Power Lawyer 2

by Dave Daren

  “I won’t allow this,” I said as I stood up as well.

  “Then tell the judge,” Bertoch replied. “But we’re leaving.”

  The associate had managed to pull Kurzak to his feet, and was holding him up with one hand, while he gathered their gear with the other hand. Bertoch gave me a curt nod and led the way to the door. I needed to finish this deposition before Kurzak had time to recover, but short of tackling the three men, there was nothing I could do to make them stay.

  I huffed angrily after the three men had scuttled away. The transcriptionist was still there, an uncertain look upon her face.

  “I’ll have to call with a date for the continuation,” I said. I heard the anger in my voice and took a deep breath to try to bring it back down.

  “I’ll just wait for your call,” she replied. She started packing up her gear, and after a few more deep breaths, I helped her finish.

  “Sorry about that,” I apologized.

  “Oh, I’ve seen worse,” she said airily. “I once had a witness jump across the table and try to strangle the attorney because he kept asking him the same question over and over again.”

  “And lawyers wonder why we have such a bad reputation,” I sighed.

  “Let me know,” she said with a gentle laugh.

  I checked the time and realized I still had the conference room for another two hours. I plopped back into my chair and decided this was as good as place as any to get work done. Besides, Kurzak may have escaped from this round, but I had him dead to rights. Everyone who had been in the room knew it. Now all I needed to do was turn him into a witness for our side.

  I was convinced the rest of the day would just be another dreary slog, and it certainly went that way for the rest of the afternoon. I finished what work I could, and after a quick call with Sofia, I headed back to my apartment.

  I found some leftovers in the refrigerator which I popped into the microwave. I ate dinner in front of the TV and let my mind drift to any topic other than Joseph Kurzak. Images of a certain dragon tattoo figured in a lot of those thoughts, but then so did Anna’s warm eyes and beautiful smile. Not to mention Sofia’s shapely legs. I shook myself and decided that drifting minds posed dangers of their own, and I forced myself to pay attention to the antics taking place on the screen.

  It was nearing eleven o’clock when my phone rang. I considered ignoring it, but a little voice reminded me that calls this late might be news that you needed to hear. I jabbed at the screen until I hit the ‘accept’ button.

  “Hello?” I mumbled.

  “Are you in bed already?” a male voice slurred at me in disbelief.

  “I’m watching TV,” I replied even though I had no idea who I was talking to.

  “You’re a real S.O.B., you know that?” the voice went on, ignoring my statement.

  “Who is this?” I demanded.

  “It’s me,” my caller replied angrily. “The man you tried to ruin today.”

  “Kurzak?” I asked in surprise. He had to be three sheets to the wind. “How much have you had to drink?”

  “Not enough,” he sighed. After a moment, he added, “I had to meet with Watts after the deposition. He wants to know how you got your hands on that American Express bill.”

  “Does it matter?” I replied.

  “No,” he admitted. “I’m a dead man. It’s just a matter of when.”

  “Kurzak,” I said quietly, as if I were trying to calm a frightened horse. “The FBI can protect you.”

  He laughed uproariously for a minute and then broke into a hacking cough.

  “No one can protect me,” he finally sighed. “And no one should. I have committed a remarkable number of sins in my life, Mr. Creed, but none so grievous as those I committed against a man who treated me with nothing but dignity and respect.”

  “I can’t talk to you,” I warned. “You shouldn’t have called.”

  “I have no one else to talk to,” he said mournfully. “I have no friends, no family. The one man who would have listened is gone because of me.”

  I hung up, though every fiber of my being resisted. I wanted to hear his tale but talking to Kurzak without his attorney would put me on the judge’s blacklist for life.

  The phone rang again, and I checked the number. Kurzak. I let it go to voicemail, but he didn’t leave a message. He just called back, over and over, until I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Damn you, Kurzak,” I swore when I finally answered. “I’m going to block your number and then I’m going to tell the police that you’re harassing me.”

