Buying Time

by Pamela Samuels Young

  “I’ll be sure to do that.” Angela gave him a pathetic hug good-bye, then escorted him to the door.

  So far, Zack had received three calls from colleagues who were speculating that maybe Angela—and not her drug dealer boyfriend—had really killed the judge. Zack couldn’t believe that a woman as smart as Angela would get mixed up with a guy like Andre Thomas. Even if she was cleared in her fiancé’s shooting, her career as a federal prosecutor was probably over. An assistant U.S. attorney dating an ex-con drug dealer would raise judgment issues and a taint she wouldn’t be able to shake.

  Tipping off Becker that Angela was still investigating Live Now might earn him some loyalty points. But could he really betray Angela like that? He wanted to find Jon’s killer as much as she did.

  After packing his last box, Zack rewarded himself with a beer. Before he could pop it open, his cell phone rang. He glanced at the clock. It was after nine.

  “Can you believe this?” It was Tommy Tolbert, another AUSA. “First she’s involved in shooting that judge and now she’s in the middle of a major shootout. Is she trying to destroy her career or what?”

  “Are you talking about Angela? What’s going on?”

  “What rock have you been hiding under, dude?” Tommy said. “Turn on CNN. Angela was involved in a shootout near the airport.”

  Zack dashed into his bedroom, stumbling over a box on the way. His flat screen TV still hung on the wall. The woman who was subletting his apartment had paid him a grand to leave it up. Christ! Where was the remote?

  He spotted it atop a box in the corner, grabbed it and hit power. The TV was already on CNN. He watched Anderson Cooper day and night. If you wanted to stomp the competition, you had to study the competition.

  Zack was mesmerized by the sequence of events captured by the hotel’s surveillance cameras. Angela was caught on tape, smack dab in the middle of a shootout, complete with a hail of bullets, fleeing hotel guests, and her ex-con boyfriend.

  “Holy smokes!” Was that Waverly Sloan jumping into the backseat? Zack hit pause, then rewind. TiVo was a godsend.

  Zack couldn’t believe it. It was Waverly Sloan.

  “You watching?” Tommy asked excitedly.

  “I’m watching, but I can’t believe it.”

  “This is better than a Will Smith movie!”

  “Yeah, and knowing Angela,” Zack said wistfully, “she’ll end up selling the movie rights for millions.”

  Zack had to find out exactly what Angela was up to. He had to find out because he wanted a piece of the action, too.

  CHAPTER 78

  The United Airlines plane had just touched down at Reagan National Airport when Erickson received Becker’s call.

  “Where are you?” Becker asked.

  “Just landed. I’m getting off the plane now.” He stepped around a groggy teenager to retrieve his bag from the overhead compartment.

  Against Becker’s advice, Erickson had insisted on returning to Washington to discuss his situation in person with President Bancroft’s Chief of Staff. If Wrigley understood that Ashley was a spiteful young woman who was out to destroy him, he might see things differently. Becker disagreed with his decision and urged Erickson to just hand in his resignation. But he decided to do things his way for once. He would no longer put his trust in anything Roland Becker had to say.

  “The police plan to pick Ashley up for questioning,” Becker said.

  The news made him feel hopeful. The sooner Ashley was charged, the sooner his reputation would be salvaged. “How do you know that?” Erickson asked.

  “One of my contacts,” Becker said.

  As he thought about this possibility, Erickson realized that Ashley’s possible arrest was a double-edged sword. If Ashley had indeed killed her mother and ultimately confessed, she would likely tell police about his indiscretions. But it would be his word against hers. Who would believe a murderer?

  “Did you find out anything more about the search?” He was still worried about the possibility that Claire had left another copy of that DVD somewhere around the house. Having the police discover it would destroy him.

  “My sources haven’t heard anything yet.”

  Erickson’s phone beeped, signaling another call. He looked at the caller ID and winced. “It’s Wrigley. I need to take it.”

  Erickson braced himself for a verbal onslaught, then clicked over.

