by Brad Meltzer
In a minute, Kathleen followed. Expecting Jared to be at his desk, she was surprised to find him lying on the floor, his arms over his eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Jared was still silent.
“Jared, answer me. Are you okay? What happened to your face?”
“I’m fine,” he whispered.
“Where’s Kozlow?”
“I’m not sure. He left the moment we got out of the courthouse. Probably went to tell Rafferty that I blew it.”
“I guess that means the decisions didn’t go your way?”
With his arms still covering his eyes, he added, “I should’ve seen it coming. I mean, except for one or two of them, all of those motions were worthless. I was just hoping that we could catch a break.”
“From Bogdanos? You know better than that.”
Shaking his head, Jared said, “Kathleen, I’m in trouble. I don’t think we have a chance.”
“Don’t say that. The trial hasn’t even started yet. In fact, when—”
“I’m serious,” he interrupted. “It’s completely stacked against us.”
“Jared, you’re a defense attorney representing a guilty party. It’s supposed to be stacked against you.” She sat down next to her boss. “It was stacked against you in the Wexler case, and you pulled it out. And the Riley case. And the Shoretz case.”
“Those were different,” he said. “Those didn’t have—”
“They didn’t have what? They didn’t have your wife as the prosecutor? They didn’t have the consequences of this case? Obviously, this case is bigger. But that doesn’t mean we can’t save her. Sara’s not unbeatable—she’s a new recruit who got a few lucky breaks. Otherwise, you’re still the self-assured boy wonder. You know I’m right, Jared. Head-to-head, you have the advantage. She’s going to be okay. She will. So don’t shut down just because things aren’t going your way.”
Unconvinced, Jared continued to lie there, his arms still hiding his eyes.
“C’mon,” Kathleen demanded. “Wake the hell up. You’ve been like this ever since Barrow died. Regain control. Isn’t that what you’re always telling the new associates? Take charge. Take control.”
“Listen, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m not in the mood right now,” Jared said. “Please just leave me alone. I’ll come around when I’m ready.”
“I wouldn’t wait too long,” Kathleen said. “The clock is ticking.”
“Oh, man, how fantastic was that?” Guff asked when they returned to Sara’s office. “I haven’t seen such a slaughter since the dinosaurs encountered that cold spell. E-X-T-I-N-C-T. Extinct, extinct, extinct!”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Sara said.
“Are you kidding?” Guff asked. “Did you see Jared’s face when Bogdanos announced the decisions? Denied, denied, denied, denied, denied. It started sounding like the synopsis of my dating history.”
“If it’s possible, it was worse than your dating history,” Conrad said with a wide smile. “That was a full-scale massacre. Carnage, butchery, bloodbath, annihilation.”
“Maybe I should give him a call,” Sara said, reaching for the phone. “Just to make sure he’s—”
“He’ll be fine,” Conrad said. “It’s all part of the game.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Guff said. “Insane as it sounds, today’s the kind of day that makes me want to be a lawyer.”
“Milk it for all it’s worth,” Conrad said. “Because now comes the hard part. Now we have to put together a trial.”
At nine o’clock that evening, in Sara’s office, Conrad watched Sara cross-examine Guff for the seventh time in the last two hours.
“So, Mr. Kozlow,” Sara asked Guff, “why don’t you tell the court exactly how you murdered Mr. Doniger.”
“No, no, no, you’re doing it again,” Conrad interrupted before Guff could respond. “Don’t goad him—lead him. Lead him to where you want to go and hold on to him the moment you get there.”
“I feel like I’ve heard that philosophy before,” Sara said. “I think it was in…the Gulag.”
“It may seem extreme, but in life and in court, that’s how you get what you want.” Turning toward the sofa where Guff was seated, Conrad said, “Mr. Kozlow, you were in Arnold Doniger’s house that night, weren’t you?”
“No, I—” Guff began.
