Gibson & Clarke (Failed Justice Series Book 2)

by Rick Santini

  “No, no. Please sit up front with me so we can talk.”

  So why did you have Tao Fung killed? Was he becoming a problem?

  Marta repressed the thought and asked if there was anything else she could do to smooth the path between Mei Ling and him.

  “It has nothing to do with Mei Ling, but you would greatly honor an old man by accepting an invitation to dinner when you are available. If I am overstepping my bounds, please forgive me. For now, we have an attorney/client relationship. If you would like to keep it that way, I understand, and it will never affect our business dealings.”

  Marta was always known for thinking on her feet, or in this case, sitting on her ass, driving. She also wanted to protect that ass as long as she could.

  “I would love to have dinner with you. What about tomorrow night? Say around seven. You can decide where and pick me up at my place.”

  Yes. Two birds with one stone. Maybe I can find out what happened today and offer my condolences on the untimely demise of Mr. Fung. Surely he would not hurt me if he was dating me. Would he?

  “Thank you. You have made me most happy. My driver will be at your place at seven p.m.”

  The last thing on her mind was Rik. That would be the very least of her problems. She had no idea how poorly he would take it or how he would feel if and when he found out she was dating a client. An elderly Chinese and very wealthy client.

  The drug lord for the drug lords.

  Life was moving far too fast for her. Problems like this never surfaced at the DA’s office.

  After dropping a very appreciative Xiang Yeung off at his home, Marta decided she had enough excitement for one day. She would go straight home and rest. Her body needed it. It screamed for it. She called her office to ask Miranda if there were any important messages, and she was on her way home.

  “Mr. Renaldo—” Miranda could not bring herself to call him Black Jack “—called. It sounded important. He’s waiting for your call. Have a nice day, Ms. Clarke.”

  Crap. As if I don’t have enough problems right now.

  “Jack, it’s Marta. Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. What’s up?”

  “Who do you know in the US Attorney’s office for the Southern District of New York?”

  “You mean Brooklyn and Long Island? I still have a few friends who owe me favors there. What’s the problem?”

  “The problem is our client, Salvatore Bonnonnos. He was served with a subpoena to appear before a grand jury on a racketeering charge. That’s what the problem is. You need to find out what’s going on and quash it. Like right now.”

  Crap, this is the last thing I need today.

  “Text me all the information you have, and I’ll make some phone calls today.”

  Marta made three phone calls, all to those who in the past called her asking for favors, drove home, undressed in thirty seconds, put her cell phone on vibrate, and flopped in bed. She was asleep thirty seconds later. She never heard the phone vibrate.

  Nor did she care.

  CHAPTER 27

  The constant beeping woke Marta up close to six in the evening. The fifteen-minute mini nap had turned out to be closer to three full hours. Her body thanked her. The cell phone was more persistent.

  Josh Beckman, an AUSA, Assistant US Attorney, had returned her call. On the Q.T., Josh had always wanted to be an eye surgeon but a freak fencing accident before a sanctioned meet when he was practicing without gloves cut his wrist and his dreams beyond repair. He had quickly switched to law. Josh and Marta had gone to law school together and had remained good friends ever since—even after his divorce. They had never dated each other but someday, maybe.

  The message was short, if not sweet.

  Josh: Bananas federal target. Tread carefully.

  Marta did not need any further explanation. It was well after normal business hours, and she didn’t want to call Josh at home. She wasn’t sure she had a cell phone number for him. She called Jack and relayed the message. When he began asking questions, she let him know that was all she knew at the moment.

  Marta had a few other calls to make. First, a cup of black coffee. Then, time to think.

  ***

  “What is it?”

  “A natural black pearl. Found only in the Indian Ocean, near Australia.”

  “It is magnificent, but I cannot accept it. We agreed to go out to dinner. I am thoroughly enjoying the company, but to accept a gift like this is out of the question. Thank you so very much, but I must say no.”

  Xiang was clearly disappointed.

  “Perhaps when we know each other a little better.”

  “Perhaps. Now, I’m dying to try the smoked roast duck.”

  Xiang merely nodded, and a staff member uncovered the dish and placed it in front of Marta.

  Dinner was truly a culinary treat. Although Xiang ate little, he took great pleasure in watching Marta taste dishes she had only heard of or read about. After a thoroughly enjoyable and slow-paced feast, the plates were cleared, the linen tablecloth quickly replaced, and tea was served. It was the classic blend Xiang had talked about previously.

  It had a bittersweet acquired taste. Marta thought she could get used to it—over a period of time.

  What am I thinking? This is one date and one date only. There will be no period of time—at least not with Mr. Yeung, who is clearly old enough to be my father.

  Marta had to remind herself Yeung was a client, nothing more or less. He was a powerful man and most likely a killer. Her romantic interest in him was less than zero. What else could she do but be polite and make excuses for the anticipated request for another meeting?

  Something was nagging inside her, and she didn’t like it. Not one damn bit.

  Mr. Yeung acted like the perfect gentleman he was. He made no attempt at any type of intimacy, not that Marta expected any. When the town car arrived at her place, the chauffeur opened the door for her and escorted her to her front door. Xiang again thanked her for a most enjoyable evening and suggested they meet again. No time or date was mentioned.

