by Bill Sage
As soon as Jake caught up to Robert, he grabbed his jacket and dragged him between the BMW and the car next to it.
“I’m a friend of Steve Ward’s,” he hissed in Robert’s face.
Robert’s mouth gaped open.
“I don’t like the shit you been pullin’ on him. I’m here to break your fuckin’ face.”
“Wait, wait, I want to—”
“Shut up! I don’t wanna hear your fucking voice. I’ll tell you when you can talk.”
“Please, sir, I don’t want any trouble.”
Jake took hold of Robert’s shirt collar and slammed him against his car. “Did I say you could talk?”
When Robert didn’t answer, Jake mashed his meaty palm into Robert’s face.
“No, no, you didn’t,” Robert whimpered.
Then Jake thumped Robert’s forehead, banging the back of his head against the car. Robert moaned, then ran his hand over his scalp, feeling for blood.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen. Not only are you gonna stop demanding money from Ward, but you’re gonna pay him back every cent you took.”
Still stunned, Robert stood silently, gawking wide-eyed at Jake.
“You hear what I said?” Jake pressed him.
“Yes, yes, I did. Believe me, I won’t contact him. And I’ll pay…pay him back. You won’t have any problems. Honest, it’s over.”
“Oh, I know that.”
Grabbing Robert’s collar again, Jake shoved him against the BMW. Then, getting an inch from his face, he shot him a fierce stare.
Before Jake could say anything, Robert muttered, “I’ll do what you want, I promise.”
“You could’ve stopped years ago. Don’t bullshit me.”
“I was wrong…what I did. I swear I won’t bother him again. You can…”
Jake took Robert’s hand and yanked it up to his chest. “Well, just in case you’re bullshittin’ me, this is a taste of what you can expect.” Then Jake snapped back Robert’s thumb, breaking it.
Seeing—and especially hearing—what Jake had done, Al winced as he looked away.
Robert screamed and slowly slid down the side of the BMW to the pavement. Jake pulled him up by his collar, then punched him in the stomach.
Starting to feel nauseated, Al thought, Jake, that’s enough.
When Jake let him go, Robert fell to the pavement, writhing in pain. For his finale, Jake stepped on Robert’s good hand as he calmly walked back to the rental car.
When they were on the street, driving to Flemings, Jake turned to Al and stared at him for a few seconds.
“What?” Al asked him. “Now you’re hungry, want to eat?”
Laughing, Jake said, “Yeah, that piqued my appetite.”
Al laughed too.
“No, but see how it works?” Jake paused, taking a breath. “No problems, no worries.”
Nodding, Al said, “Yeah.”
“That’s the way it goes down when you’re a professional.”
“You should write a book. Call it ‘Jake Gertner’s Law.’”
31
EARLY NEXT MORNING, they were back in Newport Beach. After getting one hour of sleep, Roth got ready and drove to the courthouse.
Sitting down at his desk, he couldn’t help but smile as he opened his black thermos of coffee. Linda had gotten up early and had it ready for him before he left.
“Have some good coffee for a change,” she said as he was leaving. She knew the coffee at the courthouse wasn’t as good as what they drank at home.
Roth unscrewed the cap and poured some into the mug his bailiff Jon had given him. It said “The Boss” on one side and had a gavel on the other.
After settling in, he called Congressman Ward’s office. Left a message for Ward to meet him in the bar at Franco’s at noon.
An hour later, Ward called and said he’d be there.
Judge Roth saw Ward sitting at a small table when he entered the bar. Ward stood up and waved as Roth came over to his table.
“I don’t think you’ll be hearing from Robert anymore,” Roth said sitting down.
“I know. His brother called my home last night. He said he didn’t know what it was about, but Robert told him to call and tell me that I won’t be hearing from him anymore.”
Roth took a breath but didn’t say anything.
“What happened?” Ward asked.
“All you need to know is that he won’t be bothering you.”
“Thanks, Al. I’m grateful for what you’ve done. It was driving me nuts, the way he kept demanding more and more money.”
“If he goes back on his promise, the next time more persuasion will be applied. But believe me, that’s not gonna happen. He’ll never contact you again.”
Ward nodded then took a sip of water.
After pausing a moment, Ward said, “Last time we talked, you told me about your uncle. You still want me to take care of that for you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“How much are we talking about?”
“He only needs $25,000.”
“Sure, I can help him out. You say he’s in Miami?”
“Yeah, he’s retired there. Lives in an adult community.”
“Okay. I’m going to line this up. I’ll call you tomorrow, give you the name of a guy who can help your uncle.”
“What will my uncle have to do?”
“Just provide information. My contact will write up an application for an agricultural federal grant. My committee has jurisdiction over those. So, don’t worry.”
Returning to the courthouse, Roth called Ziggy. When the phone rang four times, he began to worry. Ziggy was getting up there in age.
But Ziggy finally answered. He was surprised Al was calling him.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
Al laughed. “No, it’s good news. It’s about you.” Then he told Ziggy about getting the grant money.