“And that’s the only way to explain how you got Claire’s watch and golf ball, isn’t it?” He looked back to Sara. “Make sure every question counts. The jury is looking to you for their cues, and in their eyes, every stutter is a lie.”
Getting up from the sofa, Guff said, “Speaking of which, I’d love to stay and get badgered some more, but I really have to run.”
“Coward,” Conrad said as Guff walked to the door.
When Guff was gone, Sara looked at Conrad. “Next victim.”
“Fair enough,” Conrad said, taking Guff’s old seat on the witness-box sofa. “But I’m warning you, I’m not going to be tame like Guff. My Kozlow is far more ornery.”
“Bring it on,” Sara said as she moved into position in front of the sofa. She looked down at her legal pad, got into character, then faced Conrad. In a stern, commanding voice, she said, “So, Mr. Kozlow, you were in Arnold Doniger’s house that night, weren’t you?”
“Ms. Tate, why do you keep asking me that?” Conrad moaned, sounding wounded and weak. “I already told the jury the answer. See, that’s the problem with lawyers today: You never listen. You just try to ram your point home, with no concern for the innocent souls you might be hurting.”
Caught off guard by Conrad’s response, Sara said, “That’s not fair. You can’t make him sympathetic.”
“Really?” Conrad asked. “What do you think your husband’s trying to do as we speak?”
Two hours later, Jared opened the door to his apartment. After Kozlow’s attack last night, he didn’t want to stay at Pop’s, and he was longing to see his wife. For the past ten years, no matter what problems he’d encountered, no matter what pressures he’d faced, no matter what battles he’d fought, Sara had always been there for him. She was the first person he saw when he came out of his knee surgery, and she was the only person who said he did a good job when he lost his first case. For the past three weeks, Jared had found it easier to avoid her, but as he walked into the silent apartment, he knew that at this moment there was no one he’d rather see. He missed her laugh, and the way she made fun of his fashion sense, and the way she picked a fight when she disagreed with someone. “Sara?” he asked as he walked into the living room. “Are you here?” He went into the bedroom. “Sara? Honey, are you here?” Again, there was no answer. His wife was gone. “Please be okay,” he whispered. For the past three weeks, Jared had been lonely; tonight, he was alone. Standing in the quiet of their empty bedroom, he felt every bit of the difference.
“One more time,” Conrad demanded. “Start at the beginning.”
“What’re you, a robot?” Sara asked, collapsing next to him on the sofa. “It’s almost midnight.”
“If you want it to be perfect, you have to put in the hours.”
“Screw perfection. For mortal beings, there’s no such thing.”
“I bet Jared’s shooting for perfection.”
“I’m sure he is. That’s the difference between us—he wants perfection, while I’m satisfied with doing it to the best of my ability.” Pointing a finger at Conrad, she added, “And stop trying to use him against me. I don’t like it, and it won’t work.”
“It’s worked up until now,” Conrad said.
“Well, stop it. It’s annoying.”
As he leaned back on the sofa, Conrad stared silently at Sara. Finally, he asked, “Have you always been so competitive with him?”
“With Jared? Of course. Since the moment we met.”
“And how’d you guys meet again? As summer associates in a firm?”
“No way, we have a much better story than that. I met Jared during our first y
ear of law school.”
“Oh, God. Law school sweethearts. Is it possible to be more nauseating?”
“I doubt it. In this case, we’ve achieved perfection.” As Conrad shook his head, Sara added, “The first time I saw him, he raised his hand to answer a question in our contracts class. When he was done, the professor called his response ‘imaginative, but sophomorically implausible.’ He was so obviously devastated, I knew he had to be mine.”
“But that’s not how you met, is it?”
“Actually, we met during the first few weeks of school, but I didn’t get to know him until we were randomly matched as partners for moot court.”
“I assume you hated each other.”
“Of course,” Sara said. “He thought I was too pushy, I thought he was a wound-too-tight know-it-all.”
