by Stuart Woods
“The councilman’s facing criminal charges?”
“It’s his son. College kid, busted for drugs.”
“Drugs?”
“Possession of a controlled substance. Possession with intent to sell. Trafficking.”
“Trafficking!”
“Not really. They pile on the charges so they’ll have something to plea-bargain. That’s all this is. A plea bargain.”
“What’s the deal?”
“Suspended sentence, community service, the kid walks.”
“That’s what you’re asking?”
“That’s what they’re offering. It’s all set up.”
“Why would they offer that?”
“The councilman’s a big supporter of the police department. They’re happy to cut him a break.”
“So all I have to do is appear in court and accept the deal?”
“That’s right. Just ask the judge for a recess to talk to the ADA. He’ll offer you the deal.”
“James, there must be someone you can get better suited than me. I don’t work on these kinds of cases at all.”
“Not on such short notice. I don’t have time to shop around, Herb. I’m calling you from pre-op.”
“I was your first choice?”
“No, you were the one who answered the phone. Thanks a million, pal. Just get down to the courthouse. You need to be there by two PM.”
Herbie was acutely aware of Yvette’s eyes on him. He couldn’t bail on her again. Not with her teasing him about being obsessed with his job, and not from their second straight engagement celebration. He was desperately trying to think how to get out of it when James interrupted his train of thought.
“The anesthesiologist just arrived—gotta go! Thanks a million, Herb.”
Herbie hung up to find Yvette looking at him with an I-told-you-so smile.
Herbie sighed. “Honey?”
7
JAMES GLICK SLIPPED his cell phone back into his pocket. Mr. Glick was on an Amtrak Acela speeding out of New York as fast as the train could carry him. James Glick was not in the hospital, and his appendix was fine. The only part of what he had told Herbie that was true was about being in court at two o’clock. That, and the plea bargain. James Glick had been offered the plea bargain. He just couldn’t take it.
Ever since he’d caught the case, James Glick had been pressured by mobsters. The pressure had not been subtle. He’d been muscled into a car and taken to a deserted junkyard on Long Island, where he’d been forced to his knees and a gun had been held to his head. He’d been told to lose the case, and to lose it as quickly as possible, or his next trip to Long Island would be one-way.
As a result he’d waived the probable cause hearing and gone right to trial, assuring his client the prosecution would be eager to do so, too. He hadn’t realized how eager until he got into court and was offered such a favorable plea bargain.
The mobsters had stepped in again. This time they hadn’t felt the need to drive him to Long Island, they’d simply spelled it out for him. They didn’t want him to settle the case, they wanted him to lose the case, and to lose it badly enough the kid would wind up with a jail sentence. James Glick had no idea why they wanted this, only that they did, and that a dark fate was in store for him if he didn’t deliver.
James hated passing the buck to Herb Fisher, but he had no choice. If he took the plea bargain he was dead. Another lawyer might escape such a fate. He wouldn’t know what he was up against, and would accept the plea bargain without hesitation. Then there would be no point in killing Herbie, because it would be a fait accompli.
And he would be free of this nagging nightmare. After a while, he might be able to come back. No one knew where he was. They wouldn’t be following him.
Or would they? He had a flash of paranoid fear.
He glanced around and saw no one. Of course, he was snug in his seat. He leaned out, peered down the aisle. There was no one in front of him. He glanced behind him. There was no one there.
But that didn’t mean they weren’t.
Could they have followed him?
They couldn’t, could they?
The Acela hurtled down the track.
8
HERBIE GOT TO court at 2:05. Ordinarily that wouldn’t have been a problem, but apparently in Judge Buckingham’s court it was. The judge was already on the bench, and everyone appeared to be waiting for him.
Judge Buckingham had a hawk nose and a perennially stern look. He wasn’t drumming his fingers on the desk as Herbie came down the aisle, but he gave that impression.
With a sickening feeling, Herbie realized that he knew him. The judge had presided over one of his many arraignments. Of all the luck.
Charles Grover, a young ADA, was standing next to the prosecution table. Herbie knew Grover, had met him on a case involving the illegal transfer of funds. He and Herbie had managed to work out an equitable solution. At least equitable from Herbie’s point of view. Grover had always been of the impression that Herbie had gotten the better of him, which, in fact, he had. Herbie wondered if he still bore a grudge.
Grover caught his eye and smiled. It was, Herbie noted, the smile of a man holding every ace in the deck.
Seated at the defense table was a young man Herbie presumed was his client, a college-age kid, very preppy-looking, with short brown hair and wearing a suit and tie.
Herbie was not one to pigeonhole people, and he had seen criminal lawyers from his firm perform miracles on the scum of the earth with nothing more than a shower, a shave, a haircut, and a clean set of clothes; still, he got the impression his client was the genuine article. Herbie just couldn’t imagine this young man dealing drugs. He had an eager, puppy-like quality that couldn’t be faked.
“David Ross?”
“Yes?”
“Herb Fisher. Your attorney’s in the hospital having emergency surgery. He sent me to fill in.”
“Surgery?”
