“Sounds good. I need to make a few phone calls,” Jo responded.
As soon as Omar left the office Dzuy chastised Jo. “Who is even going to give this guy the drug and where are you going to leave him?”
Jo glanced down at the huge stack of cash bulging out of the folder under her desk, smiling at Dzuy. “I will.” She held up her hand. “And don’t worry - I have a plan.”
Chapter 24
Jo whispered towards her chest, “Can you hear me?” She looked at her form-fitting, grey cashmere sweater and thought Dzuy just made it to second base in the least romantic way possible.
Her phone vibrated. [Yes. Try speaking straight ahead].
Instinctively Jo turned her head to look out the window to look for Dzuy and Omar.
[We’re here. You can bail if you’re having second thoughts].
Jo looked at her little saké cup full of clean, lukewarm saké, then let her eyes linger at the carafe she had just funneled four ground-up roofies into. She picked it up and swirled it around, looking forward to having a drink to calm her nerves. She did the same to the large Sapporo beer with two ground up pills in it. The dosage was higher than Omar’s because it didn’t quite knock Omar out, just made him really want to sleep. Brad was much larger, plus Jo would be taking a share of the pills.
She looked at her watch. Ten minutes until Brad was supposed to meet her at this downtown sushi restaurant. The timing worked out. With the lunch rush over and the happy hour crowd still away, Jo was one of the few patrons in the dark concrete floored, exposed metal beamed, modern mid-sized restaurant.
A booth would have been ideal, affording Jo more privacy, but the restaurant only had tables, to create an open and airy atmosphere. A few minutes ago, Jo had confidently filled her saké and beer glasses then pulled out a previously opened package of RecoverORS, a supposed hangover relief powder that had been switched to the roofie, and poured two thirds into the saké carafe and one third into the beer bottle.
She took a small sip of her clean beer in her glass then glanced at her watch. The anticipation was making her hand tremble as she set her beer glass down.
Jo looked out the window and saw a sedan pull over. Out of the back seat popped Brad Gecina.
“Holy…” Jo whispered to herself.
[You got this], read the text on her phone. She put her phone in her purse and picked up her beer for another small sip.
She saw Brad approach and chose not to stand to shake his hand.
“Hi,” Brad said with a light chuckle and grin as he took his chair opposite Jo.
Jo took a gulp of beer, then set her half-full glass down. “Hello Brad.”
With a noticeable tremble in her hand, Jo picked up the large beer and refilled her glass. She nodded at Brad.
“Sure.”
Jo picked up his glass and filled it completely.
“Everything okay?” Brad asked her.
She took a very small sip of beer, then shook her head. She picked up the saké carafe and nodded at Brad.
“Okay.”
She filled his little saké cup. Raising her saké cup, she shrugged. Brad picked up his cup and held it out of Jo to clink. Jo didn’t clink, she took the shot of saké, set her cup down and had another small sip of her partially-roofied beer.
Brad took his shot and had a big sip of beer. “I didn’t know you were this much of a drinker.”
“I’m not. Honestly, I’m surprised I even called you and can’t believe I’m here.”
“That makes two of us.” Brad picked up the saké carafe and filled up their little cups.
Jo leaned forward slightly and stared at the button on Brad’s gray striped shirt where her microphone would be if he was wearing it instead of her. “I know about you and Cassie. I made it possible. I had a big part, so I want a small share.”
Brad froze.
Jo’s heart pounded as she waited for him to respond. For him to do something. Anything.
Displaying no emotion, Brad picked up his saké cup and said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He took the shot of saké and set his cup back down.
Jo filled his saké cup from the carafe. “Look,” she said, resting both her hands on the table, “I’m not talking about a huge chunk, something like five percent.”
Brad looked around the restaurant, leaned closer to Jo and quietly said, “Why would you want to talk about anything confidential outside of your office?”
“I wasn’t sure how you’d react. You’re a big strong guy. I saw the marks on Cassie’s neck.” Jo picked up her beer. “And maybe a touch of nerves.” She took a tiny sip.
