“Your mother called this afternoon.” Elizabeth had her back to him and was spreading cream cheese on the celery.
“Umph.” Elizabeth’s birthday had been last week. She had just turned thirty-nine. As he stared at her trim waistline and the way her buttocks shaped her dress, Liarakos decided she could pass for ten years younger.
“She just heard on the news that you’re representing Aldana.”
“And she was unhappy.”
“She had a fit. Wanted to know how you could defend scum like that. ‘All those years … my little boy … no honor.’ It wasn’t a pleasant conversation.”
Liarakos turned his attention to the backyard. They had almost an acre here. The hired man had raked the leaves three times this fall but at least a bushel had collected on the top of the pool cover and in the hot tub. He would have to clean up the leaves again when he had time.
“I told her,” Elizabeth was saying, “that every man is entitled to a defense, but you know her.”
“Yeah.”
“I tried to be nice to her, Thanos, I really did. But I am so sick of hearing her whine and bitch. Honest to God, I have completely had it with her ethics lectures.”
“I know.”
“Why don’t you explain it to her one more time?” She turned to face him. “It’s not fair that I have to be the one who keeps explaining the Constitution and the American legal system to her. When she starts that how-can-my-Thanos-do-this crap, I just cringe. She doesn’t listen, she won’t listen.”
“I’ll talk to her again.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah, promise.”
She turned back to the celery.
“Where are the girls?” he asked.
“Upstairs. They’re going to be doing homework while the guests are here. And I bought them a new CD today. They’re listening to that for the eleventh time.”
Liarakos wandered into the living room. Elizabeth had the crystal out, the wine open, and the cheeses and crackers already arranged on the white damask tablecloth. At least she understood what he did professionally. She had been a new associate, a Harvard Law grad, when they started dating. Six months later they spent a long ski weekend in Aspen and returned home married. She had had to resign her position with the firm of course, but he had just made junior partner.
It had been rocky along the way, but they were still trying, still hanging in there.
His mind turned to his new client, turning over possible defense tactics, reviewing the charges yet again. Aldana’s case was going to be difficult. The government had two turncoat witnesses and enough circumstantial evidence to sink the Titanic. Aldana’s little press conference performance this afternoon hadn’t helped.
He would tape the network news at six. Tomorrow he would put the associates to researching pretrial publicity issues. Perhaps the press conference hadn’t precluded such a motion, considering the overwhelming publicity Aldana’s extradition had received.
He checked his watch. The network evening news would come on in ten minutes. He should probably set up the VCR now.
When that chore was completed, he wandered back to the kitchen for another drink. “When did the maid leave?”
“About five. She helped me with all of this.”
“You want me to help?”
“No. Go relax. I’ve got everything under control.”
Everything under control. A defense lawyer never had everything under control. The concept was foreign to him. About all you could do was anticipate the thrusts and jabs of the prosecution and attempt to parry them. And have a few surprises of your own up your sleeve. The name of the game was damage control.
How could he control the damage the government witnesses would do? And the client, Aldana? Could he be controlled? Would he listen to good advice? Liarakos snorted. He already knew the answer to that. Oh well, it was Aldana’s ass on the line, not his. Still, he hated to lose. He never fought gracefully in a losing cause, which was why his defense team was bringing in two million dollars a year in fees to the firm.
He snapped the television on in the living room and stood watching it as Elizabeth set the last of the hors d’oeuvres on the table.
Aldana’s press conference was the lead story. “Come watch this, Elizabeth.”
The anchor said Aldana’s statement spoke for itself. He fell silent and looked off to one side, at the monitor no doubt, waiting. Aldana came on the screen. As his voice filled the living room—“To me has been given the key …”—Liarakos heard his wife’s sharp intake of breath. “My God!”
“He has an effect, doesn’t he?”
After the questions, the network replayed the statement three times. The consensus of the “experts”—a lawyer, a psychiatrist, and a college instructor in South American voodoo culture—was that Aldana was a criminal megalomaniac.