“It’s minor. He’ll be back.” Herbie pointed to his suit jacket. “Did James tell you to wear the suit?”
“No, it’s the way I dress.”
“Good move. You’re a college student?”
“That’s right.”
“What are you studying?”
“Prelaw.”
“Well, you’re getting an early education.”
Judge Buckingham banged the gavel. Herbie looked up to find the judge glowering down at him. “Well, now, nice of you to join us. Where is Mr. Glick?”
“He had an emergency appendectomy, Your Honor,” Herbie said.
“Couldn’t he have had it after court?”
“No, Your Honor. It was an emergency.”
“And who, may I ask, are you?”
That was a relief. The judge didn’t remember. “Herb Fisher, Your Honor. Mr. Glick asked me to appear in court and explain his absence.”
“You’re appearing in his stead?”
“Temporarily. It’s minor surgery, and he expects to be back. For that reason, I would ask for an adjournment until tomorrow, at which time Mr. Glick should be able to rejoin us.”
“I see no reason for that,” Judge Buckingham said, “when he has sent so competent an attorney to function on his behalf. Motion denied.”
“Your Honor, I am unfamiliar with the case. Might I have a short recess to confer with my client?”
“I don’t see why they couldn’t have gotten someone who was familiar with the case.”
ADA Grover stood up. “Excuse me, Your Honor, but if you would grant me a brief recess to bring opposing counsel up to speed, perhaps we could expedite this proceeding.”
Judge Buckingham nodded. “Excellent idea. Court is in recess for fifteen minutes.”
He banged the gavel.
David Ross grabbed Herbie by the arm. “What’s going on?”
Herbie put his hand on his client’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be all right. The prosecutor wants to talk to me.”
“About what?”
“We’ll see. But it must be good.”
When they were alone in the conference room, Grover grinned. “How do you like it so far, Herbie?”
“It’s Herb these days.”
“Whatever,” he said dismissively. “I didn’t know you were doing criminal law.”
“I didn’t either. James Glick called me out of the blue. Apparently he couldn’t get anyone else.”
“Why’d he ask you?”
“I was the first one to answer the phone. I’m still kicking myself.”
“Well, don’t. It’s all worked out. Didn’t James tell you?”
“He said to expect a plea bargain. Is that right?”
“Yes, and you couldn’t get better terms considering the quantity of drugs involved. Two years’ suspended sentence, community service, and the kid walks.”
“Why are you offering it?”
“He’s the son of a councilman. Councilman Ross is a friend of the police department—no one wants to put his son in jail.”
“Just how strong is the prosecution’s case?”
“Airtight. The kid was caught with three grams of cocaine in his jacket pocket, individually packaged and ready for sale. Not to mention half a kilo we found stashed in his locker. It’s more than enough to convict. It’s only natural the kid would cop a plea.”
“I suppose.”
“Relax. I already worked it out with James Glick. All you have to do is take the deal. So, are we all in agreement? We have a deal?”
“I believe so, but I will have to verify with my client that he wants to accept it.”
Grover chuckled. “Are you kidding me? It’s a defendant’s dream plea. Of course he’s going to take it.”
9
“THE HELL I WILL!”
“You don’t want the deal?”
“Damn right I don’t!”
“I was told this was all set up. James Glick, your lawyer, said you had a deal.”
“James Glick, my lawyer, never told me anything. This is the first I’m hearing of it.”
“You don’t want a plea bargain?”
“Who asked for a plea bargain? I don’t know where he got that idea.” The young man made a face. “I do know where he got that idea. It’s my father, isn’t it?”
“I can’t say.”
“What do you mean, you can’t say? You’re my lawyer, aren’t you? Are you representing me or not?”
“I’m filling in until your real lawyer returns. I’m attempting to carry out what he started.”
“And did he say I asked for a plea bargain?”
“He just told me there was one, and all I had to do was accept it. It’s a good deal, David.”
“It’s a good deal for you. You don’t have to do any work. The trial’s over, and you can collect a hefty paycheck from my father.”
“And you walk, no jail time. You know what the minimums are for drug convictions?”
“Yes, I do, and I’m counting on you to save me from them. Woodman & Weld, big-time lawyers, billing out at I don’t even want to know. I was in trouble, and I wanted the best. I didn’t expect you to sell me out the moment my dad said boo.”
“No one’s selling you out.”
“You’re making a deal behind my back.”
“No one’s doing anything behind your back. The prosecutor just asked me if we had a deal. Your lawyer told me we did, but I didn’t tell the prosecutor that. I said I have to ask my client, he’s the only one who can accept a deal. Which is why I’m out here talking to you and taking abuse from the guy I’m trying to help. Do you want to stop impugning my motives so we can both get up to speed?”
Herbie took a breath, blew it out again. “Now, I have not been specifically told, but I am assuming that your father, horrified that you are on trial and facing jail time, called in a political favor. Which is why you’ve been offered the best deal a drug defendant ever got since they instituted mandatory minimums. No one’s forcing you to take it, but if you’re rejecting it just to spite your father, there are a lot easier ways to thumb your nose at your parents than doing five to ten in the state penitentiary.”
