Secret Prey

day. A few people came and went; McDonald stared at a computer screen while Audrey read Vogue . Then Jack O’Grady came down, smiled at Audrey, and said, ‘‘Wilson, could you step back into The Room for a minute?’’
    Audrey patted him on the back and Wilson followed O’Grady out the door.
    ‘‘Going to the Gophers game?’’ O’Grady asked.
    ‘‘Always do,’’ McDonald said brightly. ‘‘Good year, bad year, I don’t care . . .’’
    But he trailed off when he walked through the door. Bone was already sitting at the long conference table, but this time he was wearing a dark banker’s suit with a thin chalk stripe. And he’d shaved.
    ‘‘Wilson, sit down,’’ said Brandt, and McDonald’s stomach turned. He sat down. ‘‘Wilson, we’ve decided we need to get a new leader in place immediately; somebody who can handle the bank and give us a single voice to speak with. We’ve elected you and Jim Bone to the board of directors. I’ll be taking over as the board chairman, and if you’ll accept the job, you’ll be vice chairman, as well as maintaining the presidency of the mortgage arm. We’ve asked Jim to take over as president and chief executive officer. And we’ve directed him to continue with the merger plans.’’
    Brandt looked at Bone, then back to McDonald. ‘‘So that’s it. Welcome to the board.’’
    ‘‘I, uh . . .’’ McDonald shook his head as if he’d been struck. Vice chairman: he was dead meat. ‘‘I, uh, thank you.’’
    BAKI MET HIM IN THE HALL, EYES WIDE, ALMOST VIBRATING with caffeine and anxiety, Bone thought, and demanded, ‘‘Well?’’
    He grinned. ‘‘I got it. Brandt is chairman, for now, and McDonald is vice chairman. For now.’’
    She smiled back and six years’ worth of frost melted for a moment: ‘‘I’m very pleased for you, Mr. Bone.’’
    ‘‘Jim.’’
    ‘‘Not yet,’’ she said; she refrosted.
    ‘‘And we have to talk about that favor.’’
    ‘‘Tomorrow,’’ she said. ‘‘I’ve got some more thinking to do, and we’ve got some work. I should call Spacek, and tell him that you’re now the man to deal with on the merger.’’
    ‘‘That’s the first thing,’’ he said. ‘‘Second thing is, we’ve got to start talking about how to screw the merger.’’
    ‘‘That’s not entirely consistent with your previous position,’’ she said, with absolute equanimity.
    ‘‘I didn’t used to be the CEO,’’ he said. ‘‘So let’s go. We’re gonna need coffee and cookies. We’ve got some minor receiving to do.’’
    ‘‘Down in your office,’’ she said. ‘‘I ordered everything we’ll need this morning.’’

SIXTEEN

    ST. PAUL POLICE HEADQUARTERS RESEMBLES A Depression-era WPA post office, but with new windows. Lucas dumped his Porsche in a reserved-parking space at the front of the building and went inside to a glass security window, where a woman at the desk didn’t recognize him, didn’t care about his Minneapolis ID, wasn’t sure that Lieutenant Mayberry had time to see him, and told him to take a seat in the reception area next to a kid with green hair.
    Lucas sat down, said, ‘‘Nice hair,’’ crossed his legs, and stared at the opposite wall. The kid, whose brain was moving in slow motion, struggled with the sentiment for twenty seconds before he said, ‘‘Thanks, dude,’’ with sincerity.
    Lucas waited another twenty seconds, then asked, ‘‘What’re you here for?’’
    Another twenty seconds and the kid said, ‘‘Fuckin’ smokin’ weed.’’
    ‘‘Were you doing it?’’ Lucas asked.
    ‘‘Fuckin’ yeah.’’
    THE CONVERSATION WITHERED AFTER THAT; THEN Mayberry pushed through the security door and said, ‘‘Hey, Lucas, what’re you doing out here?’’ Mayberry had a head the size and shape of a gallon milk jug, right down to the handle, which was a tiny blond ponytail tied into his hair at the back. He pushed through the security door and said, ‘‘Come on back . . . How ya been, I haven’t seen you since that goat-fuck over at Ronnie White’s place.’’
    ‘‘Ah, ups and downs,’’ Lucas said. ‘‘You heard about Weather?’’
    ‘‘You mean the bomb? Yeah, in the paper—and somebody said you guys busted up.’’
    ‘‘I don’t know, we’re kind of working on things.’’
    ‘‘She’s a good one,’’ Mayberry said. He guided Lucas to an elevator, up a couple of floors and into a meeting room with a dozen chairs with red plastic