Talion Justice

by Rick Bosworth

  The Latino had crawled to the safety of the sidewalk in all the commotion, where he lay moaning. He was very convincing and was putting on quite the performance. The woman bent over him; he pretended to lose consciousness. She shrieked, then bolted back to her Mercedes. She took cover behind the driver’s-side door, then flailed about the cabin until she retrieved her cellphone. She furiously pecked at the screen and began to have an animated conversation with whoever was on the other end. Probably her attorney. Certainly not the police, or even 9-1-1.

  The Mercedes was off to the side of the road just enough to allow another lane of traffic to eke by, everyone slowing to look and pass judgment.

  The idea came to me in a flash, fully formed. I knew how we were going to get Li out of the CIA.

  I rushed to the fallen man, kneeled beside him.

  “I know what you’re doing,” I whispered.

  The Latino popped one eye open for an instant, took my measure, then slammed it closed. He continued his moaning.

  “Look,” I said, gently shaking him by the shoulder. “I’m not gonna rat you out. I want in. But if you don’t tell me who your boss is, I’ll tell the cops.”

  The Latino’s face went slack. He stopped his moaning and opened both his eyes. I repeated my offer.

  A couple of vehicles pulled over in front of us. A large man emerged from one of them and began to walk towards us. I could hear the sound of faint sirens approaching. The look on the Latino man’s face told me he heard them as well.

  “Quick,” I said, leaning into the man’s face. “Tell me now, or this thing’s over. Your boss’s name. Now.”

  The Latino man’s eyes shot towards the approaching man, then back to me. He rolled his eyes and pursed his lips, letting out a low grunt. He slid his hands into his pocket and palmed me something, just as the large man strode up and stood over us. My new Latino friend went right back into victim mode, his wailing more convincing than before.

  “You all right? What happened?” the large man said in a deep voice.

  “That Mercedes came out of nowhere!” I said, rising to my feet. I pocketed what the Latino had just passed to me. “Hit this poor guy as he was crossing the street. Somebody better call an ambulance. I think he’s hurt real bad.”

  The Latino guy opened his eyes just enough to give me a quick wink. I decided not to stick around and see how this one ended, as I thought it best to not be here when the cops arrived. I passed my homeless friend on the way down Pennsylvania Avenue towards the White House. He was on his feet with excitement now.

  “I told ya! I told ya!” He cackled, clapping his hands and dancing a jig.

  “Yeah, you called it, all right,” I said with a nod. This guy would never know that he’d just saved Chang Li. Such is the mystery of life.

  I walked with purpose, head bowed to avoid eye contact. I found an empty bench in Lafayette Square and spread out. Looking around, I fished into my pocket for what the Latino had given me. It was a business card.

  Gerardo Gonzalez

  “Call Me Gerry!”

  I’ll fight to get you the justice you deserve.

  There was a big scale of justice as a background image for the card, with one side tipped in favor of the other. The card bore both a local and a 1-800 number, and a NoMa address in NE DC.

  I smiled as I fingered the card. “Hello, Gerry. You’re just the man I want to see.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  September 22, 2016

  Attorney Gerry Gonzalez’s Office

  NoMa, NE WDC

  “Mr. Gonzalez will see you now,” said the gray-haired secretary with a pinched face. She watched me walk across the sparse lobby. I felt her eyes on me as I stepped to the hollow-core door with “GERALDO GONZALEZ, Esquire” emblazoned in gold leaf. I turned the knob to enter. The door felt cheap and lightweight in my hand as I swung it open. I hoped the man behind it was not.

  I had taken the Red Line Metro train to NoMa-Gallaudet U Station, in the developing neighborhood known as “NoMa,” located north and east of Union Station. It was also the home of Union Market, a restored grocery and specialty food hall that was the epicenter of DC’s gourmet food scene. In the second half of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, NoMa was known as Swampoodle, which pleased me for some unknown reason.

