The Justice Game

by Randy Singer

  Andrew?

  Jason stared at him, and Andrew Lassiter stared back, blinking. “I never meant for it to turn out like this,” he said.

  * * *

  Robert Sherwood parried questions from Agent Billingsley for nearly thirty minutes, a battle of wits between a brilliant CEO and a savvy investigator. The one thing Billingsley had that Sherwood did not was time. And patience.

  Sherwood had clients to call. Fires to put out. His entire business plan was imploding.

  “Turn that thing off,” he said, motioning to the recorder.

  Billingsley leaned forward and switched off the device.

  “Our corporation is a highly sophisticated research firm that provides advice to a number of clients,” Sherwood said in a condescending tone. He would try to keep it simple so Billingsley wouldn’t glaze over with the technical details. “We have a state-of-the-art system for analyzing potential jury verdicts in big cases like the Crawford case. It’s complicated, but the heart of the system is a mock trial we conduct using three different jury panels, all designed to reflect the characteristics of the jurors on the actual case.” Sherwood paused. “Are you following all this?”

  “You might want to slow down a little,” Billingsley said sarcastically. “FBI agents can be a little thick.”

  Sherwood frowned at the gamesmanship. “Last Thursday evening we heard from our three jury panels. They all came back with a defense verdict based on what we thought the evidence in the Crawford case would be. Over the weekend, we advised our clients, most of them hedge fund managers, that it was our considered opinion that the stocks of gun manufacturers like MD Firearms would not be damaged by this verdict. In fact, we anticipated that a defense verdict would boost the stocks higher.”

  Sherwood watched closely as Billingsley processed the information. The agent showed no reaction.

  “Today, of course, the final witness for the defense imploded, the case went south, and we look like idiots.” Sherwood leaned forward on his desk. “If the plaintiff gets a verdict in this case, and I suspect he will, our firm might never recover.” He paused, again giving the FBI agent time to process the information.

  “So I would appreciate it, Agent Billingsly, if you would get out of my office and find out who’s been blackmailing Jason Noble. I’ve got a few ideas of my own, and I can promise you this—whoever it is had better pray that you find him first.”

  90

  “You were supposed to go along with the program,” Andrew Lassiter said, the words clipped with emotion. “This wasn’t about you; it was about getting back at them. Sherwood took everything, Jason. He took my entire life’s work.”

  Jason stared at Lassiter, trying to comprehend the man’s betrayal. He tried to ignore the jackhammer that seemed to be pounding away at the back of his head. There has to be some way out.

  There were three men here, as far as Jason knew. Lassiter, a guy behind Jason holding a gun to his head, and a third man—larger and stronger than Lassiter—the man who had slapped Jason awake.

  “Let’s get on with it,” that man said to Lassiter. It was a familiar voice. A New York accent. Hispanic. “He’s not your priest, and we don’t need your confession.”

  Jason’s eyes were growing accustomed to the dark, and he could finally make out the big man’s features. It was the first time Jason could ever remember seeing him smile.

  Rafael Johansen.

  “That’s right, Boy Wonder,” Rafael said. “I guess I’m a mercenary. Although Sherwood never offered me a share of the profits like the mad professor here.” He inched a little closer, and Jason leaned back. “You sure screwed things up with your Johnny-Be-Good routine. Now things have gotten a little complicated.”

  Jason was still processing his surroundings. He seemed to be in the first row of the second section of a movie theater, about ten rows or so away from the screen. They undoubtedly intended to kill him—why else would they be brazen enough to show their faces?

  Unless Andrew Lassiter had a sudden change of heart, Jason was a dead man. And for some reason, coming to terms with that indisputable fact took away some of his terror. Courage comes when you have nothing left to lose.

  He quickly decided things could only get worse. The one advantage he had right now might be the element of surprise.

  Jason bolted up and twisted, swinging his handcuffed fists toward the gunman behind him. He whiffed. Rafael was instantly on him, pile-driving him into the cement floor. Rafael’s weight landed on Jason’s shoulder, and he screamed into the gag. He nearly blacked out a second time as Rafael hauled him to his feet and threw him back into the chair.

