That's the Chicago Way - 5. Chapter 5 - It Ain't Over 'Til It's Over

THAT’S THE CHICAGO WAY

Jack Scribe

Chicago is not the most corrupt American city. It’s the most theatrically corrupt.

Studs Terkel

Chapter 5, IT AIN’T OVER ’TIL IT’S OVER

During the sports segment, Rob stepped out into the corridor and called John Kess – cell to cell. The call went directly into voicemail after four rings and Rob briefly described the fire. ‘He’s probably already aware of this mess.’ Rob returned to the anchor desk for the closing segment. After sign-off, he contacted the on-scene reporter, Chip Hackney, and discovered that the fire was contained with no fatalities. Hackney planned on conducting interviews with the on-scene fire department chief and the senior police representative for a wrap-up that would be used on the morning news. Chip welcomed suggestions about how to weave the Kess story and possible criminal blowback into the report, and said he understood why Rob wanted to keep the story alive.

Back in his office cubicle, Rob was reviewing his calendar when Manny, the producer, stopped by the desk.

“Just got word that New York wants two minutes on the fire with your side story for the World News overnight and maybe tomorrow’s GMA,” Manny said. “And guess who’s been invited to front the feed?” He turned his hands, palms up towards Rob and trumpeted, “Tah, dah.”

“GMA, huh?” As much as Rob wanted national exposure with a Good Morning America shot and a more prominent blip on the network’s corporate radar, he really preferred to ‘get outta Dodge’ at this late hour. However, he suspected his boss had probably alerted New York about the story from home and the news director probably didn’t want a junior reporter like Chip to handle the story solo for the network. Rob also decided it wouldn’t be good form to whine. “Damn, Manny. I knew I shoulda trotted outta here right after the show.” Rob shrugged and smiled. “So, how’s it going down?”

“Chip’s final report and footage is back in editing. What we need is a standard opening and a summarized closing from you on the set. Since it’s a pretty good bet that GMA will use a minute-thirty of the story, please handle it in past-tense.”

“The set? I’m surprised he loosened the purse strings to keep a cameraman.”

“The boss wanted better visuals…something snappier than our fixed newsroom camera,” Manny replied. “He said, and I quote, ‘I don’t want Chicago looking like some crap cable operation,’ end of quote.”

There was always rivalry between the mother ship and the network-owned stations and he knew it would make him look better, too. Job security, 101. “How about the voiceover?” Rob asked.

“Editing will have twenty seconds of the fire in progress and the idea is for you to describe the scene…then hand it over to Chip for the remote wrap-up. In the closing, you have another twenty seconds to connect the dots with the Revson tie-in.”

“I better speak at a fast clip to get all the facts together,” Rob replied. “Give me ten minutes to review what editing has and another ten to write something for the teleprompter. Deal?”

“Deal.”

‘And I’d better do a little fluff-up on the makeup,’ Rob thought.

After doing the report for New York, he was completely exhausted. It had been a long day…although an extremely productive one…and Rob did a fast vanishing act as soon as Manny was satisfied with the results. In the garage, he stopped by the unmarked police Crown Vic. He didn’t recognize the officers and concluded that the police department was rotating the assignment detail. ‘Jeez, these new cops look younger and younger all the time,’ he thought while checking out these pups in uniform. ‘Protection and eye candy all in one; not bad.’

“Evening, Mr. Cooke,” said one of Chicago’s finest. “You’re ready to leave?”

It was always flattering to be recognized, but Rob decided that being the only man still wearing TV makeup in the quiet Channel 7 garage late at night was probably a more logical reason to be spoken to by name.

“Right. I’m going straight home and don’t expect to be out and about until tomorrow morning…late-ish.” Rob leaned closer to the open window of the police car and continued. “I don’t want to call the Commander because of the lateness of the hour, but you should pass on to the precinct info about a fire tonight that wiped out the NewWord offices.”

