Judge and Jury

by William Bernhardt

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  Copyright © 2020 by William Bernhardt

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Judge and Jury (Daniel Pike Legal Thriller Series, #5)

  Cunning Old Fury

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Not Even Past

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Fathers, Sons & Sisters

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Preview of Final Verdict

  Dan’s Recipes

  About the Author

  Also by William Bernhardt

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  For Ralph

  For my Family

  Never trust anyone who has not brought a book with them.

  Lemony Snicket

  Cunning Old Fury

  Chapter 1

  Dan watched as the 500-TEU container ship slowly eased into port, knowing full well that every member of its crew would kill him on sight—if they knew who he was. But he put that thought out of his head. Because he had to meet them. He had to make a deal. He had no choice.

  His father was counting on him. Even though his father had been dead for more than twenty years.

  The cargo boat like was surprisingly maneuverable. The wind was low and the tide was negligible, so it had no trouble coming easing into the dock. Its crew was experienced, as well he knew. The boat had already passed through the proper port authorities and delivered the official cargo listed in its bill of lading at a different dock about three miles north. But he was convinced there was more on board. He’d spent the last four months collecting information, and it had all brought him here, to this spot at this time. He was certain he was right.

  He had to be right.

  A few minutes later a middle-aged Hispanic man emerged on the bottom deck and lowered the gangplank. Huge beard. Tattoo of a heart squeezing a dagger. Solid black clothes. This was the man Dan knew they called The Captain. He’d been supervising smuggling operations for a South American cartel for more than a decade. Which was far too long.

  Three other men appeared behind The Captain. Large men, burly, tough. Protection, no doubt. Men who had flouted the law so long they only recognized one authority—profit. They made their own law. They killed without thinking about it. They knew how unlikely it was that they would be arrested, and even if they were, they’d be bailed out instantly. Once out, they would disappear, never to appear at trial.

  Given that Dan had spent his entire life in service to the law, this was a hard reality for him to acknowledge. But these men were beyond the law’s grasp. He wanted information. So despite the obvious danger, despite the fact that these men would kill without blinking, he was here.

  The Captain strolled down the gangplank, keeping a watchful eye for anyone he didn’t want to see. He found a midpoint on the dock and stopped. The three men positioned themselves around him, forming a vague circle. Dan could tell they carried handguns, probably Sig Sauers, beneath their jacket. Not that they would need a gun to take him out.

  The Captain was waiting.

  He drew in his breath. Now or never. All the chips on the table.

  He emerged from his hiding place, one of several small shacks used as offices during operating hours. “You the Captain?”

  The Captain smiled. Even the smile had a swagger. “You the Bank?”

  “I am.” He glanced down at the black metal briefcase he held, indicating that it contained money, which it did. Damn it—were his knees shaking? He couldn’t afford a tell, not now. He needed to appear to be a cool experienced professional. The Captain would be flattered to know how badly he terrified others, but Dan wasn’t interested in delivering that kind of ego-boo.

  The Captain strolled closer, his entourage close at hand. He spoke with a thick Spanish accent. “A few questions. Are you a police officer?”

  “Do I look like a police officer?” He wore a black shirt and jeans, with a ballcap pulled down low, several days’ stubble, and a pair of eyeglasses he didn’t need. He didn’t flatter himself that he was world-famous, but it was just possible someone on that boat might recognize him. A few months before, he had called a witness who was smuggled into the country by a human trafficking cartel, and he was almost certain The Captain was in charge of that operation as well.

  “You will please to answer the question.”

  “No. I am absolutely not a police officer.”

  “Are you wearing a wire? Any kind of recording device?”

  “I am not.”

  “Do you have the money?”

  “I do.”

  “Show it to me.”

  A question, not a command. Dan popped the briefcase into both arms. He didn’t like how that immobilized his arms, made it impossible to defend himself. But he suspected there was not much he could do against these brutes anyway. He was in good shape, exercised regularly, but that was not the same as being an experienced, cold-blooded killer.

  He opened the briefcase. The bound bills fluttered a bit in the breeze. “It’s all there.”

  The Captain nodded. “I will take it now.”

  Dan took a step back. “After you’ve shown me the goods.”

  The Captain smirked. “Do you not trust me?”

  “Should I ?”

  “I take your meaning.” He waved his hand vaguely and pivoted, returning the way he had come. Dan assumed he thought that was sufficient to indicate that Dan should follow. One of his bodyguards hung back to make sure he followed. When he didn’t move fast enough, the man, who was at least a foot taller, gave him a shove. “Move.”

  “Keep your filthy hands off me.”

  The man’s fists clenched.

  “Stay cool, Frankenstein. Your boss doesn’t want this deal to go sour.”