Jo felt Brad’s eyes study her so she took another small sip of beer and set the glass down.
“What makes you think I’ve got any chance at getting money from this?”
Fearing that too many lies would give her away, she went with the truth. “Marcos Omar told me. And I don’t think he’s the kind of guy to make things up.”
Brad retreated into his chair. “No. He’s not.” He picked up his saké cup and gulped it down.
Jo reached forward and filled Brad’s saké cup again, giving an exaggerated sigh. “What happened might really set my law practice back. Prosecutors won’t want to cut deals with me. I’m not asking for anything huge, just a little to help me bridge the gap until this blows over.”
“That’s it?” Brad asked softly.
Jo nodded. “And maybe to figure out how you set everything up so perfectly. I like to think I’m pretty smart. But I had no idea,” Jo said with a smile. She was feeling a little looser, maybe it was the clean beer and saké, maybe the tiny bit of drugs. Maybe it was her belief that Brad was buying this entirely. Something had Jo feeling pretty good.
Brad sighed, “It’s not over yet. Talking to Omar was a bad idea. I knew it. Just, I mean. You know.”
“Yeah. I mean, I can guess. Big plan. Risky.” Jo playfully tussled with her hair. “It was bold. I mean really impressive.”
“Can I hire you again so the attorney…” Brad looked at the ceiling to search for the word.
“Client privilege,” Jo exclaimed a little too loud and excitedly as she tapped on the table.
“Yeah. That’s it.”
Jo picked up her saké cup and raised it up. Brad picked his up and clicked Jo’s glass. Jo sipped slowly as Brad slugged his whole glass down. She set her half-full cup back on the table as Brad slammed the last half of the beer in his glass.
“This is kind of embarrassing,” Jo said as she poured the last bit of saké from the carafe into Brad’s cup. “But I think I’ve already caught a buzz.”
Brad put his hand on his forehead. “Me, too.”
“Darn,” Jo whispered, leaning in across the table.
“What?” Brad responded leaning closer.
She whispered, “I had the perfect idea. I could be your lawyer on a contingent basis, but lawyers can’t do criminal cases on contingency.”
Brad whispered, “I don’t think you asking for money is legal.”
Jo giggled. “You’re right. We should go. We should go so we can talk somewhere in private.” Jo poured the last of the beer into Brad’s glass. She smiled at Brad, “You’re not mad at me for asking for a little, are you?”
Brad picked up his clear glass and looked at the beer. He brought it closer to his eye. “What the?”
“Brad, don’t play games. Can you understand why I’d ask?”
Brad looked Jo in the eyes. “I like how you did it friendly over drinks. How you didn’t ask for a set number. But I don’t like it.” His eyes drifted back to the glass. He skimmed his finger across the foam. When the bubbles broke there was a thin film left behind.
“What is it?” Jo asked and watched Brad lift his finger close to his eye.
He shrugged then gave it a sniff.
Jo picked up her beer and smelled it. “Smells fine,” she said and took another sip.
“Did I put salt on my beer? Was there a lot of foam?”
“I don’t think so.”
Brad licked the white flecks off his finger.
“Eww.” Jo said playfully.
Brad frowned, shaking his head. He picked up his last half-glass of beer and drained it. “Tasted like chalk.
“I bet it was a little bit of soap or something in the glass.”
Brad shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me.” He pointed at Jo’s nearly empty beer. “Want another?”
“Let’s go somewhere private so we can talk about working together.” Jo put her beer glass in front of her and put her half cup of saké in front of Brad. “Help me finish?”
Brad nodded and they both finished their drinks.
“Where we going?” Brad asked as he started reaching for his wallet.
“I got this,” Jo said and pulled out two twenty dollar bills from her purse. “My place is just over there.” She pointed through the window at an apartment complex.
“That works.” Brad scooted his chair back and nearly tipped over.
How much did I give him? Jo wondered as she stood up, feeling good. A little light-headed, but good. “You okay?”
