Notorious (3 page)

G
ood work in there,”
Susan said as they made their way to the courtroom.

Calling Bernadette's bluff had worked. She'd yelled a little more for good measure before kicking them out of her chambers. But Melanie and Susan knew their former boss well enough to see the noisy posturing for what it was: Bernadette backing down.

At the door to the courtroom, security was tight. Eight or ten U.S. marshals—a huge complement for one courtroom—were stationed there, checking IDs and doing random bag searches even though all the spectators had gone through a metal detector already when they entered the building. Inside, the benches were packed with reporters.

Melanie sat down between Susan and Papo at the government's table and scanned the crowd nervously. Back in the office, she'd changed out of her pantsuit into a skirt and sweater she kept in case she got called to court unexpectedly. The quick change had erased the evidence that she'd been at the scene of the crime, but it was still possible that she'd been seen and recognized. Susan was right. Melanie wouldn't feel safe until the bomber was caught.

The door behind the judge's bench banged open, and Melanie spotted the big hair and tight clothes of Tracey Montefiore, Judge DeFelice's courtroom clerk. Tracey flounced up to her desk beside the bench and dumped an armload of files, her face puckered like she'd just tasted something sour. The first time she'd met Bernadette's new employee, Melanie had thought,
You get the courtroom deputy you deserve.

“I'm gonna go ask Little Miss Sunshine who Atari's new lawyer is,” Susan said, getting to her feet.

Tracey greeted Susan with a barely civil nod, and the two conferred for several minutes until the red light on Tracey's special phone lit up, signaling that the judge was calling. The old-fashioned dial telephone rang directly through to the judge's desk. There was one just like it in every courtroom in the courthouse; they were affectionately known as “Bat phones.”

“Well?” Melanie asked when Susan returned.

“Evan Diamond. We should have guessed. He was Lester's partner, after all.”

Melanie had never met Diamond, but his loyalties were common knowledge. Diamond was a “cartel lawyer,” the kind who took suitcases full of cash from the kingpins, who never let his clients cooperate with the feds. Melanie happened to know that little love had been lost between Lester and Diamond.

“They weren't truly partners,” Melanie protested. “They just shared office space.”

“Either way, we'll never talk to Atari now,” Susan said.

W
hen Atari Briggs walked
through the door accompanied by his new lawyer, a discernible wave of emotion swept over the packed courtroom, traveling from back to front like a living being. Jaded reporters elbowed one another out of the way to catch a glimpse. Regular people gasped and shrieked and fanned themselves.

“Atari, Atari, over here!”

“He smiled at me.”

“Yo, dawg, we behind you!”

“Strength, brother.”

Melanie watched the crowd with a mixture of envy and dismay. Atari Briggs had evoked this reaction every time he'd come to court. He was every inch the superstar, with dazzling caramel skin and liquid eyes, a three-piece pin-striped suit, diamonds glittering on his fingers and in his ears, and no sign of fear. Yes, the evidence was strong, but at moments like this, Melanie wondered how she was supposed to find an impartial jury. Look at this crowd—they loved him. No, love was the wrong word. They worshipped and adored him. If this crowd felt that way, surely some prospective jurors would, too. And if the
jury was biased, what incentive would Atari have to flip and give up Abdullah? From the looks of it, he couldn't lose.

“A-ta-ree, A-ta-ree, A-ta-ree!”

Briggs turned and drew his hand across his throat for silence. The chanting throng instantly shut up.

Evan Diamond strode over to the government's table. He was tall and slender in an expertly tailored suit, with the perfect amount of silver kissing the temples of his jet-black hair.

“Can you believe it?” Diamond exclaimed, swallowing up Susan's hand in both of his. “This crazy world we live in, huh? Who'd hurt a guy like Lester? He did so much good.”

“We're in shock, too,” Susan said. “Everybody in the U.S. Attorney's Office loved him.”

“Greatest legal mind of his generation. Nobody else in his league—not even close.”

“Whatever you need in terms of a delay, you can count on us to support you,” Susan said.

Melanie watched Diamond, studying the shadows around his dark eyes as if she'd find answers there. She hadn't forgotten Lester's cryptic comment about the phones being tapped in his office. She'd never understood why a man as honorable as Lester had teamed up with a snake like Evan Diamond, even if they'd been partners in name only. Yet Diamond seemed genuinely shaken by his partner's death.

