by Webb Hubbell
“Um, do you think I can handle this?” he asked.
I smiled and said, “Well, Brian, we’re about to find out. We’re supposed to be at Laing’s office at two o’clock, so let me know by noon if you see a problem.”
Maggie bustled in before long, and we sat down in my office over coffee and tea to review the day’s schedule. She asked me to join her and Walter for dinner, but I declined, reminding her I had plans with Carol. I told her I expected Red most any minute, and she asked if she should join us.
“No, I don’t think so. He knows about Rachel, but he didn’t sound too concerned. You need to be somewhere?”
“It’s a good time for me to pop over to the Apple store in Georgetown to get the new phones Stella ordered and ship her my old one. Cellphones don’t appear like magic, you know. How was dinner?”
“The crab cakes were excellent,” I responded mildly.
“I don’t give a fig about the crab cakes,” she scowled. “How was Brian? What do you think?”
“I think he might work out. His experience with JAG has already come in handy,” I smiled. “I know you have a raft of employment forms for him, but don’t give them to him until he finishes the project I gave him. Tell him what he will get paid. He didn’t ask last night.”
“You worried he’ll quit when he finds out?”
“If he does, I’ll take his job, and he can have mine. Did I tell you what I made at Justice when I graduated from law school?”
She laughed. “Only a hundred times.”
I would miss this daily banter if she and Walter left for the Eastern Shore. Sure, lots of lawyers managed their practice from a computer in their pajamas and socks, but there’s no substitute to the give and take between human beings.
I heard a commotion and knew Red Shaw had arrived. Maggie rose and disappeared into her office. She respected Red, but didn’t enjoy his company.
“Red, good to see you,” I said as he strode into my office. “Coffee? How about something extra in it?” Red enjoyed a little brandy added to his coffee, even at ten in the morning.
“Not this morning. I’m meeting Lucy for lunch.” He flashed a rueful smile. “I see my nephew has already started. How much is that going to cost me?”
“Not a dime, unless he works on one of your matters, then you’ll be billed at a healthy rate.” I got a kick out of surprising him. “He’s got great experience and has already contributed. Looks like I may owe you.”
Red couldn’t hide his skepticism. “Did he tell you the army as much as discharged him, said he didn’t fit in despite winning the Silver Star?”
“He did. I also met an Iraqi vet last night who considers him a hero. The army’s loss is my gain. He’ll do a good job for us both.” Red still looked uncomfortable.
“Well, thanks for taking him. His mother will be pleased.”
“No problem,” I responded. “So, what’s up?”
Red was happy to get to the business at hand.
“Jack, Lucy was right. I’m already leaning on you for more than the Lobos’ business. So far you’ve always steered me right.”
“I appreciate that. And I don’t mind telling you I’ve enjoyed our arrangement,” I said, wondering where this was going.
“I was dead wrong about Billy Hopper. You believed in him, and you were right. You not only saved a fine young man, you saved me a boatload of money.” There had to be a catch, I’d never known Red to admit he was wrong.
“My top advisors want me to cancel your retainer and drop our business relationship.”
I doubted that advice had come from Lynn and Guy, the advisors who seldom left his side. But I could imagine his fiancée, Lucy Robinson, might have had some say in the matter.
“I take it they object to my potential representation of Rachel Goodman; they feel your association with me might be detrimental to your business. Your advisors don’t want you to lose government contracts on my account.”
“Well, something like that. How can we minimize the damage?”
“Here’s an idea I bet one of your advisors will love. I haven’t taken the case yet, but if I do, get Lucy to condemn me on the Senate floor. She can say I’m nothing more than a publicity hound and talk about how much pain I caused her family when I represented her husband’s killer.”
“You serious?” Red looked confused.
“Lucy and I have a unique relationship. No one will doubt her, and up to a point, I feel I owe her.”
“Well, I don’t know,” he began. “That may satisfy that press, but I need you for the Moss merger.”
“That’s six months away. The FTC isn’t about to let you complete that merger until they know how the Bass deal affects competition. By then, the outcome of Rachel’s case will be known.”
“Okay, but what about the Lobos? The team knows you, knows what you did for Billy, but the sports press can be vicious.”
“Dodge the sports press, but tell Gina to speak to one reporter she likes off the record. Have her tell him that you’re trying to cancel our retainer, but the contract has a hefty penalty clause, which it does.”
Red smiled. I had solved his problem, but I wanted him to know one more thing.
“Red, if our association becomes a problem, I’ll tear up the retainer and hand over the work to any lawyer you choose. I don’t want to be a problem for either you or Lucy.”
Red smiled. “I knew you’d say that. You’d walk away from hundreds of thousands of dollars for Rachel, wouldn’t you?”
“Yep—not for Rachel, but out of friendship with her father and loyalty to you. That’s how I hang.”
Red understood loyalty. He was quiet for a moment.
“Your sense of loyalty will be your downfall one of these days, but not with me. I’ll take your advice. Lucy will be thrilled with your suggestion, though you misunderstand her. She’s the one who told me to ask you how to get around the problem.”
“You think the fallout will be that bad?” I asked.