  “Go ahead,” he cackled. “But this is your one and only opportunity to know what truly happened.”

  “What exactly are you talking about?” I asked suspiciously.

  “He was a prince among men,” Kurzak continued, in a far more subdued tone. “Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him well.”

  “Arturo,” I finally reasoned.

  “Arturo,” he agreed. “The man was the brother I never had, and I betrayed him. Not for any gain of my own but because I could not control my impulses.”

  “We can talk about this in the deposition,” I tried again.

  “There won’t be any more depositions,” Kurzak sighed. “There is only tonight, and you will listen to me, for once.”

  I slowly counted to ten, but Kurzak said nothing else. There was music playing softly in the background, something melancholy. There was no voice, just instruments. It reminded me of an old Leonard Cohen song, but I couldn’t quite remember which one.

  “Tell me the truth,” I finally gave in. “How did Watts get control of the company?”

  “Now that’s a sordid tale,” he replied. “I suppose you know that I have a particular weakness for gambling.”

  “I’d heard,” I said, as he seemed to want an answer.

  “I also love beautiful women,” he continued. “The two together can be positively intoxicating.”

  “And you found that in Macao,” I guessed.

  “Ah, Macao,” he sighed. “That was a trip that started out with such promise. I was doing well at the tables, and the drinks were flowing. My wife was off visiting friends in Ottawa. I love my wife, but sometimes we need a break from each other.”

  “Of course,” I agreed to keep him going.

  “And there was this stunner standing next to me the whole night,” Kurzak explained. “She had a face that could have been the model for one of those little Japanese dolls, but then she had this figure--”

  “You were smitten,” I interjected. I wasn’t sure I was up for a lengthy description of Kurzak’s love life.

  “Normally, I would have stopped after I lost the first five thousand,” Kurzak continued after I heard him take a swig from whatever he was drinking. “But she kept urging me on.”

  “How much did you lose?” I asked, mostly out of curiosity.

  “A lot,” he replied. “More than a lot. I was in serious trouble. I was calculating how much I could sell the house for if I tried to unload it quickly. But then the woman made a proposal.”

  “Ah,” I said, as I heard the distinctive sound of ice clinking in a glass.

  “Yes,” Kurzak agreed. “I know now, of course, that she was working for the yakuza. And maybe the dealer was as well. Their job was to make sure I lost a good deal of money and then offer me a lifeline.”

  “ArDex was the lifeline,” I predicted.

  “I was to meet with a certain businessman, and if we came to terms, my debt would be forgiven,” Kurzak said. “The deal, as you so rightly guessed, was for ArDex.”

  “Was that when you met Watts?” I asked.

  “Indeed,” Kurzak replied. “Smug bastard, but he had me. He laid it all out for me. His associates would assume control of ArDex, and ArDex would become their primary shipper for goods to the U.S. I tried to tell him that I wasn’t the person he wanted. I was just the lawyer, not anyone in management.”

  “But you were Arturo’s good friend,” I said. “And that’s what th
ey really wanted.”

  “Yes, that was the key, of course,” he sighed. “I was the only one who really spent any time with Arturo, not only at the office, but away from the office as well. I just needed to make sure that Arturo stepped aside, and Watts could step in.”

  “What really happened to Arturo?” I asked.

  “The next morning, I found a small vial among my things, with rather specific instructions,” he said. “A small dose of the powder on a regular basis would make Arturo sick. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would keep him away from the company. I refused at first.”

  “But something happened,” I stated.

  “I received a picture on my phone,” he agreed. “It was taken from inside my house, and it showed a heavily tattooed man, sitting in my chair, drinking my whiskey, and holding up the broken body of my dog. The accompanying text just said, ‘The next time it will be the wife.’”

  “So you figured, better a sick friend than a dead wife,” I surmised.

  “Yes,” he admitted. “And I thought I could buy myself time. Pretend to cooperate and then find a way out of the problem.”

  “That was what you fought with Arturo about,” I guessed.