Diamond felt Melanie's glance and offered his hand. “Melanie Vargas, right?” he asked, gripping hers too hard.

“Mr. Diamond. I'm so sorry for your loss.”

“Call me Evan, and it's everybody's loss. You for one lost a major fan. Les talked about you nonstop, so much that just the other day I had to remind him you were opposing counsel.”

At Diamond's words, Melanie felt her throat closing up. “It was mutual,” she said. “I, I'm—”

Words failed her for a moment, but feeling Susan's interested gaze on her, Melanie got it together.

“He was a wonderful man,” she finished.

“That he was.”

“Now that you have the case, I was hoping we could continue some conversations I had with Lester about your client.”

Diamond looked alert. “Conversations? Really? Les never mentioned that.”

The sound of a gavel crackled across the courtroom like a gunshot as Bernadette swept onto the bench, bright red lips and bright red hair glittering above the black robes.

Diamond squeezed Melanie's arm. “Talk soon, hon.”

“All rise; parties please approach!” Tracey Montefiore called out.

The court reporter began typing furiously.

“Did I say too much?” Melanie whispered to Susan as they hurried to the government's podium.

“What do you mean?”

“Evan didn't know about the cooperation. Atari must not have mentioned it to him. Do you think he doesn't trust his new lawyer?”

Susan smiled. “Would you?”

“Ms. Vargas, stop yammering or this hearing is gonna end in sanctions,” the judge snapped.

Evan Diamond stood at the defense podium waiting for his client to join him. Briggs took his time, sauntering up to the bench like he owned the courtroom. As he got closer, he turned to face the gallery and flashed a gang hand signal. The spectator benches erupted in applause and cheers.

The judge smacked her gavel. “Enough! Mr. Diamond, you'd better control your client or we're going to have a problem.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

The noise died down.

“You have my gratitude for appearing at short notice under these tragic circumstances. But don't push it. I run a tight ship. I called the parties to court because Mr. Briggs's previous attorney, Lester Poe, was killed two hours ago in front of this courthouse when his car exploded. The cause of the explosion is under investigation. Naturally, we are all terribly upset, but our responsibility is to this case. Today is Thursday, and the trial is scheduled to begin a week from this coming Monday. That date is not realistic given the change in circumstances. Mr. Diamond, I called this status conference to let you apply for a postponement, and to set a new schedule that will allow you adequate time to prepare.”

Diamond drew himself up in a great show of offense. A murmur spread through the crowd.

“The defense doesn't want a postponement, Judge. Mr. Briggs is an innocent man. The government doesn't like my client's music. His frank treatment of life on the streets makes them look bad, so they're trying to silence him with a trumped-up case, plain and simple. We don't want to put the trial off. Not for a week or a day. Not for a single minute.”

Cheers and whoops broke out in the courtroom. Bernadette pounded her gavel.

“Silence!” she shouted, glaring out at the gallery. “Did I hear right? Are you saying you're prepared to go to trial as scheduled, with no extension, ten days from now?”

“Not only prepared, we can't wait, Judge.”

Atari Briggs turned to face the audience again, his beautiful eyes narrowed to slits. “We gonna beat this bullshit rap. Bring it on!”

The echoing roar came back from the bleachers. “Bring it on! Bring it on! Bring it on!”

Bernadette pounded her gavel to no avail. People in the audience were leaping to their feet, pumping their fists in the air.

“Bring it on! Bring it on!”

Briggs picked up the refrain along with the crowd. The chanting was getting louder by the minute.

The judge turned up the volume on her microphone. Her powerful voice rang out over the chanting. “Silence, silence!”

But the chanting continued.

“Marshals!” the judge shouted. “Clear the courtroom of anybody without a press pass, now.”

Within seconds, the courtroom was swarming with uniforms. Minor scuffles broke out as the marshals hustled people toward the door.

Melanie drew closer to Susan. “What the hell is Diamond up to?” she whispered, the chants covering up her words. “Why doesn't he want more time?”

“Just look at this crowd. He's sure he'll win.”