  “You’re trying my patience, boy,” Rafael said, catching his breath.

  The other man had moved in front of Jason now, a few feet away, pointing the gun at Jason’s forehead. He was another bodybuilder, a private security guard who worked with Rafael. Jason recognized the ponytail.

  Toward the front of the auditorium, Jason thought he heard a muffled scream. They weren’t alone? His mind raced through the possibilities. The most likely scenario was also the one that Jason dreaded the most.

  “We’ll deal with you in a minute,” Rafael yelled over his shoulder.

  91

  “Go easy on him,” Andrew sputtered.

  Rafael laughed and turned toward Andrew, who had stepped a few feet away. “Go easy on him,” Rafael repeated, mocking his coconspirator. “We’re going to kill him, genius.”

  “No, we’re not,” Andrew said. “I’ve been thinking this through.”

  Though it was hard for Jason to see Andrew in the shadows, his voice had a desperate edge to it. Maybe he was starting to understand the monster he had unleashed. “We don’t need to risk murder charges. I’ve got a better way.”

  “There is no other way,” insisted Rafael. “Let’s get it over with.”

  He turned the flashlight on Andrew, and for the first time Jason noticed that his friend was wearing plastic gloves. In his right hand, he was holding Jason’s MD-45.

  “I’ve already set them up,” Andrew said, his voice trembling now, his words coming out in a torrent. “The offshore investment companies I created to short the gun companies’ stocks have Jason’s and Kelly’s fingerprints all over them. I used their BlackBerry accounts to exchange e-mails about their conspiracy. We can drug them both, let them live, dump them outside the country. Everyone will assume they gamed the system and—”

  “That’s not the plan,” Rafael said matter-of-factly. “Too many loose ends.”

  “They can’t come back, because the police will be looking for them. We go to the cops first—”

  Rafael shook his head, determined. “That’s not the plan.”

  “If these two ever come back to the country, nobody will believe—”

  “Shut up.”

  The room went silent as Rafael shone the flashlight directly in Lassiter’s eyes. Andrew stared back at Rafael for a long moment—his eyes blinking, the neck twitching, every feature on his face reflecting his tortured conscience. He took a step back, raised the gun, and pointed it at Rafael and his ponytailed partner, back and forth, his arms trembling.

  The man with the ponytail kept his gun trained on Jason. Rafael made no move for his own gun, tucked into the waist of his jeans.

  Instead, he calmly took a few steps toward Andrew. “Pull the trigger,” Rafael taunted. “Let’s see if the genius has any guts.”

  Andrew stiffened his arms, his face contorted. “Stop,” he said, but Rafael took another step. Andrew took a half step back. “Stop.”

  Rafael just kept coming.

  Andrew closed his eyes, flinched, and squeezed the trigger.

  When nothing happened, Rafael reached for his own gun and smiled. “It always amazes me how dumb you genius types can be. Or maybe I just never told you that Jason’s gun has a safety lock that’s only released by his fingerprints.”

  A look of sheer terror filled Andrew’s eyes. He dropped the gun and held his hands in
front of him, as if to push the larger man away. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I can get us out of this. Nobody has to die!”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” There was a smug grin on Rafael’s face, then a flash from the barrel of his gun, and a bullet ripped through Andrew Lassiter’s eye socket. He was blown backward, landing lifelessly on the row of seats behind him, his mouth open in midscream, blood trickling from the hole in his head.

  Jason gagged and felt vomit rising in his throat. He heard another muffled scream from the front row.

  The man with the ponytail stared at Lassiter’s lifeless body. “What the—?” He turned on Rafael. “Are you crazy?”

  This brought another smile to Rafael’s face. “Tony. How long have you known me? Eight years? Nine?” Rafael put his gun back in the waist of his jeans. “I’ve got a plan, Tony. You know I don’t like loose ends.”

  “But this is nuts,” Tony protested. “Out of control.”