“I think so. A little dizzy,” Brad said as he stood up. He put both his hands on his stomach. “A little walk might be nice. The beer isn’t playing well with the saké.”
“Let’s go. If you need it, I have a private bathroom for you.” Jo walked towards the exit with an unsteady Brad following behind.
As they walked down the block, Jo took Brad by the elbow to steady him. At a stoplight she asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Like the end of a long night. Tired. You got a Redbull?”
“Uh huh,” Jo nodded and grasped his elbow more firmly to cross the now green-light.
Jo held a key fob to the front entrance and the door to an apartment owned by Marcos Omar buzzed with acceptance.
Brad pulled the door open for Jo.
“Thanks.”
Brad nodded as he burped. It looked like he was focusing on not throwing up.
“Almost there. We’ll get you a glass of water,” Jo said with genuine concern. The drugs didn’t make Omar sick like this. Brad didn’t look like he was handling the drugs and alcohol well.
Jo led Brad across the black granite floor to the elevator of the upper middle class complex. She pressed floor six of seven, remembering the number for Omar’s unit, which would be unlocked.
Brad staggered into the barely furnished apartment. A large kitchen island with four bar-height, wrought iron chairs provided the only dining seating. A large, tan leather sofa and two matching recliners were set around a large flat-screen television a few feet away from the kitchen.
Jo helped Brad into the closer recliner, then went to set her purse on the kitchen island. She texted Dzuy, [Get here asap]. She set her phone down, went to the fridge and got a bottle of water.
She brought it to Brad, who had passed out.
“Brad?” Jo asked. “Brad?”
With no response, she took off his brown lace-up shoes. Getting no response to that, she patted his front pockets and tapped his phone. A few seconds later she was using his finger to unlock it.
“Gotcha,” Jo said and started scrolling through picture and video files.
Jo sat at the kitchen island, her back to Brad, trying to find the important files on his phone. She was having a hard time concentrating, but kept clicking on photos and videos, without luck, until she heard the door open.
Jo saw Dzuy and Omar approach. She waved excitedly, “Hey, guys. Got his phone open.”
“Where is he?” Dzuy asked, as he approached Jo.
She rotated her chair and pointed.
“He don’t look good,” Omar said, as he looked at Brad laying on the un-reclined recliner.
Jo handed the phone to Dzuy and walked closer. “You’re right.” She put her face right next to Brad’s. “He’s barely breathing.”
“Oh, shit,” Dzuy said. “That can’t be good.”
“It’s not,” Omar agreed.
“Should we call an ambulance?” Jo asked.
“Yes,” Dzuy said at the exact same time Omar answered, “No.”
“I’ve seen lots of messed up people,” Omar said as he walked closer. “Very few die from an overdose. I’ll bet he’s fine. If not, it’s not ideal, but I’ll take care of it.”
“Take care of what?” Jo asked.
“Huh?” Dzuy asked.
“We just pump some more drugs in him. Get him down to Mexico tonight so he’s found tomorrow. People will think he just OD’d. No big deal.”
“No, that is a big deal,” Jo said as she marched towards her phone and dialed a number.
“Don’t call 911,” Omar warned.
“I’m not. I’m calling a lawyer.”
“What the?” Dzuy asked.
“Hi, Aaron,” Jo said into the phone, and shushed Dzuy and Omar.
“Hey, Jo,” Aaron Baker replied.
“I kind of have an emergency. Any chance your wife is around?”
“She’s still sleeping, had a surgery late last night that ran through to this morning. She should be up soon.”
“Could you please wake her up? This is very important.” Jo sent a death glare to the questioning looks of Dzuy and Omar.
“Okay. Hold on.”
Jo held the phone low and whispered to the guys, “His wife is an ER doc. She’ll know if we’re okay.” She put the phone back to her ear and listened intently. It sounded like Aaron was speaking to his wife. Jo darted the phone low. “Dzuy, copy his phone now. Just in case we send him in the ambulance. This won’t be for nothing.”
