Rules of the Game

by Bruce Fitzpatrick

  Goldberg, a middle-aged, handsome man in an expensive three-piece suit, greeted him. "Good morning, Adrian. How are they treating you?"

  "Better than some of the other prisoners are treating each other. The place is a zoo. Thanks for coming."

  "I've already spoken to Angus McNamara, the assistant U.S. attorney. He's been assigned to the case. He gave me a copy of the indictment, which I've read. These are serious charges, and they carry a stiff penalty."

  "Yeah, I know. It was explained to me last night. What are my options?"

  "There’s only two, really. Cooperate with the government, or fight it."

  "Cooperating isn't an option, so forget that. What happens now?"

  "You'll be officially charged, and bail will be set. After that, we’ll have to start building our defense."

  "That's going to create a couple of problems."

  "Such as?"

  "Several of them remained at my apartment and searched the place. They found the key to my safe-deposit box. Every cent I have is in that box. Once they open it, I'll be broke."

  "Fortunately, the retainer you paid me at the beginning of the year will cover my fee. As for bail..." He spread his hands.

  "How much will they want?"

  "That depends on how much of a flight risk they consider you. Combined with the severity of the charges, it could be a thousand dollars, or it could be a million."

  "You got a piece of paper and a pen?"

  "Sure."

  He opened his briefcase and took out a scratch pad and pencil. Adrian took it, scribbled something on it, then gave it back.

  "Call this guy right after they set bail. His name's Lester. Tell him I don't want to spend another night locked up." Goldberg shrugged and tucked the paper in his pocket.

  The door opened and McNamara walked in, followed by Russo, Fernandez, and Serrano. Serrano was quick to state his position again.

  "Thirty years, Mr. Cabraal. That's a long time. I can whittle most of that away if you cooperate. This is your last chance. What will it be?"

  Adrian looked at him, and pointed toward Russo and the others. "I think your side of the courtroom is over there."

  Serrano shook his head. "You're a fool," he said. "You have a nice family. Too bad you're going to be separated from them for so long. I'm sure they'll miss you ... until they forget you."

  Adrian ignored the dig, and was about to sit down when the court clerk opened a door near the front of the room and said, "All rise."

  As everyone stood up, a middle-aged Magistrate in long black robes entered the room. After taking her place at the bench, she nodded quietly, and everyone sat down. Convening the session with her gavel, she looked to the clerk and asked, "Who's first?"

  The clerk handed her a manila folder and said, "The people of the United States versus Adrian R. Cabraal."

  Adrian and his attorney stood and waited for the U.S. magistrate to read the papers she had been given. When she finished, she laid them before her. "Read the charges, please."

  The clerk picked up a long, legal form and began to read aloud: "The people of the United States versus Adrian R. Cabraal, Docket #01-75321. Mr. Cabraal, you are charged with conspiring to distribute cocaine from February 27 of this year to the present date, and are accused of entering into the distribution of said cocaine in an ongoing criminal conspiracy with persons known and unknown to the United States government. One count. Additionally, Adrian R. Cabraal, you are accused of conspiring to distribute quantities of marijuana from February 27 of this year to the present date, with persons both known and unknown to the United States government."

  The magistrate looked from the clerk to Adrian.

  "Mr. Cabraal, you’re aware of the severity of the charges, correct?"

  "Yes, Your Honor, I am."

  Looking at Nathan, she asked, "How do you plead?"

  "Not guilty, Your Honor."

  "Very well. Mr. McNamara, you may begin."

  "Thank you, Your Honor. The government is accusing Mr. Cabraal of a long-term,ongoing criminal conspiracy involving large quantities of controlled drugs. Because of size and scope of this criminal enterprise we are seeking that be tried under the RICO Act. His prime motivation was for personal profit and, when given the chance to cooperate with our investigation, he refused. Because of the large sums of money Mr. Cabraal is believed to have, and the severity of his offense, the government feels he is an extreme escape risk. Therefore, we request that bail be set at a half-million dollars."

