by Dave Daren
“Maybe they’re evolving,” I offered. “New leadership, new ideas, something like that.”
“We would’ve heard if a new boss took over,” he scoffed. “That’s big news.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Febbo, you didn’t know how many of them had infiltrated the Italian families already,” I said carefully. “If the Serbs don’t want anyone to know about a change in power, they could just be keeping it close to the vest.”
Sal stared at me with a mixture of disbelief, pissed off, and deep thought on his face. I wasn’t as well-versed in the mob life as the Febbos were, but I’d read a few books since undertaking my mob lawyer role.
“Okay, so, the point is we can’t just take Vlado out of the picture,” Anthony finally said. “We have to find the head of the snake, and it seems he may only be the body.”
“But he has access to the head,” I murmured as an idea began to form. “I think Sal may be right about needing the laptop, but I’d say to not take it, ah, quite so boldly.”
“Explain,” Sal ordered me.
“Okay, so we need the laptop to get more intel,” I said as my eyes darted over to Liz. “So, there has to be a better way to access it than to bust down someone’s door and letting the bullets fly.”
“That would be preposterous,” the elder Febbo huffed. “You could shoot the laptop.”
I swallowed hard as Anthony shook his head and looked at me.
“Do you have an idea about how to get it?” he asked.
“I think it would be best if I wasn’t the one who developed a plan for theft,” I replied with a shrug.
I was getting dangerously close to illegal territory, and I had to be careful what I took part in, had knowledge of, and encouraged my client to do. If I didn’t pay more attention to what I said, he’d think I backed some kind of smash-and-grab plan, which I certainly would have a hard time fighting in court if Vlado and his goons chose to pursue it.
“Alright,” Anthony agreed. “I think it’s better to find something more covert anyway. It would keep the heat off our family at the very least. I’m sure you noticed we don’t need any more special attention”
Sal seemed to consider his son’s statement for a moment, and he rubbed the salt-and-pepper stubble on his chin as he stared at Anthony.
Keeping the Febbos out of trouble was Sal’s highest priority. He was pissed about all their guys getting picked up, and all the bogus charges I was already dealing with in the courtroom proved someone had some pull. If they went with a violent attack against Vlado to get the laptop, the problems could get even worse. I didn’t mind getting paid for the overtime, but it wouldn’t be easy to get every guy the best deal possible.
“Fine,” Sal finally grumbled. “For now.”
His last two words hung in the air like a fog, and Liz and I shared an awkward glance as we avoided thinking about what the mob boss meant by that.
“Then we drink and have some light conversation,” Anthony chuckled as he pulled the bottle of whiskey from his father’s desk and began to pour each of us a glass. “I know Hunter enjoys this.”
“You know Hunter had to have a sleepover last time we had too much of this,” I muttered as I took a slow sip of the amber liquid.
“Just take it easy this time,” Anthony laughed. “Now, for that light conversation. What would you say would definitely get a person pulled over?”
“Ah, that’s a really broad question.” I frowned and took another sip. “It could be as simple as the tag light being out or as obvious as swerving over the center line.”
“Cracked windshields can do it, too,” Liz piped up as she accepted her glass. “Anything that’s considered defective equipment has the potential to get the driver pulled over and at least questioned, if not cited.”
“Interesting,” Anthony mused. “Seems like an easy way to get into immediate contact with law enforcement.”
“Which is why we have people who make sure our vehicles are in perfect condition,” Sal retorted as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s the point of this?”
“Just casual conversation, Papa,” my client assured him, though I had a feeling there was much more to it than that. “What about the difference in drug charges between possession and trafficking?”
“The main difference is the amount,” Liz answered. “A simple possession charge would be enough for one person, but if an officer suspects the person of selling the drugs, it’s usually because there’s more product in the vehicle.”
“Or because the person has precursors with them,” I added. “Any of the chemicals used to make drugs qualify as a precursor and would up the ante from simple possession.”