  “Is there a reason that you haven’t returned any of my fucking calls?” the Chief of Staff shouted into the telephone.

  Erickson was off the plane now, strolling down the jet way, surrounded by other departing passengers. He glanced around to confirm that no one could overhear the conversation.

  “You lied to me,” Wrigley roared. “You said your wife died of cancer. Have you seen the papers? We don’t need this crap!”

  Erickson let him vent. “I just landed at National. I was hoping to meet with you today.”

  “Save the cab fare and use it for your return trip home,” Wrigley shouted. “You’re out.”

  “I understand your concerns,” Erickson said, taking a seat in a deserted area near one of the departure gates. “But I’d at least like to give you my side of the story. My stepdaughter framed me. She killed her mother, not me.”

  “Jesus Christ! Is that your fucking defense? My stepdaughter did it. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”

  “Ridiculous or not, it’s the truth.”

  “Well, we don’t need this shit. The President wants your resignation. Immediately.”

  Erickson did not want to resign. That would only make him look guilty. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m going to be cleared.”

  “We don’t have time for you to be cleared. We can’t have our Attorney General facing murder charges. The President will look like a laughing stock.”

  “I still think you need to hear my story. You’re going to be getting lots of media inquiries. You’ll need to know exactly what—”

  “I don’t want to hear your goddamn story. I’ll have one of my aides contact you later. In the meantime, you can either resign or we’ll fire you. You have until seven o’clock tomorrow morning. If I don’t have your resignation by then, the Press Secretary will make the announcement at her morning briefing that you’ve been fired.”

  Erickson stood there with the phone to his ear as Wrigley hung up. Ashley had finally done him in. Or had she?

  The more he thought about it, this whole chain of events appeared to bear the markings of a well-crafted Roland Becker plot. His law partner had aspirations to run Jankowski, Parkins. Had he arranged this whole chain of events to get Erickson out of the way?

  On more than a few occasions, he’d seen Becker set a trap for an opposing counsel, carefully leading him down one path, while Becker quietly tiptoed down a different one. By the time his opponent finally figured out he’d been played, it was too late to do anything about it.

  Erickson was not about to go down for a murder he did not commit.

  If Ashley killed Claire, he would make her pay. And if Becker did it, Erickson would make him pay double.

  CHAPTER 79

  I really don’t mean to be rude,” Dre said, “but we need to figure something out ’cuz I ain’t lookin’ for no permanent roommates.”

  Dre, Waverly and Angela were sitting in the living room of Dre’s apartment, still shell-shocked from their ordeal.

  “Don’t think we’re glad to be here either,” Waverly said. “So what do we do?”

  “Why you askin’ me?” Dre shot back. “This is your mess. You need to come up with a solution to your problem.”

  Angela was curled up on the couch. She hadn’t spoken more than two words since they arrived. Cornell’s shooting was well over twenty-four hours ago and now this. Dre feared Angela was close to an emotional breakdown.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Dre,” Angela said stoically, “but you’re probably in the best position to help us figure out what’s going on.”
/>   “And how’s that?” he asked. “You two are the attorneys, not me.”

  “Let’s just say that because of your background and experience in the”—she paused—“real world, you have a better understanding of the mindset of the guys who’re after Waverly than we do.”

  Dre chuckled. “Oh, I get it. You’re sayin’ because I’m a criminal—correction— former criminal, I’m more likely to understand how another criminal thinks. Is that it?”

  “Exactly,” Angela said without apology.

  Dre considered her statement. “I should be offended, but I’m not.” He sat down across from them. “I’ve only heard bits and pieces of your story,” he said to Waverly. “Why don’t you tell me the whole deal. Startin’ from day one?”

  Waverly wiped sweat from his forehead with the cuff of his shirt and slumped further down on the couch. He began by explaining why he was disbarred, admitting that he had improperly borrowed client funds. Then, he recounted how Vincent had introduced him to the viatical business.

