by J. C. Fields
She stood. “Gentlemen, I believe we’ve got him by the balls.”
Kruger smiled.
Hesitating before she walked out of the meeting, she turned again to Kruger to ask, “Did the Interpol detective learn anything?”
Nodding, Kruger did not say anything.
Seltzer answered. “Uh… we’re looking into it. As soon as we know more, we’ll update you.”
She frowned and then nodded.
***
“I’ve got a late afternoon flight out of Dulles, should be landing a little after nine.” Kruger held the cell phone to his ear with his shoulder as he placed his computer in his backpack.
“Good. I’ve missed you.” Stephanie’s voice was cheery, and her tone made his homesickness worse.
“I’ve missed you too, Stef. Has your sister left?”
“This morning, lucky you.”
“Not fair.”
Stephanie Kruger laughed. “Kristin keeps asking when Daddy’s coming home.”
The words were like a punch in the stomach. He took a breath, “Tell her she can stay up until I get home.”
“She’ll be grumpy tomorrow.”
“I’ll take her to the park. That’ll cheer her up.”
They talked for several more minutes as he cleaned out the work space used during his stay in Washington. As he ended the call, Sandy Knoll walked up.
Kruger looked up at the big man. “I don’t like the look on your face, Sandy.”
“Got a problem.”
“What?”
“Joel Moody checked out of his hotel suddenly this morning. The hotel told us he had a reservation for another five days. We followed him to the airport.”
“Seattle?”
Knoll nodded. “What do you want to do?”
“Call the Seattle office and have someone there. They’re embarrassed they missed the wall safe. They seem to be keen on helping now.”
“Got it. One other thing.”
“Yeah…” Kruger’s tone was cautious.
“Jimmie stuck around a few days to watch Junior’s house.”
“And?”
“There’s been someone there 24/7 since the news broke about the evidence found in the wall safe. Gibbs indicated they aren’t your usual rent-a-cops, they look like pros.”
“Huh.” He paused momentarily. “Jimmie would know.”
“Yeah, he would.”
“What’s your gut telling you, Sandy?”
“We missed something.”
“Mine’s telling me the same thing. Let’s keep Jimmie in Seattle a little while longer.”
“He won’t care. He likes the West Coast.”
***
The first class seat on the United Airline flight to Seattle was next to the window. Joel Moody stared out at the passing clouds below the plane, his elbow on the armrest with his hand pressed against his chin. The sudden command by Robert Burns Sr. to return to Seattle unnerved him. The man’s normal tone was always matter-of-fact with a touch of superiority, but on the call demanding his return to Seattle, Burns was on the verge of hysterics.
His only experience with this side of Burns was during the events surrounding the Senate intern. Moody feared with Junior now accused of being a serial killer, the ex-senator would become unhinged. He checked his watch. Flight time was seven hours, which meant he still had six before touchdown and his meeting with Senior. A passing stewardess stopped and leaned over.
“What can I get you, sir?”
“Scotch and ice, please.”
***
Robert Burns Sr. paced as Allison O’Brien watched. It was approaching seven p.m., and the phone call from Joel Moody was the reason for the pacing. He would arrive within the next fifteen minutes.
“Robert, there is nothing you can do about Bobby. You’ve always known he was a bit odd. We just didn’t know the extent of it.”
Burns stopped pacing and glared at his companion. “Moody should have told me about the safe behind the refrigerator. He’s the one who approved the plans. He should have known Bobby would hide…” he paused for a second, “things in it.”
“Did you know he had four passports?”
“No, I didn’t,” the elder Burns shook his head. “I knew about the dual citizenship in Austria, but thought he held it in his real name.”
O’Brien stood and walked over to the man she had chosen to live with. With her hands on her hips, she stared at him, her brow furrowed and eyes narrow. “Be careful of what you say to the press, or anyone for that matter, about your knowledge of Bobby’s indiscretions. It could come back on you.”
She watched as his face grew crimson, and he set his lips tight together. His body tensed, his breathing rate increased, and he glared at her. Twenty seconds went by, their eyes locked together. She did not move, nor did he. Finally, he relaxed and took a calming deep breath. “You are, as always, correct, my dear. I’m not sure I can save him this time.”
She placed a hand on his chest. “Robert, Bobby was lost a long time ago. You just didn’t acknowledge it. There is no saving him. You need to divorce yourself and the company from him before he takes you and Haylex Holdings down, too.”
Burns stared at her for a long time, his anger fading as the cold reality of the situation emerged. With his face returning to its normal mask of indifference, he nodded. “Yes, Allison, you are correct. In the morning, you will need to direct our corporate attorneys to remove Bobby’s name from the company structure. We will need to issue a press release disavowing any knowledge of his actions and strongly condemning them.”
“Very well. Should I make the statement from you?”
He shook his head, “No, make it from the Board of Directors.”
She suddenly realized that Robert Burns Sr. was not done trying to protect his son.
***
Joel Moody was met by Allison O’Brien at the door. She smiled, “Come in, Joel. Robert is in his study. He’s expecting you.”
