Buying Time (27 page)

“This may come as a surprise to you, but I’ve been making some calls,” Becker began. “Some calls about you.” In situations like this, it was a mistake to waste time beating around the bush. It was best to go straight for the jugular.
Neutralize your attacker on the first stroke.
He’d learned that as a Navy SEAL.

Zack shifted in his seat.

“And the reports I got back contained words like relentless, bright, tenacious. Those are all the kinds of things you want in a prosecutor.” He paused, noticing that Zack had immediately warmed to the praise. “But you also want someone who knows how to follow orders.”

Becker watched as Zack laced his fingers. No doubt to hide his nervousness.

“From what I can tell, you fit all of those qualifications as well. That’s why Erickson and I want you to join us in Washington. We want you on our team at the Justice Department.”

It seemed to take a few seconds for his words to register.

“The job we have in mind is media liaison,” Becker continued. “You’d be the Attorney General’s primary contact with the media. The current person in that position isn’t an attorney. I think that’s a mistake. The Bancroft administration plans to take a strong stance on several controversial matters. I want someone who understands the law acting as our spokesperson. The job is going to take you out of the courtroom, but someone with your talent can hop back in whenever you choose with no problem. So how about it?”

Becker already knew the guy’s answer. He’d heard that Zack was dying to be a talking head. This job was the perfect stepping stone.

“I’m really flattered,” Zack finally uttered.

“Does that mean you’re accepting the job?” Becker wanted to keep the pressure on. “You’re my top candidate. As you know, the Department is still trying to regroup from the Harris scandal. I can’t give you any time to mull it over. If you want the job, I need to know right now. And by the way, there’s a significant increase in pay.”

Zack flashed a camera-ready smile. “Of course I want it.”

Becker stood up, walked around the conference table and extended his hand. “Welcome to the team.”

He placed an arm around Zack’s shoulders and escorted him to the elevator. “You’re going to love it in Washington. It’s an exciting city. Much more intellectual than L.A. Is there somebody special in your life?”

“No,” Zack said, still tongue-tied.

“Well, you’ll have your pick of nice young women in Washington.”

As he watched the elevator doors close, a smile crept across Becker’s face. “One down, one to go.”

Zack Hargrove was an easy fix. Angela Evans would be a much more difficult case. Based on the reports he’d received, she was hardworking, ethical and damn sharp. She wouldn’t be so quick to sell out.

If Becker couldn’t get her off Erickson’s trail the easy way, he’d just have to play hardball.

T
wo days after the threatening call from Lawrence Erickson’s henchman, Waverly decided that he couldn’t just sit back and wait for his situation to resolve itself. He needed a plan.

Appealing to Vincent certainly hadn’t done him any good. Vincent had seemed more concerned about making sure he wasn’t dragged into Waverly’s mess than offering any solutions.

Following the release of the
L.A. Times
story, Waverly had been ignoring the calls from Live Now. He finally decided that it was time to face them.

“Have a seat,” said a stone-faced Cartwright, when Waverly walked into the spacious suite at the downtown Hilton Hotel. Since they didn’t maintain an office in L.A., their meetings were always held in hotels.

“Coffee?” Cartwright asked tightly.

Waverly eyed the mini-bar. Actually, he wanted a drink. “Sure,” he said, then walked over to a counter and poured himself a cup. “Is Bellamy joining us?”

Just then, Bellamy, entered the room toting two files under his right arm. The CEO’s expression was even more grim than Cartwright’s.

“We got a call from a federal prosecutor by the name of Angela Evans,” Cartwright began, once they were seated. “It seems the U.S. Attorney’s Office is investigating you, which means they’re investigating us. And that’s not something we’re happy about.  You need to tell us exactly what’s going on.”

“They seem to think that some of my clients,” Waverly paused, “our clients, expired sooner than they should have. Which is crazy. Those folks were terminally ill. They were supposed to die.”

“Are you saying this is some kind of witch hunt on the part of the U.S. Attorney’s Office and there’s nothing to it?”

“Precisely,” Waverly replied. He wondered how much they knew. Vincent had agreed not to share any information with them about Rico, but Waverly didn’t expect him to keep his word.

