Gibson & Clarke (Failed Justice Series Book 2) (7 page)

CHAPTER 13

Rik was feeling a bit lost. Neglected may have been a more accurate term.

He had his own small office, an expense account, and virtually nothing to do. It was too soon, he was told.

Marta popped into his office ten minutes before closing time.

“Do you have a few minutes, Rik?”

“Lady, that’s all I have—time. What do you need?”

“As you know, we will be doing a substantial amount of work for Mr. Yeung. It appears we will also be doing some work in New York for a Mr. Salvatore Bonnonnos. I would like you to…”

“Holy crap. You’re going to represent Sonny Bananas?”

Marta just looked at Rik.

“Sorry to interrupt, Marta, but you just hit the freakin’ mother lode. Everyone knows who Sonny Bananas is and what he does.”

“Well, I’m not sure I do. I would like you to do a very quiet investigation as to exactly what Mr. Bonnonnos does and how he may be connected to Mr. Yeung. Be careful, very careful.”

“I’ll start first thing in the morning.”

There was a pause.

“By the way, any chance of dinner with you tonight?”

Marta was starved and nothing sounded better than a good meal. Preferably a steak with all the trimmings. She was about to say yes when she looked at the smirk on Rik’s face. He wasn’t thinking about dinner. He had his mind set on dessert, probably a chocolate éclair, back at her place.

“Thanks, but I have a ton of work to go through, and I promised Billy I would go over some things with him later. Maybe in a day or two. Thanks for the invite.”

The rejection was written all over his face. It was the second time in less than a week that she had said no.

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

She gave Rik a quick kiss on the cheek and reminded him to be careful on his new assignment.

Was I being too abrupt? He has no idea how horny I really am right now.

An hour later, Marta was at home, wearing a pair of sweats from Seton Hall. She had made herself a bowl of tomato soup right out of the can and a grilled cheese sandwich.

Soup and a sandwich was not what she needed. Not even close.

Marta
: Finished up earlier than expected. Care to come over for dessert. Call first
–
M.

Marta hit SEND and decided to take a bubble bath. She had a feeling her phone would ring in the next twenty minutes or so. She was wrong. Rik called eight minutes later. It was agreed he would stop over, whatever that meant, in an hour and a half. That gave her plenty of time to soak, relax, and put on something appropriate.

Eighty-eight minutes later, her doorbell rang. He was two minutes early, but who was counting. Her blue and white sweat outfit had been replaced with something more suitable for the occasion, a white loose-fitting sweater and white cotton harem pants. In her haste, she obviously forgot to put on a bra or panties. Her freshly washed hair hung loose on her shoulders. A quick brush was all she wanted or needed.

“I’m glad you were able to finish up work early.”

“Me too. What would you like to drink?”

“How about pouring some cold Champagne on your belly button and letting me start there?”

“You don’t believe in wasting time, do you?”

Rik was about to make a comment that she was the obviously horny one but thought better of it.

“I know you’ve been real busy and don’t want to take up too much of your time. My schedule is wide open. You tell me.”

“Let’s start with a glass of wine and see where it leads us.”

Rik could not resist.

“Hopefully to the bedroom.” He grinned.

“Hopefully,” she replied.

Marta took him into the dining area, asked him to grab the ice bucket, and led him back to the bedroom. She poured two glasses and sat down on the side of the bed.

They toasted each other and proceeded to unwind. It didn’t take long.

“That was easy.”

“Yes, it was.”

She was not quite sure what time Rik left. Marta had been sound asleep. She guessed it was close to three in the morning. She was beat and thrilled. Her body was all tingly. There was nothing like great sex to end the day. With Rik, it was definitely great sex. All she had to do was follow his lead. And she did. With reckless abandonment.

This could get to be a weekly ritual. Maybe write it off as a medical expense. It was certainly needed, both physically and psychologically. All I need is an MD to write me a prescription.