  “I’ll call you in a day or two, as soon as my schedule eases up.”

  Mr. Yeung merely smiled and nodded his head.

  Why the hell did I say that? What am I thinking?

  Marta went inside with the intent of trying to figure out her thought process. She didn’t have time. Sitting on the living room couch was Rik, smiling like the cat that ate the canary.

  “What are you doing here, and how the hell did you get in my place?”

  “Tricks of the trade. I didn’t think you’d mind. Not after your dinner date with your Chinese grandfather.”

  “Either you get your smug ass out of here in five seconds or I’m calling the cops and have you arrested for breaking and entering. Do you understand? Get the fuck out of my apartment now, and don’t you ever pull this shit again. As for your employment with Gibson and Clarke, I’ll have to think about it before I do something rash.”

  “You’ve got to be joking. I figured you would welcome me with open arms.”

  Marta picked up the phone, ready to dial 911.

  “Do I look like I am joking? If you are not out the door in five seconds, I’ll swear out a warrant for your arrest. Can I make it any clearer?”

  Rik took a long look in her eyes and decided to leave.

  Marta stared at him and hurled one more threat.

  “I suggest you take tomorrow off. I don’t want to see you in the office for a day or two.”

  I was not with my grandfather. I was with a gentleman. A sweet, polite, and caring gentleman. One that cared about me, not what I would do for him.

  Marta decided she wanted to see Xiang—he was no longer Mr. Yeung—again. She was not sure why. She had nothing to lose. Besides, it would thoroughly piss off Rik, who had clearly crossed the line.

  Rik is a boy toy. Rik was a boy toy. Not anymore. I will make it crystal clear to him. If he wants to stay on, it is strictly employer/employee. One sexual comment, a
nd he is out on his ass. Period.

  Marta felt better, but not much. He clearly overstepped his bounds, but he was still great in the sack.

  I don’t need his shit. I don’t need any man’s shit. Not now, not ever.

  ***

  Rik parked his car a block away and sat. He did not understand Marta. He did not understand women. He did not understand anything. He had just quit a good paying job with the sheriff’s office, and now there was a good chance he had lost his new job. All because he had made an impression of Marta’s front door key. Just in case he had to get in the apartment when she was not home. He meant no harm by it. He could not understand why was she in such a hissy, pissy mood.

  I don’t need her shit. I don’t need any women’s shit. Not now, not ever.

  CHAPTER 28

  “Sonny is a target in a federal investigation. That’s not good news.”

  Marta agreed.

  “My suggestion is you cooperate. Don’t tell the Feds how you know it, but you understand he is a target, and whatever can be done, there will be no problems. It will get them to wonder—and to slow down. And be a bit more cautious.”

  The speaker did not identify himself, the voice was muted, but Marta clearly knew who it was.

  “I agree and will pass it on. Thanks.”

  “You can thank me with dinner one of these nights.”

  “Deal.”

  Who would have thought it? My dance card is filling up, and at my age.

  Her next phone call was to Jack. This was his baby, and he could handle it any way he chose. All she could do was give him and the silent AUSA’s suggestions on how to play it. If necessary, she would go back to her two other sources, but felt it might be overkill and show too much concern.

  Marta though about Rik, thought about Xiang, and was now thinking about Josh. And the fact she was not getting any younger. She had no allegiance to any of them. Actually, Rik was now out of the picture, and Josh she had not seen in years. It was Xiang that bothered her. She could not figure him out.

  What do I have that he doesn’t already have? Nothing. He can buy brains and bodies by the dozens. So why hit on me?

  It occurred to her she was losing touch with Billy Jo, her partner. The one who put her in the middle of this mess. Was he sitting back and watching what was going on? Was he being proactive and she not realizing it? Was he waiting for something else to happen and then pounce? What?

  ***

  “Billy, it’s me, Marta. Can we talk?”

  Marta did most of the talking; Billy as was his custom, did most of the listening. He was in his West Virginia office, where he could rest his cowboy boots on his oversize teak desk and no one would dare criticize. After close to a half hour, Marta felt better. That was all that mattered. She now understood a bit more of what Billy had in mind and the fact he would have his own townhouse, in Newark, in less than thirty days. He would need his own full-time secretary, preferably young, impressionable, and not too smart, as long as she could type and use an Apple computer, in the Newark office, and at some point, they would need more room. One more secretary, one more junior associate, and a drop-dead gorgeous receptionist. Word had spread that they were the criminal law firm in the city.

  Business was good.

  Almost too good.

  Billy was playing her like a virtuoso’s fine fiddle. He knew what she wanted to hear and told it to her. As long as she kept Mr. Yeung, their money machine, pleased, in any manner that suited both of them, that was all that counted. From what he was hearing, from Marta and his own spies, she was doing a good job. Billy never considered it spying; he was merely keeping up with the facts as to what his partners were doing.

  Simple as that.

  Once he actually lived in town, he could keep a closer eye on everything and orchestrate everything to his own satisfaction.

  Money begets more money; power begets more power.