“So what finally brought you together?”
“I’m not sure. I think it was that I liked the word penis, and he had one.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are. You always are. But I’m not sure how to answer that. When I think about Jared, though, I know one thing: He’s the person I aspire to be. Really. That’s how I see him. And when we’re together, he helps me be that person. Love has to be a complement.”
“It certainly does,” Conrad said.
“What about you? You ever been in love?”
“Of course I’ve been in love. I was even married for three years way back when.”
“Huh,” Sara said, looking at Conrad in a new light. “I don’t see you as the married type.”
“Me neither. That’s why I left.”
“What was her name?”
“Marta Pacheco. We met right after I got out of the marines and were married a year later. When I wanted to come to New York, she wanted to stay near her family in California. Really, it was just the straw that killed an already-overworked camel, but it was as good an excuse as any other to leave. We were way too young to hold it together.”
“And now your love is the criminal-justice system. How romantic.”
“This city is a vicious lover, but there’s no one finer,” Conrad said with a laugh. “Enough about my mistakes, though—I want to hear more about yours. Tell me why you got fired from your law firm.”
“Still curious about that, aren’t you?”
“Who wouldn’t be? You’ve been hiding it since the day we met.”
“And I’m hiding it today as well.”
“Oh, grow up already. How embarrassing can it be?”
“Quite embarrassing. Very, very embarrassing.”
“Just tell me. I won’t tell anyone.”
Sara was silent for a moment, then said, “Here’s the deal. I’ll tell you why I got fired if you tell me some equally embarrassing fact about yourself.”
“What is this, fourth grade? Now we’re trading secrets?”
“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it,” Conrad said. “Now let’s hear your story.”
“Age before beauty, daddy-o. You want to hear it, you go first.”
“Your husband was right. You are pushy.”
“Just tell the story.”
“Fine, fine,” Conrad said. “My story’s easy. Have you ever heard of Plato’s philosophy of the soul?”
“Is this some sort of literary tale?”
“Just listen,” Conrad continued. “Plato believed that at birth, every soul received a unique demon or angel which defined that person’s genius and destiny. In his view, on some level, we were all oaks in tiny acorns. When I was little, my mother was a firm believer in this. And without a doubt, she was convinced that I had the soul of an entertainer.”
“You?”
“Believe me, I reacted the same way. Naturally, though, my mother wasn’t really interested in my own pubescent opinion. So when I was fifteen years old, I was told that I had to get a part-time job to help supplement the family income. To maximize that venture, and to complete my destiny, my mom got me a job as a magician’s assistant. At little kids’ birthday parties, he did the tricks and I did all the assisting.”
“That’s not embarrassing. It sounds like a dream job.”
“That’s what I thought—until I saw my costume. For four years, I was forced to wear gobs of face paint, a rainbow wig, and giant shoes that—”
“You were a clown?” Sara laughed.
“That’s me—the clown sidekick to Max Marcus, Cleveland’s Most Overrated Magician.”
“I can’t believe you were a clown,” Sara laughed.
“Laugh all you want, but I was really good at it. I even had my own clown identity.”
“Really? What’d you do? Scare the little kids until they confessed? The two of you had sort of a good clown–bad clown thing going?”
“I have to admit I was a little weak on the personality side. But I did pick out a name. From the day I started, I was known as Slappy Kincaid.”
Sara laughed out loud. “Slappy Kincaid? What kind of name is that?”
“It’s a good name. In fact, for a clown, it’s a great name.” As Sara continued to laugh, Conrad said, “So now you have my embarrassing fact. Time for yours. Why’d you get fired?”
Sara finally caught her breath. “I’m warning you, it’s not that big a deal. I mean, especially when you compare it to something like clown assistant…”
“Just get on with it.”
