The Bodies Left Behind

retrieved when Morgan found himself near a trash can. “I know it’s late. I’d just like a minute of your time.”
    Morgan’s eyes swept around the parking lot. Meaning, Here, now? Friday night? He hit the key fob and with a click the Mercedes unlocked.
    “Stanley Mankewitz didn’t have the balls to come himself? Doesn’t surprise me.” Morgan sat down in the front seat, the car sagging, but he left the door open. He looked Jasons up and down, from the delicate shoes to the size-36 suit to the rock-hard knot in the striped tie. “You’re a lawyer?”
    “I’m in the legal department.”
    “Ah. There’s a distinction for you,” Morgan said. “You go to law school?”
    “Yes.”
    “Where?”
    “Yale.”
    Morgan grimaced. He wore a pinky ring that probablyhad a DePaul crest on it. Well, Jasons hadn’t brought up the alma mater issue. “Tell me what your noble leader wants and then scoot off.”
    “Sure,” Jasons said agreeably. “We’re aware that your company hasn’t been particularly supportive of Mr. Mankewitz and the union during this difficult time.”
    “It’s a federal investigation, for Christ’s sake. Why the fuck would I want to support him?”
    “Your employees are members of his union.”
    “That’s their choice.”
    “About the investigation—you know that no charges have been filed.” A good-natured smile on Jasons’s face. “There are a few officials looking into some allegations.”
    “Officials? It’s the fucking FBI. Look, I don’t know what you’re after here. But we’re a legitimate business. Look out there.” He waved toward the brilliantly lit cranes. “Our customers know we’re a union shop and that the head of that union, Stanley Mankewitz, is under investigation. They’re worried that we’re involved in something illegal.”
    “You can tell them the truth. That Mr. Mankewitz hasn’t been indicted for anything. Every union in the history of the country has been investigated at one point or another.”
    “Which tells you something about unions,” Morgan muttered.
    “Or about people who don’t like the common folk standing up for their right to fair pay for hard work,” Jasons replied evenly, remaining close to the man despite the odor of garlic rising on Morgan’s breath. “Besides, even if Mr. Mankewitz was found guilty of something, which is highly unlikely, I’m sure your customers wouldbe able to draw the distinction between a man and his organization. Enron, after all, was ninety-nine percent hardworking people and a few bad apples.”
    “Again, ‘hardworking.’ Mr. Jason . . . Jasons? With an s ? Mr. Jasons, you don’t understand. You ever hear of Homeland Security? . . . We’re in the business of moving shipping containers. Any hint of something wrong with the people we’re connected to and everybody goes right to anthrax in our warehouses or a nuclear bomb or something. Customers’re going to go elsewhere. And your hardworking common folk’ll lose their fucking jobs. I repeat my question. What the hell do you want?”
    “Just some information. Nothing illegal, nothing classified, nothing sensitive. A few technical things. I’ve written them down.” A slip of paper appeared in Jasons’s gloved hand and he gave it to Morgan.
    “If it’s nothing classified or sensitive, look it up yourself.” Morgan let the slip float to the damp asphalt.
    “Ah.”
    Morgan studied the thin, smiling face closely. He laughed hard and ran his hand through his thinning black hair. “So, what’s this, like, The Sopranos ? Only, instead of sending Paulie or Chris to extort me, Mankewitz picks a scrawny little asshole like you. That the plan? You whine at me until I cave?” He leaned forward and laughed. “I could fuck you up with one hand. I’ve got half a mind to do it. Send you back to your boss with a broken nose.”
    Again, a good-natured grimace. “You look like you could, Mr. Morgan. I haven’t been in a fight in probably twenty years. School yard. And I got whipped pretty bad.”
    “You’re not worth the sweat,” the man snapped. “Sowhat’s next? The big boys come back with lead pipes? You think that scares me?”
    “No, no, there’s nobody else coming. It’s only me here and now, this one time. Asking if you’ll help us out. Just this once. Nobody’ll bother you again.”
    “Well, I’m not helping you out. Now get the fuck off our property.”
    “Thanks for your time, Mr. Morgan.” Jasons started to walk