  “I went to him and confessed,” Kurzak replied. “He was angry, yes, but mostly disappointed. I’d been so careful, so good, the last few years, and then I went and blew it all in that one trip.”

  “And Arturo refused to help,” I finished.

  “I couldn’t believe it at the time,” he said. “He’d bailed me out so many times before. Of course, he understood better than I did what was at stake.”

  “Did you tell him about the poison?” I asked.

  “No,” he admitted. “I tell myself it was because I never planned to use it, but I know that really, I was afraid I would have to.”

  “You knew Arturo would turn you down,” I said.

  “Deep down, I knew,” he agreed. “I just didn’t want to admit it.”

  “For four years, you poisoned the one man who had been there for you,” I noted. The disdain I felt for this man was evident in my voice.

  “I just needed some time,” he huffed.

  “You couldn’t come up with anything in four years?” I retorted angrily.

  Kurzak went silent, and I was afraid I’d lost him. I reined in the anger that was surging through me and forced myself to breathe slowly.

  “They are my family,” he finally mumbled.

  “Tell me about Leo,” I replied as calmly as I could manage.

  “Leo, the lost son,” Kurzak sighed. “He wasn’t a bad person, really. He loved Anna, and he believed in her. That’s why he always did what she wanted, even when they were kids. Watts couldn’t understand that. He was so sure that Leo would just sell the stock and walk away.”

  “But he still listened to Anna,” I added. “And if she wanted the shares, he would have sold them to her without a second thought.”

  “And Leo was going to,” Kurzak said. “Watts was well and truly pissed about that. He convinced Leo to fly in from Boston. I’ll say this about Watts, he knows how to sell. Poor Leo never stood a chance. Watts made him all sorts of promises if the kid would just hop on the plane and fly to L.A.”

  “I know he made it as far as LAX,” I replied.

  “They intercepted him as he was leaving the rental counter,” Kurzak sighed. “I thought Watts was just going to bring him to the office and try to convince him to sell his shares to the company.”

  I let the silence sit there after that statement. After four years with the yakuza, there’s no way Kurzak could honestly believe that Leo would simply be driven to the office so Watts could chat with him.

  “They drove him out to Pismo Beach, and told him to sign the contract if he wanted to live,” Kurzak finally continued.

  “Why did they kill him?” I asked.

  “He was no longer important,” Kurzak replied. “Signing that contract was the same as signing his own death warrant.”

  “And Arturo?” I demanded. “Why kill him after four miserable years?”

  “Watts realized that he would never be the head of ArDex as long as Arturo was still alive,” Kurzak explained. “Four years into his reign, and people still wanted to run things by Arturo. Everyone’s response to any question was always ‘Ask Arturo’. When Watts made a suggestion about anything, people would insist that Arturo be consulted. It was a real low blow to this ego.”

  “You gave Arturo an overdose,” I said.

  “I did not,” he replied angrily, and he did sound genuinely offended. “I only gave him the small dosages as originally prescribed. Someone else was responsible for administering the lethal dose.”

  “But you knew about it,” I said, the accusation clear.

  “I guessed after the fact,” Kurzak insisted. “Watts mentioned a few days after Arturo’s death that the Mizuchi was growing restless with the slow pace of the project.”

  “So you helped to kill Arturo and Leonardo, and there’s only Anna left,” I snapped. “And how long until they decide to make another attempt against her?”

  “I don’t have any control,” he barked. “Watts is fully in charge.”

  “Watts sent those men to Anna’s house?” I demanded.

  “What men?” Kurzak asked quietly.

  “Two men broke into the house where she was staying,” I replied. “A third followed her when she drove away. I tried to shake him after I picked her up, but we ended up wrecking the car. You really didn’t know about this?”

  “No one told me,” he said sadly. I realized it could be true. Certainly, neither Anna nor I had talked to him about it. If Watts had set it up, he may not have told Kurzak for fear that Kurzak would warn Anna.

  “If she had just walked away from the company, she would be safe,” Kurzak sighed.