Rx—Rik-stick-in-the-sack. Take at least once a week—more often if necessary—preferable at bed time. Digest all night.

Hmmm, I may be on to something. Now how do I get it by the FDA?

CHAPTER 14

Billy Jo did not gain his success on his brains alone. He was prepared for almost every contingency. That way, he was always one step ahead of his adversary. When he heard the name Sonny Bananas, he knew this was sink or swim time. He wondered how much Marta really knew about Sonny and what would happen if she, really they, did not produce.

With clients like that, failure was never an option.

Five or ten years’ experience would not come close to what they needed. If Sonny and Mr. Yeung were to be satisfied, Billy would need to bring in some big guns—and he already had someone in mind. “Black Jack” Renaldo was one mean son-of-a-bitch. Billy was not sure Jack’s own wife and children really liked him. After more than twenty years as the United States Attorney for the Great State of West Virginia, he abruptly resigned. There were rumors of corruption in the US Attorney’s Office. Possible payoffs. Jack personally tried the high profile cases. He liked bringing someone to their knees then crushing them.

He also understood the meaning of
quid pro quo.

You rub my back; I’ll rub yours.

Retirement did not sit well with Jack. His days of card counting at the casinos were far behind him. He claimed it was never true and there had been no proof. To this day, he was not allowed to play in Atlantic City or Vegas, and he was one of the highest ranking law enforcement officers in the country. After the payoff allegations surfaced, he decided to take his well-deserved pension and tell Uncle Sam to go screw himself.

Being at home was killing him. He needed action, and it appeared representing the “bad guys” was now his only option. The mere thought of sticking it up the government’s ass and breaking it off gave him a giant hard-on.

Billy Jo had had the unfortunate distinction of trying more than a few cases where Black Jack had been the prosecuting attorney. Over more than a few late night drinks, they developed a friendship. If not exactly best buddies, there was a mutual respect for the other’s ability. On a hunch, Billy called Black Jack on his private cell number. He could count on one hand the number of times he had used that number in the past dozen years.

Favors always begot favors.

“Jack, it’s me, Billy Jo Gibson.”

After a few minutes of polite talk, Billy asked the sixty-four, or was it sixty-four thousand, dollar question.

“How would you like to represent Sonny Bananas and make more money than the government ever paid you in a single year?”

The whoop and holler could be heard without the damn phone, and he had to be three hundred miles away.

“You got to be shitting me.”

“No, sir, this is the gospel. When can we meet?”

“You name the time and the place, and you can bet your skinny ass I’ll be there. Now I got to go and beat up Juli again. She’s late putting dinner on the table. Got to keep ’em in line, or who knows what they’ll do next?”

Billy Jo smiled to himself.

Nothing has ever really changed, has it?

Billy Jo had their man. Now all he had to do was tell Marta.

***

Marta had been racking her brains to come up with a name or two. Sure there were a dozen assistant district attorneys in her old office that would jump at the chance, but they were average or just slightly above average. Nobody really stood out. A young kid out of law school was out of the question. As to an old timer, they were few and far between. What Marta needed was just not available. She dreaded letting Billy know she could not come up with one good name.

***

“Does the name Black Jack Renaldo mean anything to you?

“You mean that bastard from West Virginia who was the US Attorney? Everyone knows him, and no one likes him. Why do you ask?”

“’Cause I like him. More important, he likes us.”

“Billy Jo, stop talking in riddles. What the hell is going on?”

Marta was now wondering if sleeping with the hired help was such a good idea after all. What would happen if Rik screwed up and she had to ream him out, figuratively speaking, of course?

She had no right to take out her frustration on Billy Jo.

“Problems I don’t know about, Marta?”

“Sorry, it’s been a long morning. Didn’t mean to snap at you. Now, what’s this about Black Jack Renaldo?”

Billy Jo relayed last night’s conversation. He left out the part that Black Jack had already said yes.