  Adrian's knees nearly buckled. Not even Lester could be expected to post that much money. But Nathan responded immediately.

  "That's absurd, Your Honor. My client has no criminal record, he's a devoted family man, and he's lived in the greater Lawrence area for over twenty years. I should also like to point out that he's a multiple and highly decorated military combat veteran who received an honorable discharge after four years of meritorious service. Among those awards were the Air Force Commendation and Expeditionary Medals, both under combat conditions. I respectfully request that he be released on personal recognizance, with the stipulation that he report to the court at pre-determined intervals."

  The magistrate folded her hands for a moment, and again looked through Adrian's folder. After deliberating she looked first to the prosecution, then at Adrian and his attorney.

  "It is my opinion that neither side can be adequately satisfied. A half-million dollars is severe and unreasonable, yet personal recognizance would be flaunting justice. Based on the severity of the charges I’m setting bail at one-hundred thousand dollars, with surety."

  Then, after looking at her calendar, she added, "Trial proceedings for the case of the United States versus Adrian R. Cabraal will commence six weeks from today, August 22, at nine A.M. Next case."

  Serrano, flanked by Russo and Fernandez, approached Adrian. "A hundred thousand dollars, Mr. Cabraal. You’ll not be raising it from your safe deposit box." He held up the key for Adrian to see, as though taunting him with it. "It'll be interesting to see where the cash trail leads from there, especially when you start finding out you suddenly don't have any friends. Call me when you need one."

  He tucked his business card in Adrian's shirt pocket. "Here's my number." And with that Serrano, Russo and Fernandez left through the rear of the court.

  Adrian looked at Nathan. Then he said, "Call Lester."

  "He's right, Adrian. He'll make sure your friends all find out you've been arrested. None of them will want anything to do with you once word gets out. He'll try to box you in so you'll have to go to him for help. That's the way the game is played. And if the people you've been doing business with ever thought you were cooperating..."

  "Not a chance, Nathan. And you know that."

  "I know it, but do they?"

  "Knock off the bullshit, you're beginning to sound like Serrano."

  The court bailiff, along with two U.S. Marshals approached Adrian to lead him away. As Adrian was being cuffed, a man Adrian had never met interrupted them. He was in his early forties and was wearing what looked like a custom tailored navy blue Armani suit. Armani or not, it couldn't conceal the well-conditioned physique beneath it, nor could it hide the man's cold blue eyes or his street hardened demeanor.

  "Don't cuff him too tight, he's not staying."

  Mildly confused, Adrian looked at the man. "Do I know you?"

  "Let's just say you have a friend who's concerned about your welfare."

  The man opened his briefcase, and produced a check and a copy of his bail bondsman's license. To the marshals, he said, "Let's go to the Clerk's office, and we'll clear this up."

  Adrian was back on the street in less than an hour. Accompanied by Jennifer, they walked out of the courthouse and into the bright summer sunlight with Adrian's unknown benefactor.

  "Now that we're outside, you want to tell me what's going on?" he asked.

  "Our friend in Miami appreciates you doing the right thing," the man said, as he hailed a passing ca
b. "He won't be talking to you for a while, but he wants to make sure you don't go talkin' to no one, either."

  "Tell him to breathe easy. And tell him I said thanks."

  The man got into the cab and rode off without so much as a backward glance. Nor had he brought up the subject of repayment.

  Jennifer intertwined her arm with Adrian's. "Ugh! He gave me the creeps.”

  “How did he know about this?” Adrian asked.

  Jennifer’s eyes dropped. Then, “After they all left last night, I gathered up Andy and went to a payphone.”

  “For what?”

  “I figured with all the money he made with you, and all he has to lose, he might want to help out.”

  “Angelo?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  He paused for a moment, and broke into a broad smile. “Don’t ever become a criminal,” he said.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because you might be pretty good at it.”

  “And have to do business with the likes of that bondsman? Where do these people come from?"

