Gibson & Clarke (Failed Justice Series Book 2)

by Rick Santini

  What was the real reason?

  Surely he knew he would be working for a law firm that represented the bad guys. Or to be more precise, the alleged bad guys. No way had Rik grown a new conscience in thirty days. Not with the kind of money defense lawyers paid top investigators.

  There had to be more. So far, no one had an answer, and no one was willing to take a chance. The sheriff wished him “good luck” but no job. They smelled a rat. They knew Rik too well to know he would not walk away because of a mere moral problem. Rik had no morals; that was why he was so good at doing whatever it took to get the answers he was paid to find. If it meant tramping on the Constitution, Bill of Rights, breaking and entering, or doing some serious arm twisting, so be it. It was all part of the job. At times, the arm ended up fractured, but it was never his fault.

  Rik would swear to that.

  On a few occasions, he did. Under oath.

  He had a badge; the bad guy didn’t. Who do you think the judge believed?

  Marta is seeing Mr. Yeung. That I’m positive of. I have no clue why, but it’s not illegal, and if I’m caught stalking, it could mean my license.

  Rik decided to break off the stake out and concentrate on finding a good paying job. Or any job, for that matter.

  Marta had no idea she had been followed almost continually for the past four or five days. Now she was preparing to meet Xiang—again. She was more nervous than ever before. It was not that she did not trust Xiang implicitly; she did—she just did not trust herself. She dressed meticulously, especially her newly purchased undergarments.

  She had no idea why.

  ***

  The driver was right on time, as usual. He was polite but said little. His job was to drive, not engage in conversation. He always listened; he seldom responded. He also had a very good memory. One that Yeung relied upon.

  Marta waited for the clay pipe to be lit. She swore to herself she would remain calm and not try to inhale too much or hold it in her lungs too long. The truth was she was so excited she almost grabbed it out of Xiang’s hand when offered to her.

  “I promise I will not cough.”

  “Perhaps before you participate with the pipe, you can tell me of your meeting with Mei Ling yesterday.”

  How did he know I met with her yesterday? How does he know more than I tell him?

  Marta was dying for a hit to get high but could not refuse the request of her host, who was also her biggest client.

  “Your sister is going through an internal conflict, and there is nothing you can do or say. On the one hand, you are her brother. Her only brother. Her only living relative, and she loves you very much. On the other hand, you represent all that is evil, all she has fought so hard against, all she despises. She wants to do the right thing. She just needs some time.”

  “What can I do to help her?”

  “Give her time and space. She will come to the right decision; it just takes time.”

  Xiang knew of all the possessions he had acquired the most precious of all was the one he could never get more of.

  Time. Father Time waits for no man.

  How very true, Xiang thought.

  Xiang thought of his age, his health, and the fact he was well past the halfway mark. He had a faraway look in his eyes as he removed the pipe and slowly began to fill it. It was a mechanical gesture that required no conscious thought. He removed the small butane lighter from his jacket pocket, tamped down on the bowl, and lit the crystal rock that was inside. He waited for a few seconds until he was sure it would remain lit and then took a long, slow draw. His mind was a million miles away, or so it seemed.

  Marta was waiting for the transition. She was not disappointed.

  Xiang realized he was still holding the clay pipe and not being attentive to his guest. He apologized and handed the smoldering pipe to Marta. She tried to be casual about it as she drew a long, slow draw, as she had seen Xiang just do. She was more relaxed than the last time and did not cough or panic. She allowed the smoke to remain in her lungs for four or five seconds before exhaling.

  The change was remarkable.

  After a few minutes, her limbs became heavy, her eyelids had trouble remaining open, and the weight of her body felt like it had increased ten-fold. She doubted if she had the strength to stand up. Her mind slowed down to a pace where she could anticipate her next, her every move.

  Marta slowly and with great effort handed the pipe back to Xiang. Her speech was like a 78-RPM record being played in 33 1/3 time. Each syllable was pronounced separately. Her entire world was now acting in slow motion. She took another hit, and she had trouble understanding what Xiang was saying to her. She remembered leaning back to rest her head because it felt so very heavy.

  She was listening but not understanding. The fog had slowly enveloped her, and she was fighting to break out of it. She asked for the pipe again. With great effort and concentration, she took one more long, slow hit. That was the last thing she remembered.

  ***

  The following morning, Marta woke up in a strange bed. She was not sure where she was. She was still wearing her new undergarments and nothing else. Her sweater and skirt were carefully hung on a chair in the corner of the room.

  Where am I, and what the hell happened to me?

  The light streaming through the window told her it must be morning. A knock on the door brought her back to reality.

  “Yes, who is it?”

  The door opened, and a lovely young thing dressed in a black and white French maid’s outfit was carrying a tray with tea, a bowl of cut-up fruit, and a freshly baked croissant. There was butter and an assortment of jams on the side.

  She desperately needed a cup of coffee. Black.