Bellamy slid a folder with Billington’s name on it across the table. “This is one of the insureds that prosecutor asked us about. What’s his story?”

“He died in a car accident.”‘

“Then why do they think you’re responsible?” Bellamy asked.

“I have no idea.”

Cartwright seemed anxious to resume control of the interrogation. “I understand you also put this company at risk by laundering drug money,” he charged.

Damn that Vincent.
“You’ve apparently talked to Vincent, so you know why I did what I did. I was placed in a situation where I had no other choice.”

“Just how do you plan to fix this?” Bellamy asked.

“I need a little time to work some things out.”

“We’re not going to let your greed take this company down,” Cartwright shouted. “We had nothing to do with any of this and that’s exactly what we told the authorities.”

“Calm down,” Bellamy said to his partner. He turned back to Waverly. “I don’t know what’s going on and I don’t really care, but you better fix it. And fast. If you need to cut yourself a deal, then do that. Just make sure this company doesn’t get snared in your trap.”

Waverly stood up. “I’ll come up with something,” he said, more to himself.

“There’s probably no need to even say this,” Cartwright added before Waverly reached the door, “but you no longer work for this company.”

Waverly headed back to his car and had just put the key in the ignition when his BlackBerry chirped. He pulled it from his pocket, glanced at the display and saw that it was a blocked call. Rico.

He was about to ignore it, but was suddenly feeling bold, so he answered the call. “Hey, amigo.”

“Where you been?” Rico’s hostility seeped through the phone lines.

“Last minute vacation.”

“That was a nice article in
The Times.
”

“Glad you liked it.”

“Looks like you’re in quite a bit of trouble.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m calling to find out about my money,” Rico said. “When do I get my three hundred grand?”

“It’s going to take a little longer than I thought.”

There was a long gap of silence. “And why is that?”

“The feds have instructed the insurance company not to pay out on the policy until the investigation into Billington’s death is finished.”

“And exactly what are the feds investigating?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Okay, then give me back the money I gave that guy, including the cut you got.”

Waverly hung his head. “Billington cashed that check before he died. There’s no way to get the money back.”

“Then it looks like you’re going to have to give me my money out of your own pocket.”

“I wish I could,” Waverly said, actually meaning it. If he could give Rico back every dime, he would. “They froze all my accounts. I don’t have three hundred grand at my disposal.”

“That’s not my problem,” Rico said. “I’m not in the business of charity work.”

“Like I said, until this investigation—”

“No,” Rico shouted. “It ain’t like you said. It’s like
I
say. You get me my money. I’m giving you one week. Otherwise, you or your brother or your wife, or maybe all three of you, will pay the price. And that’s a promise.”

Waverly held the BlackBerry to his ear for several more seconds before finally hanging up.

For some reason, he didn’t feel the fear that Rico’s threat was intended to generate. He was in so deep that he almost welcomed a threat against his life to put him out of his misery.

He pulled out of the parking stall and headed for the closest bar.

When life got rough, getting blasted always seemed like a great idea.

A
ngela zoomed down the Harbor Freeway, intermittently sucking in long, deep gulps of air in an effort to calm herself. Her hands clenched the steering wheel so tightly, she finally had to let go so blood could start circulating again.

Her angst receded when she finally spotted her apartment building. As she drove into the underground garage, the angst returned. What if Cornell had followed her home? She pulled her Saab into her parking stall, but could not bring herself to turn off the engine. She double-checked the door locks, then surveyed the area. She didn’t see anything suspicious, but was still too afraid to get out.

She put the car in reverse and drove to her sister’s apartment in nearby Fox Hills.

When Jada opened the door, Angela crumpled into her arms.

“Oh, my God!” Jada screamed. “Why is your face swollen? What happened?”

“Cornell came to my office. He punched me in the face and tried to strangle me, but this maintenance guy—”

Before Angela could say more, the doorbell rang.

“That’s probably Dre,” Angela sniffed. “I asked him to meet me here.”

Jada led Angela over to the couch, then went to the door. “You must be Dre,” she said, giving him a once over. “I’ve been dying to meet the brother bad enough to steal my sister away from Cornell, but not under these circumstances.”