Moody nodded. This was not his first trip to the concrete monolith known as the Burns House. With as much dignity as he could muster, he walked toward the hall leading to the enormous room holding a library and a massive oak desk. He knocked on the closed door and heard, “Come in, Joel.”
When he stepped in, Robert Burns stood and offered his hand. Closing the door, Moody moved quickly to shake his boss’ hand and then returned to a parade rest, hands behind him.
“Can I get you a drink, Joel?”
“No thank you, sir.”
The elder Burns returned to his chair behind his desk. “I’m sure you are wondering why I summoned you back from D.C. so fast.”
“Yes, sir. The thought crossed my mind several times.”
“With the new revelations about Bobby’s past, the company has decided to cut all ties with him. How did you set up payment for the defense attorney fees?”
“Through Bobby’s trust fund, per your instructions.”
“Excellent.”
Moody relaxed slightly. The conversation was going in a different direction, one he had not anticipated.
“Was bail arranged?”
“No, the hearing will be tomorrow. But from what I was told by his attorney late last night, it will probably be denied.”
“I see.”
The conversation stalled as Moody recognized a sudden change in the demeanor of the elder Burns.
“Were you aware of the hidden wall safe?”
“I vaguely remember discussing it with the contractor and didn’t find it all that unusual.”
“Vaguely remember. I would think something that unusual would create a memorable moment.”
Without knowing what direction the discussion was headed, Moody shrugged. “Like I said, I didn’t find it strange and dismissed it.”
Burns suddenly stood, placed his palms flat on the desk and leaned forward, his face crimson.
“You knew of Bobby’s indiscretions and you didn’t think it odd to have a wall safe installed behind a ref
rigerator?”
Moody frowned and stared back. “No, I didn’t.”
Bowing his head and sighing, the elder Burns shook his head. “Then I overestimated your abilities, Mr. Moody.”
The final scotch and ice consumed an hour before touchdown kicked in. Moody crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his boss. “With all due respect, Mr. Burns, I was not hired to watch over and protect your son from himself. I was hired for corporate security. If my services are no longer needed, I will take my leave and bid you a good night.”
Standing straight, Robert Burns returned the gesture and crossed his arms over this chest. “Your services…,” a slight smile came to his lips, “…are still needed, Mr. Moody. More so than ever.”
“Do you need me to return to Washington, D.C.?”
“No, communicate with the attorneys from here. Bobby is now on his own.”
Chapter 31
D.C. Central Detention Facility
Washington, DC.
Jolene Sanders was three years out of Georgetown Law School and in her second year with Rothenburg & Sandifer. Twenty-nine years old, tall, slender with black hair worn short, she was a no-nonsense attorney with an attitude to match. Defending sexual predators was not one of the reasons she became an attorney. Robert Burns Jr. was, in her mind, the worst kind because he hid behind his wealth and used it to proclaim his innocence.
She waited in an interview room reserved for attorneys and their clients for Burns’ arrival. Today was almost her last day with Rothenburg & Sandifer. Having learned she was assigned to the Burns case, she requested a meeting with Kyle Sandifer. The purpose of the meeting was to inform him she wished to be removed from the case, or she would tender her resignation.
“Yes, we assigned you to the Robert Burns Jr., defense, Ms. Sanders.”
Jolene stared at the senior partner of the firm and tilted her head. “You are aware of my contract with this law firm, aren’t you, Mr. Sandifer?”
“I am mindful of your stated desires, Ms. Sanders, but you are the best criminal defense attorney currently associated with our firm. We have plans for you. Plus this case will go a long way toward your becoming a partner.”
This revelation gave her pause. She had only been with the firm for two years. Making partner normally took ten and sometimes longer. With the glut of attorneys in the Washington, D.C. area, it was not unusual for a ten-year associate to be terminated and another slid into their slot.
“How?” she asked.
“As you may be aware, Mr. Rothenburg is planning to retire in six months. I will be taking his position as managing partner, and another senior partner will take my place. This will leave a hole in our partnership ranks.” He paused and gave her one of his signature jury persuading smiles. “Please don’t take offense to my next comment, but we need to add some diversity to our partnership structure.”
Jolene’s left eyebrow rose, and she remained quiet.
“Ms. Sanders, your skills as a defense attorney are what is important to us. I could care less about the fact you are a female whose parents emigrated from Jamaica. Lobbying still comprises the bulk of our revenue, but we see building our criminal defense team as a growth opportunity. You would be in charge of this endeavor.”
“I’m not sure what to say, Mr. Sandifer.”
“No need to say anything at the moment. I understand your repugnance about defending this individual. If his father wasn’t the thirty-ninth richest individual in the world, I would have turned it down. The son is offensive to me as well. But defending him will generate a seven figure income for the firm. Possibly eight figure with appeals.”
“Really?”
“Yes, as much as we would like to remember our naïveté from law school about doing the greater good, the reality is we are a business. A business that must generate revenue. Robert Burns Jr. is a cash cow we cannot let slip through our fingers.”