“Plus, having baggies, large amounts of cash in small bills, scales, stuff like that,” Liz pointed out. “Those are a definite red flag for cops.”
“Oh, that’s true,” I agreed. “As soon as they see the stuff that says you’re on your way to make a deal or you’ve already made one, it’s game over.”
“Why are you asking these things, bimbo?” Sal wondered and kept his wary gaze on his son. “You know we don’t do such petty business.”
“I know we don’t,” Anthony confirmed with a nod. “But some people do, and those people would be in quite a pickle if they were caught in that situation, right?”
“Of course,” his father said hesitantly. “I think your attorneys here could agree with that.”
“Indeed.” Liz nodded. “It’s difficult to fight evidence like that. The person would likely be arrested on the spot.”
“I see,” Anthony mused. “And, hypothetically, of course, if someone were to be pulled over and subsequently arrested on, let’s say, the interstate, where would they be taken?”
“It just depends on the jurisdiction they’re in,” I answered. “Within city limits, they could still be taken to Rikers or the local precinct. Outside the city, it’s up in the air, especially depending on which agency pulled them over.”
“So, they could literally go to one of a half dozen places?” My client’s face stretched into a Cheshire cat grin that made me squirm.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I agreed.
“Even better,” he said and rubbed his hands together. “Now, let’s finish these drinks and go get some real food.”
“Ah, I’ll just head on out, then,” Jovanni declared as he took the last swig of his drink. “I don’t--”
“Nonsense,” Sal cut him off with a wave of his hand. “You’re family, so you’ll eat with family.”
The elder Febbo looked at Liz and I with an odd expression, but he didn’t uninvite us to dinner, so I took it as a good sign the old man was finally warming up to us.
My co-counsel and I shared a look before we followed the Italian trio downstairs to the dining room where Gulia, Annie, and Michael had migrated. They chatted easily with no knowledge of the borderline illegal discussion that had just taken place above their heads, and part of me envied the simplicity of their lives.
All they had to do was pretend they had no idea what Sal and Anthony were doing. I didn’t have that luxury.
My gears were turning at full speed as I tried to figure out where Anthony had been going with his questions. Did he have plans to set up a new avenue of income for the family? It seemed Sal wouldn’t be on-board with that plan, and I knew I wouldn’t be, either.
If that wasn’t the case, what the hell could he be up to?
My gaze drifted across the table to Liz, who had hugged Annie like an old friend before taking the seat next to her so they could talk about what the other had been doing while Liz was away. I knew they’d enjoyed their jaunt to Italy a few weeks ago, but my thoughts were centered on Liz’s approach to Anthony’s questions.
She hadn’t even seemed concerned with his mindset. She’d given him every answer and then some, and she’d done it without batting an eye. She knew more about the drug laws than I’d expected her to, but I could only guess that came with the territor
y of celebrity defense.
Maybe one of her famous clients had been caught with too much pot, so she had more experience in the realm than I did. Or maybe she was getting used to her clients using a variety of drugs and getting pulled over. There seemed to always be some celebrity or another in the news for drugs, right?
I hoped it was more about experience and less about supporting our client’s father’s penchant for the illegal options. I wasn’t sure what Anthony had up his sleeve, and I decided it wasn’t in anyone’s best interest to try to figure it out. I just had to chalk it up to a newfound desire to learn about the law.
Even if the realistic part of my brain told me that was really, really stupid.
The kitchen staff brought out several courses of delicious Italian food that seemed to mostly settle my nervous stomach, but I hardly tasted the bites I took. I was anxious about Anthony’s plan to get Vlado’s laptop, and even Annie could tell something was wrong with me.
“Hunter, you’re awfully quiet tonight,” she remarked with an arched eyebrow.
“Ah, just tired,” I fibbed. “I finished moving into the new house this weekend, so I’ve got some sleep to catch up on when I get back.”