  “Mr. Yeung thought you might be awake and hungry. I hope you will forgive me, but I undressed you last night when you fell asleep on the couch. I was instructed to do so. No one saw you but me.”

  Marta sat up in bed, dumbfounded.

  She hated it when she lost control, in any situation. Obviously the night before, she had lost complete control. She was not interested in tea or croissants or eggs over easy, for that matter. All she wanted to do was get dressed, go home, and regroup.

  “Thank you. Now if you will excuse me, I must get dressed and go home.”

  She realized quickly she did not have her own car.

  “Please thank Mr. Yeung for breakfast and ask if he could please call a cab for me. I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

  Ten minutes later, Marta was ready to leave. She did not take a shower—although, there was shampoo, conditioner, and an abundance of Turkish towels at her disposal. She washed her face, brushed out her hair, and tried to make herself look presentable. She had not planned on staying over and had brought no makeup.

  Xiang greeted her at the front entryway. There was an awkward silence on her part. Marta felt like a schoolgirl caught necking behind the lockers in high school; something she had not done in more than twenty-five years. She lowered her eyes.

  “Good morning, Marta, I trust you slept well. I was not sure what your preference was for breakfast. I had hoped we could spend a few minutes talking this morning. About my sister, among other things.”

  “I would love that, but I must be in the office, and I am late already. I’ll just get a cab, go home and change, and talk to you later today.”

  “A taxi cab is not necessary. My driver has been alerted and is waiting outside to take you wherever you want to go.”

  She muttered a thank you reply, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and headed for the door before he could see she was blushing.

  Once in the back seat of the chauffeur-driven sedan, she breathed a sigh of relief and thought about what had happened in the past twelve hours.

  What the hell have I gotten myself into? Am I now a druggie?

  CHAPTER 36

  “Damn it, the bitch is sleeping with him. Why? What the hell does he have that I don’t? Except a few hundred million bucks.”


  Rik was not really staking out Marta’s place. He was just cruising her neighborhood when he recognized the dark colored sedan. He dropped back a few cars and watched to see where it was going. When the chauffeur pulled to the curb, Rik drove by and made the first right turn. He parked the car illegally for a minute, jumped out, and ran back to the corner, just in time to see Marta open the door to her apartment building.

  Rik had nothing better to do; so far he’d had no responses to his resumes, so he stood on the corner and waited. Marta made record time in showering, blow-drying her hair, and throwing on the first business outfit she spotted in the closet. Twenty-eight minutes later, she was back out the door and on her way to work. There was no question she was headed to her own office.

  ***

  Billy Jo was waiting for Marta as she headed for her own private office.

  “Late night?”

  Every good lawyer is trained to think on their feet. Not to hesitate a split second, not to stumble with an alternative story, but smile and tell the person the answer he or she is expecting. With conviction. That’s what separates the real-good from the good from the mediocre.

  “Couldn’t sleep last night, thinking about the situation with Mei Ling and her brother and took a sleeping pill. Guess it worked better than I thought. Couldn’t believe how late I overslept this morning.”

  Marta didn’t look at Billy but was waiting for the tone of his reaction.

  “Be careful with those pills. They can pack a wallop.”

  Marta merely nodded. Her secret was safe for at least another day.

  “How do you plan on fixing the problem with the brother and sister? We have to keep the client pleased, especially with the size of the retainer he gave us.”

  She had not forgotten the money sitting in the escrow account.

  It will pay all of my bills, buy several closetsful of designer clothes, and put me on Easy Street for a long, long time.

  “I’m trying to cultivate Mei Ling. She’s coming around. Slowly. Don’t want to push too hard, but it will happen. I’ve got a gut feeling.”

  “Good idea. Keep me in the loop. I’ve got a preliminary hearing in a half hour. See you this afternoon.”

  With that, Billy waved his hand and was gone.

  Marta closed the door to her office and picked up the landline phone.

  “Hello, Mei Ling, it’s me, Marta Clarke. Do you have a minute to talk?”

  Twenty minutes later, she hung up. It was now time to call Yeung and work out a time and place where the three of them could meet for lunch. It had to be someplace open to the public, yet private enough for a frank and confidential discussion and preferably near Mei Ling’s office.

  Xiang was more than pleased; actually, he was thrilled, but obviously his temperament could not show it when he received the good news. Tomorrow at two p.m. would be perfect. The luncheon crowd would be gone, and there were several high-end restaurants near Mei Ling’s office where they could have a private room to eat and talk.

  When Xiang suggested he meet with his sister one-on-one, Marta felt it was still too early. Maybe after the luncheon meeting she could suggest the next time just the two of them could get together.

  Just not now.

  Xiang reluctantly agreed. He too knew progress was being made. There was not much more he could ask for.

  ***

  Mei Ling was fighting the demons ragging inside of her. By nature, she was not a vengeful or greedy person, nor was she taken by large sums of money owned by others. Her parents were mere peasants who worked the land. What they got paid they spent to survive. It was like that from the time of her parents and grandparents. They did not know of such things as savings accounts or assets other than the clothes on their backs, the simple furniture in their home, and the food on the table. In bad times, they could survive for mere weeks.

