A Fool for a Client (6 page)

Pauline had more respect for her neighbours than most, and tried to bring up her son that way, in spite of having to do it alone.
But she had a responsibility to protect her son and when she saw the panic set among the hoards around her she knew that she had to get Tommy out of there.
But to charge into the crush would only expose him to greater risk.
So she held back while the more predatory of the survivalists barged their way past others and charge
d out into the murky daylight.

Only when the crowd thinned out did she carry Tommy, who was now whining and kicking, to one of the exits.
It was as she reached the exit that the powerful background murmur of the crowd was shattered by the thunderclap of the second blast.

*     *

Several joggers heard the thunderclap.
Some of them, the seasoned veterans of
New York City
, even recognized it.
It was a 0.22 in the hands
of a savvy, street-wise sixteen-year-
old.
The man who had been aiming a rifle at Justine rifle fell to the ground.
The bullet from a Saturday nigh
t
special had lodged in his brain.
The boy with the gun had originally targeted the girl who was jogging in the white shorts and shirt as his next victim.
But when he spotted the man assembli
ng the rifle his plan changed.

It was unlikely that the girl was carrying as much money as the “piece” would fetch on the black market.
He didn
’
t know how to dispose of that kind of heat, but Ozzie would.
Ozzie always knew how to find a market for that sort of thing.
He wouldn
’
t use it himself. He preferred an Uzi with a short barrel and a automatic rapid fire for drive-by work.
But he had contacts on the street and he could unload it for a tidy sum or some dynamite coke to sell to the pushers on their turf.

He moved quickly, disassembling the gun quickly and returning it to the case from which the man had produced it.
He idly wondered who the gunman was.
He wouldn
’
t have touched him if he
’
d seemed like a professional hit man.
But the kid knew that this was no pro.
Oh he knew how to use a rifle all right, but that didn
’
t make him a pro.
No pro would stand out there in the open assembling a rifle and
then aiming it, even at dawn.

Aside from the joggers, he would have known about the muggers and the cops staking out their decoys.
Also it was obvious he wasn
’
t an Italian-American.
Since when does an Italian American have red hair?
It was obviously some one who knew his guns better than he knew the city, in other words: a foreigner.

*     *

Justine was blissfully unaware of how closely she had brushed
with death.
She was jogging in a secluded area of the park, hidden from public view by trees and shrubbery.
Her pace was slackening now and she was sweating heavily, but still enjoying herself.
It was only when she began to feel tired that she appreciated her strength and endurance.

Whenever she started jogging she felt as if she were charged with energy like a fresh battery.
It was this urge to unwind and break into a sprint that used to get the better of her when she first started jogging a few years ago.
Now she could keep it in check and pace herself better.
She always ran the first few hundred yards at a somewhat faster pace than a normal everyday jogger, but she had been running for some time now and the pain was beginning to make itself felt.

Finally she slowed down to a halt, dropped to her knees and then sprawled out flat on her face across the soft grass.
She rolled over onto her back, stretching her arms and legs like a frisky kitten, a combination of smile and yawn spreading from one end of her lips to the other.

*     *

Murphy was walking back from the phone box towards his car.
He had given the warning and used the coded message to confirm its authenticity.
But the warning had barely got there in time to justify the propaganda claim that they had given prior warning. As he opened the car door he noticed that the clouds had blocked off the sun again, as if the curtain had closed on the first act of the drama.

“Are you ready for the Levy Trial?”

Daniel Abrams looked up, unfazed by this sudden intrusion.
Jerry Wilkins, the Manhattan DA, had just barged into his office without knocking, as he reviewed the office
’
s case load.
He was mildly annoyed.
It was bad enough that he had to do the more mundane work while the DA made the public appearances.
The least Jerry could do was let him do it without interruption.
But Abrams knew that when Jerry got excited he couldn
’
t control himself, and he didn
’
t make an issue of it.
That was the way they worked around here.
They saved the formality for the courtroom.

“She
’
s got that smart-ass black kid from the Legal Aid office that the judge appointed as standby.
But she still gets to proceed
pro se
.”

Jerry Wilkins, the DA
,
beamed a smile at him.

“You worry too much.
It
’
s just a case, like any other.
And it
’
s rock solid.
Don
’
t look so worried.
She isn
’
t going to walk away this time from this one!”

“Look I don
’
t think you realize how serious this is.”