“I’m afraid so. People say everyone has a right to counsel, but they don’t really mean it when it comes to traitors. You know how this town works. Don’t be surprised if your oldest and closest friends forget who you are. Have you told Carol yet?”
“No. She wasn’t pleased to learn I was talking to Rachel’s father, and she doesn’t know I intend to represent Rachel if she will have me.”
“When do you see her next?” he asked.
“Tonight. We’re having dinner at her place, but we never talk about each other’s business. It’s a ground rule she set when we first started.”
“Should be an interesting evening,” he observed dryly.
As we walked to the elevator, he left me with a piece of advice.
“Jack, if you represent Rachel, more power to you. But a word of caution?”
“Your advice is always welcome.”
“This time you’ll be on your own. The government will make your life miserable, and you can expect every politician, business, and the media to line up against you. Even Walter Matthews will come under intense pressure to distance himself. I hope you’re prepared for a rough ride.”
I smiled. “I appreciate the warning, but surely it won’t be that bad.”
He turned to enter the elevator with a frown. “Don’t be naïve. And remember, you’ve been warned.”
35
DESPITE THE WARNINGS I’d received about Joan Laing, I still didn’t know what to expect when Brian and I arrived at the U.S. Attorney’s office. A middle-aged woman wearing a cream pantsuit greeted Brian and me with a cool smile. She wore her light blond hair pulled back at the neck. Her fair complexion and lack of makeup conveyed a school girls’ image. With a start, I realized her pale blue eyes were assessing me, as I was her. Looking amused, she introduced herself and led us into a small, windowless conference room. I gave her my card and introduced Brian.
She waved for us to sit and said, “I apologize for the accommodations. I scheduled a nicer room, but got bum
ped by the U.S. Attorney.”
She wasted no time with small talk.
“I hope you received the documents I sent. Were they satisfactory?” she asked.
Brian had gone over them with a fine-tooth comb, noting several trouble spots, but nothing I couldn’t live with. I wanted nothing to impede my meeting with Rachel.
I reached into my briefcase and handed her the documents, signed and notarized.
She placed them on the table and said, “Thank you. Now we can talk about tomorrow.
“Meet me outside the courthouse in Alexandria at eight o’clock. Two marshals will drive us to Ms. Goodman’s location. You may talk to her for an hour in my presence. That should be plenty of time for you to agree about representation. We should be able to return to the courthouse by two o’clock.”
A quick calculation showed a location about two hours from Alexandria. Or she could be just around the corner—I knew my Sherlock Holmes well. I pushed just a little.
“Mr. Hattoy has explained the rules: no papers, no computers, no cell phone. He mentioned a thorough personal search. Is that necessary?” I asked, letting annoyance creep into my voice.
“Master Sergeant Hattoy is correct on all points.” Her voice contained no hint of apology.
“You may have missed that I will ride with you to her location. I will sit in on your first interview, along with an FBI agent. If it makes you feel any better, I will be searched as well. Nor will I be allowed to carry a cell phone. The rules are specific.”
“Well, I appreciate the company; I’m sure we’ll find lots to talk about. But is all this necessary? I have an upper-level security clearance, and I’ve signed all your forms—seems more theater than necessity. And what is the reason for your presence at this interview? We can’t be candid with you and the FBI in the room.”
She gave Brian a quick glance before responding.
“Mr. Patterson, I know of your reputation and appreciate your belief in your potential client, but to the rest of the government she presents an enormous security risk. She is a traitor, a spy who handled sensitive military information that would be very dangerous in the hands of our enemies. Only a very few people know where Rachel is being held, and I am not one of them.
“I understand the importance of confidentiality between an attorney and his client, but the Department of Justice is not the only government agency involved. I hope you will cooperate with these initial security requirements so your client can have access to counsel, and I can have someone with whom I can discuss her future in a rational way.”
“What do you mean ‘her future?’” I asked.
“Our office will seek the death penalty in this case. I’m sure you are aware that the procedures necessary to get the Attorney General’s permission to seek the death penalty have been changed. Once that permission has been obtained, it’s very difficult for a U.S. Attorney to back away even if he or she wants.”
I interrupted, “You’re saying that if I want to discuss a plea, I need to get on board damn quick. Once you start the process, Rachel won’t have a chance in hell.” I’d already lost my cool—maybe Phil was right.
She kept hers. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, but I’m glad you understand.”
She’d given me fair warning: the window of opportunity to craft an agreement that would save Rachel’s life wouldn’t be open for long.
“You may as well get the ball rolling on my associates’ clearances. Micki Lawrence from Little Rock will be my co-counsel, and Mr. Hattoy has joined my firm as a paralegal and will work on this case.”
For the first time she looked uncomfortable. “Ms. Lawrence’s clearance will not be a problem. Uh… Mr. Hattoy might be another matter.”
She blushed when she looked at Brian, and I felt the blood rush to my neck.
“Ms. Laing. Let me explain something. I believe in getting along with opposing counsel, but if your problem with Mr. Hattoy has a thing to do with his sexual orientation, you and I have a big problem, one you don’t want. I expect Mr. Hattoy’s security clearance to be approved post haste—no ifs, buts, or ands about it. I hope I’ve made myself clear.”
