Switchback. Ch10 pt2

At ten-forty-five Carter stepped into Maynard’s office to see him going over the arrest report.

          ‘What gives, Maynard?’

          ‘I’ve had Wellbeck on my ass half the God-damn morning,’ he said. ‘Take a seat, we need to talk.’

          He pulled a wooden chair from behind the door and dropped it before the desk and sat. ‘What’s his beef this time?’

          ‘He ain’t best pleased at what you did yesterday. No, strike that. Not what you did, just how you did it.’

          ‘You’ve read my report, it’s all kosher.’

          He leaned in. ‘And is that really the way the whole thing went down?’

          Carter smiled. ‘I know you don’t think I’d falsify an official document and put a whole case at risk?’

          ‘No, but−’

          ‘Wellbeck does, is that it?’

          ‘Did you know at the time that one of them was senator Caine’s nephew?’

          ‘I did, but what the hell does that have to do with it? Who he is or who he’s related to makes him no less accountable for what he and his buddies did.’

          Maynard pushed his glasses along his nose, nodded. ‘I suppose.’

          ‘Okay, what’s this really about, John?’

          He opened his mouth to speak but didn’t get the chance.

          ‘No, let me guess. Senator Caine called Wellbeck. Only this time it wasn’t to invite him for his usual monthly round of golf, right?’

          ‘Senator Caine wants you gone, plain and simple. He wants you suspended as from right now, reckons you used excessive force on his nephew to get that confession. And with the lawyers he’s got under his belt…’

          ‘And Wellbeck’s going along with it, only too happy to bend over and take it up the shitter like the weasel he is?’

          ‘Yes, and no.’

          ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

          Maynard tossed him the manila folder. ‘He’s offering you a way out, and if you have any sense you’ll take it.’

          Carter opened the folder and read the first page. He looked up. ‘Does Wellbeck actually think I’ll accept this?’

          ‘He thinks he’s left you with no option but to accept it.’

          ‘This is bullshit.’

          ‘You know it’s bullshit and I know it’s bullshit. But do you see another option?’

          Carter held up the folder. ‘Is that what this is supposed to be, an option? Well I’ll tell you what, I’d rather take my chances with Caine’s lawyers than give Wellbeck the satisfaction. And by the way.’ He stood ready to leave. ‘Thanks for fighting my corner, John; you’re a real swell guy, you know that?’

          Maynard stood. ‘For Christ’s sake, Carter, I’m on your fucking side here, can’t you see that? I don’t like this any more than you do, but it’s got that way now that Wellbeck’s gonna do all he can to shit all over you in order to satisfy the senator. So sit your black-ass back down and at least listen to what I’ve got to say before you go making the wrong decision. Okay?’      

           

After he’d listened to Maynard’s proposal of a temporary transfer, Carter turned from the fourth-floor window to look at him. ‘Is this some kind of wind-up?’

          Maynard sighed. ‘Look, Carter, it’s not a wind-up, okay? It’s a favour I need you to do for me, and for yourself.’

          ‘Cut the shit, John, you and I both know that this is all down to Wellbeck wanting to please the senator.’

          ‘Believe me when I say this. Wellbeck would rather you take his offer than mine. At least that way you’d be out of his hair for good, but this way you’d…’ he trailed off.

          ‘What? This way I’d be off the radar for a couple of weeks, just long enough to keep the senator happy for a while?’

          ‘Jesus Christ, will you forget about the God-damn fucking senator for just one minute? He’s only blowing steam out his ass because when that shit about his nephew hits the papers it’ll reflect on him.’

          ‘And if I accept this “Temporary transfer”, what happens to my case in the meantime?’

          ‘Wellbeck’s re-assigned it to Polanski.’

          ‘That was quick.’

          Silence.

          ‘Oh, I see, he’d already re-assigned the case before I got here because I’d have to choose one way or the other. And either way would mean I was off the case.’

          ‘Does that really make a difference?’

          Carter looked back out the window, shook his head. ‘No, I don’t suppose it does.’

          ‘So can I take it you’ll go to Leyton Falls, then?’

          As all of this had been decided way before Carter got there, he wasn’t left with much choice. He could insist on retaining his case but with Wellbeck against him he couldn’t see that choice coming out in his favour. And if he said no to Leyton Falls it would mean eventually having to say yes to Wellbeck’s retirement plan, and he’d rather walk barefoot over broken glass than give Wellbeck that pleasure. He turned from the window. ‘When does the judge want me out there?’

          Maynard smiled as he looked at the clock above his office door. ‘I told him to expect you around two this afternoon,’ he said.

          ‘You were that certain I’d accept?’

          ‘Of course, you may be one stubborn sonofabitch, Carter, but you’re not stupid. And I was certain you wouldn’t accept Wellbeck’s offer. And as far as anyone going up against Caine’s lawyers goes, well, you know as well as I do that that’s not going to happen. Especially when Caine’s nephew gets told about Clarissa Houseman’s damning statement. The first thing he’ll do is plea-bargain, so I doubt the defence would even contest the case. But like I said, you already knew all that anyway, and that’s why I also knew you’d accept my offer.’

            ‘So,’ Carter said. ‘You got the judge’s address?’

          He spent the next thirty minutes or so at his desk surfing the internet for information. And, once he was happy with his findings, he tossed Wellbeck’s manila envelope into the trash can and left the building.

 

The traffic on West Broad Street wasn’t as bad as it was earlier and the trip home had only taken fifteen minutes, a trip which, on any Monday to Friday would have taken forty-five minutes, so he guessed greedy Sunday wasn’t as messed up as he thought it was.

           After he ate and packed and showered, he changed into blue denims and a tan button-down shirt and shrugged into a black leather jacket. He put his packed suitcase in the trunk of his Taurus and checked his cell phone’s charge, his gas tank’s level, his guns, which numbered two, and eventually his watch, which said it was time for him to leave for Leyton Falls.