“800 South Dearborn and we’re one step ahead of you, sir. Your reporter told our guys about the connection and it’s been already logged in. The higher-ups are taking this case very seriously.”

“As are mine. I just finished a story that’s going national on Good Morning America in a few hours,” Rob said. ‘Hmm, it’s good to know this shit is officially getting attention from the cops.’ He did a two-finger salute from his forehead and said, “Okay, then…I’m off to my home for some ‘zees.’ But if anything major happens, don’t be shy about waking me up. As a newsman, that’s part of the drill; particularly, in this case since I’m personally involved.” Although he didn’t expect problems, it was reassuring to have a police detail trailing him and watching the house. “By the way, I hope you brought your rain gear, guys. We’re expecting showers sometime early this morning.”

“No problem…I’m just happy we won’t be on fender-bender detail during rush-hour,” the policeman replied. “Another crew relieves us at seven.”

“Keep dry,” Rob said as he walked to his car. He considered, only for a moment, requesting the Commander send two more cops who were just as cute. ‘For my personal morale, as well as safety.’

Driving these mostly vacant streets, shared with roaming cabs, busses with the still silhouettes of sparse passengers, night crawlers and other workers leaving their jobs, Rob purposely kept his speed right to the posted limits. He supposed he could push it if he wanted to, but it just didn’t seem right. Once home, he waved ‘goodnight’ to the detail, entered the quiet townhouse and stopped off in the kitchen for a beer. His plan was to watch and unwind with a couple of carefree segments of the Jimmy Kimmel show while he polished off his brew, take a hot shower and snuggle off to sleep with his rock and personal anchor Rick. The latter was a perfect end to a busy twenty-four hours.

~~~~~

Evan called the office first thing in the morning and left a message on Marv’s voicemail saying he needed to work at home and wouldn’t be in until noon. This was a marginally true statement and Marv would understand. Evan got up early and went to the secret file storage located next door to his apartment.

With all that was happening, Marv didn’t want to have any paper or electronic trail that would tie him to his partnership with Sean and their enterprises. When the studio apartment next to him had become available the previous year, Evan had a brainstorm: he proposed to Marv that someone who could be trusted and not suspected to be part of the business should rent it, as a front, to stash documents that were too sensitive to be in the offices. Marv came up with his wife’s sister and the rest was easy. The lease, utilities and phone were in the name of Lisa Weintraub – her married name – and all bills were electronically paid monthly from a Chase bank account, also in her name.

Flash forward to the present and this idea of a secret file stash so close didn’t seem so cool…for Evan. He needed to make sure the proximity of the files didn’t turn into a belated brain fart that’d bite him in the butt or worse. In the realm of Evan-world, he didn’t want to end up becoming some gang member’s bitch in a lockup.

It was definitely time to cover his tracks.

He spent a good hour wiping all of the cabinets and furniture free of his smudgy fingerprints – anything that would directly identify his involvement in the looming debacle – and planned on wearing latex gloves whenever he visited the space in the future. There was nothing he could do to make his fingerprints vanish from the actual documents, but Evan thought he could claim innocence in that he handled so much paper at work. As his law school professor once remarked, “When in doubt…deny, deny.”

Hearing the rain slapping against his window after he showered and shaved was the deciding factor in choosing what to wear. Evan peered outside and witnessed all the ugliness of a gnarly, rainy morning; brake lights and headlights reflecting off the wetness of the puddled Lake Shore Drive, windshield wipers moving at a fast pace, and a few brave pedestrians walking with umbrellas. The wind dominated the lake and white-capped waves pounded against the shoreline barrier. ‘Definitely an L. L. Bean day…not even worth working on the hair,’ he decided, and proceeded to dress in a pair of black Calvin Klein jeans, a long-sleeve Armani Sport Crew, hiking vest and skimmer shoes. In the excitement of the morning, he hadn’t eaten anything and Evan was ready for some fuel. But he was anxious to leave the apartment – next to ‘the scene of the crime’ – even with the rain and general grittiness. Grabbing his yellow slicker and Cubs cap, he headed out for the day.

