No Time To Run (Legal Thriller Featuring Michael Collins, Book 1) (34 page)

“
Anthony, too early to play cribbage. Back to bed.”

Michael prodded Vatch a little harder this time.

“
Francis.” He prodded, again. “Wake up. I need to talk to you.”

Vatch rolled over. His eyes opened, and then shut again.

“
It’s me, Michael Collins.”

At the sound of Michael’s name, his eyes opened wide. Initially there was panic. Michael was afraid Vatch would start screaming, but the panic soon turned into an icy stare.

“
Collins.” Vatch pushed himself up into a sitting position.  “I underestimated you. Didn’t think you had the guts.”

“
I want to talk to you.”

“
Well I want to kill you.” Vatch looked at the gun, and his tongue flicked in and out. “I could have, outside the courthouse, but I didn’t. Won’t make that mistake again.”

“
That’s nice,” Michael said, “but right now, I want to talk.” He noticed Vatch looking for his wheelchair and phone, which had both been taken into the other room. He was trapped. “You really shouldn’t leave your window unlocked. Basic security.”

“
Anthony.”

“
What’s that?”

“
Nothing.” Vatch shook his head.

“
So I noticed your little shrine.” Michael nodded toward the other room. “Kind of sick, really. You need a vacation.”

“
Fuck you,” Vatch said. “This is over, Collins. We aren’t having a conversation anymore. You want to shoot me, fine, but this is over.”

“
I get to decide when it’s over.” Michael looked down at the gun and took off the safety. “And for right now, I’m talking.” He raised the gun, pointing it at Vatch’s head. “So, I know that Reginald Thompson, the guy who killed Krane and left a little piece of shrapnel in my face, was former FBI, worked at Guardian Security. That’s new information, withheld from the newspapers, but would’ve been nice to know. I was a victim after all. It could have caused me to ask questions sooner, maybe avoided all this, but in your wisdom, you kept it to yourself.“Then, I find out that Dwight K
e
iffer, another guy who has tried to kill me, is also former FBI and also works at Guardian Security. In case you forgot, he’s the man who the Mexican police caught creeping around with a loaded Glock.”

“
Then I look back at Helix Johannson,” Michael said, “and I realize that the reason he’s killed isn’t because of Andie Larone or anyone else. He’s killed because the FBI blows the surveillance. Incompetence at the bureau isn’t surprising, but that’s a lot of connections to the bureau. Don’t you think?”

Vatch didn’t respond, and Michael leaned closer, still with the gun raised.

“
So I begin to wonder if you’re setting me up, if you’re in on this too, trying to pin everything on me so that you and whoever else can get a nice, cushy gig at Guardian Security and a retirement package financed by Lowell Moore and the firm.”

Michael stood up. He was in the zone now. Talking out loud was helping him make the connections real, and was raising new ones.

“
So I break in here and see what I can find. I find all sorts of things in your little files over there. Namely, that you had the same suspicions as me about Guardian and a bad egg at the bureau, but the higher-ups have ignored your memos and ignored your research. They don’t want to investigate the moles in their ranks, don’t want to know about the agents who sell a little information on the side to make ends meet, or maybe do something extra, like pretend to botch the Helix Johannson surveillance and then knock the guy off themselves.”

Michael lowered the gun.

“
I know that Lowell is going to testify against me, but I’m telling you that he’s the one you want.”

Vatch flicked his tongue, followed by a half-bent smile.

“
I know what I want, Collins, and I want you in prison.”

“
You’re not even going to investigate the other possibilities, are you?”

“
There are theories,” Vatch said, “and then there are theories that I can prove. I’m not going to make the perfect be the enemy of the good. Maybe Lowell is involved, maybe he isn’t, but I can’t prove that either way. All I know is that I have a theory and the proof to get you, and that’s what we’re going to do.”

Michael shook his head.

“
No.” Michael bent over, and picked up his leather briefcase. “I’m changing your plans.” He glanced down at the briefcase, and then back at Vatch. “Thanks for keeping this safe for me. It has a lot of sentimental value.” Michael started walking backwards toward the door.

“
And thanks for copies of those internal memos about investigating the connections between the FBI and Guardian Security. Somehow Brenda Gadd forgot to produce those to the defense in the initial round of discovery. But now we know they’re going to come to light, don’t we?”

Michael backed out the door.

“
Goodnight, Francis.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY

Gusts of wind howled outside, as morning snow continued to fall down, layering three inches of white powder over an inch of dark New York City slush.

“
I hope to have you out of here rather quickly.” Gadd’s Mother Hubbard smile was back in full force. “The weather doesn’t seem to be cooperating with us, so we’ll adjourn for a few days after the next bit of testimony.”

Brenda Gadd stepped forward.

“
Is everyone ready to begin?”

The jurors nodded their heads, and then Brenda Gadd signaled to a bailiff to open the Grand Jury room door.

“
The United States would like to call Lowell Moore to the stand.”

Lowell walked down the center aisle, past Brenda Gadd, and then up into the witness stand. He raised his right hand. The court reporter administered the oath and then Lowell
Moore sat down. He looked comfortable, but also kept an air of power and wealth. Unlike a lawyer during a trial, he knew that his job wasn’t to have the jury identify with him. As a witness, he needed to command authority.

“
Mr. Moore, you’ve been sworn and you are under oath. Do you understand that?”