“Ooooh, tell me everything about it!” she gushed. “Do you have a decorator yet?”
“Uh, I guess?” I shrugged and gestured toward Liz. “She picked out a bunch of stuff for me.”
“Oh, really?” Annie wiggled her eyebrows at Liz who blushed and laughed.
“His walls were literally bare,” she giggled. “It wasn’t so bad at his apartment, but in that big living room, it looked so cold.”
“Did you have to get more furniture?” Annie wondered. “I was thinking about moving into a house, too, but I just…”
She continued on and on about buying furniture and decorating a house, and I quickly resumed my quiet thoughts while Liz kept her attention. I was nearly finished with my chocolate-filled pastry and my plan to drag Liz out of the house when my phone vibrated in my jeans pocket.
The feeling startled me, especially since I was already with the two people who regularly called me. Not to mention, it was nearly eight on a Sunday night.
I pulled my phone out and stared at the caller ID before I showed it to Anthony. He motioned for me to take the call in the living room, and he, Sal, and Jovanni followed me as I slid my finger across the screen to answer it and tapped the button to put the call on speakerphone.
“Hello?” I clenched my jaw as I awaited a response.
“I’m surprised you answered, Mr. Morgan,” Agent Hisashi said in a smooth voice on the other end. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Well, I don’t have much to say,” I retorted. “At some point, you have to draw the line between asking and harassing. Where is that line, exactly, Agent?”
“You know I’m not harassing you,” he grumbled.
“What do you call approaching my friend at her job?” I shot back. “Ms. Bennett doesn’t know any more than I do, yet you showed up at her firm asking your questions.”
“She is your co-counsel, if I’m not mistaken,” Hisashi replied.
“Was,” I corrected. “She’s returning to London soon and will no longer be assisting me with my cases, so you can just end that line of questioning now and save us all the headache.”
“Interesting.” I could hear the scratch of a pen on paper and wondered why that information was worth noting. “I’m just learning more information and wanted to verify it with you.”
“You can tell me what you’ve learned if you want,” I said nonchalantly. “But I can’t verify anything I don’t know or can’t share. I’m sure you understand. Or I can go over attorney-client privilege with you again? Agent Monroe did seem a little lost in that conversation.”
“Monroe is a rookie,” Hisashi muttered. “I’m sure you picked up on that, but he’s a good agent. He just wants the truth.”
“Don’t we all?” I scoffed. “And you must not be getting it if you’re back to calling me.”
“Oh, I’m getting plenty,” he assured me, though I got the distinct feeling he was bluffing. “Like I said, I just wanted to know if any of it rang a bell with you, but if not, don’t worry about it.”
I glanced at Anthony who motioned for me to keep the conversation going. I wasn’t sure how it would help us to keep the FBI on the phone, but I shrugged and pressed on.
“Well, if it doesn’t have anything to do with me or my client, I’d be willing to try to help you,” I said in a wary tone. “I won’t breach my client’s trust, Agent Hisashi.”
“Oh, I got that message loud and clear,” he grumbled. “I’m not trying to impede on your client’s civil rights or privacy or whatever, Counselor. I just want to put bad guys in jail, and right now, my focus is on the bad guys who are trying to run your city.”
“Understandable,” I murmured. “There are a few bad guys in there.”
“Like Sergeant Nelson?” Hisashi pressed.
“I told you,” I grunted. “My client and I are off-limits. Try again, Hisashi, or I can just hang up now.”
Anthony waved his hands around to tell me he did not, in fact, want me to hang up now, but I had to call the agent’s bluff. He didn’t have a damn thing, and he was still trying to get me to give him something he could use.
“Okay, okay,” the agent huffed. “What about District Attorney Adams? I heard you two had a little scuffle last week.”
I hesitated and looked at Anthony. I didn’t want to go into detail about the altercation I’d had with Adams if he didn’t want me to, and it hadn’t been anywhere near close to assault, though the threat had been clear. The main problem was I had no idea who to blame for the threat.
