Reilly 12 - Show No Fear (12 page)

J
ACK’S FOUR FINGERS GRIPPED A HOLD ALMOST OUT OF REACH,
which made an ominous
chink
sound as he put weight on it, the only hold he could locate on that portion of the rock face. The small rocks inside the hold, loose but big, would probably make it safe enough, as they would be affixed like jigsaw-puzzle pieces to the walls and unlikely to pull out. He left his right hand there to hold him as he raised his foot to a two-inch ledge, moving slowly up the spire, legs light and strong. He spared a second to watch Paul, above him, sweating in the late October sun, glued as tightly as a swatted fly to the brown breccia, his head angled back as he scanned the rock, searching for his next move.

The Gabilan Range, east of Soledad and inland from Monterey in the Salinas Valley, was one of Jack’s favorite places on earth. Pinnacles National Monument was a rock climber’s paradise with spooky outcroppings, caves, and bluffs challenging enough to defeat the most careful planning.

Jack and Paul had met that Sunday morning at Jack’s place in the Highlands. When they finally reached Pinnacles, their watches showed a little past noon. The place was deserted, probably because Jack’s dog-eared guidebook described this particular climb as off-limits. “It doesn’t have a grade,” Jack commented when Paul pointed the way. “It’s rotten in places.”

“About a 5.7. We can take a good run at it. Look at that slab about halfway up.”

“There’s a trail to the bottom on the left side,” Jack said, moving toward it. At the bottom of the rock they pulled on their rock shoes and rubbed chalk on their hands, gearing up for the climb.

Paul eyeballed a route marked with easily visible handholds along the way. The beginning was a challenge—they had to back up and take a run at the thing and then just go on spit and energy for the first twelve feet.

No protection, chance of a harrowing fall—yeah!

They jumped up the first bit and climbed side by side, separated by several feet, increasingly quiet as the crumbly surface revealed itself. After another twenty feet Paul moved into the lead as they both moved into the climbing line.

Searching for the next crack, toeing minute knobs of rock, Jack fell into a way of thinking that was completely physical, a spacious refuge in his usually crowded and wordy mind, what he loved the most about climbing.

Then suddenly, when he was about halfway up, he couldn’t see the next move. A tiny edge offered refuge for his fingers, just a crimp, just barely in reach, but gave him nothing to stand on. He wished for just one piton—a rope—a hammer—shit!—and hung on, looking across the valley toward another north-south range, trying to figure out what to do. He could try a traverse ten or so feet across the face to another area where the rock was more promising. Screw Paul and his invisible line.

“Uh, Paul,” he called up, “the line?”

“Right there. The knob for your fingers.”

“Not sure I can reach it. You have a few inches on me.”

“Jump to it?”

“Can’t find the toeholds.”

“Hang on with your fingers. I put all my weight on that hold. It’s okay. Just glue your toes to the rock there.”

Paul seemed to be moving smoothly, inching over the hot, dusty stone, the spire outlined against the sky above him.

Jack tensed and made the little jump for the handhold. His fin
gers held like a grappling hook, but the freaking hold disintegrated. His body jolted down. Snaking his head smoothly inward, he pushed his face into the rock, hard, clinging to two bumps at about chest height. He stopped to breathe and to stuff his heart back into his chest.

“You okay?” Paul called.

When Jack could speak, he said he was.

Jack took his time, recapturing his inner rhythm. When he heaved himself to the top a few moments behind Paul, he paused at the edge, looking down the rock face. Paul was sitting on the edge, legs drawn up, taking in the sun, eyes closed, a slight smile on his mug.

“You look like the guru on his mountain,” Jack puffed as he drew himself alongside. You could hardly call this thing a summit. Two horns of rock rose about six feet high on either side of them with a small saddle just big enough for the two of them to sit.

“Want to know the secret of life?” Paul asked.

“No.”

“Even if it’s your last chance?”

Jack tucked into his supplies, slurping water. Around them the spires cooled rapidly as the sun set. “Why not. What is it?”

“Keep your pants on.”

“That’s it? That’s as helpful as the solution to the question about life’s meaning in the
Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
I feel cheated.”

From a small knapsack, Paul pulled out a silver thermos. Jack accepted a cup of hot coffee. They looked down the shadowy range and across the plains toward Soledad Prison, then beyond toward Paraiso Springs, where they could just make out a few palm trees around the old resort. A hawk swooped down to look for dinner possibilities before heading into the evening. The quiet echoed the quiet Paul felt in his body, now that the work was done.

Jack drained his cup. “Okay, I no longer feel cheated. Not one bit.” He spotted a man and a woman on a trail below, out of earshot and unaware of his scrutiny. “I was glad when you called last night. Had an argument with Remy and needed to blow off steam.”

“You’re still seeing her?”

“You sound surprised.”

“She’s not your type. Anything new on the judgeship?”

