J.D. Trafford - Michael Collins 02 - No Time to Die (23 page)

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

The conference room was crowded, and Agent Frank
Vatch was being grilled.

He was at one end of the long conference table. Justin Kent sat next to him, and the rest of the seats were filled with local FBI agents, supervisors from the Department of Justice, and then there was the United States Attorney for New York, Brenda
Gadd, leading the inquisition.

Gadd
had flown into Miami from New York in the middle of the night.

“This is a major screw-up,” she said. “Who the hell authorized this?”

Vatch looked at Gadd with contempt. He didn’t say anything.

“Exactly.”
Gadd nodded. “Nobody authorized this. Everybody in New York thought you were on vacation.”

“I was on vacation,”
Vatch said. “I was pursuing this investigation on my own time.”

“Wrong,”
Gadd said. “You weren’t on your own time, because you sucked in all of these people.” Gadd pointed at the various people sitting around the table. “And I guarantee you that none of these people were on vacation when they were helping you. They thought this was an authorized ongoing investigation.”

“It
is
an ongoing investigation,” Vatch said. He wasn’t going to back down, even though it was clear that he had violated multiple internal rules and procedures.

“These officials were presented with the facts of this case, and they independently chose to assist me in this matter.”

Gadd shook her head.

“We’ve got multiple dead kids, a dead sheriff’s deputy, and a lawyer in the hospital as well as the cop who was driving the damn squad car that chased the kids. The body count is rising.”

Vatch shook his head.

“We had nothing to do with those kids, and if we hadn’t been on this case, the deputy’s murderer would still be at large.”

Gadd took a deep breath. While she was still processing the information, Vatch continued.

“I’d like you to convene a grand jury to indict Michael Collins. We need to place him under arrest before he returns to Mexico.”

“Arrest?” Gadd laughed. “For what?”

“For stealing nearly a half-billion dollars in client funds.”
Vatch looked around the table for support, but nobody said anything. He was going to have to do this on his own. “You heard the recording.”

“I did.”
Gadd nodded. “There’s nothing on it. He didn’t confess to anything. We don’t have a case.”

“Ms. Nance accused him, and he was silent. That silence was an admission,”
Vatch said.

“Wrong. I’m not taking that to trial. It’s not enough. You still have nothing. When the banks give us records,
then
we might have something. But this recording is not enough to indict him.” Gadd looked at the clock. “I’ve got to catch a flight back to New York in an hour. As of this moment, Agent Vatch, you are on leave. Do not come into the office until our internal investigation is completed. Good day, gentlemen.”  

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

The elevator door slid open.

Michael stepped out into the marble hallway in a suit and tie. He was always amazed at the costumes people wore and how it altered the perceptions of others. Just four hours ago, a woman called 911 and told dispatch that he was a homeless person. Now he was a lawyer. All he did was change his costume.

The return trip to Miami gave Michael time to clean himself up. Michael had showered, shaved, and gotten dressed on the yacht. His suit was a little wrinkled, but not too bad.

He looked up at the ornate gold clock on the wall. The little hand ticked to 9:25. He was late, but that was the least of his worries.

The doors to the courtroom were about 15 yards away. The heels on his wingtips clicked and echoed as he walked down the hall. He wasn’t sure what was going to be on the other side of those doors.

Maybe he would be placed under immediate arrest. Maybe Judge Delaney would find him in contempt for being late. Maybe nothing would happen; the trial would simply proceed.

Michael thought about it, but he was ready for the future, whatever the future may be. Something had happened to him. Something had changed. He had resolve.

He wasn’t going to be stupid, but he wasn’t going to be afraid either. He could only control himself. If they wanted to arrest him, then they would arrest him. If Judge Delaney was going to scream, then let him scream. For the first time in a long time, Michael felt a tiny sense of peace. It was surrounded by nervousness and anxiousness, but at its core, there was still a fragment of peace that he could draw upon.

He just had to take care of himself.