She smiled and shook Sandifer’s hand.
So here she was, her first meeting with Burns.
When he was led into the room, his shackles were attached to the rings in the floor and table, severely limiting his range of movement. The two jailers looked at her, she nodded, and they left the room, closing the door behind them.
“Who the hell are you?” Burns’ demeanor was immediately defensive.
“I am your attorney, Jolene Sanders.”
“I don’t give a fuck what your name is. You are not my attorney. You’re too young, a girl, and you’re black.”
She smiled and clasped her hands in front of her. “And you, sir, are accused of being a serial killer.”
“Lies. I’ve been set up.”
“Really, by who?”
“Joel Moody. He put that stuff in the safe, not me.”
“Oh, is he the one who killed Linda Ramos.”
“Who?”
“Linda Ramos, the woman at the Motel 6 with your sperm on her.”
“I didn’t kill her. The sex was consensual. Moody followed me in and killed her. She was alive when I left room.”
Sanders frowned. “This isn’t going to work if you lie to me, Mr. Burns.”
“I don’t want it to work, I want another attorney.”
“Can’t have one. I’m the best in D.C., and your best bet to beat death row.”
Burns stared at her. “Death row? What do you mean?”
“With all of the evidence found in the safe and the murder of Ms. Ramos, the U.S. District Attorney is calling for the death penalty.”
“Like I told you before, the stuff found in the safe was planted.”
“What about the four fake passports? Were those planted also, Bobby?”
His face grew crimson as he stared at the attorney. “My name is Robert.”
She opened a file and took out four photographs. “We received this in a discovery package from the U.S. Attorney’s office this morning. Each picture is of a passport found in your wall safe. Your picture is in all four. However, your name is not.”
Burns said nothing.
“Unfortunately, Bobby, the existence of these passports allow the prosecution an argument that you’re a flight risk.”
Still no response came from Burns.
Replacing the pictures back in the file, Jolene removed another photograph.
“Recognize this?”
Burns stared at the picture, but continued to be silent.
“Did you know the FBI has ten teams searching the locations identified in this book? What are they going to find, Bobby?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen it before.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Really. This was found in your hidden safe along with the passports.”
“The passports are mine, but I’ve never seen the book.”
“Your fingerprints are on it.”
“Not possible. I’ve never touched it.”
“The book identifies where some of your victims are buried. Are they going to find bodies, Bobby?”
“How many times do I have say this, counselor, I don’t know anything about the book. And I certainly don’t know about any bodies.”
Jolene Sanders sighed and started replacing everything back in her briefcase. “I will have to get back to you on this, Mr. Burns. Your lack of cooperation is disappointing.”
“I’m not lying about the book. Look at it, it’s the same type of three ring binder we use at the office. I could have touched it there and then someone put all that crap in it, but it’s not mine.”
“If you want me to use that as a defense, it will be complicated. The passports you admit to, correct?”
He nodded.
“But you deny knowing about the book.”
“I’ve never seen it before.”
“Very well, I will be in touch, Mr. Burns.”
***
Most of the associates were gone for the evening, which made the building oddly quiet. Not the normal buzz of the hectic schedules maintained by att
orneys at Rothenburg & Sandifer. Kyle Sandifer sat in his office chair, his back to the office door, a tumbler containing a few ice cubes and three fingers of Johnny Walker Black in his hand. He stared at the night sky of D.C., his thoughts miles away. He heard a knock from behind and swiveled around to see who was there.
Joseph Rothenburg leaned against the door frame. “Did she buy it?”
“Yes, I believe she did.”
Rothenburg walked into the office and went straight to the mahogany cellaret on the far wall of Sandifer’s office. He found a tumbler, grabbed a few cubes from an ice bucket, and poured three fingers of Maker’s Mark bourbon. Once the drink was complete, he sat in a wing chair in front of Sandifer’s desk, crossed his legs, and smiled. “Good.”
“She’s an ambitious young attorney, Joseph, and she’s good.”
“She’ll eventually make partner somewhere. Just not with us.”
Sandifer nodded. “Have you heard from the investment firm?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“I’m listening.”
“Landing the Burns case could not have happened at a better time. How much are you projecting our billings to be?”
“Minimum eleven to twelve million this year alone. It will be Ms. Sander’s only case. ”
“Huh, that much?”
Nodding again, Sandifer took a sip of his scotch.
“We’re effectively billing $2,000 an hour with the agreement signed by the client’s representative. As the senior attorney on the case, I’m billing the same amount as Ms. Sanders. This case could go on for years, with appeals and delays.”
“Better than I projected. It will help the firm’s valuation when we close the sale.”
“When?”
“Six months.”
“Have you informed the other senior partners?”
“Townsley knows and so does Murphey. Both are on board. They’re tired of D.C. and ready to retire somewhere warm with a slower pace.”
“As am I.” Sandifer was quiet, studying the sweat beads forming on the outside of his tumbler. “This case will make her reputation in this town, Joseph.”