The phone rang and at the same time the door chimes sounded. As Elizabeth went to the front door to admit the guests, Liarakos went to the study to take the call. The firm’s senior partner was on the line:
“I just saw our newest, most famous client on the news.”
“Yeah, I watched it too.”
“Thanos, you’ve got to figure out a way to shut him up. In one performance he managed to convince half the people in America that he’s guilty as hell. And that was the half that was undecided.”
“I strongly urged him not—”
“Thanos, he’s one man. Our firm has fifty-two partners and one hundred twelve associates who represent over a dozen Fortune five hundred companies and about a hundred fifty smaller ones. The heart of our business is regulatory matters and commercial litigation. Now it’s one thing, represent run-of-the-mill criminal defendants, but it’s quite another to represent a man who’s out to prove he’s the Antichrist, beyond a reasonable doubt.”
“He’s innocent until proven guilty.”
“You know that and I know that, but the general public may not. I’m laying it right on the line, Thanos. We have never told you whom you could or couldn’t represent. But this firm is not going to bankrupt itself for the privilege of representing the most notorious criminal since Al Capone. Now you shut that man up or tell him he’ll have to get another lawyer. Have I made myself clear?”
“You have, Harvey.”
“Stop by my office tomorrow.” The connection broke.
Thanos Liarakos sat for a moment with the telephone receiver in his hand, then slowly lowered it onto its cradle.
Harvey Brewster was something of an ass. If he thought the firm could get rid of Chano Aldana by just throwing his file at him and filing a notice with the clerk of the court, he was in for a rude surprise. The judge would not let Liarakos or the firm out of the case unless and until another competent, experienced attorney had agreed to represent Aldana and not delay the proceedings. The pressure on the judge to proceed expeditiously would be excruciating, and the judge had the tools to transfer that pressure squarely onto counsel for both sides.
Liarakos knew the judge would not hesitate to use his authority. Liarakos knew the judge. Gardner Snyder was in his early seventies and had been on the bench for over thirty years. He was the frostiest curmudgeon wearing a judicial robe that Liarakos had ever run into. No doubt that was why the Justice Department had maneuvered so adroitly to ensure that this case went onto Snyder’s calendar.
Perhaps tomorrow the prosecutor would move for an order gagging both sides. Liarakos suspected that just now the prosecutor’s phone was also ringing. Perhaps he should make the motion himself. It was indisputable that Aldana would have to be silenced one way or the other or the man wouldn’t get a fair trial.
The door opened. Elizabeth’s head appeared. “Thanos, come visit with our guests.”
The guests were buzzing about Aldana’s news conference. Those who hadn’t seen the news show were being briefed by those who had. Liarakos was bombarded with questions, all of which he shrugged off with a smile. The smile was an effort.
He had fini
shed his third drink of the evening and was telling himself he didn’t need and probably couldn’t handle a fourth, when he saw Elizabeth motioning to him from the kitchen.
“Your mother’s on the phone. She’s really revved.”
“I’ll take it in the study.”
Jefferson Brody and a woman Liarakos knew only vaguely were in a serious discussion in the study, but he made his excuses and closed the door firmly behind them.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Thanos, Thanos, what have you done?”
“Well, I—”
She wasn’t interested in his answer. She steamrollered on: “I saw that horrible man—your client—on the news this evening. I meant to call you immediately but my friends have been on the phone for over an hour. I called you as soon as I had a chance.”
“Mom, I’m a lawyer. I—”
“You don’t have to make a living representing dope-peddling scum like that! My God, your father and I scrimped and saved and did without to put you through college and law school so you could represent filth like Alda … Alda-something. Have you no honor? Have you no morals? What kind of man are you, Thanos?”
“Mom, I’m a lawyer—no, let me finish! I’m a lawyer and this man is entitled to be represented by a lawyer no matter what crimes he is accused of.”
“But he is guilty!”
“He isn’t guilty until a jury says he is. And guilty or not, he must have a lawyer.”