That wasn’t easy. Michael’s whole body was tied in knots. But it was that fragment of peace that propelled him forward.

He pushed open the courtroom doors. Everyone stopped, turned, and looked.

The courtroom was packed. They had been waiting. He didn’t recognize most of them, but he saw a few familiar faces. Justin Kent sat next to Agent Frank
Vatch. Michael ignored Vatch, but locked eyes with Kent. Michael felt his jaw tighten as he glared, and then Kent finally looked away.

Elana
Estrada sat at the plaintiff’s table. She had been alone, waiting, just as Michael had imagined. Michael felt bad that he had almost forgotten about her. He had almost abandoned her without giving it a second thought. He was so self-absorbed that he was forgetting the people that mattered in his life. He was forgetting the faith that people had placed in him.

She stood as Michael crossed the bar separating the gallery and the plaintiff and defendant’s tables. He walked over to her. Michael put his briefcase down on the table, and he gave her a hug.

She relaxed in his arms. He felt her relief.

“I couldn’t leave you. We have to finish,” Michael whispered in her ear.

Michael knew that he was a lot of things, some good and some bad. He had lied. He had dropped out. He had run away. Because of that, some people might think he was a quitter. But he wasn’t a quitter, at least not this time. He wasn’t going to quit. He was going to win this case for Tommy Estrada and his family. Then the future would present itself. Michael couldn’t control the future.

###

The side door that led from the courtroom to Judge Delaney’s chambers opened. A bailiff began to instruct the people in the courtroom to rise, but Judge Delaney waved the bailiff off.

Judge Delaney wasn’t in his robe. He looked casual, wearing dress pants and a white dress shirt. He didn’t have on a tie or his suit jacket.

Instead of walking up the three steps to the bench, he came down to the same level as the attorneys.

He stood a few feet in front of the attorneys’ tables, near the podium where Jane had questioned Dylan McNaughten less than 24 hours before.

Judge Delaney looked out at the people in the gallery.

“My understanding is that we have a number of federal agents and law enforcement officials here. This is a free country. This is a public place, and you have every right to watch these proceedings. But I’d like to talk to whoever is in charge if I’m going to continue this morning. Let my law clerk know who that is, and we’ll meet in a few moments. I’m going to speak with the attorneys first.”

Then, Judge Delaney looked at Harrison Grant, and then Michael.

“Both of you,” he said. “Let’s go.”

###

“
First I apologize that I was late this morning. I should have –”

Judge Delaney raised his hand, cutting Michael off.

“Let’s move on to more important things.” He leaned back in his large leather chair, thinking.

“We have a situation,” he finally said, “and I have some thoughts.”

Harrison Grant opened his mouth, but Judge Delaney shot him a glare before Grant could say anything.

“
First, we have an attorney who was hurt badly last night.” Judge Delaney looked at Michael, and Michael could tell that the judge knew everything. “Ms. Nance is a wonderful attorney. As you all know, she’s in critical condition, but stable.”

Michael nodded. He was relieved. His feelings toward Jane were complicated, but he didn’t hate her. He didn’t want her hurt, and he appreciated what Judge Delaney was doing. Judge Delaney was passing information along to him.

“So here we are.” Judge Delaney folded his hands together and placed them on the top of his desk. “We are in the midst of a trial. I have jurors who have no idea what is going on, but obviously they will notice if Ms. Nance is not present at counsel’s table.”

Judge Delaney leaned in and lowered his voice.

“So here is what I propose.” He paused, making sure that he would not be interrupted. “We will continue this trial. I will tell the jurors that there has been a medical emergency and that Ms. Nance would like to be here, but that she is unable to do so.”

Judge Delaney turned to Michael.

“Then, Mr. Collins, I believe that you were going to recall several witnesses to testify about Deputy Maus and rest, correct?”

Michael nodded.

“Correct.”

Then Judge Delaney turned to Harrison Grant.

“And then it’s your turn, Mr. Grant. Correct?”

