Free Death Logs In by E.J. Simon

plate, Michael gazed at the filet of bison with foie gras and Perigord black truffles. On any other night, with any other company, he would salivate over the prospect of the first bite. Not tonight. He knew Sindy was having a better time, alone.
    As they began to bite into their entrees, Richard broke the silence. “I do have some good news, Michael. Something that I think will ease your qualms.” Then, looking at Bishop McCarthy, he added, “Perhaps, Bishop, you’d like to break the news?”
    Bishop McCarthy swallowed hard on his bite of well-done filet mignon while a tiny amount of its yellow béarnaise sauce seeped out of the corner of his mouth. After two or three seconds, he recovered and picked up on Perkins’ cue. “Yes, Michael. We are very excited about this. And, I agree with Richard, it will ease some of your concerns regarding how we treat your employees or, as I suggest we call them, ‘the Lord’s assets.’ ”
    Michael looked over at Sindy’s table, wishing he was sitting in the empty seat facing her and enjoying his tender buffalo steak. Instead, he knew he was trapped in enemy territory. He looked at the bishop, trying to conceal the sarcasm that he feared was betraying him. “I can’t wait to hear.”
    McCarthy was anxious to speak. “As you may know, Gibraltar was going to make a modest contribution to St. Joseph’s School here in the Bronx, my parish. Instead, in a bold gesture of genius, John came up with an even better approach. One that not only helps our underprivileged Catholic school children but will also improve the perception of our new, post-merger organization. At the same time as the merger is announced, we will disclose an even larger contribution—ten million dollars—by Cartan Holdings and Gibraltar Financial to build a new church and school on the lot adjacent to our rectory. So, you see, Michael, while we may have some negative publicity regarding the layoffs, many more needy children and parishioners will benefit from your generosity.”
    Michael was tempted to ask him right then and there about the dead kids, but he knew he couldn’t prove anything and would only wind up prematurely revealing his hand—and his plan to bring an end to everything threatening him and his family.
    Thankfully, the waiter approached the table. Looking at Michael he asked, “How is everything so far this evening?”
    Looking around at the table, Michael simply smiled and said, “Everything is perfect, thank you.”
    He looked for Sindy, but her table had already been cleared.

Chapter 17

    Chapter 17
    New York City

    I t didn’t take long for Michael to explain everything that had gone on at dinner. After all, Sindy observed most of it, and even though she couldn’t hear the conversation, by closely watching the four men, their body language, their facial expressions, the glances exchanged and ignored, the food devoured or left in disgust, she had an excellent idea of everything that had transpired.
    After several after-dinner drinks that Michael served in the living room of his St. Regis suite, they resumed their talk while sitting up, half-naked, against the large down pillows on the plush king-sized bed. Although he was feeling the limoncellos, he was still wired from the dinner discussions. He reached over to the side of the bed and, touching the control panel, dimmed the lights to create a soothing atmosphere.
    “I’ve got a plan. Have you ever been to Rome?”
    “Yes, a number of years ago. What’s the plan and how soon do we leave?”
    “I’m not sure yet. Originally, I was going to have Richard Perkins or some others use their connections to make some introductions for me with a cardinal and his aide, a monsignor; they’re the ones protecting Sharkey. It was to be under the guise of a Gibraltar initiative. But I realize now that I’ve got to get higher, above them.”
    “Did you ever think that maybe you’re being too slow, too corporate in how you’re approaching