Easing out of the garage, he sought out less-traveled side streets and cautiously drove to the semi-trendy Wicker Park district, arriving twenty minutes later. He felt fortunate that he experienced only three near-miss accidents. He found a nearby parking space just as Abba’s Dancing Queen was finishing on his CD player.

You can dance, you can jive
Having the time of your life
Ooh see that girl, watch that scene
Diggin’ the dancing queen
Diggin’ the dancing queen

‘Okay, girl, let’s dance right through this mess.’

Wolfing down a late breakfast at The Bongo Room was one of Evan’s ways to chill. ‘What was I ever thinking when I took this job?’ Evan cut into a stack of flapjacks drenched with raspberry syrup. ‘Those bozos and their Greek lightning thing last night at the NewWord building went too far. The notes they left Kess and Cooke were lame by comparison.’ He’d almost dropped a big load in his pants the previous evening when he caught the breaking news on Channel 7 concerning the fire and then woke up to the same recycled crap on Good Morning America. He picked up on Cooke’s not-so-subtle suggestions that the incident was connected to Kess’s exposé concerning Marv and Sean’s supposedly quiet business deals with someone close to the mayor’s office. ‘And becoming less-quiet all the time, especially with it making the freaking network news.’ Evan chewed a delicious syrup-soaked bite. ‘All because of Marvelous Marv and his loony ideas about how to contain the situation.’

The morning Trib and Sun-Times reported the story as a fire and mentioned a list of the tenants, but nothing more. Same with the other local TV news reports, from what Evan could determine while channel switching. With New York now in the mix, he feared that the cable news channels couldn’t be far behind. ‘Friggin’ newsreaders chasing each other’s tails for the news of the moment. Better work out a defensive game plan for Marv to deal with reporter ambushes.’ He imagined how Fox News would dig into the political implications with the White House, MSNBC would consider the incident part of a right-wing conspiracy and CNN would trot out boring reportage designed to offend no one. ‘But CNN would redeem themselves if Anderson Cooper did the story in one of his muscle tees.’

If there was a personal plus, it was that Evan didn’t know many of the details of how the cash flow gusher worked. After bitching about not being regularly included, being on the fringe of his boss’s illicit operations was now in his favor. His primary job was to directly supervise all of the legitimate businesses, advise Marv on routine legal matters, handle the patchwork of confidential files and be liaison with Sean. In return, he earned two hundred grand a year, enjoyed a reasonable expense account allowance, had decent medical insurance and drove the company-leased Bimmer. After seeing several of his law school classmates scrambling to keep their jobs – with a few slipping down the unemployment slope in spite of prestigious diplomas – Evan knew he should be thankful for his position. However, these recent events were beginning to weigh heavily on his positive attitude.

For a few moments, he considered floating his resume but concluded it wasn’t a wise thing to do…for one important reason. ‘I’m in too deep to bail on Marv and he’d be pissed. Really pissed. In fact, I’m not sure I’d be in one piece after his goons encouraged me to stay.’ Evan decided to play this out as the loyal employee while trying not to get burned.

Although a third cup of coffee was tempting, he passed it up and paid the server with cash. ‘What to do on my Ferris Buehler day off?’ He wasn’t ready to go to the office and it was only eleven. ‘When in doubt, go shopping.’ Evan was sure he’d find a few distractions at Bloomie’s and Nordstrom’s at the Old Orchard shopping center to further sooth his nerves and help him put his usually confident self back together.

~~~~~

Kris had called Rob mid-morning, primarily to find out if there were any new details about the Revson story that could be shared. He’d spent a terrific evening of chatting, flirting and debauchery with Dennis Edstrom, the assistant professor – the evening had progressed from the bar at Sidetrack’s to the bed at Dennis’s apartment – and Kris hadn’t gotten home until after midnight. Therefore it was the Tribune website that’d alerted him to the fire.