“Al, that’s… My God, I can’t believe it.”
Al laughed.
“It’s been about a year and I just forgot about it.”
“Yeah, I know. So, here’s what’s gonna happen. A guy from Miami will be—”
“I knew it,” Ziggy said, his voice full of emotion. “If anyone could make it happen, it’d be you. I can’t thank you enough.”
“My honor.”
“I can’t believe it. I remember when…back in those early days. You and Jake…” He drifted off.
Al waited a few seconds, then he finished telling Ziggy about the deal, how it’d work and what he’d have to do.
“You came through for me,” Ziggy said, then paused a second. “It’s hard to imagine that back then, when I first let you and Jake into the club, you’d turn out to be such a grosse macher.” Big shot.
Al didn’t respond.
“You got class. I could tell it even then, in those days.”
“Don’t forget, you’re the one who forced me go to college.”
“I didn’t force you. You did it on your own.”
Neither one spoke for a few moments.
Then Ziggy said, “Albert J. Roth,” letting the words roll off his tongue. “The ‘J’ stands for Josef, my brother, your dad.”
“A great father. I hope to be like him if I ever have children.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll be like him. You’re a good man.”
After waiting a few beats, Al said, “Well, anyway, say hello to Becky for me.”
Ziggy sighed. “She died years ago. Cancer. I thought I told you.”
“No, no, I didn’t know. Sorry to hear that. I know you loved her very much.”
After pausing for a few seconds, Ziggy said, “I’m doing okay.”
The way Ziggy sounded when he said that gave Al the impression he wasn’t hurting too much.
Ziggy went on. “Now I can watch baseball and football anytime I want.”
“What about eating corned beef sandwiches and hot dogs?”
“That too and drinking beer.”
�
��Okay, take good care of yourself. Call me anytime you need anything.”
Then Al called Jake.
“That’s great!” Jake said. “You did it; you got him the money.”
Laughing, Al said, “I think you might’ve had something to do with it.”
“A little.” After pausing a moment, Jake added, “He was kind to us when we were twelve. Didn’t have to be. We were nobodies.”
“Yeah, he did it knowing we couldn’t do shit for him.”
“There’s one thing you can say about Al Roth and Jake Gertner. When it counted, was our turn, we acted with honor and respect.”
“Yeah. And that’s all that matters.”
32
LATER THAT DAY, Judge Roth was back in his chambers during a short break. As he frequently did, he began thinking about Miller.
After reviewing all the facts for the hundredth time, he was convinced Miller had to be in on the kidnapping. The evidence was just too strong to be otherwise. Now that he had that settled in his mind, he started going over the final details of his plan to rescue Asher.
But after spending only a few minutes reviewing the plan, Roth leaned back in his chair and sat still for a moment. Smiling to himself, he thought, I knew this would happen. I just can’t help it.
He was doing something that drove Jake crazy—demanding more proof. The judge in him needed just a little more corroboration.
So, he went over all the facts again, looking for that one thing he hadn’t factored in his analysis. Another angle, a piece of the puzzle he’d missed or hadn’t paid enough attention to.
He already knew there was a connection between Miller and Sands. They did crimes together. But was there a link between Sands and Asher? Did their paths ever cross? One between All States Paving and the Toyota? And what about a connection between Miller and Asher?
Then, after a few minutes of racking his brain, it suddenly hit him. Something he hadn’t thought of before.
Oh, Jeez, why didn’t I think of that before?
He slid back his chair, opened the top desk drawer and removed the small notebook he used as an address book. Then he called Asher’s secretary, Diane.
“We’re still hashing out how we’re supposed to drop off the ransom,” he told her. “Getting close, though.”
“I just hope we get him back as soon as possible.”
“We will, but first I need answers to a few questions, tie up some loose ends.”
“Okay.”
“The kidnappers came during lunchtime?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s usually when only you and Ash are in the office?”
“Yes.”
“And that was your normal routine? Every day?”
“Yes, Judge Roth.”
“Did you—”
“He didn’t like to go out for lunch. Ate at his desk. Always ate the same thing.” Chuckling, she added, “Half of a ham sandwich and a few pretzels.”
“Okay… You stayed in the office? You and him?”
“Yes. From noon to one. He lets me go out anytime I want. For lunch or, you know, to run personal errands.”
“You stayed at your desk?”
“Yes. Sometimes, I brought in a little something to munch on.”
“One more question.”
“Uh-huh.”
And this is big, Diane.
“Did you ever have any work done on the parking lot or the pavement in front of the building?”
“About six months ago, they resurfaced the parking lot.”
“Do you have the name of the company who did the job?”
“All the maintenance is handled by Dan Hargrave. He’s on vacation right now. But as I recall, it was a local company, here in Orange County. The maintenance files are kept at the Irvine office. I’ll have to call there to find out.”
“Do that now. When you find out, call me right away. At this number; it’s my direct line.” He gave her his direct phone number.