  “Hold up,” Dre said, interrupting him. “Did you already know this guy?”

  “Not really,” Waverly said. “I met him at a conference.”

  “Somebody you don’t know offers you some get rich quick scheme and it didn’t raise any red flags?”

  Waverly paused and took a deep breath. “Do you want me to continue or not?”

  “Sorry, dude,” Dre said with a shrug. “Go ahead.”

  Waverly explained how he researched the viatical industry on the Internet, then met with the executives of Live Now to further confirm that it was a legitimate business.

  “And you didn’t think it was strange that this company hired you as a broker? Even though you were disbarred?”

  “Only Vincent knew I’d been disbarred and he told me he didn’t plan to tell them.”

  Dre turned to Angela. “Dude’s pullin’ my leg, right?”

  Angela looked sympathetically at Waverly. “No, I think he’s for real.”

  “You need to check your paperwork, dude. You probably don’t even have a real license.”

  “No,” Angela said. “We checked. His license is legit.”

  Dre wasn’t taking Angela’s word for it. He turned to Waverly. “Is it?”

  “Technically, no. I couldn’t get a viatical license after being disbarred. We paid off somebody at the Department of Insurance.”

  Dre slowly swung his head from side to side. “I don’t know much about the vi—whatever you call it, but I suspect they set you up from day one. That’s the reason we were dodgin’ bullets tonight. You should’ve known you were dealin’ with crooks when they agreed to get you a phony license.”

  Waverly seemed genuinely confounded. “And exactly why would they set me up?”

  “’Cuz they’re doing something illegal, like killin’ people to get their insurance money. If something goes wrong, they’ll have somebody to take the fall. That somebody, my brother, is you.” Dre shook his head again. “Dude, you got hoodwinked big time. Where you from? Iowa? You need to spend more time in the hood.”

  “Tell him about the stuff involving your brother,” Angela urged Waverly.

  Waverly rubbed his eyes as he spoke. When he finished recounting how he’d found his brother beaten to a pulp in the garage of his office building and how Rico had threatened to harm his wife, Dre stopped him.

  “I would suspect that your brother didn’t know all that much about your new business. Am I right?”

  Waverly’s lungs filled with air. “Uh . . . well, yeah. I never told him exactly what I did.”

  “Didn’t you think it was strange that Rico knew what you did for a livin’ when he supposedly found out about you through your brother, who didn’t know?”

  “I wondered about it, but he was threatening my family. I guess I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “Like I said, somebody most definitely set you up. We just need to find out who.” Dre paused. “There’s something else that bothers me.”

  Waverly grimaced. “And what’s that?”

  “You owe Rico three hundred grand. He might waste you after he gets his money back, but not before. That tells me that maybe somebody else was tryin’ to take you out.”

  “Like who?” Angela asked.

  “Like Vincent maybe. Or the cats at Live Now. They certainly have a lot to lose if this insurance scam is traced back to them. If you’re dead and gone, they can just claim it was all your doin’ and they knew nothin’ about it. I really doubt you could’ve gotten your license under the table without the company knowin’ about it. If they were on the up and up, they would’ve checked you out. Maybe they wanted a disbarred lawyer precisely because you’d be the most likely suspect if something went wrong.”

  Waverly leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “I’m an idiot.”

  Angela folded her arms. “Does that mean you think Rico might be connected to the folks at Live Now?”

  “Maybe,” Dre said. “I’d need a crystal ball to know that for sure.”

  Dre turned back to Waverly. “Let me ask you something. If you were makin’ ten percent off of all those deals, you must’ve made a mint. Why didn’t you just pay the dude back with your own money?”

  “I couldn’t.” He pointed at Angela. “Because of her.”

  Before Dre could ask for an explanation, Angela volunteered one. “We froze his bank accounts. We think that whoever was killing his clients, may have had something to do with the death of one of our case agents. He was working undercover as a terminally ill policyholder as part of our sting operation. His car went off a cliff in rainy weather. But we don’t think it was an accident.”

