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SAM BYERS
He was there for Cole
when he needed somebody the most. And Cole did not
even expect him to do it.
**********
Sam Byers was sitting in
his car with the engine idling and the windshield wipers
running when the Gulfstream streaked out of the sky and
touched down on the rainswept runway at Dulles
international Airport. When the pilots got off, he pulled
his raincoat up around his ears and ran forward through
the puddles.
“It’s a damn shame we
have to meet this ways,” Byers announced breathlessly as
the heavy-set sixty-year-old trudged up the last step and
nearly collapsed at the sofa, “but I wanted to give you
this stuff in person, and it’s a bad idea for us to be
seen together.” He reached inside his raincoat and removed
a large brown envelope.
“You’ve got style and
you’ve got taste, Cole,” he said. Unfortunately,” he added
as Cole sat down on the sofa across from him, “You’ve also
got yourself a powerful enemy.”
“Who is it?”
“The junior senator from
the Great State of Texas – Douglas J. Hayward. He’s taken
a very personal interest in putting you out of business
and into penitentiary.”
“What’s in the
envelope?”
“Nothing that will
enable you to neutralize him, if that’s what you’re
hoping, but it will give you an idea of where you stand.
William C. Gonnelli, the administrative judge for the SEC
who’s going to hear your case, is already so sure you’re
guilty of something the he’s helping the federal
prosecutor decide whether the next step should be to haul
you up before the grand jury and get and indictment, or
take the short route and ask the judge for a warrant for
your arrest. There’s a copy of an SEC subpoena in there.
Your lawyer will be served with it the day after tomorrow.
Naturally, it will be leaked to the press. They’ll be
waving microphones in your face when you walk out your
front door from that day on, I’m afraid.”
Cole hadn’t expected
this much information or cooperation from Byers, and he
was strangely touched that he’d gone to as much effort as
he had – particularly because it appeared unlikely that
Cole would be sponsoring any more fund-raisers for anyone.
As if he know what Cole
was thinking, the politician stood up and shook Cole’s
hand. “I like you when I met you, Cole and I liked you
better later.” With a grin, he said, “Nobody’s ever laid a
check for three hundred thousand dollars in my hand and
told me to my face that he’d have handed it to a
gorilla if he were the Republican candidate.”
“I apologize for that,
Senator,” Cole said formally, and he meant it. “And I also
appreciate your help.”
“I thought your blunt
honesty was refreshing. I’m not used to it.” He turned and
squeezed between the sofas, then stopped again in the open
doorway of the plane and pulled the collar of his raincoat
up. “I also think you’re innocent. Unfortunately,” he
finished, “I won’t be able to talk to you anymore after
this. You understand, don’t you?
“Perfectly,” Cole said
unemotionally.
Diana observed the
unfolding drama from the back of the room, where she stood
beside Senator Byers, who’d convinced the SEC security
guard that she was a member of his staff and must be
allowed to observe. Periodically, he reached over and gave
her arm a reassuring squeeze.
Beside her, Senator
Byers leaned his shoulders against the wall, crossed his
arms over his chest, and laughed softly, his admiring gaze
riveted on Cole, who was talking quietly with his lawyers
as they all packed up to eave. “Diana,” Sam Byers said,
“your husband is a very brilliant man. And he is also
lethal.”
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