“
I do.”

“
Good.” The two exchanged pleasantries, and Brenda Gadd asked Lowell Moore softball questions about his education and background. Then she moved into his life as a founding partner of Wabash, Kramer & Moore, starting as a law firm of only three attorneys and now employing more than 1,500.

“
And Michael John Collins.” Brenda Gadd took a step toward him. “He was an associate at your firm?”

“
Correct, for about six years.”

“
And then what happened?”

“
Well,” Lowell looked briefly at the ceiling. “That’s really something that he would be able to answer better than me, but I have my theories.”

“
Okay.” Gadd leaned in, as if the two were sharing a secret. “Tell us.”

“
Michael Collins was one of the best associates at our firm, and that’s not easy. It takes sacrifice and motivation, and most importantly,” Lowell turned to the jury, “there isn’t any room for error.”

The jurors were listening, after the first several witnesses they had begun to recognize what parts of the testimony were important. This was important.

“
Michael was putting in a lot of hours,” Lowell continued, “and we had a lawsuit to file. It was big lawsuit. Statute of limitations was about to run out.”

“
What does that mean?” Brenda Gadd asked. “For those of us who aren’t fluent in legalese.”

“
All right.” Lowell became the mentor and teacher again. “There’s a timer attached to every potential lawsuit. Let’s say you fall down on the ice outside the courthouse, for example. As soon as you hit the ground, the clock starts running. Or let’s say you have a contract to buy a house and the seller backs out of the deal at the last minute. As soon as the seller backs out, the clock starts running. Maybe the clock runs for a year or maybe the clock runs for six, depends on the type of case, but when the time runs out, you no longer can file a lawsuit. It may be the best legal claim in the world, but if you miss the deadline, you’re out of luck. That’s the statute of limitations, and it was running out on one of our firm’s biggest cases.”

“
The
Maltow
case.”

“
Yes.” Lowell nodded his head. “The
Maltow
case.” He then launched into a carefully rehearsed description of the patent dispute and Dr. Maltow’s pacemakers. “It was a billion-dollar case. Nearly every pacemaker sold in the world had one of Dr. Maltow’s rechargeable batteries.”

“
And so what happened?”

“
I was busy with another piece of litigation involving Joshua Krane and Krane Engineering, so I let Michael handle the filing of the
Maltow
lawsuit.”

“
And did he?” Gadd asked.

“
Did he what?”

“
Did he handle it?”

Lowell shook his head.

“
No, I thought he did and it appeared as though it had been filed on time, but I later discovered that no lawsuit had ever been filed.”

“
How can that be?”

“
He faked everything. The correspondence, the motions, even the Judge’s Orders related to discovery disputes. It was all a fabrication.” Lowell paused, to draw attention to his conclusion. “Even the settlement.”

“
How much was the settlement?”

“
$300 million.” Lowell let the number speak for itself. The rocking had stopped and jurors sat still, listening. “A big win for our client, obviously, but the reality was that this settlement agreement was also a fake.”

“
But you got a check for $300 million,” Gadd said. “That kind of money can’t just be withdrawn from an ATM.”

“
No.” Lowell shook his head, gravely. The disappointment in his protégé was clear. “That’s why I didn’t discover it until much later. The $300 million was a wire transfer, and I believe that it was Michael Collins who wired the money into the firm’s account.”

“
Where does an associate at a law firm get that kind of money?”

“
Well,” Lowell paused and turned again to the jury, making eye contact with each one. “In this case, I believe that Michael Collins stole it from Joshua Krane.”

He waited for Brenda Gadd to ask another question, but when she didn’t, Lowell continued.

“
Shortly before the money was wired, Joshua Krane was murdered. I believe that Michael Collins arranged for that murder, took Krane’s bank account numbers, and wired the money into the firm.”

“
Then what happened to Mr. Collins?”

“
That’s an easy one.” Lowell laughed. “He disappeared.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

A thick piece of bulletproof glass separated Kermit Guillardo from Andie Larone.

“I have a favor to ask.” He took the receiver away from his ear for a second, looked around the room, and then continued. “You know I never ask for anything, so this a big deal in the life of the K-Man.”

“
That’s not exactly true,” Andie said, “but what’s going on?”

Kermit glanced up at the security cameras. Then he thought about the men who sit on the other side of the room’s mirror, listening to prisoner conversations.

“I can’t get into everything at the moment, but it’s about the plea bargain.”

Andie shook her head.

“It’s done. I’ve already made up my mind. I’m taking the deal.”

Kermit looked up at the cameras again. Then he lowered his voice to whisper.

“I’m not telling you what to do. We go back far enough into the dark, dark past for me to understand that’s a no-go. What I’m asking,” he looked at the mirror running the length of the back wall, and then back at Andie, “is that you delay,” he said. “Just hold-off for twenty-four hours. Blame it on the snow, blame it on the sun, blame it on me, whatever. Just hold off.”

“
The hearing is scheduled for this afternoon,” Andie said. “I’ve already signed the papers.”

“
Doesn’t matter.” Kermit shook his head. “A certain former resident of Hut No. 7 tells me that – in order to be final – you gotta stand up in the court and accept it in front of the judge.”

“
I don’t think so, Kermit.” Andie looked away. “I have to take care of me. Okay?”

“
I know you do.” Kermit pointed at her. “You know what else the K-man knows?”