“Mr. Patterson, you know security clearances are not issued by me or my office. I’m not involved in such decisions.” Her face had resumed its normal color.
“Then I suggest you get involved, because this is not a matter that’s open to negotiation. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
36
BRIAN AND I WALKED to the elevator and out of the building in silence. The tension lifted as we walked into the fresh air. I motioned to a bench on the sidewalk.
“I hope I didn’t embarrass you, but I’m not about to let a prosecutor dictate who works for me or for my client. Unless you can give me a good reason otherwise, I’ll stand my ground. Imagine a desk jockey deciding a war hero is a security risk because he’s gay. I thought that way of thinking was long gone.”
He smiled. “I appreciate your standing firm, thank you. Both my uncle and Maggie told me you’d be full of surprises. I didn’t expect them to come so soon.”
Mike dropped Brian off at the office and took me home to pack an overnight bag. He wasn’t happy with the idea I planned to spend the night at Carol’s, but I told him my plans weren’t negotiable. The last time I planned to stay the night at Carol’s it didn’t work out so well; I was optimistic tonight would be different.
I told Mike to pick me up in the morning, that I needed to be in Alexandria a little before eight tomorrow, and that if my plans changed, I’d take a cab home and let him know.
My high spirits dropped when Mattie, Carol’s cook and housekeeper, greeted me at the door telling me she was running late. I poured myself a drink and joined Mattie in the kitchen. She’d made one of my favorites, King Ranch Casserole—it was still in the oven. She told me it needed to bake a little longer and then rest a few minutes. There was a salad in the fridge and a key lime pie. Usually she stayed until after the dishes were done, but not tonight. She said Carol wanted tonight to be just the two of us. I grinned, sure I could handle the rest of dinner.
I wandered around the flat, examining photos and admiring art. Carol had explained that her home was her oasis from work—she never entertained clients here. Her place on the Eastern Shore was filled with pictures of Carol with politicians and other luminaries, but her home was adorned only with art and a few museum worthy photographs.
The minutes stretched on, and I grew a little uncomfortable, feeling almost like a voyeur. I turned off the oven and checked to be sure I hadn’t missed a message. I was just about to resort to the television when I heard the clatter of heels in the hallway. Carol burst into the room, out of breath and looking a little disheveled.
“Sorry to be so late, couldn’t help it.” She tossed her heels into the corner and said, “I’ll be right back. I need to freshen. Pour me a glass of wine, will you?”
I found a bottle of a French Chablis in the fridge and was trying to figure out the electric corkscrew when she appeared in jeans and a crisp white shirt that looked terrific with her dark full hair. This time she greeted me with a long kiss.
“Why don’t we skip dinner?” I asked pulling her toward me.
“What? And miss Mattie’s casserole?” she asked with a grin. “We have all night, Jack. You pour the wine, and I’ll get the food on the table.”
We were soon enjoying the spicy casserole. Looking across the table I wondered how I deserved someone as special as Carol and told her so.
Her brows furrowed, as though bothered by my compliment, but only for a moment.
“How was Arkansas?” she asked.
I concentrated on Clovis, whom she knew.
“Who would want to harm Clovis?” she asked.
“No one seems to know, but you can bet he’s got people trying to find out.” I didn’t mention the possibility it might have something to do with me.
She told me about the weekend I’d missed, and I told her about the man found on th
e eighteenth green at Columbia. She hadn’t heard about his murder, and shrugged it off when I couldn’t give her any real details.
We finished, and I cleared the table as she sliced the pie. She handed me a plate, we both sat down, and she gave me a long look.
“Jack, we need to hash something out before we get comfortable.”
“Okay,” I said, dreading what was next. I didn’t want to talk about her weekends or my desire to play golf.
“One of the many things I love about you is your loyalty to your friends. Sometimes you carry friendship and loyalty too far, but it’s who you are, and I never want to change that.” She reached across the table and took my hand.
“I know we agreed not to discuss each other’s business, but if it’s even crossed your mind to represent Rachel Goodman, please forget about it. It would be a career-ending mistake.
“You make your living representing clients who need the approval of the government for their mergers. If you represent a traitor, people will think you’ve become a radical anti-government lawyer, not the well-respected antitrust expert you are. How can you represent their business interests if the government thinks you’re a kook?”
I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. I understood her point of view, but I didn’t agree.
“Besides, we’d never see each other. My weekends at the Shore include defense contractors, lobbyists, and members of both the administration and Congress. None of those people will want to be seen with you if you choose to represent Rachel Goodman. The same goes for all the events on the Hill during the week.”
I couldn’t argue with her points, so I kept quiet, knowing I’d need time to figure this one out. I didn’t want to lose her.
“Now enough about business,” she said. “I’ve said my piece. Put the dishes in the sink and open another bottle of wine. I’ll turn on the ball game and meet you in the den in a few minutes.”
I put two glasses and the bottle on the table beside the oversized sofa in her den. I sank into it and saw that the Redskins were playing the Giants. Carol came in as I was getting settled. I took a quick breath—she was wearing a Stafford State Cardinals baseball jersey bearing my old number and name.