  "Who cares? He got me out."

  ************

  Adrian sank down onto his couch. One of his friends, they had said. One of his friends had betrayed him. But who? Who had gone bad? Then -- as if he had been hit over the head -- it came to him. The indictment said the conspiracy had begun on February 27. That was one of the dates he had received a shipment from Angelo. But more important, it was the first time he met R.J. He had gotten bad vibes from R.J. right from the beginning. R.J. had been nervous and reluctant to make eye contact with him. Adrian was a student of body language and, based on his behavior, R.J. couldn't be trusted. R.J. had also been involved in every transaction the indictment had listed as part of the ongoing criminal enterprise. It had to be R.J. The phone rang, putting his observations on hold.

  "Adrian, you know who this is." Indeed he did, very few people had a voice like Angelo’s. "I know you got bad times," he continued. "I just found out I got 'em, too. So I need a favor.”

  “I know. One of the apples is out to spoil the barrel."

  "Yeah, a certain guy you never liked. I should have listened to you."

  "Too late now."

  "Maybe, maybe not,” Angelo continued. “That's why I'm callin'. A guy's comin' your way who specializes in bad apples. But he can't bring what he needs on the plane. I need you to take care of him, if you know what I mean."

  "No disrespect, but half the government's probably listening in right now, and you're asking me to do something that could cause us a lot of grief. I'd like to do you a favor, but I'm already in over my head. I love you like a brother, and I'd do almost anything for you, but I can't do this. I'm sorry."

  There was a long silence on the other end before Angelo responded. Then, in a level, matter-of-fact tone, Angelo said, "Yeah, sure. I understand how it is. It's my fault this shit happened anyway. It ain't right, getting you involved. Forget I ever mentioned it."

  "Especially on this phone."

  "Screw the phone, and screw who's listening in, too! I got a dog that can't be housebroken, and I got to get rid of it. Ain't no law against that, I'll be talking to ya." Click.

  Things were piling up faster than Adrian could handle. His world was caving in around him and he felt powerless to stop it.

  Jennifer entered the room. Her usually beautiful face looked drawn. The ordeal was obviously taking its toll on her.

  "Is Andy asleep?" Adrian asked, drawing her to the couch.

  "Yes, finally," she answered, wearily. "He realizes something's wrong, and I've been doing everything I can to put him at ease, but it's an uphill battle."

  "Looks like his mom's having her own uphill battle," Adrian said, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. "I curse the day I ever got involved in that business. You were right when you said my father died broke, but at least he didn't have friends like mine. I'm sorry, baby. None of this was ever supposed to happen."

  She buried her face in his shoulder, and they sat quietly for a long time.

  Finally she looked up at him through eyes that were moist with tears. Seeing her like that drove a stake through his heart.

  "I...I don't know what to say, Adrian. I was afraid this might happen, but I never allowed myself to believe it actually would." A tear trickled down her cheek. His heart went out to her, and he drew her close again. She buried her face in his shoulder, saying nothing as she quietly wept. This was among the lowest points in his life. She and Andy were victims of his own self-centered interests. It seemed he had managed to hurt everyone who cared for him.

  She drew back, got her purse, and pulled out a handkerchief. Smiling bravely, she wiped her eyes and said, "I guess I'm making a fool of myself. I'm sorry."

  "You're not the fool, baby, I am. There's no free lunches, no shortcuts. I thought I could beat the odds, and now this. I'm really sorry."

  She slipped into his arms and hugged him long and hard, nearly taking his breath away. He responded in kind, burying his face in her silken hair and feasting on its fresh, clean fragrance. He knew he'd miss this woman horribly if they sent him away. She'd be a huge part of his life that would be shorn away by the grindstone of the criminal justice system.

  She disengaged from him and asked, "Exactly how bad is it?"

  He shook his head, and shrugged. "It's my first offense, so there's no way of knowing." He didn't have the heart to tell her about the DEA's conviction rate or the amount of prison time that went with the crimes of which he’d been accused.

