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CHAPTER

44

THE SAME helicopter that brought the foreign newspapers daily to Mason Verger also brought Deputy Assistant Inspector General Paul Krendler to Muskrat Farm.

Mason’s malign presence and his darkened chamber with its hissing and sighing machinery and its ever-moving eel would have made Krendler uneasy enough, but he also had to sit through the video of Pazzi’s death again and again.

Seven times Krendler watched the Viggerts orbit the David, saw Pazzi plunge and his bowels fall out. By the seventh time, Krendler expected David’s bowels to fall out too.

Finally the bright overhead lights came on in the seating area of Mason’s room, hot on top of Krendler’s head and shining off his scalp through the thinning brush cut.

The Vergers have an unparalleled understanding of piggishness, so Mason began with what Krendler wanted for himself. Mason spoke out of the dark, his sentences measured by the stroke of his respirator.

“I don’t need to hear … your whole platform … how much money will it take?”

Krendler wanted to talk privately with Mason, but they were not alone in the room. A broad-shouldered figure, terrifically muscled, loomed in black outline against the glowing aquarium. The idea of a bodyguard

hearing them made Krendler nervous.

“I’d rather it was just us talking, do you mind asking him to leave?”

“This is my sister, Margot,” Mason said. “She can stay.”

Margot came out of the darkness, her bicycle pants whistling.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Krendler said, half-rising from his chair.

“Hello,” she said, but instead of taking Krendler’s outstretched hand, Margot picked up two walnuts from the bowl on the table and, squeezing them together in her fist until they cracked loudly, returned to the gloom in front of the aquarium where presumably she ate them. Krendler could hear the hulls dropping to the floor.

“Oookay, let’s hear it,” Mason said.

“For me to unseat Lowenstein in the twenty-seventh district, ten million dollars minimum.” Krendler crossed his legs and looked off somewhere into the dark. He didn’t know if Mason could see him. “I’d need that much just for media. But I guarantee you he’s vulnerable. I’m in a position to know.”

“What’s his thing?”

“We’ll just say his conduct has—”

“Well, is it money or snatch?”

Krendler didn’t feel comfortable saying “snatch” in front of Margot, though it didn’t seem to bother Mason. “He’s married and he’s had a longtime affair with a state court of appeals judge. The judge has ruled in favor of some of his contributors. The rulings are probably coincidence, but when TV convicts him that’s all I’ll need.”

“The judge a woman?” Margot asked.

Krendler nodded. Not sure Mason could see him, he added, “Yes. A woman.”

“Too bad,” Mason said. “It would be better if he was a queer, wouldn’t it, Margot? Still, you can’t sling that crap yourself, Krendler. It can’t come from you.”

“We’ve put together a plan that offers the voters …”

“You can’t sling the crap yourself,” Mason said again.

“I’ll just make sure the Judicial Review Board knows where to look, so it’ll stick to Lowenstein when it hits him. Are you saying you can help me?”

“I can help you with half of it.”

“Five?”

“Let’s not just toss it off like ‘five.’ Let’s say it with the respect it deserves—-five million dollars. The Lord has blessed me with this money. And with it I will do His will: You get it only if Hannibal Lecter falls cleanly into my hands.” Mason breathed for a few beats. “If that happens, you’ll be Mr. Congressman Krendler of the twenty-seventh district, free and clear, and all I’ll ever ask you to do is oppose the Humane Slaughter Act. If the FBI gets Lecter, the cops grab him someplace and he gets off with lethal injection, it’s been nice to know you.”