  “Think about it,” Rafael said. “Lassiter’s plan had a big problem. When you frame somebody, it’s got to be airtight. But if these two lawyers were going to fix the case, set up offshore companies to bet on the stocks and then run off with the money, why wouldn’t they wait until a few weeks after the verdict when the spotlight on them was gone? Why would they disappear while the jury was still deliberating, guaranteeing there would be a national manhunt for them? It doesn’t make sense.”

  Tony shrugged. “I don’t know. But we’ve still got the same problem.”

  “Not anymore.” Rafael smiled at the brilliance of what he was about to share. “Because now we’ve got three people missing. We make it look like the lawyers and Lassiter were all in the scam together. Lassiter gets greedy, anxious, whatever… jumps the gun, so to speak, and kills both lawyers. The police find the bodies of Jason and Kelly and a gun with Lassiter’s fingerprints. The money and Lassiter disappear forever.”

  Even without seeing Tony’s face, Jason could sense the big man relaxing.

  “See what I’m saying?” Rafael asked.

  “Maybe,” said Tony, his voice still a little unsure. “But we shoulda talked about that first.”

  The next part must have been planned in advance, because the men didn’t say a word as they pulled Jason from his seat and dragged him to the front of the theater. They pushed him into a seat a few chairs down from Kelly and cuffed Jason’s right wrist to the armrest.

  In the shadows, Jason exchanged a glance with Kelly. She had a look of fierce determination.

  To Jason’s surprise, Rafael reached down and peeled away the duct tape holding Jason’s gag. Jason spit the gag out and looked up at Johansen.

  “Tony, shine that flashlight on the big screen,” Rafael said.

  Tony did as he was told, propping the flashlight on the arm of one of the theater seats.

  At the same time, Rafael started unwrapping the duct tape that held Kelly to her seat, talking as he did so. “We’re going to require your cooperation, Mr. Noble, in order to make this as painless as possible for your coconspirator here. The cops know that anybody can type a message into a BlackBerry. So I need you to leave a voice mail on Ms. Starling’s phone. You’re going to tell her to meet you and Andrew Lassiter at First Landing State Park. That will be the final resting place for you and your opposing counsel.”

  This time it was Jason who scoffed. “Whatever you say.” He already knew he was going to die—why cooperate with the cover-up? “What’s the worst you can do, kill me?”

  This made Rafael laugh—long and hard, as if Jason had just delivered the perfect punch line. Johansen took out a switchblade and pulled Kelly from her seat, her hands cuffed behind her back, her legs taped together, the gag still in place. “I’m glad you asked,” Rafael said. He pushed Kelly facedown on the floor and knelt on her back.

  “Because you’re about to see the worst I can do.”

  92

  Rafael Johansen flicked open the switchblade and held the edge of the blade next to Kelly’s ankle. “They say that slitting the Achilles tendon is the most painful thing that can happen to a human being,” Rafael said, businesslike. “That tendon is like an incredibly strong piece of elastic, connecting the foot to the calf muscle. When it’s snapped, the calf muscles just pull the whole ligament in and curl it up toward the knee. The foot just kind of dangles at the end of the leg, held loosely in place by skin and the bone socket.”

  Jason saw the look of terror on Kelly’s face, sweat covering her forehead, her eyes wide with a combination of fear and rage. She caught Jason’s eye and gave a small but defiant shake of the head. Then she squirmed and kicked with all her might.

  Rafael jerked her back into place and pinned her shoulders and upper body to the floor. “Try that again, and I’ll cut your face instead.”

  Jason cursed at Rafael and promised to say whatever the man wanted. “If you hurt her, so help me…”

  Rafael laughed again. “So help you what? You going to give me another stirring legal argument? Maybe talk me to death?”

  “You win,” Jason said. “Give me my phone.”

  Rafael grinned. “Nope. It doesn’t work quite that way. Instead, we’ll want you to speak into this little digital recorder that Tony has. Once you get the message right, we’ll make the phone call and use the recorder to leave the message. Takes away the margin for error, wouldn’t you say?”