“He still needs to try the case, and he doesn't know the first thing about it. Maybe he has some ace up his sleeve.”

Susan shrugged. As the last protesting spectator left, the marshals slammed the courtroom door and gave the judge the all-clear sign. Bernadette glared down at Diamond.

“Mr. Diamond, if you or your client ever pulls that kind of stunt in my courtroom again, I will disqualify you from this case so fast that your lips will still be moving when you land on your backside in the street. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Diamond said, but he looked quite satisfied with himself.

“Now, about the schedule,” Bernadette said. “Most lawyers would require months to prepare for a trial this important. Why should I believe you can waltz in and do it on a week's notice?”

“My ability to prepare depends on the evidence I get from the prosecution. I'm a quick study if I have the material I need. If I can get the witness list and all witness statements by close of business
today, I can swing it. Judge, my client wants to move forward and not have this hanging over his head.”

“The witness list,” Melanie whispered urgently. “Susan, that's his ace. He's planning to threaten our witnesses.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Bernadette was saying. “I like not having to move my calendar around. Can the government meet that request?” she asked.

“No! Close of business today is not possible, Judge,” Melanie blurted.

“You're telling me three hours isn't enough time to type up a goddamn witness list?” Bernadette asked. “That is not an acceptable answer.”

“A lawyer on this case was just murdered. The case is obviously more dangerous than anybody thought. We need time to make sure our witnesses are protected before we reveal their names.”

“If anybody should be worried about safety, it's us, not them,” Diamond said. “It was my colleague, my friend, my partner of many years who got blown up. For all I know I'm next. Maybe I need protection, but the prosecution witnesses? Nobody's threatened them.”

“Good point,” the judge said, nodding. “It's Mr. Poe who was attacked, not the prosecution witnesses.”

“That doesn't mean they're not in danger,” Melanie insisted.

“If I knew anything about this investigation of yours, maybe I'd have the evidence to back up your claim. But I don't, do I? I'm granting Mr. Diamond's request, but I'll give you an extra day. The government has until close of business tomorrow, let's say six
P.M.
Friday, to turn over a witness list and statements. You have all day tomorrow to get your witnesses secured, Ms. Vargas. Adjourned!”

Bernadette pounded her gavel and strode off the bench.

I
can't believe you didn't
back me up in there,” Melanie exclaimed as they hurried back through the tunnel toward their office. “Now Evan Diamond gets our witness list.”

“He's entitled to it anyway. She was never going to rule in our favor. All you did was piss her off and make us look bad.”

“At least I tried. You rolled over, and now our witnesses could be in jeopardy.”

“Oh, right, because Evan Diamond is planning to whack them? Please! Where do you come up with this stuff?”

They'd reached the elevator to their building and Susan pounded the call button.

“Why else would he ask for the list early?” Melanie demanded.

“Maybe he's yanking our chains. That's a specialty of his. Or maybe he actually wants to prepare. Did you consider that? I'd be more worried about that than about witness killings if I were you. The judge hates us. The public hates us. We're gonna lose if we don't get our act together and stop worrying about far-fetched—”

“How far-fetched can it be when Lester Poe was murdered this
afternoon, Susan? Maybe you've forgotten. I have his blood on my suit back at the office if you need a reminder.”

“Girls, don't fight,” Papo said, looking alarmed beneath a nervous smile. “We're a team, remember?”

Melanie was on the verge of tears, the sound of the bomb still ringing in her ears. Susan scrutinized her with narrowed eyes.

“Was there something going on between you and Lester?”

“What?”

“Evan said Lester always talked about you. You two weren't—he was opposing counsel. You weren't involved with him, were you? I'm not asking because I'm mad. If you were involved with opposing counsel, you should disclose it or—”

“Of course I wasn't.”

“Okay, good.”

The elevator came and they all got on. Melanie glared at Susan.

“That was a low blow.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't think so, but I had to ask. Truce, okay? We're both stressed out. We're ten days from trial, and I for one am starting to think we're gonna fall flat on our asses with the entire world watching.”

To Susan, the only thing worse than losing a trial was losing a big, important trial with press attention. But Melanie had deeper concerns at the moment.

