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Sparring Partners(8)

Author:John Grisham

“Never heard of Luke.”

“We adopted him. A long story.”

“I have some of those.”

“I’m sure.”

“I miss my girls.” A waiter appeared and asked about drinks. Jake was open to anything but was relieved when Mack said, “Just water.” Jake nodded his agreement.

When the waiter left, Jake asked, “What’s your name around here? I’m sure no one calls you Mack.”

He smiled and took a sip. “Well, I have several names, but here it’s Marco.”

Jake took a sip and waited for an explanation. “Okay, Marco, what’s your story?”

“Brazilian, of German extraction. That’s why I don’t look like a native. I’m from southern Brazil, lots of Germans down there. A businessman with several interests in Central America. I move around a lot.”

“What’s the name on your passport?”

“Which one?”

Jake smiled and took another sip. “Look, I’m not going to dig, and I presume I’m supposed to know only what you’re willing to tell me. Right?”

“Right. A lot has happened in the past three years and most of it is irrelevant as far as you’re concerned.”

“Fair enough.”

“You’ve talked to Harry Rex?”

“Of course. I showed him your letter. He’s in the loop.”

“How’s that fat slob doing?”

“The same. Though I think he’s getting meaner.”

“Didn’t think that was possible. Let’s talk about him later.”

The waiter was back and Mack ordered shrimp salads. When he left, Mack leaned on his elbows and said, “I left in the middle of the night, as you know, and fled the country. First stop was Belize, where I lived for about a year. I liked it there, spent the first three months drinking too much, chasing girls, roasting on the beach. But that got old. I did a lot of bone fishing, also permit and tarpon. I got a job as a fishing guide and really liked that. I was always careful, always watching for tourists, guests at the lodge, fishermen, somebody from home. It’s amazing what you can hear when you listen hard enough. A Southern drawl, and my radar was up. I checked the books at the lodge to see who was coming in, and steered clear of anybody from Mississippi. They were few and far between. Most of my fishermen were from the Northeast. I assumed nothing, but I figured I was safe. I grew a beard, got a dark tan, lost twenty pounds, always wore a cap or a hat.”

“Your accent has changed.”

“Yes, and it wasn’t easy. I talk to myself a lot, for many reasons, and I’m always practicing. Anyway, I had a scare and decided to leave Belize.”

“What happened?”

“One night there was a table of men, older guys, having dinner at the lodge. They were staying next door, fishing, and having a great time. All from the South. I recognized one, a circuit judge from Biloxi. The Honorable Harold Massey. Ever meet him?”

“No, but I’ve heard the name. It’s a small state.”

“It is. Too small. I was at the bar, hitting on a girl, not far from the dining patio. We made eye contact and he gave me a look. I’ve always figured that most of the lawyers and judges in the state knew my story. He eventually left the table for the restroom and walked by me. I thought he stared a bit too long. I kept my cool but I really freaked. So, I eased out of town, left Belize, and made my way to Panama, stayed there a few months. I gotta tell you, Jake, life on the run is not that great.”

“How do you know Lisa is sick?”

Mack smiled and shrugged and sat back in his chair. “I have a mole back there, an old friend from high school who married a girl from Clanton. You know how the gossip gets around.”

“Harry Rex swears he’s had no contact.”

“True. I figured the people who wanted to find me might watch my lawyer. There’s been no contact with anyone who might make a mistake. No contact until now.”

“Who might be looking for you?”

“That’s why you’re here, Jake. I want to go home, but I can’t risk any danger of getting caught.”

The salads arrived, large bamboo plates with shrimp salad on beds of leafy greens. They ate for a moment. Jake asked, “So why did you contact me?”

“Because I trust you. Can’t say that for most of the old bar. How many lawyers in Clanton now?”

“I don’t know. Thirty, forty, maybe more. They come and go. Unlike most towns in the state, Clanton is not dying. Not exactly thriving, but hanging on.”

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