Jury Town (33 page)

WASHINGTON, DC

“We got to the mayor as well,” the man from the NSA explained from the other end of the phone. “He’ll plead to a three-year sentence, but we’ll get him out in less than two months.”

“Excellent. About the same time we get Hoffman out.”

“Hoffman testified today that Angela Gaynor had physically made the payoff to the mayor herself. We got to him just before he went on the stand to let him know about the mayor, and it was beautiful. Gaynor started screaming and yelling in the courtroom. It made her look very guilty.”

“Nice.”

“In return for getting him out of prison so fast, the mayor will testify tomorrow that Gaynor paid him directly, even though she’s never been anywhere near him in her life, much less with fifty grand.”

“Even though she never even knew any bribes were being made,” the man from Homeland Security said, chuckling. “She thought she’d hired a loyal man as her CEO.”

“Money has a way of disrupting loyalty.”

“Money has a way of disrupting everything, and thank the Lord. If it didn’t, we’d be hurting.”

“Jack Hoffman will have eight million dollars waiting for him when he gets out.
Twice
what the jurors will get. I thought that was appropriate.”

“And he’ll make it in much less time. Love it. Victoria Lewis can’t beat us.”

“The mayor’s testimony and the e-mails we planted on the company network will put Angela Gaynor away for at least a decade. She’ll learn her lesson sitting in that cell.”

“As long as the jury sees everything the same way we do.”

“It’s a done deal. Chuck Lehman will be running unopposed when this trial is over.” The man from the NSA laughed. “I guess we have a new plan. If we can’t rig juries, we manipulate witnesses.” His voice turned somber then. “One more thing. From what I understand, George Garrison may have had a change of heart since he’s been sitting in jail.”

“Oh?”

“It sounds as though he may be willing to be more forthcoming about whose orders he was acting on when he instructed Billy Batts to influence Felicity West.”

“No way to get to Garrison?”

“Victoria Lewis has effectively insulated him from us by having him incarcerated in Northern Virginia as he awaits trial on violating his contract with her.”

“Are you concerned that Rockwell wasn’t as careful as he should have been about contacting Garrison?”

“Yes. If Garrison can lead Ms. Lewis to Rockwell, Rockwell could lead them to us, especially if he’s looking at serious time. He hasn’t found Walter Morgan yet, but we know he’s found the rest of us.”

VIRGINIA BEACH, VIRGINIA

“How many years have you been building and securing corporate computer networks, Mr. Abrams?” the prosecutor asked.

“Seventeen.”

“And that would include all facets of interfacing, including construction of Intranets as well as, obviously, linking networks to the outside world.”

“Of course,” Abrams answered.

“You’ve also been intimately involved in building and maintaining network security.”

“Yes, as I stated before.”

“You’re an independent consultant?”

“Yes.”

“You aren’t employed by one company because you can make so much more money on your own. Many, many companies request your services.”

A self-conscious expression rose to Abrams’ face.

“It’s okay,” the prosecutor prodded. “Take credit where credit is due.”

“Well, yes, that’s right. I’m very fortunate.”

“Please name some of the corporations that have engaged you to help them with their networks.”

“Bank of America, Home Depot, Proctor & Gamble, Royal Dutch—”

“An impressive list, for sure.”

“Thank you.”

“Would you please read the printout of the e-mail I handed you a few moments ago?”

Abrams slipped on his reading glasses. “Jack, we need to get twenty-five thousand dollars to Councilman Weber immediately. See to it.”

“In your professional opinion,” the prosecutor spoke up when Abrams was finished, “did that e-mail come from Angela Gaynor’s laptop?”

“It did.”

The prosecutor glanced smugly at the stony faces behind the defense table. “Your witness.”

RICHMOND, VIRGINIA

Bart Stevens cringed when he saw the number of the inbound caller flash on his cell phone. It was Mao Xilai, the man who’d invested four million dollars into Excel Games, the man making it possible for Stevens to pay his mortgage again and keep a roof over his family’s head. This was the call Stevens had been dreading ever since David Racine had disappeared inside Jury Town.

“Hello,” Stevens said hesitantly.

“Mr. Stevens?”

“Yes. Oh, hello, Mr. Xilai,” Stevens said enthusiastically this time—too enthusiastically. He’d sounded very nervous. “How are you, sir?”

“Fine, thank you. I have left several messages with Mr. Racine, but he has not returned my calls. In fact, my calls go straight to his voice mail every time.”

Stevens cringed again as he thought about the investment banker’s warning and about the news articles describing the gruesome fates of executives who’d fallen out of favor with Xilai.

“Do you know where he is?”

Stevens took deep breath. “He had a doctor’s appointment, I believe.”

“That’s quite an appointment. I’ve been trying for three hours to get him.”

“Yes, well—”

“I am going to be in Washington, DC, on business, Mr. Stevens. When I’m finished in your capital, I will come to Richmond to see how our company is doing. I will send details of my visit later. Please make certain Mr. Racine has no appointments that day. Do you understand?”

“Of course, Mr. Xilai.”

This was the nightmare scenario.