  Waverly sat up and moved to the edge of the couch. “Sting operation? Billington was part of an undercover operation? He wasn’t dying?”

  “Nope. He was also a good friend of mine, so I’m determined to find out how he died.” Angela turned to Dre. “Thanks for the analysis. Actually, I’m quite impressed. I think it all makes sense. Now can you come up with a plan to get us out of this mess?”

  “Probably,” Dre said. “Let me give it some thought. In the meantime,” he looked at Waverly, “here’s some free advice for you, my brother: If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.”

  Waverly slumped back against the couch again.

  “Do you have any bottled water?” Angela asked.

  “Yeah,” Dre said. “There’s a case of water on the floor next to the cabinet. You’ll need to use some ice if you want it cold.”

  Angela made her way to the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of water. “Where do you keep your glasses?” She reached up to open one of the cabinet doors.

  Dre made a mad dash toward her. But by the time he reached her, it was too late.

  Angela stared up at the contents of the cabinet, then at Dre. “You lied,” she said angrily. “You said you quit.”

  “I did quit.”

  “Then what’s that?” She pointed up at the cabinet. “I’m not stupid. I know what it’s for.”

  Waverly stepped into the kitchen to see what Angela was so upset about. An entire shelf was stocked with bright, yellow boxes of Arm & Hammer baking soda.

  “Exactly what is it for?” Waverly asked.

  Both Dre and Angela gave him a look that said they both thought he was a moron.

  “I bought that stuff months ago,” Dre said. “I just haven’t had time to get rid of it yet.”

  “There must be enough baking soda up there to flood half of L.A. with crack.”

  “Look, if I said I quit, then I quit.”

  Angela just stared at him, looking more hurt than angry.

  He reached over her head and closed the cabinet shut. “What I told you was the truth.”

  “I don’t believe you. You’re just—”

  Dre raised his hand, palm out, trying to calm her down. “Angela, just let it go before . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “Before what?” She placed a hand on her hip. “Are you going to
hit me, too?”

  Dre’s face went slack. “Why would you even say some shit like that to me?”

  “You didn’t answer the question,” Angela challenged.

  “I don’t need to answer your question because it’s bullshit. I don’t hit women and I don’t owe you an explanation for what I’ve chosen to do with my life. So don’t keep harpin’ about what I used to do. You can either accept my explanation or not accept it. I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

  Angela opened her mouth to speak, but instead pierced Dre with a look that told him his words had wounded her as much as her mistrust had wounded him. She calmly turned and walked out of the room. Seconds later, Dre heard the bedroom door open and slam shut.

  Waverly scrunched up his face. “This is one messed up situation.”

  Dre pulled a chair from the kitchen table and fell into it. “You ain’t never lied.”

  Waverly’s BlackBerry chirped and he pulled it from his pocket.

  “Damn!” he said, glancing down at the caller ID display. “I forgot about Britney!”

  CHAPTER 80

  Who the hell is Britney?” Dre asked.

  “One of my clients.” Waverly pushed a green button on his BlackBerry. “She’s the one who was in the garage and witnessed the shooting.”

  As soon as he clicked over, all he heard was yelling. “I can’t believe you just left me here!” Britney screamed.

  Waverly massaged his left temple. “Just calm down. I was going to call you. Are you okay?”

  “I just woke up. You’re all over the news. I saw everything on CNN. You have to come get me! What if they come after me, too?”

  “Nobody’s coming after you because nobody knows where you are.”

  “You don’t know that!”

  “Just calm down. I’m coming to get you.”

  Dre shot him a mystified look. “Man, are you crazy? You can’t go nowhere. Until you figure out who’s after you, walkin’ out of here is suicide.”

  Waverly pressed the BlackBerry to his chest so Britney couldn’t hear them. “I can’t just leave her there. Her life is in danger, too. And now that you’ve explained how I’ve been duped, it’s definitely my fault. I have to do something.”