  That was what Billy lived for. It was what drove him. It was part, a big part, of his DNA. As usual, he thought about the Dream Team. Robert Shapiro, Johnnie Cochrane, F. Lee Bailey (for what little he was worth) and Alan Dershowitz. Oh, what he would have given to have been on O.J.’s legal team.

  Marcia Clark and Christopher Darden didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell.

  He knew his time would come. It just had to.

  For now, Xiang Yeung was happily paying all the freight.

  Billy hung up and went back to the file he had in front of him. He was looking for a loophole. That was what it was all about. Truth and justice can best be found in textbooks, not in courthouses.

  ***

  Sonny was not pleased. His initial reaction was to tell the Feds to go screw themselves. No way was he going to tell them squat. He would take the Fifth. He would claim amnesia. He would play dumb, but he would damn sure not cooperate.

  Jack decided to let it rest for a day or two. It was all a big game, and you had to treat the client like a small child. Let him rant and rave, and when he was tired of fighting, then show him a reasonable alternative. It worked every time.

  Well, almost every time.

  Jack made an unsolicited phone call to the US Attorney’s Office. It was about Salvatore Bonnonnos. No one had any idea what he was talking about. There were no open files on anyone by the name of Bonnonnos. When Jack asked to speak to the US Attorney for the Eastern District of New York and mentioned who he was, the former US Attorney for West Virginia, an off-the-record appointment was scheduled.

  Everyone wants to do it the easy way these days.

  Black Jack remembered the conflict he had when he first began representing the bad guys. Do it the easy way and work out a plea, and know his billable hours would be cut by a good ninety percent, or go to trial and roll the dice. Regardless of the outcome, the fees would be enormous. Jack decided there was a happy medium. He quoted a flat fee, one hell of a large flat fee, and if he could get the results with a few phone calls and a few off the record meetings, so much the better.

  All the client really cared about was results. The real name of the game.

  ***

  “Is there a problem I don’t know about?”

  Marta looked at Miranda, not knowing what she was talking about. Then it hit her. Rik had called in sick for the second day in a row. The last time anyone saw him, he looked “strong like bull.”

  “I suggested he take a few days off to get his priorities straight. No big deal. Any important calls?”

  She was not about to let the entire office know Rik had showed up at her place unannounced and uninvited.

  “Mr. Yeung asked you call him when you had a chance.”

  The sound of his name sent shivers up her spine. Marta did not know why. At least she professed not to know why.

  “I’ll call him in a few minutes. Anything else?”

  “Just the usual.”

  Marta went into her private office, closed the door, and put on some background music. She poured herself a second cup of coffee and picked up her cell phone.

  “Xiang, it’s me, Marta. Is there anything I can help you with?”

  CHAPTER 29

  They agreed it would be a quiet evening. Nothing special, nothing fancy.

  The chauffeur-driven black sedan was sitting in front of her apartment at the predetermined time. Neither Marta nor the driver noticed the blue Chevy parked three doors down the street. A tall black man was slouched down, observing. He was not in a good mood. He had not been in a good mood for several days

  ***

  “May I ask you a very personal question, Marta? And may I take the liberty of calling you Marta?”

  They were sitting in the private living room of Mr. Yeung. The staff had prepared hors d’oeuvres and given the night off.

  “No problem calling me by my given name. As to the other, I guess that would depend on how personal the question is.”

  “Have you ever tried opium?”

  Marta was caught totally off-guard. It was the last thing on
her mind.

  “No, of course not. Why do you ask?”

  She had a damn good idea why the question was posed.

  “Would you object if I had a small quantity? It helps settle me down and allows me to think more freely.”

  Marta merely shrugged her shoulders. She was offering no opinion, and this was not her home. If he wanted to do mind-blowing drugs, who was she to object?

  Don’t think for one minute you’ll ever get me to try it.

  “It’s your house; it’s your body. I think it’s crazy, but you don’t need my advice or my permission.”

  “Thank you. You may change your mind as to why I am doing this and the effects it has on one’s body. Please remember, moderation is the key to everything in life.”

  With that, Xiang took out a small clay pipe and half filled it with a chalky white substance. After lighting it up and taking several slow draws from it, Marta saw a subtle but remarkable change in his body. It seemed to lose gravity. It was like he took a deep breath, let it all out, and allowed the entire face and body to relax.

  She would swear his heart rate and metabolism dropped significantly. He was now in a totally relaxed state of mind. Nothing else changed other than his voice was now softer, lower, and mellower.

  “Now, we can have something to eat and talk. My staff has prepared some traditional Chinese dishes I hope you will enjoy.”

  Marta was positive there was both a physical and emotional change in Xiang, but she could not put her finger on it. It was as if he had risen to a higher level of communication and spirituality.

  Xiang seemed more alert, more precise, more insightful. He also appeared to open up more about himself. He told her about how he was sent to America at a very young age to make his fortune and if possible, later send for his parents and younger sister. He had only his cunning and fortitude to sustain himself. He understood the only way to make money, real money, was illegal. Opium was plentiful in the Golden Triangle. The DEA was still in its infancy. The people of the United States were tired of war and wanted an excuse to let off steam and have fun.