  Gonzalez instantly rose from behind his oversized desk when I entered his office. He appeared to stand no more than five and a half feet tall, but was thick and sturdy as a refrigerator. He strode from behind his desk, hand extended in greeting. I noticed his giant white veneers from clear across the office. They glowed in his tan face, like a jack-o-lantern’s grin or that exaggerated smile emoji you never use because it’s just too much. We met in front of his desk and shook hands. He had small hands and thick fingers; a gaudy ring adorned the pinkie finger of each hand. The palms were smooth as snakeskin. Strong grip with extended eye contact. Good. He had a full head of matte-black hair, slicked back, and a matching eighties Tom Selleck mustache.

  Gonzalez pointed to one of the two yellow upholstered chairs facing his desk. He passed me and walked to his office door. He told his secretary to hold his calls, clicked the door shut, then returned to his desk. It gave me time to give his office a once-over. It looked like a box of crayons had exploded. Bright colors, strangers all, combined to form a jarring palette. I followed Gonzalez as he returned, enjoying his lavender suit and gold tie.

  He took his place at his desk, which was so big he appeared to be riding it. I was sure he had boosted the height of his chair so as not to disappear behind it, and wondered if his feet even reached the floor. He laced his fingers on the desk in front of him and smiled again. The wattage pressed me back into my chair.

  “Mr. Luce.” Gonzalez looked me over good. “I normally do not meet new clients under these circumstances. But for you, I make an exception.”

  “Me and my one thousand dollars.” Sarah had wired the fee to Gonzalez through some bogus LLC she had set up for our little talion adventure. It was Doyle’s money. Turns out he had lots of it stashed away from his lifetime of crime.

  “Yes, of course,” Gonzalez said. “The grand did get my attention. And it let me know you weren’t a cop or the feds. They’re not gonna walk a grand just for a first meeting with a man such as myself.” Gonzalez stroked his black mustache. “First off, that grand is a payment to your attorney—me. Whatever we’re about to talk about is protected under attorney–client privilege. I don’t talk, you don’t talk. Got it?”

  I nodded, then looked towards his office door. Gonzalez followed my glance. He paused, and then his large dark eyes grew wide in recognition.

  “Silvia?” Gonzalez chuckled. “Don’t worry about her. She’s been with me forever. I completely trust her. She knows everything going on in my office.” He leaned over the desk and whispered, “Everything.”

  “She didn’t seem to like me much.”

  “Oh, Silvia’s just protective of me is all. You came to us under unusual circumstances, Mr. Luce.”

  “Frank. You can call me Frank.”

  “Okay, Frank. All my clients call me Gerry.”

  Gonzalez then explained that he had been reluctant to take this meeting, despite my one-thousand-dollar show of good faith. But he had done his homework on me. Had discovered my military background and that I was a Medal of Honor recipient, which seemed to carry weight with him. He also told me that an attorney he knew and trusted had vouched for me.

  “I don’t know any lawyers,” I said. “Don’t like ’em.”

  Gonzalez laughed at this. A deep, full-bodied laugh. “I don’t like them much either.” He paused. “You know a woman named Sarah Reyes?”

  I nodded slightly, unsure of where this was going.

  “She called my friend. He trusts her. And I trust him. So here you are. It’s all about trust in my profession. Do you trust me, Frank?”

  “I don’t trust anyone, Gerry. Especially someone I just met.”

  “Well, my fr
iend, you’d better get over that right quick if we are going to work together.”

  We both allowed that to hang in the air. He seemed to feed on the silence. A confident man. I liked that. I decided to trust him.

  “I saw your man yesterday. At Morrow Park. The Latino. Great performance. Whatever you’re paying that guy, it’s not enough.”

  A tight grin tugged at the corners of his push-broom mustache. “You want a job, Frank? That’s what this is about?”

  “Not exactly, Gerry. Tempting, but I’m not interested in getting hit by cars for a living.”