  The man growled—actually growled—like a rabid dog. Probably not smart to provoke him. But then again, he was playing the role of a professional black-market organ dealer, and he suspected you wouldn’t get far in that business if you allowed yourself to be pushed around.

  He followed The Captain up the gangplank—but the bodyguard slapped him hard on the back of the head as he passed. Just to make sure he understood the
man had his eyes on him.

  As if he didn’t know that already. They all had their eyes on him. And they were all ready to take him out at the first sign of trouble.

  They stepped inside the lower cabin and took a flight of stairs up to the fore balcony railing. Why? There did not seem to be anything here. No carriers, not cases.

  The Captain cleared his throat. “Invoice.”

  One of his associates handed him a crumpled piece of paper. “For delivery upon receipt of payment: sixteen kidneys, eight livers, sixteen corneas and numerous unfertilized eggs. Correct?” He handed the paper to Dan.

  He barely glanced at it. “Correct. I want to see the merchandise. How have you stored it? I assume you’ve used a hypothermic solution. What kind of container? Dry ice? Liquid nitrogen?”

  “We use a different kind of container,” The Captain said. He pressed what appeared to be a silver bolt on the side of the railing. Dan heard a clicking sound. The hull of the boat behind them vibrated a bit.

  A secret hold. He wasn’t surprised. This was a smuggling boat, after all. It probably had a dozen different hidden nooks and crannies.

  The Captain placed his fingers on the edge of what was revealed to be a compartment door. It was dark inside—but he heard movement.

  “As you can see, a different kind of container. The original container.” One of his men shone a flashlight inside the compartment.

  Dan’s lips parted.

  Eight young women were bound and gagged inside what appeared to be a refrigerated box. They were chained to the walls, barely dressed, wrapped in blankets, sitting in filth. Their eyes were wide and frightened. Terrified. They looked as if they hadn’t been fed for days.

  Dan rubbed his sweaty hands on the sides of his jeans. Keep your head together, he told himself. Bottle it up. Even though his heart pounded so hard it threatened to explode, he couldn’t let that show. If he revealed his feelings, they’d know he was not the real courier.

  “You will have to develop your own means to remove the organs from their containers,” The Captain said, chuckling a bit. “But I’m sure you will think of something. A scalpel, perhaps.”

  “This was not our arrangement,” Dan said, clenching his teeth.

  “It was necessary. We could not be certain when we would make port and did not have the materials for long-term storage. So we leave the extraction to you.”

  “This—was not—the arrangement.”

  The Captain shrugged. “I will make it easier for you. We will kill them know. Then your medics can take all the organs you want. Everything on the invoice and more. I understand these days there is a market for every part imaginable. Even for their bones.” He glanced toward the largest of his three bodyguards, the one who had hassled Dan. “Kill them.”

  Dan drew in his breath, crouched, and whispered. “Go. Now.”

  Four men appeared behind them, silhouetted on the rooftops of the shoreline office buildings. They were dressed in black, but clearly armed. Someone spoke through a bullhorn.

  “This is Jacob Kakazu of the SPPD. You are all under arrest. Drop your weapons and prepare to be boarded.”

  The three bodyguards pulled their guns out and started firing at the shadows. Dan did a drop and roll, then took off down the side of the boat. Gunfire sounded all around him, thudding into the boat and ricocheting off metal railings. One whizzed past his head, far too close. He had to get out of here—

  Something grabbed his ankle, yanking him to the floor. He fell with a clatter, banging his chin.

  The Captain had him. “You lied to me.”

  “About being a cop? No. About wearing a wire? Yes.” He kicked hard, pushing his captor back.

  The Captain lunged. He threw himself on top of Dan, wrestling him down to prevent him from escaping. Behind them, the goons kept firing and dodging, but that wouldn’t last forever. He needed to do something fast. He wasn’t much of a match for The Captain. He certainly wasn’t a match for all four of them.

  He heard someone running down on the dock below. If he could just stay alive another minute or two...

  The Captain grabbed him by the throat. “You think you can cheat me? You think you can steal from me?”

  Dan grabbed his wrist, trying to yank the arm off. “You—kidnap women and sell them for parts.”

  “Worthless whores. If they save a life, it will be their greatest achievement.” His fingers tightened. “Killing you will be mine.”

  “I—don’t think—so.” He managed to bring a knee up, right between the Captain’s legs. The Captain winced and loosened his grip. Dan seized the opportunity. He threw the man off and scrambled to his feet.

  Another bullet whizzed by close. The bodyguard who had harassed him appeared at his boss’s side. “There are too many of them,” he reported.

  “Have they called the Coast Guard?” The Captain asked.

  “The waters are clear.”

  “Then we must go. I’ll start the engines.”

  “What about him?” He jerked a thumb toward Dan.