Dre stepped inside. “Is Angela okay?”

Jada glanced over her shoulder in Angela’s direction. “No, she’s not.”

Dre hurried over, but stopped when he was only inches away. He stared down at her bruised and bloated face, then pulled her into his arms.

“Dude put his hands on you?” There was disbelief in his voice.

Angela nodded and gripped him tighter.

“You need to call the police on his ass,” Jada said. “Don’t let him get away with it this time.”

“
This time?”
Dre glanced at Jada, then turned back to Angela. “Dude put his hands on you before?”

“Yep.” Jada handed Angela an ice pack. “The night she told him she was calling off the engagement.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Anger flooded Dre’s face.

“Because this is
my
problem and I want to handle it
my
way.”

“You call this handlin’ it?” Dre was practically shouting.

Angela pulled away from him, sat back down on the couch and pressed the ice pack to her face. “Cornell is a judge. If I report him, his career will be over.”

Jada threw up her hands. “That asshole tried to strangle you and you’re concerned about his career? I’m calling the police right now.”

“Screw the police,” Dre said. “I’ll handle it.”

“No!” Angela said insistently. “I know you’re both concerned about me, but let me try it my way first. I’m going to call Cornell’s best friend. He’ll talk to him. If that doesn’t work, then I’ll go to the police.”

“Come here.” Jada grabbed Angela’s hand, pulled her up from the couch and led her down the hallway to the bathroom. She flipped on the light and positioned Angela in front of the mirror. “Take a look at your face.”

Angela gasped. The severity of her bruises shocked her. The left side of her face was twice its normal size. A purple patch had already formed underneath her eye. She had several red welts on her neck. Dre stood in the doorway, steaming. Her eyes met his in the mirror. He was obviously upset that she hadn’t confided in him.

Jada turned her around and hugged her. “Have you forgotten about all those domestic violence cases you handled when you were a D.A.?
If a man hits you once, he’ll hit you again
. How many times did you tell me that?”

Angela brushed past both of them and went back to the living room.

“I have something I want to give you,” Jada said. “I’ll be right back.” She dashed out of the apartment.

When Jada returned minutes later, she placed a small black pouch on the coffee table.

Angela stared at it. “What’s that?”

“A Smith & Wesson thirty-eight,” Jada said rather calmly. “If you’re not going to report Cornell or even get a restraining order, you at least have to protect yourself.”

“A gun! Are you nuts? When did you even get a gun?”

“I’ve had it for years. I keep it under the seat in my car. I take it with me into the shop every morning and I put it back every evening. Too many beauty shops in L.A. have gotten robbed. I’m not about to be a victim. And before you ask, yes, it’s registered and I also took classes at the shooting range so I know how to use it. And I didn’t tell you or Mama because I didn’t want to hear any flack.”

“Get that thing away from me,” Angela cried. “If Cornell bothers me again, I promise I’ll get a restraining order.”

“Screw that,” Dre said. “You need a gun
and
a restraining order.”

Jada sat down next to Angela and took her hand. “Dre is right. How many women have you seen on the news who died holding restraining orders in their hands? A piece of paper won’t stop a crazy man.”

Angela defiantly shook her head.  “No! I’m not going to—”

“You’re a prosecutor,” Jada said, cutting her off. “You could probably get permission to carry a concealed weapon.”

“Not without explaining why I wanted it.”

Dre reached down and squeezed Angela’s shoulder. “I really think you should take the gun. Dude came at you twice already. No tellin' what he’s going to do next.”

Angela stared up at Dre, then turned to her sister. “It’s not that simple! I can’t just walk into court and walk out with a restraining order. Cornell will definitely fight it, which means he’ll make counter accusations and create a whole lot of drama. I’d rather not escalate it to that level if I can help it. And it’s not just a matter of Cornell being charged and kicked off the bench. The media will pick up the story because it involves a superior court judge and a federal prosecutor. I’d prefer not to have the particulars of my failed relationship highlighted on the local news. Just let me handle this my way. Cornell isn’t himself right now. He just needs some time for the breakup to sink in.”