  I ran through the plan, the first talion ladder step. Gonzalez would stage a car accident just like the one I’d witnessed yesterday, but this time the mark would be Chang Li’s asshole neighbor, Kyle Brown. The professional plaintiff who had filed over one hundred frivolous lawsuits over the past decade. This time he would be on the wrong side of the v, see what it felt like to be a defendant for a change. Gonzalez would file a huge civil lawsuit against Brown, throw everything at him. Make him scream. Then dismiss the lawsuit when I told him to. No questions asked. For this, Gonzalez would be paid a flat fee of twenty thousand dollars, five now and fifteen when the lawsuit was dropped.

  Gonzalez listened in silence. His eyes blinked rapidly when I got to the money part. He stroked his mustache when I was done.

  “Why are you doing this, Frank?”

  “Let’s just say Chang Li’s a good friend of mine, and I want to help him out of a jam.”

  “Twenty large says he’s more than a friend.”

  “You interested or not?”

  “Just the accident? Nothing else?” Gonzalez folded his arms across his chest. He tilted back in his chair, chin raised, as he regarded me through dark, squinted eyes.

  “Nothing else. By the book.”

  Gonzalez thought. I let him, glancing about his office. The diploma behind his desk was from Ave Maria School of Law, which appeared to be a Catholic law school in Naples, Florida. I’d never heard of such a place and made a mental note to confirm whether this school was ABA accredited.

  “No one gets hurt, Gerry,” I said, breaking our silence. “Push this to the top of your list. Get the lawsuit filed ASAP. It’s a lot of money for a little bit of work.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Gonzalez responded, sliding his chair back into the desk, the legs scraping against the wood floor. He shook his head. “I don’t know. This thing’s starting to make my ass itch.”

  “It’s a good payday, Gerry. Take it.”

  Gonzalez tilted his head back, eyes closed. He only needed a moment to make up his mind.

  “Twenty-five K. Ten down, fifteen when we’re done. Not a penny less.”

  “Throw in the Latino guy and we got a deal,” I countered.

  “Deal!”

  Gonzalez shot to his feet. He walked around his desk and shook my hand. I stood a full head taller than he, despite his thick-heeled shoes. His teeth were larger and brighter close up. His big smile did not reach his dark snake eyes.

  And that’s how I came to trust Geraldo Gonzalez, Esquire.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  September 30, 2016

  Chipotle Restaurant Bathroom

  Downtown, WDC

  The boy was about Teddy’s age. Laughing and animated. His younger sister sat at his right in a high chair, the parents across the table. All were tucking into a large plate of chips and guacamole at a downtown Chipotle, the one near the National Portrait Gallery. The parents sat close together. They could have been celebrating their child’s birthday. But I knew that wasn’t the reason for all those smiling faces. No, it wasn’t a birthday. It was much better than that.

  The boy shrieked in exuberance. His father shushed him, then tousled his hair. The boy giggled. My thoughts drifted to my own son. I swallowed hard, then took a long draw off the straw I’d stuck in my jumbo cup of soda. I pulled the plastic lid off and poked at the ice cubes with the straw. Put the cup to my lips and sucked a few cubes into my mouth, then bit down hard. The chill down my spine brought me back.

  It had been a little over a week since I’d paid Gonzalez his ten-grand deposit, and he’d held his word. Things had moved quickly. A lot had been put in place. I hoped it would all pay off tonight.

  The father kissed his wife and got up from the table. I followed him at a discreet distance into the bathroom. The man stood at a urinal. I glanced under the bathroom stall doors to ensure they were unoccupied, then stepped up to the urinal directly next to the man, a necessary breach of man etiquette that nonetheless made me uneasy.

  I gave the man a quick side-eye and mumbled a greeting. He returned it. We stood in silence for a long moment, eyes forward.

  “Is your family enjoying their meal, Chang?” I asked Li.

  Li’s head shot around. “Excuse me?” Concern rolled across his face.

  “I like the guac and chips too. A little high on the calories, but what the hell—you guys are celebrating tonight. Right, Chang?” I turned my head to face him.

  “What?” He paused, his eyelids fluttering. “Do I know you? How do you know my name?”

  “And Kyle… Can you believe that asshole?” I said. “He actually had the balls to come over to your home last night and apologize to you. Shook your hand and everything.”

