with a twist of his head
like a pit bull mauling its prey.

She screamed as the pain shot through her,
the sensation of her own shredding skin terrifying her.

Max stood, frozen in place.

Shank twisted her arm even higher against her
shoulder blade. “Do you have fear now, Lisa? Do you have
respect?”

Blinking through tears, she begged him,
“Please! Please stop.”