“Not that I know. Not that I would necessarily know. Certain topics are off-limits. I’m in love with her. That much I know.”

“How?”

“You know that old black magic feeling?”

“I mean, how’s it hit you?”

“I ache for her all day and all night. Everything I do without her, I wish she had seen. I look forward to going into the office because she’ll be there. I fantasize about the next time I’ll be with her. I’m not alive when I’m not with her. I have a constant desire to give her presents. I have no interest in other women. I want to fulfill all her wants, in bed and out. For her I bob my crest and do a little dance.”

“That’s not love; that’s a haunting.”

Jack laughed.

They continued to follow the progress of the hikers below, who had stopped and were huddling together in a crack between two boulders. Unaware they were being observed, the couple touched each other through their clothes.

Paul nudged Jack. “My, my,” he whispered.

“We should move off, give ’em some privacy—”

“They don’t know we’re watching.”

The couple were now pressed against a rock, the girl standing higher than the guy. Paul watched the man’s back hunch and move. “Look at that. Goddamn.”

The two below finished quickly, adjusted their clothing, and put packs back onto their backs, turning a corner out of sight. Their laughter faded away.

“There it is,” Paul said, watching them disappear.

“What?”

“The only thing that beats climbing.”

They prepared to leave. Paul pulled the rappelling rope from his day pack. “Shall we slide?”

“Exit Rosencrantz,” said Jack. “We have earned another day.”

On the way back to Monterey, Jack, who was driving, described
Remy’s acupuncture case to Paul. “Naturally I’m glad for Nina’s sake. Remy’s the best.”

Paul said, “You say Richard Filsen’s representing Wu?”

“So Remy tells me. I’m not directly involved, but I have a really bad feeling about this case.”

“Something I should do something about?” Paul asked, turning toward Jack as he maneuvered the car past a car doing eighty miles an hour. The fields around them, brown with summer sun, awaited the rain.

“Just a feeling that maybe Nina or somebody could get hurt.” Jack described the scene at the Bar Association meeting. Paul then took his turn, explaining how he had intervened on Nina’s behalf the weekend before. “Oh, ho ho,” Jack said. “I’ll bet she loved you doing your
Sturmbahnführer
routine.”

“No. Don’t think I impressed Filsen much either. I think he’s losing it.”

Jack chuckled. “Nina’s not a girl who appreciates being rescued.”

“How long have you known her?”

“She’s been working with us since she started law school. Guess there’s a good chance she’ll get asked to join once she finishes. Klaus loves to nurture new talent.”

“Tell me about him.”

“He came here before the war with his wife, Elise. She’s a psychiatrist. One of them was in a concentration camp. Jewish. One’s an Austrian Protestant.”

“Which is which?”

“Doesn’t matter. Since the day I met Klaus, he has set the standard for tenacity. He works a case to death. Every word he says carries gravitas, an accumulation of common sense and experience. And he is the most persistent lawyer in the cosmos.”

“You wish he worked faster and richer though, I bet.”

“The money goal remains a given. I expect to get paid well for this level of aggravation. Klaus is definitely an old-world idealist. Money’s nothing to him. He’s a symbol in our midst of what lawyers should be.”

“Another way to say his days are numbered,” said Paul.

“I suppose.” Jack fell silent.

“What’ll you do then?”

Jack shrugged. “I’ll either drop out and get high a lot and play my Fender Strat, or I’ll appraise properties. I love real estate, and I always wanted to work in the town you just left. Just finished a few courses. I’m prepared.”

“San Francisco real estate, now that sounds like such a kick, so stress-free.” Paul laughed for a long time. “I don’t believe you, okay? You’re totally hooked on taking care of the world’s sad sacks.”

“Paul, life’s short. I’m getting gray hair on my chin and my favorite tunes are going on twenty years old. I miss Johnny Rotten. I’m single and always end up being the beta male while the alpha carries off the girl. Now that I’m trying to remedy. I’ve got myself such a fine woman and I sure would like to keep her.”

“How long has Remy worked with you?”

“A couple of years. I hardly even noticed her the first year.”

“Unbelievable,” said Paul.

“You get busy and blind on this job.” Jack pulled in front of the sheriff’s station. “Shall we try for another climb next weekend? I enjoyed that.”

“I’ll let you know,” answered Paul. “A couple of hot bodies might just cross my path between now and then.”

“You’re making a rapid recovery from your pending divorce.”

“I’m in recovery, yeah. That’s a good way to put it. I gave up on monkhood pretty fast. Female company makes me feel better for a short while. Nothing I like better than to chill on a comfortable couch with my arm around a honey who doesn’t mind watching New York beat Dallas.”

Paul took his pack out of the backseat and leaned his arm on the car door, looking thoughtfully at Jack. “As for you, be careful, buddy.”

