The Defense: A Novel Read Online Free

myself, running through the doors late for court, waving at the guard on the desk when you jog through the sensors and set off the alarm. They ignore it and wave you on. You talk to the guards. They know you. They even take your calls for you.”
    I didn’t carry a cell phone. I never liked the thought of anyone being able to pin my location to the nearest cell phone tower. It was a hangover from the old days that I’d never shaken off despite Jack having bought me more than one cell phone. I lost them all. When I was practicing, I’d be in the courthouse most of the day. If anyone needed me urgently, they rang the pay phone in the lobby. Usually somebody in security had a good idea what court I’d be in and they’d come get me. A couple of bottles of whiskey for the security guys at Christmas and a basket each at Thanksgiving was a small price to pay for that kind of help.
    My head began to clear a little.
    “Why can’t you kill this guy some other way? A sniper could take him out as he travels to court.”
    Arturas nodded. “I’ve thought about that. I’ve thought over every possibility. We don’t know where he is or how he will get to court. This is the only way. We had lots of law firms look at the case. Those big firms practiced all over the city. You and Jack had nearly all of your cases here, in Chambers Street. You got to know the staff. Those other lawyers charge nine hundred dollars an hour. You think they have time to talk to a security guard? No. I knew this had to be the way the very first time I saw you and Jack run through security, setting off the alarm, and no one batted an eyelid. You showed me the way.”
    Arturas was the brains here. This was clearly his plan. He seemed somehow detached, coldly rational, and I imagined he’d be that way even when it came to pulling the trigger. The opposite could’ve been said for Volchek. Even though he appeared calm after I’d hit him, I could sense that a monster lay behind his restrained pose, pawing at the surface, ready to break free at any moment.
    I put my head in my hands and breathed deeply and slowly.
    “There is one more thing, Mr. Flynn,” said Volchek. “You should know that we are fighters. We are proud. We are Bratva: This means brotherhood . I trust this man.” He put his hand on Arturas’s shoulder. “But much can go wrong. You must get the jacket inside. Your daughter’s death is one phone call away. You will get in. I know this. I can see a fighter in you, too. Do not fight me.”
    He paused to light another cigar.
    “Arturas and I came here twenty years ago with nothing. We spilled much blood to get where we are, and we will not run without a fight. But we are not stupid men. The trial is scheduled to last for three days. We are giving you two days. We cannot risk more. Two days to get Little Benny onto that seat so we can kill him. If he is not dead before four o’clock tomorrow, I have no choice. I will have to run. The longer the case goes on, the more likely the prosecutor will try to revoke my bail. A nine-hundred-dollar-an-hour lawyer told me that. You are smart enough to know he is right.”
    I’d seen that happen before. Most prosecutors don’t have their most damaging piece of evidence at the arraignment when the accused applies for bail. DNA and expert evidence takes time to prepare. But by the time the case comes up for trial, the prosecution have all their ducks in a row, and if the prosecutor gets a good run on the evidence, they will make an application to the judge to revoke the defendant’s bail. That usually seals the defendant’s fate. All it takes is a small, yet deliberate, delay by the custody officer for the jury to see the defendant in handcuffs. A second’s glance at those bracelets and it’s all over—the jury will convict every time.
    I nodded at Volchek. He knew that I was experienced enough to know prosecution tactics, so there was no point in denying it.
    As Volchek delivered his ultimatum, he