“I’m not trying to spite my father. I just want to be found not guilty. I’m prelaw. You’re a lawyer. You know how tough the competition is for a graduate who just passed the bar. You think I want a drug charge on my record?”
“I’ll get the record sealed.”
“I don’t want the record sealed!”
“You don’t want the record sealed?”
“I don’t want a record.”
“Come on, kid, we live in the real world. Why won’t you take a deal?”
David looked him straight in the eye. “Because I didn’t do it.”
10
JUDGE BUCKINGHAM RESUMED the bench. “Court is in session. Before the jury is brought back into the room, are there any matters the attorneys wish to bring to my attention?”
ADA Grover was on his feet. “Yes, Your Honor. I believe the defense and the prosecution have agreed on a verdict.”
“Is that so, Mr. Fisher?”
Herbie stood up. “I’m afraid not, Your Honor. The defense has no interest in discussing a plea.” He added, “We would have no objection to a dismissal or a directed verdict of not guilty, however.”
ADA Grover nearly choked. “A dismissal?” he sputtered. “Why in the world would we want to dismiss this case? I—”
Judge Buckingham banged the gavel. “That will do, Mr. Grover. Such outbursts are uncalled for. The court notes your disinclination to dismiss.”
“Your Honor,” Herbie said, “in light of the fact that this case could not be settled out of court, I would ask for a continuance until such time as Mr. Ross’s attorney, James Glick, is able to join us.”
“Mr. Glick asked you to act on his behalf?”
“That’s right.”
“Do it, then. The motion for a continuance is denied. Bring in the jury.”
As the court officer went to get the jury, David Ross grabbed Herbie by the sleeve. “What are you going to do?”
“The only thing I can think of.”
“What’s that?”
“Stall. I’m not going to let the witness get off this stand until court adjourns, and your attorney can take over tomorrow.”
“My attorney sold me down the river.”
“Your attorney got you a very good deal, but he’s not going to force you to take it. And your attorney knows how to cross-examine prosecution witnesses. I’ve never handled a criminal case before.”
“What? Why didn’t you say something before?”
“I didn’t think I’d find myself in the position that it would matter!”
“Christ.”
“Do you want to take the plea bargain?”
“No!”
“I’ve told you my limitations. I’ve told you what I’m going to do. If you don’t like it, fire me, and Judge Buckingham will assign you a public defender.”
The jurors filed in and took their places in the jury box. There were fourteen of them, twelve jurors and two alternates.
“Mr. Prosecutor. Call your first witness.”
“I call Detective Marvin Kelly.”
Detective Kelly was sworn in and took the witness stand.
ADA Grover approached the witness. “Detective Kelly. What is your occupation?”
“I am an undercover agent in the narcotics division of the police department.”
“And how long have you been a policeman?”
The detective cleared his throat. “I am a graduate of John Jay College of Criminal Justice. I joined the police force—”
Judge Buckingham interrupted. “This is the point, Mr. Fisher, at which you stipulate Detective Kelly’s qualifications subject to the right of cross-examination.”
“Yes, Your Honor. So stipulated.”
“I’m afraid I can’t speak for you, Mr. Fisher. You will have to speak for yourself.”
“Yes, Your Honor. The defense s
tipulates Detective Kelly’s qualifications subject to the right of cross-examination.”
As ADA Grover nodded thanks to Herbie, his face could not help but betray his amusement.
“Detective Kelly, on the night in question, were you present at a party in a dormitory at Columbia University?”
“I was.”
“Were you dressed as a police officer?”
“I was not. I work undercover. I was dressed like someone who might attend such a party.”
“As a college student?”
“I’m a little old for that. Perhaps a recent graduate, or a rather hip professor.”
“And what did you do at the party?”
“I tried to fit in. I drank and flirted with girls.”
“How did that go over?”
“Not bad. Nobody questioned my presence.”
“And why were you there?”
“I was acting on information that the defendant was selling drugs at the party.”
“So you hung out and mingled?”
“That’s right. And conducted a surreptitious surveillance of the subject.”
“And what did you observe?”
“The defendant spoke to several students at the party.”
“And what did the defendant do on those occasions?”
“He left the room with the person he was talking to and returned minutes later.”
“And were you ever close enough to hear what the defendant and the other person were saying?”
“No, I was not.”
“Did you personally talk to the defendant?”
“I did.”
“What did you say?”
“I asked him where the john was.”
The answer drew smiles from the jurors.
“And did he tell you?”
“He was most helpful.”
“And did you go?”
“Yes, I didn’t want to blow my cover.”
“Did you speak to the defendant again?”
“Yes, I did.”
“What happened on that occasion?”
“I walked up to him, showed him my identification, and asked him to empty his pockets.”
“What did he do?”
“He refused.”
Grover raised his eyebrows in feigned incredulousness. “He refused to comply with a request from an officer of the law?”
Herbie stirred restlessly. He knew he couldn’t let Grover get away with theatrically underlining the testimony against his client.