“Just a second,” I said and muted the call before I sighed. “Okay, this guy isn’t going to stop. What do you want me to do?”
“Let me think,” Anthony muttered as he began to pace the room. “He’s determined to go after someone, and it’s certainly best if it isn’t me or my pop.”
“Obviously,” Sal said dryly. “I thought you were working on a plan.”
“Yeah, for the Vlado problem,” Anthony retorted. “Not this one.”
Then his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree before he stopped and stared at me.
“Oh, God, what is it?” I asked with a twinge of uncertainty.
“Okay, listen, tell him you might have some intel for them soon,” he ordered me. “But don’t tell him what. Tell him you’re working on something, and they have to stay away for it to work. Maybe that will buy us some time.”
“Some time to do what?” I wondered.
“Don’t worry about that part.” Anthony shook his head. “I’ll deal with that. You just tell him what I said.”
“Alright,” I agreed and unmuted the phone. “Hisashi?”
“Yeah,” he grunted.
“I’m working on something that might help you,” I explained. “But I need some time to get what you can use. I’m assuming your goal is a subpoena?”
“Maybe,” the agent hedged.
“So, that’s a yes.” I smirked and continued. “Anyway, I can’t have you and the rookie buzzing around me all the time if I’m going to make this work. So, you have to back off for a while and let me get the info for you.”
“How do I know you’ll really have something?” he asked with obvious mistrust.
“I guess you don’t,” I replied. “But you have my word, if that means anything to you. I just need the time and space to make it happen.”
The phone went silent as Agent Hisashi considered my offer before he released a heavy breath.
“Fine,” he agreed. “We’ll back off, but you have until the end of the week to bring me something I can use, or I’ll pick you up for lying during a federal investigation. Got it?”
“Yeah, loud and clear,” I scoffed. “Have a good night, Agent.”
I hung up before Hisashi could give me any more demands and looked at the mobsters around me.
&nbs
p; “That went well,” Anthony commented.
“Did it?” Sal asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Well, it got the feds to back off for a few days,” his son countered. “And that gives me some time to hammer out some details.”
“I hope you have a pretty solid plan,” I murmured. “I don’t particularly feel like representing myself in a federal obstruction case.”
“Oh, I’m working on it,” Anthony chuckled. “Don’t worry. We won’t let you become some inmate’s girlfriend. We’ll have the laptop and the info the feds want long before then.”
“Well, thank God,” I snorted.
I played along with Anthony’s bravado, but the situation was serious.
We only had six days to get the laptop and keep the FBI out of our hair.
Chapter 12
The sun blazed in through the gap in the curtains as I slowly opened my eyes a millimeter to find that morning had arrived. I nearly rolled to the floor when I turned and realized I was on the couch instead of my bed. I must have fallen asleep watching TV last night, and I mentally kicked myself for not charging my phone, which currently showed a proud two percent battery life.
I grumbled as I climbed the stairs to my room and plugged it in to charge while I showered and got ready for the day.
The hot water soothed my aching muscles, a gift from my couch that I now knew was great for sitting and less great for sleeping. As I let the steaming liquid pour over my skin, I realized it was already Wednesday.
It had been three days since the FBI told me I had to come up with something or face federal charges, and Anthony hadn’t given me a clue about how we’d get ourselves out of this dilemma. The thought of facing the feds in court sent a shiver down my spine, despite the hot water running over me.
After his hypothetical third degree, I’d imagined Anthony had something brewing, but he hadn’t filled me in yet. I started to wonder if his questions really hadn’t led him to a solution, and that could set up a whole other situation that I really didn’t want to be in.
If Anthony decided to follow Sal’s advice, we’d be in some very hot water. I didn’t know how I’d get my client out of a murder charge, so his stint as mob boss would become very short-lived, and that was if the Serbs even let him survive the trial.