“I like him. He brings a ton of experience and firepower. Everyone knows who he is, and most are afraid of him. It will immediately put us up with the big boys. You’re my partner—what do you say?”

Marta knew it was a no brainer. She couldn’t come up with a name like that in a million years. She was excited and cautious, all at the same time. She wondered if he would insist upon being a named partner.

“Are you afraid he will be a loose cannon?”

“Maybe. But maybe that’s exactly what we need. Someone no one can figure out. It would be like having Johnnie Cochran, F. Lee Bailey, and Dershowitz at the same table all over again. It would scare the living shit out of any sane prosecutor.”

Marta could hear the excitement in Billy’s voice. Even if she thought it was a bad idea, which she didn’t, there was no way to say no.

“Negotiate the best deal you can. And congratulations.”

“Thanks, I will.”
I already have.

***

“Marta, I would like you to meet the famous, or should I say infamous, Black Jack Renaldo. Jack, this is my partner, Marta Clarke. Please, let’s all sit down.”

“Please, call me Jack. I hate Black Jack. It sounds like it’s coming from an old Western.”

Marta was the first to break the ice.

“May I suggest we give this a ninety-day trial period? If the clients love you, if we feel it is a good match for all of us, we can negotiate a long-term agreement. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like you’re unwilling to gamble on a sure thing, Ms. Clarke. I am disappointed in you. I thought you had more guts. I have a counteroffer. I want one third of the net profits as of the date I sign on. As to being a named partner, that can be discussed in six months. As to taking time for you to decide, I have to use the men’s room. When I come out, I would like your answer. If it’s yes, you can call Sonny and tell him all his future legal problems are in good hands. If it’s no, I would ask you call me a cab so I can get the next flight home. You’re not the only game in town, and I can think of a dozen firms that would kiss my ass to have me sign on. That’s not arrogance; that’s knowing what I have is highly marketable. Now if you’ll excuse me, nature calls.”

Jack got up and was shown where the men’s room was.

Marta was steaming.

“Who the hell does that pompous bastard think he is?”

Billy replied, “He knows who he is. The only question is, do we? For the record, I vote yes.”

Marta said nothing. She knew Billy was right. She also knew he would cause chaos, especially for her. She could hear Jack coming back. She had about ten seconds to make a decision.

“Welcome to the mad house, partner.”

It may have killed Marta to say it, but it was the right thing to do. In fact, it was the only thing to do.

“You won’t be sorry. I can promise you that. I may be a huge pain in the ass, but the clients will love the results. I think it’s time we all celebrated.”

“It’s only ten thirty in the morning, Jack.”

“Maybe here it is, but in Moscow, it’s closer to midnight.”

Billy and Marta just shook their heads. The trip had begun.

CHAPTER 15

Dinner was held in “The Warehouse.”

No outside guests were there. For all practical purposes, the place was closed. The few waiters had been properly selected. The private dining room was set up for five.

Introductions had been made. On one side of the table sat Sonny Bananas and Mr. Yeung. On the other were Black Jack, Billy Jo, and Marta. It was Jack who stood up and thrust his meaty hand at Sonny.

“Looks like we’ll be breaking bread often, but hopefully not too often. Now if someone can get me a bottle of Jim Beam, I would like to propose a toast.”

The waitstaff had been trained to hear what they were supposed to hear and erase from their memories all else. The bottle of the Kentucky whiskey and five heavy drinking glasses were brought to the table sixty seconds later.

Jack poured. He had a heavy hand. Sonny liked that. Marta stared at a three-quarters-full glass of deep amber liquid and wondered how she would get it all down.

“To a long and prosperous relationship, and fuck the Feds.”

Mr. Yeung did not smile. He felt Black Jack was a self-centered asshole. He also felt Mr. Renaldo would win far more cases than he would lose. He knew Jack loved to talk, would get along famously with Sonny, and in the end, all roads led back to him. It was a win/win/win situation. He was concerned if Ms. Clarke could handle the pressure. Her face gave her away.