  “Like Leo?” I grumbled.

  “You don’t understand,” Kurzak complained. “You’ve never understood. Anna is a woman.”

  “I do understand that,” I replied with a bit of snark in my voice.

  “The Mizuchi believes that a woman is not strong, not a warrior,” Kurzak explained. “They may make convenient tools, like the woman in Macao, but they aren’t a threat. I tried to tell you that Anna could be saved if she would just sell her shares and go live a life away from the company. But neither of you listened to me.”

  I felt my heart freeze in my chest. I thought back to my first conversation with Kurzak, and the slideshow presentation from Agent Smart.

  “He’s here, isn’t he?” I asked quietly as a thread of fear slid up my spine.

  “It’s falling apart,” Kurzak replied. “Matters must be dealt with.”

  “You can still save her,” I said urgently. “Go to the FBI, tell them what you’ve told me.”

  Another drunken laugh, followed by the sound of liquid sloshing into a glass.

  “I can’t even save myself,” Kurzak noted sadly.

  “Joe, it’s Anna,” I pleaded.

  “I know,” he replied and then he hung up.

  I hit the redial frantically, and kept hitting it for over an hour, but Kurzak never picked up his phone.

  I finally gave up on Kurzak and dialed Anna’s number.

  “What?” she mumbled, still half-asleep.

  “Anna, it’s Vince,” I said urgently.

  “Vince,” she said, and I could hear her shifting in the bed. “Vince, what’s wrong?”

  “I just needed to check on you,” I replied. “Are you okay? Nothing’s happened?”

  “I’m fine,” she assured me. “Vince, you’re scaring me. What’s happened?”

  “I just had a long and interesting phone call with Joe Kurzak,” I replied. “I think the Mizuchi is here.”

  “Oh,” she said. After a long pause, she asked, “What do we do?”

  “Do you feel safe there?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “They have some pretty serious security here. I guess they thought having a place full of women would be too
enticing for some.”

  “Then stay there,” I replied. “I’ll call you when I’ve got something else worked out.”

  “Be careful,” she pleaded.

  “I will,” I promised.

  My next call was to Agent Smart’s number, and I left a brief message saying that I had reason to believe that the Mizuchi was in L.A. After that, there was nothing to do but pace around the apartment, and make yet one more attempt to reach Kurzak.

  At some point, I sat down on the couch and drifted into sleep. I don’t know what I dreamed about, but it left me feeling on edge and frantic to do something, anything, that would put an end to this.

  When I woke up, the TV was still on, and the morning news anchors were smiling at the camera, congratulating each other on another beautiful day in Los Angeles. Then, both anchors turned somber, and the male intoned that they were receiving new information about the one-car accident on the 405. The video image switched to a nighttime scene of a car plastered against a concrete barrier. Flames had engulfed the car, and firemen moved in and out of the picture as they tried to bring the fire under control.

  “Sources have identified the victim of the crash as local attorney Joseph Kurzak,” the male anchor said. “It appears that Mr. Kurzak lost control of his car and crashed into the wall. Fortunately, no one else was injured.”

  The video switched back to the studio, and the female anchor picked up the story. “Police haven’t spoken about Mr. Kurzak’s condition at the time, but several sources say that Mr. Kurzak’s car had been driving erratically before the accident.”

  “Such a shame,” the male anchor intoned. “We’ll keep you updated as we hear more details, of course, but things are still slow going near the 101 interchange, so you may want to consider alternate routes.”

  I turned off the TV and stared blankly at the wall. Kurzak had his own exit plan, after all.

  Chapter 18

  Kurzak’s funeral was still in the planning stages when we reassembled in Judge Luca’s chambers. With Kurzak now dead, I’d lost an important part of the case. I needed an extension, and the judge had agreed to a hearing almost as soon as the motion was filed.

  Bertoch and his crew looked grim, yet somehow satisfied as well. Bertoch and I exchanged nods again, while Bertoch’s minions fluttered about.