When Xilai was gone, Stevens dialed the private number he’d been given and held his breath as the phone began to ring. “She better keep her end of the deal.”

CHAPTER 41

JURY TOWN

“What’s up?” Dez asked, closing the door to Victoria’s office behind him.

“Thanks for coming so fast.”

“No problem.”

“Have a seat.” She pointed at the chair in front of her desk. “I need to give you a heads-up. I have to go before the General Assembly. The majority leader, Barney Franz, is making trouble for me.”

“How so?”

She liked that Dez was becoming more interested in things affecting her life beyond her security. “Franz is angry that I didn’t consult him while I was organizing Jury Town.”

“I thought you didn’t have to. I thought the Supreme Court had total jurisdiction over everything related to Project Archer.”

Victoria liked that he was listening, too. She’d told him a great deal about Jury Town while they were hanging out together at night, listening to music in his rented house, and he’d clearly absorbed what she’d told him. He was a very bright man, she was coming to find. He wasn’t outspoken. But, when asked, he had an opinion that was always deliberately conceived with the application of unbending logic.

“Technically,” she answered, “that’s right. But Franz is a powerful man. He’s throwing rocks at the proverbial hornet’s nest, and I’m starting to get worried calls, especially as things seem to be going well here.” She gestured around. “So I’m going to appear before the General Assembly to answer questions and nip this in the bud.”

“You’re going to kiss the ring.”

“Okay, let’s call it that.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

He grimaced. “Doesn’t give me much time to secure things, and I hate the idea of you being exposed in downtown Richmond like that.”

“You’ll figure it out; you always do. Dance tonight?” she asked as he stood up.

He grinned. “Sure. And I’ve already got an idea for how to make your assembly visit foolproof.”

“Get to it, then. And one more thing before you go.” Victoria picked up a small piece of paper from her desk and held it out for him. “I need you to call this man immediately. The number’s there below his name.”

“Ryan Mitchell?” Dez read from the paper.

“Yes, but he goes by Mitch.”

BELLWOOD, VIRGINIA

Mitch stood beside his wife’s Denali in the darkness of the secluded dirt road. She hadn’t been happy about him taking it—but he couldn’t have gotten the SLK down here. The road down the long hill was rutted and muddy.

The James—the wide river that flowed past downtown Richmond—was only fifty yards away through the dense trees. He couldn’t see its black waters, but he could hear them gurgling past.

Would Salvatore show?

Mitch checked his phone for the third time. The mafia boss was forty-five minutes late. Whenever they’d met before—in the warehouse district—Salvatore’s driver had called just before the appointed time with the meeting place, making the mobster effectively a moving target with multiple escape routes.

Mitch had chosen this destination. Despite the lure of a big, quick payoff, perhaps Salvatore had developed a bad case of cold feet. He’d never been more than five minutes late before.

At one hour past the appointed time, Mitch kicked at a pebble on the road and turned toward the Denali’s door—just as he heard a vehicle approaching.

The SUV stopped fifty feet away. Two large men climbed out and hustled to where he stood.

“We got six people here,” one of the men explained as the other patted Mitch down. “Not including the boss and the driver. Four of them are out in the woods around here. And they’ve been here for a while checkin’ things out. Nothin’ better happen.”

“Don’t worry, sport.”

“He’s clean.”

“Go get Salvatore.”

Moments later another figure climbed out of the SUV and ambled down the dirt road to where Mitch stood. “Okay, kid,” Salvatore said, “what you got for me?”

“In three months a significant amount of land along the river in this area will, in the time it takes a gavel to fall, go from protected wetlands to zoned commercial. It’s taken the developer who owns a lot of this land three years to get it all the way through to the Supreme Court. Obviously, that man has some significant pull in this state. Still, most people are betting against him. They think my uncle will rule against him.”

“But you know differently.”

“Yes. And, given that we’re only a few miles downstream from Richmond, when Judge Eldridge votes for him, the value of this land will skyrocket.”

“Is there land available?”

Mitch nodded. “I know of about three hundred acres you could get very cheap.” He lifted the folder he was carrying. “You’ll get about a ten-times value blast
overnight
. The whole thing’s detailed in here.”

“What do you want out of this?”

“Half.”

Salvatore sneered. “Including me, I got eight guys here. You’re alone. What’s to keep me from just taking it from you?”

Mitch put his head back and gazed up into the night sky, forcing an aggravated expression to his face. “You don’t know I’m alone.”

“My guys have been all over this place for hours. You’re definitely alone.”

“I’ve got more deals coming,” Mitch warned. “Don’t screw this up. We can all make money.”

“Ten percent, kid, and appreciate that I’m being so generous. Give me the folder.”

“Where’s my cash? There’s Jury Town stuff in there, too.”

Salvatore reached into his jacket pocket for an envelope.

As they exchanged folder for cash, ten figures dropped silently from the night sky onto the road, cutting their parachutes away even as they opened fire with automatic weapons.

Fifteen seconds later, three mobsters were dead and Mitch and Salvatore were side by side, eating the Denali door, hands cuffed tightly behind their backs.