Roth waited by the phone, hoping she’d call at any minute. But the phone sat there not making a sound. As the minutes ticked by, he thought about what his next move would be if it turned out that All States had done the job.
Tired of sitting and waiting, he got up and poured himself a cup of coffee. Put it on his desk, but never took a sip.
After about 15 minutes, Roth was wondering, How long does it take to call the other office? Didn’t she understand he wanted her to call him right back?
Something must be wrong.
But no matter what the problem was, he couldn’t wait in his chambers forever. The attorneys were sitting in the courtroom, wondering what was going on. His staff was twiddling their thumbs, waiting to get started. And worst of all, the jury was locked up in the jury room wasting their precious time.
After close to a half hour, he finally zipped up his robe and stepped back into the courtroom.
33
AS HE WALKED PAST Judy, Roth whispered, “Let me know immediately if Diane Pierce calls. I’ll stop the trial and take it.”
Every time he saw Judy pick up the phone, he got ready to call a recess. But she never gave him a glance, let alone passed him a message.
The minutes became an hour and Diane still hadn’t called.
The waiting and wondering were driving him nuts.
Unable to resist any longer, Roth finally took a short recess at 3:15. He went to his chambers and called Diane.
“What have you found out?”
Diane apologized for the delay. She explained that the ledgers had been removed from the Irvine office and were at the accountants. She said she’d called them, but they hadn’t returned her call.
“I know it’s important,” she said. “But with Ash out, I have plenty of work to do around here. I don’t have time to…”
Roth asked her for the accountant’s phone number. Then he called and arranged for Diane to go there and examine the books.
Calling Diane back, he said, “Okay, I have it set up for you. Go over there now, check it out. Then call me right back. Leave a detailed message with my clerk.”
He took the bench again.
A half hour later, the DA finished with his last witness. “Your Honor, the People rest.”
Turning to the defense attorney, Roth said, “You may call your first witness.”
When the defense attorney called the defendant, it brought a lot of questioning looks. Usually, defense attorneys put the defendant on last. That’s because they want to hear what the other witnesses will say before the defendant took the witness stand and testified.
Jon and the DA peered over at Roth, but he kept a straight face.
After the attorney asked the defendant a few preliminary questions, Roth could see what he was up to. Using leading questions, he was having the defendant lay out an entrapment defense.
“Believe me, it wasn’t my idea to sell him any heroin,” the defendant said, looking at his lawyer. “I wanted to quit doing that, but he wouldn’t stop pestering me. Said he was really hurting. Kept begging me.”
“Other than begging you, did he say anything else?” his attorney asked.
“Yeah. He said that if I sold it to him, he’d never bother me again. He was pleading with me over and over again. I’m sure he was trying to make me feel sorry for him.”
Roth was thinking that the attorney had done a good job in preparing the defendant. He had his lines down and his story hit all the right buzz words. If believed, it laid out a perfect case of entrapment.
Not only that, the defendant had gotten a haircut and was wearing a suit. The perfect touch, though, was his white shirt. It was too large, so the collar hung loosely around his neck.
It makes him look like a little boy.
When the defense attorney concluded his direct examination, Roth turned the defendant over to the DA for cross-examination.
The DA rose from his chair and walked closer to the jury box. “To make sure the jury understands what you just said,” he began, �
�are you saying you wouldn’t have sold the heroin unless the undercover officer begged you? You were doing him a favor?”
As he asked the question, he glanced at the jury and rolled his eyes. If the defense attorney had objected, Roth would’ve admonished the DA not to do that again, but the attorney didn’t bring it up.
“Yes, sir,” the defendant said. “I didn’t want to. I wanted to stop selling. I didn’t want that kind of life anymore.”
“So, I gather you wanted to start a new life?”
“Yes.”
“Starting a new life… What does that mean to you?”
“You know, get a job, move into a nice apartment.”
“A job would be the most important part of it, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I assume you’ve been looking for a job?”
“Yes, near where I live.”
“Name one place where you applied for a job?”
The defendant glanced at his attorney, who looked down. Then he said, “I can’t remember any of them right now. I have a list…a list of the places at home.”
“But this is your trial. You’re the one who said you were looking for a job. Right?”
“I just forgot to bring it.”
“Bad memory? Is that what you’re blaming it on?”
“No, I had it…”
“If Judge Roth agrees, can the bailiff go to your house and get it? Bring it back to court so the jury can see it?”
“Not sure where…where I placed it.”
“Just tell us which room.”
“It could be anywhere.”
“All your hedging makes the jury wonder, you know, about the truth of what you’re saying.”
“Objection, Your Honor,” the defense attorney said. “The DA can’t speak for the jury. And how is the defendant supposed to know what the jury is thinking?”
“Sustained. Next question.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” the DA said, nodding. Then, focusing back on the defendant, he said, “Give me one good reason for not letting the bailiff go to your house and get that list.”
His attorney leapt from his chair. “Your Honor, it’s obvious that the DA is trying to finagle a warrantless search of the defendant’s house.”