  Certainly no more.

  Everyone knew America was the land of opportunity, of fields of wheat and plains where beef cattle grazed as far as the eye could see. To have more than one could spend in an entire year was unheard of. Now she had reason to believe her one and only brother could not spend what he was worth in one hundred, one thousand, one hundred thousand years. Why, he could feed an entire village for the rest of their lives and never feel the difference.

  I am his sister. His only living relative. If he should die, and everyone does, it would all belong to me. I could do so much good for all those souls that have nothing. I need nothing for myself. It is all for others.

  Mei Ling tried desperately to put the thought out of her mind. The problem was, once it was there, it was not easy to remove.

  I’ll meet with Yeung. I’ll let him know what I think of him and let him convince me he is willing to do the right thing. I will promise him nothing.

  Mei Ling blocked out two full hours for lunch the next day. If they could not reach an understanding in that period of time, they were going nowhere.

  As Marta sat at her desk, reviewing the events that had taken place in the past few hours, one overriding thought kept coming back to her.

  I want to smoke that damn pipe again. I want to feel how it makes my body tingle. I want to get loose like never before. I want to kick back and enjoy life. I don’t want to practice law forever. Not if I don’t have to.

  Marta sat bolt upright in her chair. Her forehead was damp. Her hands were shaking.

  What did I just think? “I don’t want to practice law forever, not if I don’t have to.” Where did that come from? I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer, ever since my father was killed.

  She tried to refocus on other matters but couldn’t concentrate. Money was never the reason she went into law—the hours of classroom, the study groups, the months preparing for the bar exam and the bullshit she had to put up with at the district attorney’s office. It was never about money; it was never about improving her own status. It was about justice. Doing the right thing. Making sure there was a level playing field when the bad guys hired the most expensive, most qualified, most devious lawyers money could buy.

  Now she was one of them.

  It never occurred to Marta that she was not that much different than Mei Ling. They both had principals, they both wanted to do the right thing, not for themselves but for others. To right the wrongs all around them. And now their focus was clouded. Clouded by the one thing that they could not overlook.

  Money. Lots and lots and lots of money.

  Neither one would ever admit their priorities, their core values, what they have spent their entire lives attempting to accomplish, could be so easily swayed by one simple thought. Making it big. Having more money than they ever thought possible. Being able to do whatever they wanted to do, without have to weigh the inevitable consequences.

  Marta smiled as she now truly understood a phrase that she had heard for the past twenty-five years. Fuck you, money. Knowing that someone had enough money never to worry about another thing in life and if they did not like what was proposed to them, to merely respond with a resounding “Fuck you.”

  She wondered if that would ever happen to her.

  And if so, how soon?

  CHAPTER 37

  Xiang did not disappoint either Marta or his sister. The luncheon was served in a private room in an exclusive restaurant in The East Village. The waitstaff was given specific instructions. Serve the meal, and leave. When it was time for the next course or dessert, they would be properly summoned.

  For the sake of appearances, each came in a separate car. Marta had declined the invitation to be picked up by Yeung or his driver. It would look better, more professional, if they arrived a few minutes apart.

  Luncheon was as close to an authentic Mandarin Chinese as money could buy.

  Xiang was pleased.

  As they were having dessert and their special tea, Yeung began the conversation or, to be more accurate, the negotiations.

  “What can I do to please you, my precious little sister?”

  “For star
ters, you can divorce yourself from the filthy business you are involved in. That is nonnegotiable. Second, you can help me open more centers, all in the name and memory of our parents, to help those abused Asian women whose lives have been ruined by the people who enjoy beating and taking advantage of them when they do drugs. Is that clear?”

  “Perfectly. As you must realize, these things can and will take time, but the first steps have been taken. I cannot go into details at this time, but I am in the process of entering the last phase of my life: retirement. As to naming the centers for our deceased parents, nothing could make me more proud. Thank you for the recommendation.”

  Here Xiang paused before continuing.

  Marta did not say a word.

  “It will be done; you have my word on that. Many people will be disappointed; many more people will be pleased they no longer have to deal with me. I cannot promise you the trafficking will stop or even slow down. All I can say is I will no longer be a part of it. The public will determine when and if they should decide not to use the product. Here, like everywhere, it is simply a question of supply and demand. For now, for the near future, the demand is very high.”

  Mei Ling understood all too well. You pull out one weed from your garden and three more appear a week later. It is a never-ending battle, and as long as there are people who insist on using and can afford it, business will boom. The biggest problem is those who want and need and cannot afford.

  When you want something bad enough, there is nothing that will stop you from getting it. It is the way it was; it is the way it is; it is the way it will always be. That is why there are laws on the books that will never be fully enforced. That is why there are police, district attorneys, judges; all law enforcement officers, and the jury system, and that is why there are pimps and runners and distributors, petty crooks and big-time criminals and lawyers to defend every one of them.