  The Captain opened a door to the control cabin. He paused only briefly. “Cut him up. Slowly. Then feed him to the sharks.” He slammed the door behind him. Barely a second later, he heard the engines engaging.

  The bodyguard pressed his gun toward Dan’s head.

  Dan raised his hands. “You’re going to be caught. The FBI and the local police are already here.”

  “Still time to kill you.”

  “Why? So you can do time for kidnapping and murder.”

  “Because it will give me pleasure.”

  Three dark-clad FBI agents emerged from the stairwell. “Freeze.”

  The bodyguard fired anyway, but Dan had already ducked out of the way. An officer tackled the man amidst a hail of bullets.

  “There are two others,” Dan said.

  The man in the lead disagreed. “They’re already down.”

  “The Captain is inside. He’s started the engines.”

  “He’s not going anywhere.” The door flew open. The Captain was shoved out the door—by Jake Kakazu, detective for the St. Petersburg police department.

  Dan collapsed, leaning against the bulkhead. “Jake, this may be the first time I’ve actually been glad to see you.”

  “I won’t take that personally.” He pulled The Captain’s arms back and snapped cuffs on them. “Thank you for your help. That was a gutsy move.”

  “You promised you’d let me talk to him.”

  Jake glanced at the frowning FBI agent in charge. “And we will honor our agreement. You have one minute.”

  One minute? Well, he wasn’t going to waste it. Dan crouched down, rolled The Captain over. “Do you know who I am?”

  “A liar. A weasel. And soon, a dead man.”

  “No. I’m Daniel Pike. My father was Ethan Pike.”

  A slow smile spread across the Captain’s face. “I knew your father.”

  “Knew of him?”

  “Knew him.”

  “And I bet your know Conrad Sweeney too.”

  He didn’t take the bait. “I could tell you much about your father.”

  “Like what?”

  “I want a deal. Immunity?”

  The FBI agent made a snorting sound. “For giving this lawyer info about his dead dad? I don’t think so. Now if you give us information about the cartel-—”

  “That will never happen.” He turned back to Dan. “But I could help you. There are so many things you do not know.”

  “Like who framed my father? Who really committed the murder?”

  “And so much more.”

  The FBI agent glanced at his watch. “Okay. Minute’s up.”

  “I’m not done. Who framed my father?”

  The Captain only smiled.

  Two more agents hauled The Captain to his feet. “You’re under arrest.”

  “I’ll be out before sunset.”

  “I don’t think so.” They hauled him toward the stairwell, but he turned back and gav
e Dan one last look. “It seems I need a lawyer. Can you help me?”

  Dan’s answer was succinct. “Never.”

  “There is much I could tell you. But you must give me something in return.”

  “Never.”

  “Come talk to me later. Perhaps we can reach an...accommodation.”

  Dan hoped they could get some information out of this man, but it wasn’t going to happen tonight. “Someone should release the women. They must be terrified. And get this scumbag out of my sight.”

  The agents tugged on The Captain’s arm, but he remained in place, staring straight into Dan’s eyes. “Let me give you a taste of how much I know that you do not, Mr. Pike.” He smiled, but it looked more like he was baring his teeth. “You have a sister.”

  Chapter 2

  Dan stood in the tiny bathroom on the boat he lived in, The Defender, and stared at himself in the mirror. Technically, he was making sure his tie was straight. But his eyes kept drifting upward toward the eyes staring back at him.

  Who are you? he asked himself, not for the first time recently. Where did you come from?

  And who else might be in the family circle?

  He spent the largest part of his adult life ignoring those questions, or at the very least, not talking out loud about them. His father, a police officer, was convicted of murdering another police officer. He was sentenced to life and he died in prison when Dan was fourteen. Dan grew up alone, isolated from a mother who lost her ability to function and soon would lose much more. He became a lawyer, doing his damnedest to make sure no one else got railroaded the way his father had. He didn’t care what the charge was or what kind of person the client was. If they didn’t do the crime, Dan made sure they didn’t do the time.

  But he had no proof that his father was innocent. He had a little boy’s absolute belief that it was true—but no evidence. Another officer, Bradley Ellison, testified against his father, and that convinced the jury. But recent events had caused him to question Ellison’s honesty—especially his alliance with Conrad Sweeney, St. Pete’s leading mover-and-shaker, tech magnate, and philanthropist, who Dan knew was crooked to the core.

  Were they behind some kind of frame? And coverup? He’d taken a few months off to investigate, but he’d made no real progress. Everywhere he went he met a dead end. No one wanted to talk. Sweeney was calling in favors and dishing out the dough, making sure Dan didn’t get anywhere. He knew Sweeney was involved with the cartel, so he investigated it and eventually got the intel that led to the pier bust. But so far, no one had told him a thing.