Sonny decided to outdo even himself with the no-menu dinner. There were five waiters for the five diners. Each stood respectfully behind the chair, waiting and watching. When a glass was half empty, it was immediately refilled. When rolls or butter was needed, it was replaced. As for the antipasto, there was no end to the cheeses, spicy sausages, and imported meats.

The main course, not surprisingly, was veal and pasta and cherry tomatoes. There was no hurry; they were going nowhere, at least not until Sonny had finished what could have properly fed a half dozen grown men.

As they all were leaving, Sonny called Jack aside. Billy and Marta stood by the front door as Jack threw his arm around Sonny as if they were old friends. The conversation was animated and took at least four to five minutes. To say it was strange and completely out of place would have been a gross understatement.

Finally, they embraced and parted.

Once back in the limo that had picked them up, Marta could not restrain herself. She didn’t care who heard it or reported back to Sonny.

“What the hell was that all about? What did he tell you, and what did you reply?”

Jack looked at Marta and mentioned something about how pleased Sonny was that Jack was on the team and was sure they could all work well together.

“That’s
it
? That’s what took five minutes, an embrace like you are long lost brothers. Bullshit. There was more going on than a simple thank you.”

Billy Jo tried to interrupt. It did no good.

Black Jack smiled. “You’re both my partners—you’re entitled to know everything. Sonny asked me if I was Sicilian, where my parents were born, and if I still had family back in the old country.”

“And?”

“And I told him yes. By the way, the veal was excellent. Sonny said he would send me a few pounds so I can make some saltimbocca.”

Billy shook his head at Marta. The conversation was over. Change the subject or shut up.

The balance of the ride back home was in dead silence, each trying to remember exactly what had been said.

Marta was having little luck.
I don’t like it, not one damn bit. Something is going on, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit back and be quiet.

Marta was the first to be dropped off, and she wasn’t sure how long Billy Jo would be with Jack in the limo. A phone call or text was out of the question. She knew she wouldn’t get a hell of a lot of sleep that night. She thought about calling Rik. The thought lasted at least ten seconds. She had enough problems for one evening.

She did not need another.

***

The limo driver did not have a great memory, nor did he need one. There was a voice-activated microphone installed in the lining of the roof of the back seat. Every word was recorded and played back to Sonny. He may have looked big and dumb, but not a thing got by him. He knew his little conversation would disturb Marta. He was counting on it. She was obviously the weakest link in the chain. Or so he thought.

***

The only person not surprised at how the evening ended was Xiang. He could have almost predicted it. Black Jack and Sonny were cut from the same cloth. They came from the same place. He was sure they would bond. He was sure at some point Jack would confide in Billy Jo, and he was sure everything would come back to him. He was betting on it. No one would have ever guessed how much.

***

“You pissed her off; you know that, don’t you?”

“That was not my intention. My intention was to get as close to our clients—I did say our clients, didn’t I—so they will rely on us for every little thing. I know damn well the limo was bugged. That’s Sonny’s style. That’s why I couldn’t say anything to Marta back then. I told Sonny not to take a phone call from anyone he doesn’t know without calling one of us first. We’ll bill him for every call, for every suggestion. It will come to the point where he’ll be afraid to take a piss without calling us.”

Billy and Jack were sitting in an all-night diner, having coffee. They were pretty much alone. The limo dropped them off at Billy’s hotel, and they had walked a few short blocks before they said a word to each other. Jack was a wealth of information, and he was sharing every last bit of it with Billy. If Marta was there, he would have told her the same thing.

“Please, let Marta know I like and respect her, but she’s got a lot to learn, including keeping her emotions in check. Never let the other guy suspect what you’re thinking or plan on doing. Marta has my private cell phone. Tell her to call me tomorrow. We’ve all had a busy and most productive day. Time to call it a night. And again, thanks for putting up with all my shit. It’s an act, and you damn well know it.”

“Right. Good night, Jack.”

“Night, Billy.”