Rob had just gotten up and was drinking his first cup of coffee, but Kris sensed that Rob was ready to joke a little, speculate about a few pieces of gossip concerning D.C. politics and relate what he knew about the fire. It was an amiable patter between two friends and the sexual dalliance of the moment was behind them. In the process, Rob suggested that Kris join him for lunch at The Gage near the Art Institute. Rob was meeting an old friend and thought the diversion of breaking bread would be good for both of them. Since Rob had to be at the station by two and Kris had a class at that time, they planned to meet at the restaurant at noon.

Rain was never fun to navigate, especially if you used the CTA or got around by walking. When Chicago was having a ‘weather day,’ Kris relied on his hiking boots, jeans, and sweatshirt – along with a hooded parka coat – to get him through those messy moments. Today, however, he decided to upgrade his look for lunch. ‘I can get another day out of my khaki trousers and wear a v-neck sweater over a white tee.’ He also planned on splurging on a cab. ‘Door to door is a given.’

The idea of continuing to build a friendship with Rob was very appealing to Kris and he arrived at The Gage with a very upbeat attitude. When he asked about the Cooke reservation, the hostess addressed Kris by name, confirmed that Mr. Cooke had arrived, and asked him to follow her through the busy dining room. At a horseshoe booth in the middle of the room, he spotted Rob and another man laughing and talking. While Rob was more casual in an open shirt and jacket, the other guy – thirty-ish with black hair, chiseled facial features and intense, sparkling brown eyes – was dressed in a dark suit and red power tie. Rob waved when he spotted Kris and moved to the center of the booth.

“Kris, glad you could make it,” Rob said. “Say ‘hi’ to an old friend Jerry Franklin.”

“Hi, Jerry.” Kris slid into the booth and reached over to shake Jerry’s manicured hands. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you…but we’ve already met.”

Jerry smiled with a quizzical expression. “Kris. You do look familiar but nothing jumps out at me.”

“That’s because it was about five years ago when I was a teen-aged ball-buster and you were with my dad, Greg Lamacki, on a consulting job. I was in his office – either helping out or getting in the way, depending on who’s telling the story – when you came in for a presentation.”

“Of course.” Jerry turned to Rob and added, “Kris was this young kid about sixteen or so who sat in on the meeting.” He smiled and looked back at Kris. “I recall you made some pretty sage comments and had solid suggestions.”

“That sounds like the Kris I know,” Rob said. “He does ‘sage’ very well.”

“And you’re definitely all grown up,” Jerry added. “What are you doing these days?”

“Studying communications at DePaul and occasionally pestering Rob about career choices.” Kris decided to let Rob roll out any further information about their meeting and friendship. “I’ll probably be speaking with Dad this evening and will be sure to mention we saw each other.”

“Please do pass on my regards to your dad,” Jerry said. “And as for this TV dude, you couldn’t find a better mentor and friend.”

“Hey, I’ll take any compliment I can get,” Rob replied.

Over a lunch of salads with grilled Wagyu sirloin and iced tea, Kris got to know more about the personal lives of Rob and Rick, and of Jerry’s life with his partner, Bill Saunders. In return, Kris shared a few tidbits about his parents’ divorce and the current status of a bachelor’s life in the big city…sans his burgeoning love life du jour. However, the bulk of the conversation centered on the growing Revson scandal, speculation of who all it might touch and Chicago’s political climate. The general consensus was that the mayor’s Teflon suit would probably keep him safe, but the stinking turd would probably land on Marv and Sean O’Reilly…if more evidence could be dug up.

“You know,” Jerry said, “our firm did some consulting work for SOR, O’Reilly’s company, last year. Sean was very specific that we shouldn’t look too deeply into their books. I thought it was a little odd at the time…but he was the client.”

“A little odd?” Rob asked.