“I hope to God you lose and this man pays for his crimes, Thanos. He has murdered and assassinated and bribed and done God knows what-all and he must be put somewhere so he can’t keep hurting innocent people. Thousands of innocent people. Thanos, you pervert your talents and your religion by helping such a man.”
“Mom, I’m not going to keep arguing this.”
“He says he has the key to hell. And he does. You are helping this scum stay in business. You are helping him murder innocent people. How in the name of your dead father do you sleep nights?”
“I’ve heard all of this I’m going to listen to.”
“No, you haven’t! You are going to listen to your mother who loves you and wants to save your soul. You are going to stop helping these people. Thanos! My Thanos. You are breaking my heart.”
“Mom, we have a houseful of guests. I’m not going to insult them by staying here in the study listening to you rant about something you don’t understand. Don’t you have any faith in me?”
“Faith in you? When you prostitute yourself for criminals such as Aldana? You make me nauseous.” She slammed her phone down.
Is there anybody who didn’t watch the news tonight?
His baseball glove was lying on the table. He picked it up and kneaded the soft leather. He smacked the pocket with his fist. Damn! Damn, damn, damn.
He turned off the lights and sat in the darkness. After a moment he loosened his tie and stretched out on the couch. The hum of voices through the door, the gentle background of the furnace fans, the noises reached him and he listened for a while, then didn’t listen. The noises became background, like an evening crowd in the grandstand at Tinker Field in Orlando, buzzing and sighing in rhythm with the game.
The crowds were never large, maybe fifteen hundred people on a good evening. But all the hot, muggy evenings were very good, regardless of how many people came to watch. The fastballs only came in about eighty miles per hour, plenty fast if you were forty-one years old and trying to get the bat around on one of them. On those all-too-rare occasions when you slapped the ball with good wood you strained every tendon charging for first. Occasionally you even surprised yourself and beat the throw.
That summer now seemed like a dream time. Liarakos could still smell the sweat, still feel the earth under his spikes, still see the ball leave the bat and float toward him as he charged it. Even then he knew he was living a fantasy, the sublime pinnacle of his life. The sun and the sweat and the laughter of his teammates …
Someone was shaking him. “Daddy. Wake up. Daddy.”
The lights were on. “Huh?”
It was Susanna, his twelve-year-old. “Daddy, it’s Mommy. She’s locked herself in the upstairs bathroom and won’t come out.”
Thanos Liarakos uncoiled and rushed from the room. Through the living room and the guests staring, up the stairs two at a time with Susanna in her nightie running behind him, trying to keep up.
He tried the handle on the door. Locked! He pounded on the door with his fists. “Elizabeth? Elizabeth, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
Not again! Please God, not again!
“Elizabeth, if you don’t open this door now, I’m going to break it down.”
Susanna and her younger sister were standing there in the hallway, watching. They were sobbing.
“You girls go to your room. Do as I say.” They went.
He kicked at the door. The girls were standing in their doorway, watching and crying. He braced himself against the wall and smashed at the door with his right foot. It splintered. Another kick and the lock gave.
She was on the floor. A trace of white powder around her nostrils. Some powder on the counter. A rolled-up dollar bill clutched in her hand. Her eyes unfocused, the pupils huge. Her heart going like a racehorse.
Damn!
“Where did you get it, Elizabeth? Who gave you the cocaine?”
He shook her vigorously. Her eyes swam.
“Can you hear me, woman? Who gave you the coke?”
“Jeff, uhh, Jeffer …”
He lowered her to the floor and went to the girls’ bedroom. “Susanna, call an ambulance. Dial nine-one-one. Your mother’s sick.”
The child was crying freely. He held her at arm’s length and stared into her face. “Can you do this?”
She nodded and wiped at her tears.
“Good girl. Dial nine-one-one and give them our address and tell them to send an ambulance.”
Down the hall past the bathroom to the staircase, and down them two at a time. T. Jefferson Brody was standing by the far wall.