  "When do you have to go back?"

  "They'll start selecting a jury when we go back. After that we go to trial. Unless I use a lot of legal gymnastics and stretch things out, the whole thing should be over in a couple of months."

  She looked away as she digested the situation. Then, as if she had tapped a reserve of courage, she tossed back her head, smiled, and said, "Well, they can't get at you tonight. So tonight you're all mine..."

  Chapter Eleven

  Adrian kissed Jennifer on the cheek, then slid from under the covers and padded to the closet for his robe. After putting the coffee maker on, he went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. As he was walking back to the kitchen, the phone rang.

  "Hello."

  "Mr. Cabraal, this is Agent Serrano, from the DEA."

  "You don't give up, do you?" he said irritably.

  "Good agents never do, Mr. Cabraal."

  "Well, you can give up on me."

  "Actually, I wasn't calling to ask for your cooperation, I just wanted to save you some time and trouble."

  "Oh yeah? What're you going to do, drop the charges?"

  "I assume you haven't been outside yet today."

  "No, I haven't. Why?"

  "Well, when you do go out, you'll see that your car is no longer in the parking lot. It's been impounded. Based on the five hundred and forty-four thousand dollars we confiscated from your safe-deposit box while you were in court yesterday, we obtained authorization to seize your car as additional evidence. In short, Mr. Cabraal, your BMW is now our BMW."

  "You can't do that, Serrano."

  "Wrong again. We can, and we did. Vehicles used in the commission of a crime can be impounded, at least until the accused can prove his or her innocence. You already know about our conviction rate, so those are the odds of you ever seeing that BMW again. However, should you change your mind about cooperating with us, we might work out a deal. Good-bye, Mr. Cabraal. And be sure to enjoy your nice long walk day."

  Adrian slammed the receiver down. Now he was broke. He could have sold the BMW for at least forty thousand dollars. Some of that would have helped him start over after finishing any time he served, and he could have given the rest to Jennifer, to help her support Andy while he was away. Now it was gone. These people didn't miss anything. Not only did they want the blood out of his arm, they wanted the veins and the arteries, too.

  Jennifer came out from the bedroom, wearing one of his sweatshirts.
r />   "What's wrong, baby? Who was that?"

  "That was Serrano," Adrian said, disgusted. "They cleaned out the safe-deposit box and confiscated the BMW this morning. Shit, I can't even drive across town with Andy for a Big Mac."

  "Can they really do that?" she asked, incredulous.

  "They're the government,” he grunted. “They can do whatever they want."

  ***********

  Selecting a jury had been easy, and had taken only three days. It was a mixed group, and Nathan Goldberg seemed pleased with them. He had wanted a young, liberal-minded jury that wouldn't overreact. The younger generation was more open-minded and desensitized, and would be less likely to condemn his client before he had even been tried. All things considered, he had gotten his wish.

  Adrian, dressed in a jacket and tie, was next to him near the front of the court when Serrano approached him.

  "This is your last chance, Mr. Cabraal. Sure you don't want to come over to our side?"

  Adrian shook his head. "Forget it. I'll take my chances."

  "That's the whole point, Mr. Cabraal. You don't have any chances. Not only will we convict you, we’ll use your trial to introduce evidence about the people you're covering for. We'll get everything we need to put you and all your friends away. Win, lose, or draw, we'll get what we're looking for. At least by cooperating with us, you'd stand to make things easier on yourself. Think about that before the judge gets here."

  Serrano walked to the other side of the courtroom and sat down.

  Adrian contemplated Serrano’s comments. The government would get what they want, and everyone on his side would come up a loser -- win, lose, or draw. He thought about that for a moment, then made a difficult decision. He grimaced at the irony of it, and wondered how many of his friends would have done the same thing in his place.

  The judge entered and walked briskly toward the bench. He was relatively young considering his position, no more than forty-five. When he had assumed his place on the bench, he struck his gavel and ordered everyone to sit down.