“On this job, it was about reorganizing and slimming down the staff. It would have been helpful to provide a financial analysis…but not critical. So we completed the tasks and filed a report. What Sean did with it, I have no idea.”

“What are the chances of reading the report?” Kris asked. “Just as a journalistic exercise.” He wanted to be helpful with Rob’s story and wondered if this might be an entrée.

“Client confidentiality trumps your idea,” Jerry replied with a smile. “Nice try.”

Kris smiled back. “My super sleuth career is ended before it began.”

“But a nice gesture at the end of lunch.” Rob flagged down the waiter and added, “Time to get over to the station.”

After the two older guys verbally sparred for the check – Kris was happy to play the role of guest – Jerry won the honor after a coin toss. Although the day was still on the gray-ish side, the rain had passed on to the east and it allowed the trio to finish their conversation in front of the restaurant.

“Kris, Bill and I are having a little get-together a week from Saturday. It’ll be an interesting group of guys, including this character and Rick, and I’d love for you to join us for a casual buffet and drinks…around seven.”

“Things are never dull at Jerry and Bill’s place and you’ll have fun,” Rob said.

“And there’ll be several single guys who might make things interesting,” Jerry added with a grin. “Bill’s invited a guy he work’s out with at the East Bank Club…someone who’s new in town…and Russ Bennett is bringing a friend. He turned to Rob and added, “By the way, a mutual friend from L.A. is coming to the party. Oleg Petrov’s stopping over on his way to the east coast.”

“Oleg? Terrific,” Rob replied. “I haven’t seen him since Rick and I were out there last winter.”

“So what do you think, Kris? Ready for a party?”

“I’m into single and a party…plus it’s not a school day.” Kris extended his hand to Jerry and they shook. “Do you have a card with your info? We can trade email addies.”

Jerry reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a business card. “Here’s all you need…home address and all.

“I’m impressed that you even have a Facebook account,” Kris said.

“I found that it’s a good business device to keep in touch and put out marketing messages. The only thing I don’t have is Twitter. I still don’t get ‘tweets’ as a worthwhile concept…especially for an old fart like me.”

“Ease up on the ‘old fart’ business,” Rob said. “I’m right behind you, edging right in on the early mid-life crisis stuff.”

“Cool it, both of you,” Kris said with a laugh. “You’ll give me a complex about hanging around with ancient dudes.” Kris looked at the card for a moment and continued, “2800. That’s an easy drive from where I live. I’ll email you my stuff.”

“Excellent,” Jerry replied. “Guys, since the rain is over, I’m going to walk off lunch and head back to the office.”

“And Kris and I will cut over to State Street,” Rob said.

“You’re a big boy, Rob, and probably don’t need any advice from a desk jockey like me,” Jerry replied, “but be careful with this Revson mess. Marv can be a nasty piece of work, and I’m told he has a vindictive streak.”

“Relax, I’m just an overpaid TV anchor. But I appreciate your concern and promise to watch my step around Marv…or whoever else’s involved. Scout’s honor.” Rob pulled Jerry into a quick hug and added, “Talk with you soon. Say ‘hi’ to Bill.”

“See you at your place.” Kris waved and watched Jerry saunter northbound up Michigan Avenue. ‘Funny how my past can fly back at me when I least expect it. But he’s a neat guy and I’m going to enjoy getting to know him better…and the other cast of characters in this group.’

“Penny for your thoughts?” Rob asked, as they walked in the opposite direction towards Monroe Street.

“Thinking back five years ago and about Jerry…how he was so serious in his business presentation with Dad and I kinda came off as a wiseass sixteen-year-old with major attitude.” He turned to Rob and winked. “But in a loveable, irresistible way.”

Rob laughed and said, “And now you’re an adult who’s exchanged attitude for extreme confidence…who is still loveable and certainly irresistible. Don’t change, dude. It wears well on you.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Kris enjoyed being in the company of someone he could trust and with whom he could share his most personal thoughts. ‘His partner is a very lucky guy.’