  Li’s face went slack. He turned his body toward me, as if in a trance.

  “Whoa there, Chang. I don’t need to see that. Front forward. Act normal.”

  Li robotically turned back into the urinal. His breathing became shallow and rapid.

  “Listen to me, Chang. We don’t have a lot of time here. You’re out celebrating with your family tonight, right?”

  Li nodded and kept his eyes on the wall in front of him.

  “Celebrating the fact that Kyle dropped his lawsuit against you. No more legal fees draining you dry. No more bankruptcy. You’re going to keep your house and security clearance. Yes?”

  Li turned his head just enough to meet my eyes. “Who are you?” he asked in a whisper.

  “I’m the guy who saved you, Chang. Convinced Kyle to do the right thing. I know what it’s like to have everything taken from you, to be unable to support your family.” I paused. “Do as I ask, and that won’t happen to you.”

  “What? I don’t understand.” Li looked equal parts confused and miserable.

  The door to the bathroom flew open behind us. I hissed “Shhh.” The guy gave me a quick look, then made his selection, leaving an empty urinal between us. He took care of business, zipped up quick and left as quickly as he’d arrived, sensing something was afoot that he wanted no part of.

  “How did you know I was here?” Li whispered. “Have you been following me?”

  “We got a tracker on your car.”

  “What? No… no.” Li shook his head. You’re lying…”

  “You know I’m not, Chang.”

  “Leave me alone!”

  “I’m here to help you, Chang. Or I can put you back where I found you. Staring into the abyss. Your choice.”

  I had no intention of bringing Kyle Brown or any other misery back into Chang Li’s life. He seemed like a nice guy. I wasn’t the kind of man who would step on another to get what I wanted. But right now I needed Li to think that I was.

  A man and his little boy came into the bathroom. Li tried to speak and I shook him off. The guy took his son into the stall. The kid took care of his business and they left.

  “Look, Chang. Like I said, we don’t have a lot of time. I fixed your problem with Kyle. Gave him a little taste of his own medicine. He won’t be bothering you again. In fact, I suspect he’ll be moving soon. You and your family will never see that asshole again. You can get your life back on track. Put this whole nightmare behind you. Sound good?”

  Li nodded.

  “Good. Now I need you to do me a small favor in return. That’s only fair, isn’t it, Chang?”

  Li’s eyes went wide. His mouth dropped open.

  “I need y
ou to say the words, Chang.”

  Yes,” Li mumbled.

  “I need you to cowboy up here, Chang. I need you to say the words. Yes. I will return the favor.”

  Li cleared his throat and repeated the words, this time with more resolve.

  “That’s better.” I looked over his shoulder. The bathroom was still empty. “This is what you’re gonna do, Chang. Tomorrow morning you’re gonna call a friend of mine, Sarah Reyes, at White Rogers Young. You heard of them?”

  “Yeah,” Li said. “Everyone knows WRY.”

  “Tomorrow morning, first thing, you’re gonna call Sarah Reyes. You two will have lunch. She will offer you a contract for a job at State—same job you have at the Agency now, but with better pay and benefits. You’re gonna thank Sarah and take that job. You understand, Chang?”

  “But I already have a job.”

  “No, you don’t. After your lunch with Sarah, you’re gonna resign your position at CIA. Give one week’s notice. You’ll start at State the following week. The first day of the rest of your life. Got it?”

  Li looked frightened and forlorn. “But I like my job.”

  I blew a heavy sigh through pursed lips with enough force to adjust Li’s attitude.

  “This is your only chance to get out from under this, Chang. To get your life back. Do it for your family. Your kids.” I heard my voice catch. “You’re lucky to have this chance. Take it, Chang.”

  “I don’t feel so lucky.”

  “Luck’s a funny thing. Sometimes it’s Lady Justice balancing her scales. Sometimes it’s karma—you know, when the stars align just right, and for the briefest of moments all is right with the world.” I zipped up, shrugged my shoulders. “But other times, it’s just dumb luck. You know?”