  Jason knew Rafael would somehow make sure the cops found Kelly’s cell phone and Jason’s BlackBerry. Or maybe he was counting on the fact that Justice Inc. monitored Jason’s calls, that the FBI would find recordings of those calls when they executed their search warrant. Either way, Jason would be establishing a perfect cover for these men.

  Tony stood in front of Jason and took out the recorder. He pointed his gun at Jason’s knee. “It’s not quite the same as slitting the Achilles tendon, but having a kneecap blown out hurts a little, too. Let’s make sure we get the message right the first time.”

  “It’s very simple,” Rafael called out. “Just tell her to meet you and Andrew Lassiter at First Landing State Park. Plans have changed. Come immediately.”

  Jason stared at the recorder, feeling incredibly helpless. Either way, he was going to die. Did he have enough guts not to go along with the cover-up?

  Kelly answered the question for him. Without warning, she kicked again and rolled away from Johansen. She tried to stand but with her ankles taped fell back on her side. Rafael reached out and grabbed her, pulling her back toward him. “Feisty,” he said, waving the blade in front of her face. “It’s a shame to ruin such a pretty face.”

  He flicked the knife toward her just as Jason heard the blast of a gun and watched Rafael’s arm jerk backward, away from Kelly, the knife flying from his hand. The shot distracted Tony, and Jason lurched into him, head-butting the big man and forcing him backward.

  Another series of shots rang out, three of them, so close together they sounded almost like one explosion. The bullets ripped into Rafael, and he collapsed backward in a heap.

  From behind Jason, a fraction of a second later, another series of bullets flew, exploding into the head and chest of Tony. He was dead before he hit the floor.

  As quickly as it had started, it was over.

  Jason hardly dared breathe. “Are there any more?” Melissa Davids shouted from the entrance to Jason’s left.

  “I think we’re done,” Case McAllister said, limping up from behind Jason. He grabbed the flashlight and, along with Melissa, did a quick search of the theater, guns drawn as they went from row to row like a couple of trained detectives.

  When they finished, Case came down to help Jason, who had buckled to the floor.

  “You all right?” Case asked.

  “Not really.”

  Melissa knelt next to Kelly, using Johansen’s knife to cut the duct tape from around Kelly’s ankles. Next, with the gentleness of a mother, Melissa peeled off the duct tape holding Kelly’s gag.

  “Thank God,” Kelly said, he
r face a mixture of relief and tears. She leaned into Melissa Davids, her hands still cuffed behind her back. Melissa held her for a moment.

  Jason watched the women as Case searched through the pockets of the dead men for the handcuff keys.

  “I’m not sure how much we were planning on charging for those GPS options on our guns,” Case said over his shoulder. “But whatever it was, we oughta double it.”

  A few minutes later, after Case had unlocked the handcuffs, the SWAT team burst through the theater doors. “Hands on your heads! Freeze!”

  “That’s it. Now take two steps back away from your guns.”

  “Glad you guys could join the party,” Melissa Davids said.

  93

  The medical staff at Virginia Beach General treated Jason like royalty. Though Jason was still in shock from the pain and trauma, he realized that in the big scheme of things he was miraculously unhurt. He had dislocated his shoulder and suffered a serious concussion from the blow to his head. He now had a big bald spot where they had shaved his head for the stitches, though they had since covered the wound with gauze and a bandage.

  His first visitor was Bella Harper.

  “Look at you,” she said. “I leave you alone for one hour, and you just about get yourself killed. You look terrible.”

  “Thanks,” Jason mumbled. He motioned with his hand for Bella to keep her voice down. “I’ve got a splitting headache.”

  Bella shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m just so glad you’re okay,” she said, choking up. The bravado hadn’t lasted long. It looked like she wanted to give Jason a hug but didn’t dare touch him for fear she might hurt him. Instead, she squeezed his hand.

  “From the minute we figured out you were missing, I started praying for you,” Bella said.

  “Thanks.”

  Bella gave him the rundown about the search. She had discovered Jason and Kelly were missing when she tried to call the lawyers with news about the shadow jury’s verdict. After fifteen minutes of unanswered calls, Melissa Davids had called her company and obtained the information for the GPS unit in Jason’s gun.