With a look of disbelief, Dzuy looked down at Brad’s phone in his hand and saw it was unlocked. He went to the other side of the kitchen island, hooked it up to a laptop and started clicking and tapping.
Jo heard a groggy female voice. “Hello?”
“Hi, Tina. So sorry to bother you, but we have an emergency here and are trying to decide if we need to call an ambulance.”
“What happened?”
“A friend drank saké and beer, and took about five roofies. He looks passed out and is barely breathing.”
“How long ago?”
Jo looked at her watch. “Almost a half hour ago.”
“It’s probably not all absorbed yet. He might get worse as more reaches his bloodstream. The hospital can pump his stomach and give him activated charcoal to help reduce the amount of drugs in his system.”
“I’m not sure he can go to the hospital. It would be a big scandal.”
“What’s his pulse? And pulse strength?”
“Huh?” Jo took her off hand and pushed it hard against her own forehead, willing herself to sober up.
“Is it easy to feel his pulse on his neck or wrist or is it hard? How many times a minute does it beat?”
Jo whispered, “Omar. Can you find his pulse?” Watching Omar walk towards Brad, she asked, “What else can be done?”
“If he’s got a strong enough pulse and is breathing, you might be able to get away with just giving him oxygen. Maybe induce vomiting. But that’s risky because he could choke on it. The hospital can do a lot more for him. They can do Flumazenil if it’s really bad.”
Jo watched Omar press two fingers against Brad’s neck.
“He got a pulse.”
“Easy to find like yours?” Jo asked.
Omar felt his own pulse on his neck. “Not quite. My beats feel more… full.”
“Hi, Tina, our friend does have a pulse. Seems a bit weaker than another friend.”
“You said five pills. Do you know if they’re one milligram or two?”
“We don’t know,” Jo responded after Omar indicated he didn’t know.
“How much alcohol?”
“Three or four little cups of saké and maybe two cups of beer.”
“Pints?”
“Smaller. About two cans of soda worth of beer. Maybe a half can of beer worth of saké.”
“Sounds like
four drinks. If they were one milligram tabs and four drinks to a man - How big is he?”
Jo shrugged her shoulders. “Almost six feet.”
“At his size, at one milligram pills, he’ll probably be fine. Maybe not. At ten milligrams total, it’s scary. Either way, I’d take him to the hospital.”
“Thank you, Tina. But if we don’t. You said charcoal and oxygen.”
“Activated charcoal. That and vomiting will help if there is a chance more will enter his bloodstream.”
“Activated charcoal. Thanks.”
“Hey, wait.”
“Yeah?” Jo asked.
“The drug tends to peak at two hours, so I’d think you want to get him to a hospital as soon as possible. Good chance he gets worse, maybe a lot worse.”
“Thank you so much.” Jo hung up, then looked at Omar standing over Brad comparing pulses and breathing.
“Hey, Jo,” Dzuy called out. “Who was that?”
“Aaron’s wife, Tina. She’s an emergency room doctor. She thinks Brad will probably be fine but we might want to take him to a hospital and we can try activated charcoal and oxygen.”
“Are you high?” Dzuy asked, with disdain.
Jo shot back a nasty look.
“Hey, guys,” Omar chimed in from across the room. “There’s a CVS down the block, why doesn’t Dzuy go pick up the charcoal stuff and a little oxygen mask thing. Me and Jo will watch him and, if we need to, the two of us will take him to the hospital. You can stay out of it Dzuy.”
Dzuy looked at his computer. The files were transferring. “Anything else? Just activated charcoal and oxygen.”
Jo thought hard about her conversation with Tina. “Yes, that’s it. Please hurry,” Jo picked up her purse from the island and gave Dzuy a hundred dollar bill.
Chapter 25
Omar smiled at Jo. “All things considering, your boyfriend is holding up well. How are you?”
“Scared shitless. You?”
“Eh, it’s Thursday. What do you expect?” Omar chuckled and sat on the couch.
Jo hunched over and fought a wave of nausea. He’s used to this.
“You okay?”
Blanket Immunity Page 16