“Okay, here’s how it goes: Last year, when I went for my annual review, William Quinn, the head of the executive committee, told me that I wasn’t going to make partner. Of course, the only reason I worked like a dog for the two years before was because of Quinn’s reassurance that I was on the partner track. But things were obviously not working out as planned, and I was being asked to leave. However, since I’d put in a good six years of my life there, he said he’d let me stay on board for a whole four extra months if I needed to.”
“How kind of him.”
“Kindness is his middle name,” Sara said. “So anyway, I smiled, said thank you, and calmly left his office. By the time I got back to my own office, I was ready to smack Quinn in the head with a tire iron. And that’s when I saw the lovely little E-mail he’d sent me. According to the E-mail, the four extra months we spoke about had one small condition: I couldn’t tell any of the other associates in the firm that I was being fired—I had to say I was leaving by my own choice. Apparently, they were worried about what the younger associates would think if they knew that the firm promised partnerships but didn’t follow through. So in exchange for good morale, I was offered a better severance package.”
“And the idiot sent it to you by E-mail?”
“He sure did,” Sara sang. “Needless to say, I kindly responded with my thoughts on the subject. I politely declined his offer, and then, in my moment of blissful vindication, forwarded his letter and my response to the entire staff of Winick and Trudeau.”
“I must say, that was incredibly mature of you.”
“I was angry and hungry for revenge—it was a perfect time to regress. Besides, after throwing away six years, I couldn’t let him do the same thing to the other lawyers. They were my friends. If you want to fire me, that’s one thing, but don’t expect me to hide your dirty secret.”
Laughing, Conrad said, “So what’d you do when Quinn found out?”
“What’s to do? When he came storming into my office, I told him that I held him personally responsible for wasting half a dozen years of my life. He called me an unseasoned, shallow-minded waste of space; I called him a bloated and domineering Boss Tweed. After lunch, I came back and all my stuff was conveniently packed up for me. Naturally, I didn’t get the four extra months. Looking back, I guess it was a psycho move, but it really did seem like the best option at the time. And even if it is embarrassing, at least I—”
“Sara, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. You should be proud of what you did.”
“You think?”
Conrad was fl
attered by the tone of her question. “You were looking out for your friends. That’s what’s important.”
A tiny grin lit her cheeks. “I’m glad you see it like that.”
“Of course, there are easier ways to protect them than by broadcasting your boss’s private mail.”
“Watch it, Slappy. Get on my bad side and I’ll syndicate your memos, too. Vengeful pranksters are far more dangerous than lawyer clowns.”
“But lawyer clowns are so much more fun.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Sara said. “You’re not my type.”
“And what is your type?” Conrad asked.
“Let’s see. I like astronaut clowns, doctor clowns, and political clowns. But I don’t like lawyer clowns.”
“Are you sure?”
“Why do you ask?” Sara asked coyly.
“Just answer the question: Are you sure?”
“I’m pretty sure. Why—” Before Sara could finish, Conrad leaned over, grabbed the back of her head, and gave her a long, deep kiss. Sara knew she should pull away. Instead, she just closed her eyes.
Chapter 15
“I CAN’T DO THIS,” SARA SAID, PUSHING CONRAD BACK after a couple of seconds. “It’s not right.”
“What’s not right? My kissing or—”
“Any of it. All of it. The whole thing,” Sara said. Her hands were trembling as she got up from her seat on the sofa. She shouldn’t have waited. She should’ve pulled away quicker.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “I thought you—”
“Conrad, I care a great deal about you, but I’m still married. And while I may be annoyed with Jared, that doesn’t mean I should betray him.”
“But—”
“Please don’t say anything else,” she stuttered. Searching for people to blame, she was coming up empty. “I admit—I liked it, but I shouldn’t have done it.”
An awkward silence filled the room. Finally, Conrad said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in that position. I was—”
“No, it’s okay.” She tried to sound as convinced as possible. “It’s late…. We’ve been working hard…. We’re both tired. You flirted with me and I flirted right back.”
