Potempa started, suddenly looking weary. “I heard you called Breslau and that you visited Kolodnik,” he said.
“Yes,” Behr answered. If Potempa wanted more by way of explanation, he was going to remain unsatisfied.
“All right, look, there’s shit about this you don’t know,” the older man finally said.
“Care to enlighten me?”
“Shit you don’t need to know. Can’t.”
“Still, I’d like to,” Behr said, forcing himself not to lean forward in his seat.
Potempa paused and scratched his chin. “Well, one bit I can tell you is: we weren’t hired for security. It was just meant to be risk assessment, and an … advisory role.”
“The political thing.”
“That’s right. We’re not just steaming envelopes and running drivers’ licenses here.”
“I know that,” Behr said.
“That exec protection bullshit was just something we threw in for … it was loss leader for—” Potempa stopped himself.
Behr suddenly understood. “For when he goes to Washington. So he’d be happy with you when he became
important.
”
“And he is. He’s happy. Thanks to you.” Potempa smiled and put his hands out in a you-see gesture.
“Uh-huh,” Behr breathed. “But he went with another company as soon as he announced.”
“Well, it’s unfortunate, but I’ve seen it before. They’re looking for a little distance. We’re hoping it’s temporary. Look, Frank, this is a complicated situation. Caro is a sophisticated organization. Protecting people, property, that’s just the surface. There’s another layer—risk assessment, assets, digital proprietary—we’re like … Do you play the piano?”
“The piano? No.”
“Me neither. Well, I play a little. Not well. My daughter, now she …” There was a slight hitch in Potempa’s voice, then he gathered himself and continued. “She was a hell of a little player. I could’ve had a ski condo in Vail for what I paid in lessons for her.”
Potempa looked to Behr for the sympathetic laugh between well-to-do fathers. There was nothing there for him. “I picked up a few things coming in and out during her lessons, her practice.” Behr’s eyes went to the photos behind Potempa, to the pretty, dark-haired girl in them, who became a woman in the shots, and then went absent.
“Anyway, this place”—Potempa waved his hands toward the outer office and beyond—“is a grand piano. It runs on a complex set of levers and wires, various offices and pieces, all interconnected. And the personnel, we’re all the keys. We each have our role, our note to play. Without any one of us, things aren’t complete. But the A sharp doesn’t necessarily know what the D flat is doing, when it’s going to sound. And it doesn’t need to. The keys all just need to be ready when they’re called on to do their part. Like you were the other night. You performed, no question. And Kolodnik was goddamned lucky it was you there. But now it’s time to stop the inquiries and go back to position untilyou’re pressed into service again. The rest will work itself out. You know what I’m saying?”
Behr let the aria settle. “Maybe,” he finally said, standing.
“Maybe,” Potempa said, laughing to himself and pointing at Behr, who headed for the door and paused before leaving.
“What does she do with it now?” he asked.
“What’s that?” Potempa wondered.
“Your daughter. The piano. Does she still play?”
“No,” Potempa said, a new gravity joining the worn aspect. “She doesn’t do that anymore.”
Potempa turned his chair, picking his glass off the desk as he went, and faced the window. The room descended into a stony silence. Behr lingered for another moment and then left.
22
Spiker’s Tavern was a taproom near the American football stadium. It had sawdust on the floor; a worn wooden bar; and was in a roughish—or at least an industrial-looking—part of town, so Dwyer knew it would make Gantcher nervous. He was sitting on a corner
“Yes,” Behr answered. If Potempa wanted more by way of explanation, he was going to remain unsatisfied.
“All right, look, there’s shit about this you don’t know,” the older man finally said.
“Care to enlighten me?”
“Shit you don’t need to know. Can’t.”
“Still, I’d like to,” Behr said, forcing himself not to lean forward in his seat.
Potempa paused and scratched his chin. “Well, one bit I can tell you is: we weren’t hired for security. It was just meant to be risk assessment, and an … advisory role.”
“The political thing.”
“That’s right. We’re not just steaming envelopes and running drivers’ licenses here.”
“I know that,” Behr said.
“That exec protection bullshit was just something we threw in for … it was loss leader for—” Potempa stopped himself.
Behr suddenly understood. “For when he goes to Washington. So he’d be happy with you when he became
important.
”
“And he is. He’s happy. Thanks to you.” Potempa smiled and put his hands out in a you-see gesture.
“Uh-huh,” Behr breathed. “But he went with another company as soon as he announced.”
“Well, it’s unfortunate, but I’ve seen it before. They’re looking for a little distance. We’re hoping it’s temporary. Look, Frank, this is a complicated situation. Caro is a sophisticated organization. Protecting people, property, that’s just the surface. There’s another layer—risk assessment, assets, digital proprietary—we’re like … Do you play the piano?”
“The piano? No.”
“Me neither. Well, I play a little. Not well. My daughter, now she …” There was a slight hitch in Potempa’s voice, then he gathered himself and continued. “She was a hell of a little player. I could’ve had a ski condo in Vail for what I paid in lessons for her.”
Potempa looked to Behr for the sympathetic laugh between well-to-do fathers. There was nothing there for him. “I picked up a few things coming in and out during her lessons, her practice.” Behr’s eyes went to the photos behind Potempa, to the pretty, dark-haired girl in them, who became a woman in the shots, and then went absent.
“Anyway, this place”—Potempa waved his hands toward the outer office and beyond—“is a grand piano. It runs on a complex set of levers and wires, various offices and pieces, all interconnected. And the personnel, we’re all the keys. We each have our role, our note to play. Without any one of us, things aren’t complete. But the A sharp doesn’t necessarily know what the D flat is doing, when it’s going to sound. And it doesn’t need to. The keys all just need to be ready when they’re called on to do their part. Like you were the other night. You performed, no question. And Kolodnik was goddamned lucky it was you there. But now it’s time to stop the inquiries and go back to position untilyou’re pressed into service again. The rest will work itself out. You know what I’m saying?”
Behr let the aria settle. “Maybe,” he finally said, standing.
“Maybe,” Potempa said, laughing to himself and pointing at Behr, who headed for the door and paused before leaving.
“What does she do with it now?” he asked.
“What’s that?” Potempa wondered.
“Your daughter. The piano. Does she still play?”
“No,” Potempa said, a new gravity joining the worn aspect. “She doesn’t do that anymore.”
Potempa turned his chair, picking his glass off the desk as he went, and faced the window. The room descended into a stony silence. Behr lingered for another moment and then left.
22
Spiker’s Tavern was a taproom near the American football stadium. It had sawdust on the floor; a worn wooden bar; and was in a roughish—or at least an industrial-looking—part of town, so Dwyer knew it would make Gantcher nervous. He was sitting on a corner
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