As they turned west at Monroe and walked past CSO’s Symphony Center, each man drifted into momentary silence while checking their cell phone messages. Rob put his hand on Kris’s arm and signaled him to stop.

“There is a text from John Kess,” Rob said. “It says, ‘I’m ok…office 86…lost some notes…call.’ If you don’t have to run, wait while I call John back.” He thumbed a button and hit ‘call.’ “John, this is Rob. We’ve been playing phone-tag and I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

Kris watched as Rob listened intently, with a few ‘uh huhs’ and head nods.

“I’m on Monroe Street with a friend. I’ll call you back when I get to the station…probably in fifteen minutes or so. Talk with you then.” Rob slipped his phone into his jacket pocket and said, “Fortunately for Kess, most of his work was done on his laptop, which travels with him. But he lost material that he planned on using for next week’s story. Today he’s been trying to contact Marv Revson – unsuccessfully, I should add – and his number two guy, someone by the name of Evan Jankovic. So far, neither one’s in the office…or he’s getting a run around. I suspect the latter.”

“Whoa, what was that name? Evan Jankovic?”

“Yeah. Guess this guy is deep in the organization. Why?”

“This sounds crazy,” Kris replied. “But I think I met Evan yesterday at Sidetrack’s. I was there with a friend. When my friend went to the john, this guy came over and hit on me. I’m sure his name is Evan… and he gave me his business card. It’s probably still in the jeans I wore last night.”

“What do you remember about him?”

“Late 20’s…good looking in a ‘strike a pose’ sort of way, you know. Very sure of himself…and pretty sexy if you like that pretty boy look. I mean…you just know he’d be on his back with his legs in the air, squealing like a banshee, begging for it at the drop of a dime. We spoke briefly and he gave me his card. That’s about it.”

“You blew him off?”

“No. Just didn’t encourage him.”

“Do me a favor,” Rob replied as they crossed Wabash and walked under the El tracks. “Find that card when you get home tonight and give me a call. If it has a personal number, it might be a break for Kess.”

“Sure. I’ll be home around five and I can leave a message if you’re busy.” Kris guessed that he would be wrapped up with the broadcast and probably wouldn’t be calling back until later. “This is a study night, so I’ll be in all evening.”

“Great. And by that time maybe I’ll have some more juicy tidbits concerning this story. By the way, they ran the fire story with moi reporting – albeit pre-recorded – on GMA this morning. Not only was this good face time for me – the local guy – but it means the story might get national traction.”

“Then that means Marv and this Evan dude are probably getting very nervous,” Kris said. “Jerry’s advice about watching your back is solid.” He was completely fascinated by the evolving story and his front row seat. But they had reached State Street, where the two would part. “I guess this is where the old tag line stay tuned comes in.”

“Followed by we’ll be right back. Don’t worry, buddy. I’ve got police protection late at night and my house is being watched.” Rob put his hand on Kris’s shoulder and squeezed it very briefly. “Got to run…we’ll talk tonight.”

Kris nodded and watched Rob merge into the northbound lunch hour pedestrian traffic. He turned south and made his way to DePaul’s downtown campus. It was only 1:15 – he decided to go up to the Student Center on the eleventh floor and cruise the ’net on his laptop until class time. It would also be ‘lightning strikes twice’ if Dennis happened to be there. They’d left things up in the air about seeing each other again when Kris departed from Dennis’s apartment late the previous evening. ‘I don’t think it’s a one-time thing but you never know in our fickle queer nation. And he is older.’

As the elevator doors parted, Kris could see Dennis in the distance at the same table as before. With a little bounce to his step, Kris walked through the Student Center and approached the hunky assistant professor. Today, Dennis was wearing a yellow button-down shirt with a brown knit tie in the now-familiar askew position, reading a book.

“Hi, Professor Edstrom,” Kris said as he approached the table. “How they hangin’?” he asked in a whisper.