“I'm not so worried about whether we win or lose. I just don't want anybody else to die. Lester told me his office phones were tapped, and that we couldn't use them to discuss Atari's cooperation. He never came out and said it was Diamond doing the tapping, but don't you think that casts some suspicion on him?”

“No. They share office space. Those are Evan's phones, too. Why would he tap his own phones?”

“Maybe they have separate lines.”

“Let's calm down and wait for the evidence before we start jumping to conclusions.”

They'd reached the sixth floor, where Rick Lynch and his FBI team were waiting for Melanie in a conference room. The FBI had retrieved the videotape from a security camera near the Dumpster where the dead dog had been found, and they wanted Melanie to review it to see if she could spot the bomber.

Melanie flung the door open and marched in. The men waiting for her all leaped to their feet. Along with Lynch and his counterterrorism agents, a group of top brass from the U.S. Attorney's Office was there. Mark Sonschein, the chief of the Criminal Division, came over and gave Melanie a circumspect hug.

“You okay, kiddo?” he asked. Mark was Melanie's boss, and known for being humorless and intense, but he could be a solid friend.

“Hanging in,” she said, extricating herself. “I'll feel better once I'm working on finding Lester Poe's killer.”

“Uh, yeah, about that,” Mark said. “You should know, I'm assigning a separate team to work the bombing investigation. You don't have time. You need to prepare for trial.”

“A separate team? But I was there. I saw what happened.”

“Another good reason to keep you away. You're an eyewitness. If you know too much about the investigation, your testimony will be tainted.”

“I'm not sitting still for this, Mark.”

“It's not your decision.”

“You can't do this.”

“I can. I am. And there's no reason for you to complain. The team is top-notch. Baker, Monahan, and Yee. They'll locate the bomber in short order, and you know they will. You have other responsibilities. Nobody else can take your place on the Briggs trial.”

“But I have specialized knowledge about the bombing, too. Lester Poe told me things before he died that affect how the investigation should be conducted,” Melanie said.

“That makes you a witness, not an investigator. Witnesses can be
interviewed. Convey your information to Group Supervisor Lynch. He's standing right beside you.”

Melanie was furious, but she could see that Mark had no intention of backing down. She decided not to waste her energy fighting a battle she couldn't win.

“Where's that surveillance tape?” she snapped.

“We've got it cued up right here,” Lynch said. “But first, I should tell you that we have a report from our field forensics people supporting your account of what happened. They're quite certain we're looking at a VBIED.”

“Translation?” Melanie asked.

“Vehicle-borne improvised explosive device. They believe it was attached to the underside of Poe's car using a magnet and exploded remotely, presumably by the gentleman you saw, the one with the dog. What's more, the field tests indicate the presence of a chemical taggant in the explosive residue that's identical to that found in residue from a nightclub bombing in Barcelona last year. If the lab confirms that, it's big news, because a cell linked to Gamal Abdullah pulled off the Barcelona bombing.”

“If it all lays out like we're thinking, we'll be able to link the bombing of Poe's car directly to Abdullah,” Mark added. “Which would be huge.”

“Our top priority is to arrest the bomber and question him,” Lynch said. “Thanks to your information, we stand a decent chance of doing that. I wanted to apologize for being short with you earlier today. Your information was accurate. You're our star witness. Now let's cue the tape.”

He nodded at one of his agents.

“You'll see a man leading a dog into an alley. Let me know if you recognize him.”

“Okay,” Melanie said.

A grainy black-and-white image appeared on the TV screen,
showing the concrete wall of a building and the busy intersection beyond it. Within seconds, the man in the dark jacket whom Melanie had seen on the sidewalk walked into the frame, leading the brown dog on a leash. The camera had a good angle, clear enough that she could make out the man's sharp features, and see the dog wagging his tail. The dog had a shaggy coat and a friendly face. The pair walked far enough past the camera that they went out the opposite side of the frame. Several minutes later, the man passed by again—without the dog this time. He looked noticeably more rumpled, and he was wiping his hands on his pants.

Everybody turned to look at Melanie. She felt something wet on her cheeks. Tears for the poor damn dog?
Pull yourself together,
she thought. She wanted to get this asshole, and she couldn't do it if she was falling apart.

“That's him,” she said.