a large sweaty hand.
I made a conscious effort not to wipe my hand on my pants.
"Mr. Harwood, thank you so much for coming. It's a pleasure to be able to speak to you at last."
"I've been available, Mr. Sebastian," I said. "You're the one who's been hard to get hold of."
He laughed. "Please, call me Elmont. May I call you David?"
"Of course," I said.
"I love feeding the ducks," he said. "I love watching them gobble it down."
"Yeah," I said.
"When I was a boy, I had a summer job working on a farm," he said, tossing more kernels, watching the ducks lunge forward and fight over them. "I grew to love God's creatures back then."
He turned and pointed to the table, where a couple of take-out coffees sat in a box filled with creams, sugars, and wooden sticks. "I didn't know what you took in yours, so it's black. Help yourself to what you need."
He turned himself around and tucked his legs under the table as I took a seat opposite him. I didn't reach for a coffee, but did go into my pocket for a notepad and pen. "I've left several messages for you."
Sebastian glanced across the park lawn at Welland, who was standing guard by the limo. "What do you think of him?" he asked.
I shrugged. "Model citizen."
Another laugh. "Isn't he, though? I'm very proud of him."
"Why did you pay for Stan Reeves's trip to Florence?" I asked. "Is that standard policy? To reward people in advance who'll be voting on your plans?"
"That's good." He nodded. "You get right to it. I appreciate that. I like directness. I'm not one to pussyfoot around."
"If you can find another way to say it, you can put off answering my question even longer."
Elmont Sebastian chuckled and pried off one of the coffee lids and poured in three creams. "As it turns out, this is exactly why I was hoping to meet with you. To deal with that question. I brought you here to show you something."
He reached into his suit jacket and withdrew an envelope that had his name written on it. The flap was tucked in, not glued. He pulled it back, withdrew a check, and handed it to me.
Was this how Elmont Sebastian operated? He cut reporters checks to back off?
I took it in my hand and saw that it was not made out to me, but to him. And it was written on the personal account of Stan Reeves, in the amount of $4,763.09. The date in the upper right corner was two days ago.
"I know you think you were onto something where Councilor Reeves is concerned," he said. "That he accepted a free side trip to Italy from me, but nothing could be further from the truth. I had already rented a couple of rooms in Florence, expecting to entertain friends, but they had to cancel at the last minute, so I said to Mr. Reeves, while we were still in England, that he was welcome to take the extra room. And he was pleased to do so, but he made it very clear to me that he was not able to accept any gifts or gratuities. That would put him in an untenable position, and of course I understood completely. But the reservation was all paid for, so we made arrangements that he would settle up with me upon his return. And there's the check that proves it."
"Well," I said, handing it back, "I'll be damned."
Elmont Sebastian smiled, revealing an uneven top row of teeth. "I would have felt terrible had you gone ahead with a story that impugned the reputation of Mr. Reeves. And myself, for that matter, but I am used to having my name besmirched by the press. But to see Mr. Reeves harmed--it would have been my fault entirely."
"Isn't it great that that's all cleared up," I said.
He returned the check to its envelope and slipped it back into his coat. "David, I'm very concerned you may not appreciate what my company is trying to do. I get the sense from your stories you think there's something inherently evil about a private prison."
A for-profit prison," I said.
"I'm not denying it," Sebastian said, taking a sip of coffee. "Profit is not a dirty word, you know. Nothing immoral with rewarding people financially for a
I made a conscious effort not to wipe my hand on my pants.
"Mr. Harwood, thank you so much for coming. It's a pleasure to be able to speak to you at last."
"I've been available, Mr. Sebastian," I said. "You're the one who's been hard to get hold of."
He laughed. "Please, call me Elmont. May I call you David?"
"Of course," I said.
"I love feeding the ducks," he said. "I love watching them gobble it down."
"Yeah," I said.
"When I was a boy, I had a summer job working on a farm," he said, tossing more kernels, watching the ducks lunge forward and fight over them. "I grew to love God's creatures back then."
He turned and pointed to the table, where a couple of take-out coffees sat in a box filled with creams, sugars, and wooden sticks. "I didn't know what you took in yours, so it's black. Help yourself to what you need."
He turned himself around and tucked his legs under the table as I took a seat opposite him. I didn't reach for a coffee, but did go into my pocket for a notepad and pen. "I've left several messages for you."
Sebastian glanced across the park lawn at Welland, who was standing guard by the limo. "What do you think of him?" he asked.
I shrugged. "Model citizen."
Another laugh. "Isn't he, though? I'm very proud of him."
"Why did you pay for Stan Reeves's trip to Florence?" I asked. "Is that standard policy? To reward people in advance who'll be voting on your plans?"
"That's good." He nodded. "You get right to it. I appreciate that. I like directness. I'm not one to pussyfoot around."
"If you can find another way to say it, you can put off answering my question even longer."
Elmont Sebastian chuckled and pried off one of the coffee lids and poured in three creams. "As it turns out, this is exactly why I was hoping to meet with you. To deal with that question. I brought you here to show you something."
He reached into his suit jacket and withdrew an envelope that had his name written on it. The flap was tucked in, not glued. He pulled it back, withdrew a check, and handed it to me.
Was this how Elmont Sebastian operated? He cut reporters checks to back off?
I took it in my hand and saw that it was not made out to me, but to him. And it was written on the personal account of Stan Reeves, in the amount of $4,763.09. The date in the upper right corner was two days ago.
"I know you think you were onto something where Councilor Reeves is concerned," he said. "That he accepted a free side trip to Italy from me, but nothing could be further from the truth. I had already rented a couple of rooms in Florence, expecting to entertain friends, but they had to cancel at the last minute, so I said to Mr. Reeves, while we were still in England, that he was welcome to take the extra room. And he was pleased to do so, but he made it very clear to me that he was not able to accept any gifts or gratuities. That would put him in an untenable position, and of course I understood completely. But the reservation was all paid for, so we made arrangements that he would settle up with me upon his return. And there's the check that proves it."
"Well," I said, handing it back, "I'll be damned."
Elmont Sebastian smiled, revealing an uneven top row of teeth. "I would have felt terrible had you gone ahead with a story that impugned the reputation of Mr. Reeves. And myself, for that matter, but I am used to having my name besmirched by the press. But to see Mr. Reeves harmed--it would have been my fault entirely."
"Isn't it great that that's all cleared up," I said.
He returned the check to its envelope and slipped it back into his coat. "David, I'm very concerned you may not appreciate what my company is trying to do. I get the sense from your stories you think there's something inherently evil about a private prison."
A for-profit prison," I said.
"I'm not denying it," Sebastian said, taking a sip of coffee. "Profit is not a dirty word, you know. Nothing immoral with rewarding people financially for a
Similar Books