Grant started to nod, but stopped himself.

“Your Honor, while I respect the court’s effort to continue, I don’t have much choice but to again ask for a mistrial.”

Judge Delaney half-smiled and leaned back in his chair.

“On what grounds?”

“
The absence of Ms. Nance – in light of the other testimony – it may suggest that my client was somehow responsible for her absence. It could also create sympathy for the plaintiff.”

Judge Delaney shook his head.

“I’ll listen to those arguments on the record and keep an open mind, but I don’t think so. I’m not interested in starting this trial over in the future. The facts are the facts, and they aren’t going to change three months or six months or a year from now.”

Judge Delaney turned to Michael.

“Any objection from you related to my plan?”

Michael shook his head.

“No, Your Honor. I’d like to finish this case, and my client wants to go back home.”

Judge Delaney smiled. He liked that answer.

“Very well.”

The attorneys stood. They started out the door, but Judge Delaney stopped them.

“Mr. Collins, I’d like to talk with you for a moment.” Judge Delaney looked at Harrison Grant. “Any objection to me speaking with Mr. Collins
ex parte
related to matters beyond the scope of this trial?”

Michael could tell that Harrison Grant wanted to object. Grant wanted to tell the judge that his conduct would be highly irregular and improper, but Grant also knew that it wasn’t worth the fight. It was clear that Judge Delaney had turned on him and his client, and Grant didn’t want to make matters worse.

“No, Your Honor, that’s fine,” Grant said. “Provided that it isn’t about this case.”

“
Of course not,” Judge Delaney said. “And Mr. Grant, please close the door on your way out.”

Michael returned to his seat as Grant left the room. The door closed behind them, leaving Michael and Judge Delaney alone.

“Mr. Collins,” Judge Delaney tilted his head to the side. His crystal blue eyes softened. “Are you okay?”

The question took Michael by surprise. Judges weren’t known to be sympathetic to attorneys or their feelings, but Judge Delaney was different. While the rest of the judiciary slouched into a political gutter, Judge Delaney was a judge’s judge. He wasn’t there to root for one side or the other. He wasn’t trying to get appointed to a higher court or advance his career. He simply wanted to do a good job, a refreshing concept and increasingly rare.

“Frankly,” Michael said. “I have no idea.” Michael thought for a moment about the tangle of emotions inside of him. Then he returned to that small fragment of peace to drive him forward. “I just want to finish. I want to finish what we started here.”

Judge Delaney took a deep breath. He stood and walked over to his large window.

“I want you to finish as well,” he said. “A case is not a bottle of wine. It doesn’t get better with time. Whether you win or lose …” Judge Delaney’s voice trailed off, and then he shrugged. “I think Ms. Nance would want you to finish.”

“
I think you’re right,” Michael said.

“
Sounds like you’ve got a lot of other things going on out there.” Judge Delaney didn’t look at Michael or elaborate. Instead, he turned from Michael. He looked down and watched the cars and people below. He was thinking.

“I’m going to see if I can persuade them to hold off on whatever they’re doing until we’re done. I’ve got no power to do so, but I’ll try.”

Judge Delaney turned away from the window, and then he looked right at Michael. His eyes cut Michael down, and Michael could see them evaluating him. Judge Delaney was figuring out whether he could trust Michael.

“I need you to promise me that you will not make me look bad. I need your word that you will not run. I need your word that you’ll see this trial all the way through. Do you promise?”

Michael didn’t shrug or laugh or joke or dodge. He didn’t blink.

Judge Delaney had asked him a question. It was a fair question. It was a question he had asked himself and already answered back on the yacht. He wasn’t going to be stupid. He wasn’t going to confess or plead with Agent
Vatch for mercy. But he wasn’t going to run, either. He was going to finish what he had started.

Michael held out his hand.

“I promise,” he said. “You have my word.”Judge Delaney walked over to Michael, took Michael’s hand, and they shook.