Deadman's Bluff - James Swain [89]
He went to the law firm’s Web site, found the photo section, and scrolled through the players. It was a big firm, and according to the home page, specialized in legal representation for white-collar fraud. Big bucks, he guessed.
He stopped scrolling on Russo’s picture. It was small, and had a short biography beneath it. He dragged the mouse over Russo’s picture and clicked on it. The picture enlarged, filling the screen. DeMarco picked up the laptop with both hands. Holding the screen a few inches from his face, he stared hard. Russo looked to be in his late forties, with a heavy face, blunt nose, connected eyebrows, and an engaging smile. There was no family resemblance at all. None.
DeMarco felt something drop in his stomach, and he placed the laptop back on the desk. Russo was a fake, and so was the woman claiming to be his aunt. They were scammers, out to make a score.
“Go to hell,” he said to the screen.
He shrunk Russo’s picture back to its original size, then felt the tension trapped in his body escape. He’d stayed up half the night for nothing.
His eyelids suddenly felt heavy. He needed to get some sleep. The tournament was down to twenty-six players, and by tomorrow night, he expected to be sipping champagne with Uncle George, the title of world’s best poker player firmly his.
As he stared to turn off the laptop, he noticed Russo’s biography on the screen and lowered his face to have a look. Maybe when he got back home, he’d take Guido along with him and pay Russo a visit.
Christopher Charles Russo (nickname Skip)
Christopher Russo is a partner in Hamilton Pepper
Russo LLP, resident in the Philadelphia office. He concentrates his practice in defending companies against frivolous class-action lawsuits. Most recently he had a $100 million lawsuit against the Acme Styrofoam Cup Company of Philadelphia overturned. The law suit had been brought by a hundred plaintiffs whose fingers were singed by hot coffee served in the company’s cups.
Russo earned his Bachelor of Arts, magna cum laude, from St. Joseph, and his law degree, cum laude, from Villanova University School of Law. He is admitted to practice law in both Pennsylvania and New Jersey.
Russo is an avid poker player, and put himself through school playing cards. In 2002, he was named by Philadelphia Magazine as one of the city’s most eligible bachelors. His other hobbies include listening to music and exercising.
DeMarco felt light-headed, and leaned back in his chair. It was all there, like a genetic fingerprint. Poker, music, working out. All the things Christopher Charles Russo loved were the things he loved. Even their nick names were the same. That couldn’t be a coincidence.
He dragged the cursor on his computer across the screen, and returned to Hamilton Pepper Russo’s home page. At the top was the firm’s address and main phone number. He memorized the number, then shut down his computer.
Crossing the room, he retrieved the sheets from the floor, and climbed into bed. He lay absolutely still and felt something swell up in his chest. It was three hours later back east, and he imagined Russo at his desk right now, the tireless defender. He took the phone off the night table, placed it on his chest, and punched in zero.
“How can I help you, Mr. DeMarco?” a hotel operator said brightly.
“I’d like to make a long distance call.”
“My pleasure, Mr. DeMarco.”
He recited Hamilton Pepper Russo’s telephone number to the operator, and she made the call for him. The room had turned chilly, and as the call went through, he felt the receiver’s icy plastic against his chin.
“Hamilton Pepper Russo LLC, can I help you?” a male receptionist answered.
“Is Christopher Russo in?”
“I believe he is,” the receptionist said.
“Put me through to him.”
The receptionist forwarded his call.
“Christopher Russo’s office,” a female secretary answered.
DeMarco hesitated. As far back as he could remember, he’d imagined that one day he’d track his father down, and have a talk with him. Now the moment had come, and he didn’t have the slightest