Brody put up his hands as Liarakos charged at him. “Now, Thanos—”
“Get outta my house, you son of a bitch.” He hit him with all he had. Brody went down and two men grabbed Liarakos’ arms.
“Out! All you people get out!” He jerked his arms free. “Party’s over. Everybody get the fuck outta my house.”
He gestured toward Brody, who was sitting on the floor rubbing his jaw. “Drag this piece of dog shit out with you or I’ll kill him.”
CHAPTER SIX
AT SIX o’clock the alarm rang beside Thanos Liarakos’ bed. He silenced it and rolled out. He had been asleep less than an hour. He had gotten home from the hospital at three a.m., checked on the kids and the maid, who had graciously agreed to return and spend the night when he called her at midnight. The lady and the kids were all asleep in the same bed. Tired as he was, Liarakos couldn’t sleep. The last time he remembered glancing at the clock it had been almost five a.m.
He showered and shaved and dressed. In the kitchen he wrote a note for the kids:
Your Mom is okay. She is in the hospital and was asleep when I left her. You may stay home from school with Maria today if you wish.
I love you both,
Dad
When he backed the car out of the garage there was a television reporter and a cameraman at the end of the driveway, on the sidewalk. They shouted questions at him as he backed down the drive right at them. Two cameramen. One refused to get out of the way. Liarakos kept the car creeping backward. The reporter, a woman, held a microphone against the driver’s window glass and shouted: “Is Aldana threatening Americans? Is he sane? How much money has he paid you?”
She expected no answers in this theater of the absurd, Liarakos knew. Asking rhetorical questions was the whole show. This was award-winning television journalism.
The rear bumper lightly contacted the camera tripod. Then the man moved.
Liarakos kept the car drifting backward into t
he street, flipped the transmission into drive, and accelerated away.
The morning was overcast and gloomy. A wind drove the dry brown leaves along the streets in waves. Here and there whirlwinds built little columns of leaves that spun crazily for a few seconds in the gray half light, then flowed on.
His wife was still asleep. The blinds were closed and the lights off in her private room. Still wearing his topcoat, Thanos Liarakos sank into the padded visitor’s chair.
In a few moments his breathing rhythm matched hers. He felt himself relaxing and drifting and didn’t fight it.
He had been in his late thirties when he realized that he could see his entire life, all of it, as if he were a detached observer and his life were a play that he had seen several times before. The whole of it was being acted out before him daily, scene by scene. Yet he knew how it had been and how it would have to be.
Staring at his face in the mirror as he shaved every morning, he could see how the lines would deepen, how the jowls would continue to sag, how the hair would gray and thin. He stared at a face not young and soon to be old.
In nursing homes, he knew, a portion of the daily routine for the elderly is reminiscence therapy. The staff encourages the fragile people waiting to die to look back, to savor the events in their life as if they were great feats woven into a tapestry to instruct generations yet unborn.
Thanos Liarakos was seeing it as it would be, looking back while he was still living it. All his achievements and accomplishments that he had previously thought so important shrank mercilessly from the vantage of this curious double perspective. Court victories lost their sweetness and disasters lost their sting. He had found a way to live with life, or perhaps a merciful God had given him the way. Whichever. Only the perspective mattered.
Drifting now, half asleep, Liarakos swirled the colored glass inside his kaleidoscope of past and future, looking for the pattern. His father had stepped off the boat from Greece with fifty dollars in his pocket and one extra shirt, and parlayed that into five submarine sandwich shops which had sent three sons through college. His mother had raised the sons while his father worked twelve to fifteen hours a day. Those bittersweet days were irretrievably gone. They were as far from the present as the day Odysseus sacked the stronghold on the proud height of Troy. Yet when he talked to his mother he was listening to a voice from the past that would soon be lost to him. So soon, so soon, he would be standing by her grave and his father’s grave, remembering, feeling the life escaping like a handful of sand flowing through his fingers. So he tolerated her diatribes and cherished her.
05.Under Siege v5 Page 9