“The hell I don
’
t,” said the DA, still smiling.
“I
’
ve just got too many cases to worry about.
And so have you.”

“Yeh, but this is political.”

“It
’
s all political,” said the DA pulling up a chair.

“Yeh, but this is headline news coast to coast,” said Abrams.

“Maybe,” said Jerry, but this time it
’
s a winner.
Whatever jury she gets, she
’
s sunk.
Your people don
’
t cover for their own the way some people do.
You
’
re too busy trying to appease the
Gentile establishment.
If anything, they
’
ll bend over backwards to convict, even if they have reasonable doubt.

“But this black kid could be trouble.
He
’
s young, he
’
d hot and he
’
s ambitious.”

“Well that
’
s three strikes against him,” said the DA, smiling facetiously.

“And he
’
s Black,” said Abrams, determined to emphasize the fact.
“We
’
ve got a black lawyer defending a Jew.
The press
’
ll love it.”

The DA shook his head.

“Let me tell you something about the legal process Danny boy.”

Daniel Abrams looked up at the DA, putting his pen down.

“OK let
’
s hear the latest pearl of wisdom from the forensic foundation of omniscience.”

The DA, who tended more towards the streetwise than the academically inclined, let the remark pass over his head without comment.

“We know that there are advantages and disadvantages to conducting ones own defence.
The main disadvantage is that the average citizen doesn
’
t know the law, and even if he does he doesn
’
t know courtroom technique. Even when a defendant uses
skilful
courtroom technique it often comes over as self-serving and tends to alienate the jury.
He looks like he
’
s just plain cunning and out to beat the system.
On the other hand the defendant often comes over as the victim of the system, or as the hero who
’
s taking on the establishment, especially a cute number like the one you
’
ve got in the firing line.”

“So what
’
s the
good
news?”

“Well the way things stand now, it
’
s still an amateur up against the professionals.
But with a court-appointed standby, it
looks
like she
’
s being properly defended.
That means that her mistakes will hurt her, but she won
’
t get the sympathy of the lone warrior swimming against the powerful tide.”

“You
’
re mixing your metaphors,” said Abrams, shaking his head.
“Anyway, it may sound all right in theory, but you weren
’
t in court this morning.”

“What are you saying?”

“I
’
m saying your assessment is wrong.
Any which way she
’
s going to look like the underdog going uphill against the odds!
You know how the public roots for the underdog.
Hell with her looks and this own-defence gimmick she
’
d be odds-on favourite if the cops had caught her standing over the victim with a smoking magnum!”

“Considering Murphy was poisoned that doesn
’
t surprise me,” replied the DA through a childish smile.
“Unless you mean a frothing magnum.
But then again it was supposedly poisoned tequila.”

Abrams made a sweeping gesture of his hand, dismissing the DA
’
s facetious remark.

“Look cut the wisecracks Jerry.
You know what I
’
m getting at.”

“So what do you suggest I do?” asked the DA.

“Let me assign it to a woman, preferably a young, attractive one.”

“It won
’
t work.
The local press has latched on to the fact that she
’
s Jewish.

“Well no one can accuse us of anti-Semitism!
A third of the
staff
are circumcised.”

“They might accuse us of bending over backwards to prove that we
’
re not
philosemitic
.
This whole issue is just too sensitive.
If we drop it we look bad.
If we fight it we look bad.
But at least if we fight it we don
’
t have to take responsibility for the outcome.
And we
’
ve got a Grand Jury indictment to justify bringing the case in the first place.”

“All right I
’
m not saying we have to drop it, but at least let
’
s pull the rug out from under the anatomic bombshell by putting up a woman in the opposite corner.”

The DA was shaking his head.
“You
’
re thinking of how it
’
ll look to the jury.
If you want to step into my shoes you
’
d better learn to start thinking about how it looks to all those millions of people watching the seven
O
’
clock
news.”

“Why should they object to a lady lawyer?”

“They won
’
t.
But as long as the press is making an issue of the fact that it
’
s a Justine
Levy
, it has to be one of your people waving the cape.”

“We
’
ve got Jewish women on the staff.
What about Hannah Segal?”

Jerry Wilkins shook his head.

“Wet behind the ears.
She
’
s not ready for this kind of heavy-duty tsurus.”

“Well there
’
s Debbie Winkler.
She
’
s got a good track record.
She nailed two murderers and plea-bargained three weak cases to manslaughter in the first.”

“She
’
s too deep into the Morton case to be pulled off now.”