“Oh, Mr. Lamacki…you crept up on me.” Dennis gestured for Kris to sit and said in a very low voice, “They’re hanging very well, thank you. That was quite a workout you put me and them through.”

“Just giving what I received…proving versatility is very much alive with both of us.” Kris loved being a top and bottom with the right person and the ‘prof’ was in that league. “So, Dennis, you’re between classes?”

“Got about a half-hour before my advanced strategies class. And you?”

“News writing lab and an exam. Then I’m done.” Kris paused for a moment and asked, “You want to get together for dinner or something this weekend? Maybe something cheap like Joy’s Noodles?”

“How about an early evening movie on Sunday, followed by dinner at Joy’s? That’s not far from my place and…”

“Sounds good – looks like we got a date.”

 ~~~~~

A large bag from Nordstrom’s was safely tucked under a blanket in the back of Evan’s parked Bimmer. He’d treated himself to a new sweater, two shirts and a pair of Cole Haan Pinch Cup tassel loafers. With the weather improving, he decided to change shoes in the car and break in the new loafers around the office. And using his rearview mirror, he quickly fluffed up his hat-head hair into a Chase Crawford look. At work, Evan made his rounds of saying ‘hello’ to the crew before ending up at his office. He noticed Marv’s door was closed and decided it was a good time to get organized – he needed to return a few calls, pull some reports and crank up enough courage to confront Marv about the previous evening’s mischief. He noted that Marv’s secretary was missing and the desk looked like it hadn’t been disturbed. ‘Maybe she was too wound up to come in today?’

It took about fifteen minutes to get ‘up to speed’ with what had happened during the morning while he’d been out. ‘Nothing pressing,’ he decided. ‘Guess the rain has thrown everyone off a little.’ In his red ‘See Marv’ folder were batches of checks that needed his signature and a letter Evan had crafted in legalese that needed to go out after Marv signed it.

‘Time to get engaged and play out this for-real Dungeons and Dragons game.’ Evan mentally suited up his armor, grabbed the folder and went to Marv’s closed door. He tapped lightly the usual three times and said, ‘It’s me.”

“Get in here,” Marv said in his usual gruff voice.

‘Monster Marv is such an endearing asswipe.’ Evan opened the door, stepped inside and closed it.

Standing behind his desk, Marv hadn’t dressed for the office either, he noticed. But while Evan had pulled off his Armani AX-meets-Calvin Klein look, minus the rain gear, Marv appeared downright dumpy – wearing a wrinkled, white-on-white dress shirt, partially untucked, and tan slacks that looked like they’d been slept in. Evan was also looking at Marv in a new light; observing a man whose hand was in some serious evil-doing.

Playing the impartial and loyal employee, Evan walked up to the desk, placed the folder in front of Marv’s chair, and opened it. “You got my message,” he said. “I worked on the files.”

“Yeah, I got it. But with Sue out, it’s been a bitch of a day.” Marv pulled back his chair and sat down. “And these are what?”

“Vendor checks and your reply to some lease issues we have with one of our tenants in this building. I checked the operations account and the balance is $53,793.23 after these checks.” Evan liked detail and knew Marv appreciated the effort, especially when it came to money.

“Sounds about right.” Marv picked up a pen and started signing the checks.

It was normal for Evan to quietly wait for questions when they went through the weekly check-signing ritual but he didn’t want to sit and get comfortable. It wasn’t going to be that way today.

Marv finished signing the checks and paused to read the letter. He nodded his approval and affixed his signature at the bottom. After closing the file folder he asked, “What else?”

“For openers, I’d like you to tell me why that warehouse was torched last night.” Evan had decided to turn on his ‘bad Evan’ persona to indicate his concern. “Since we work closely together, sir, I should have been consulted.”

“It’s not your name that’s being bantered about,” Marv replied. “I’ve got to get this investigation stopped or all hell will break loose. If this asshole Kess continues, everything could go down…including your job.”

“My job is hardly the issue,” Evan said with a steely edge in his voice. “For Christ’s sake, Mr. Revson, the fire just jacked up the story that we wanted to go away. I don’t have to tell you what Cooke and Channel 7 have been doing…including their network.”

“Don’t bust my balls, mister. It didn’t get much play in the newspapers.” Marv leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his protruding belly.

“And I won’t point out the obvious. The Trib and the Sun-Times aren’t your problem. It’s the jackals on cable that will run with this…and the regular local broadcast guys like Cooke. It’s gotten to the point where cable channels are helping create the news and you’re playing right into their hands.”

“Okay, okay. Point taken.” Marv leaned forward and continued in a lower voice. “I’ve got…silent partners who aren’t so patient and I had to take some action. Even though Sean passed on that City Hall wouldn’t be a problem, I had to do something to keep these…other guys off my back. They’re a bunch of schmucks – ‘shmendriks’ – but results are expected.”

Evan weighed these comments for a moment. The Yiddish aside, of which he knew only a few words, he assumed the worst and that Marv was up to his greedy, double-chinned neck with some bad-news mob guys. The goons he’d observed fit into place. “I don’t want to know about this…except how to protect you. I think it’s time for you to disappear for a while and cover your tracks. Like Mr. O’Reilly.”

“I can’t and…”

“Bullshit. You can and will,” Evan snapped back, as he ratcheted up his resolve another notch. “It’s important that you distance yourself from this fiasco.” He took a deep breath and added, “Whatever’s going down with your…friends needs to happen with you out of town…somewhere distant where you can’t be pegged as being involved. Got it?”

Over the intercom a woman’s voice said, “Mr. Revson, there’s a reporter and a cameraman from Channel 2 in the outer office asking for you. What should I do?”

“Stall,” Evan said. “Have the receptionist play like she’s trying to track down Mr. Revson.”

Marv frowned and looked at Evan, then keyed the intercom to give the woman instructions about ‘trying’ to track him down and not succeeding.

“Good, now gimme your keys.” Evan looked sternly at his boss. “I’m going out the back door to get your car. As soon as you see me, head out the back and I’ll drive you safely…to the destination of your choosing…to give you some distance. Think about where you wanna go while I’m gone. Probably not your home. I’m thinking a hotel that has room service and other amenities if you have to lay low for a while.”

“What…”

“We can talk about it when we’re in the car. But it’s time to disappear for a while. Okay?”

“Yeah, it’ll give me time.”

Evan felt Marvin's stare lasered at his back as he left the office by the back door.

With the office located at the corner of the building, Evan was able to quickly walk around to the front parking lot in a matter of moments. He spotted Marv’s Mercedes, a dark gray E550, in its usual space near the front door and noticed the CBS2 van parked in the loading zone. Evan slowed his pace and confirmed that no one was sitting in the van. Fortunately, the Mercedes didn’t have vanity plates and the parking space wasn’t specifically identified other than by number.

Rather than use the remote door key which would cause the car to beep and flash lights, Evan casually walked up to the driver’s door and opened it the old fashioned way. ‘So far, so good.’ He slid into the seat, closed the door and started the E550. He backed out and slowly drove to the rear of the building. From the rearview mirror he noticed an ABC7 truck turn into the parking lot. ‘Timing’s everything. Marv’s getting away in the nick of it.’

As he pulled up at the back office door, Evan decided that he’d cab it back later and pick up his car. ‘Gotta try on my new shirts and sweater tonight.’

 _______________________

TO BE CONTINUED

Footnote: Rob's comment about being an "overpaid" anchor may have been in jest, but consider the current payscales in the television industry. Network talent - Couric, Williams, Sawyer - are paid at the fifteen-million dollar level. The primetime, star local anchors in New York and Los Angeles are drawing around five-million dollars. Chicago, the third largest TV market, is somewhat lower; in Rob's case, probably around 1.2 million dollars. However, with the current flux in the economy and drifting viewship, these figures may soon be history.

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