O
N
M
ONDAY MORNING, THREE DAYS BEFORE
T
HANKSGIVING
, Richard Filsen opened up his spacious law office in Seaside early. He liked how much he could afford in this neighborhood, and he liked that in this case his innate parsimony came off as a demonstration of a democratic nature to his snootier fellows. As usual, a couple of homeless types were propped against the sun-warmed wall. “Hey, Counselor, dollar for the poor,” said the younger one.

He gave them a dollar apiece and a business card apiece, then said, “Now get away from my office.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not gonna happen.”

He got the coffee going and opened the shades, then sat down at his desk the whole morning thinking about how royally, how imperially, pissed off he was, and how he would soon mete out punishment to all concerned.

Old, failing Ginny Reilly and the deal she thought gave her some kind of power over him. As if. He could mow her down with a feather. Tell Nina. Ruin their relationship forever. Leverage. Secrets. How he loved the game.

He had an important entry in his daybook: a junket to Reno
the next weekend, an all-nighter at his favorite casino-hotel, the good old Nugget. He needed at least $10,000 in case he didn’t hit a hot streak for a while at the poker tables, though he was sure this time would be different from the previous few times.

Nobody would pay him this week, unfortunately. They would be spending all their money on Thanksgiving turkey with all the trimmings.

He checked his voice mail. His part-time secretary wasn’t in today.

Perry came in at ten, his jaw swollen from dental work and arms full of files. Richard could relate to the jaw. His own had been receiving too much attention lately. He sat impatiently while Perry ran through a list in his deliberate fashion, asking for Richard’s approval on things and giving him letters and pleadings to sign. Perry was a fucking pain in the ass, but he was a detail-oriented pain in the ass, and indispensable for the dirty work.

Perry put his files away and said, “Could we talk about—about my employment again?”

“I’m pretty busy right now. Somebody’s got to get out and bring in clients.”

“Could we talk about it for five minutes?”

“Oh, if you insist.”

Perry was obviously not feeling too well. He held his jaw and said, “I’ve been working for you for over four years.”

“This is true.”

“I’ve done a good job for you. Worked hard six days a week, done whatever the firm needed.”

“I acknowledge that.” Ugh.

“It was my work that brought in the big fee from the oil company case, but you didn’t even give me a bonus. I handle the accounts and I see you’ve made several large payouts to yourself and we’ve almost spent the money.”

“Okay, I’ll give you a bonus.”

“How much? When?” Perry’s rabbity ears had turned red. “I need something more specific.”

“Perry, I have to apologize. I have been insensitive and unjust
to you. I’m going to make it up to you. I’ll give you more than a bonus. Know what I’m gonna do? Make you a partner in this firm.” Richard smiled widely, stood up, and shook Perry’s hand. Perry’s eyes widened and he stood up, too. His eyes were suspiciously bright.

“Do me a favor. Please don’t weep.”

“I can’t thank you enough. It means a lot to me.”

“You keep us going, my friend,” Richard said. “You are the heart of our enterprise. It’s true, I have had some special budgetary needs these past few months, and I did have to take the profits from the oil case, but next time we have a win like that, we’re going to split the fee.”

“Fifty-fifty?”

“Of course not fifty-fifty. I’m still the senior partner. How about”—Richard tapped his lips—“eighty-twenty. How about that?”

Perry shook his head. “I—that doesn’t seem quite fair.”

“Your name will be on the door in big silver letters. I know how long you have been imagining it. ‘Law Offices of Filsen and Tompkins.’ You can put an announcement in the paper.”

“But eighty-twenty—”

Richard let out a small exasperated sound. He allowed a disapproving expression to cross his face. Perry looked away like the beta boy he was.

“Seventy-five–twenty-five. Because it’s you, Perry. Because you’re my right-hand man. You’ve shown your loyalty. You love this place as much as I do. Together we’ll build this into the biggest and best law firm in Monterey County.”

“When would this happen?”

“Well, there’s no money to split right now, but rest assured it’ll happen soon.”

“I need a definite time.”

Richard knew that stubborn expression. It seemed that the worm was developing a nascent spine. Perry might possibly have another job offer. Richard pursed his lips. “All right. January first.”

Joy spread over Perry’s features. “Really?”

“No question.”

“I can’t wait to tell my wife.”

“Thought you two had broken up.”

“This will help,” Perry said. “She told me my career was going nowhere.”

“Well, you tell her, you’re gonna be rich and it won’t be long. We’ve got some hot cases and you’re gonna make them work for us. Right?”

“Right.” Perry had forgotten about the bonus.

“Damn straight. Now I have to run. I gotta bring us in some bacon by the end of the week.”

“From who?”

“Dr. Albert Wu.”

Wu’s offices on Cass Street were open. An Asian girl at the desk said the acupuncturist was with a patient, but she would tell Dr. Wu his lawyer had arrived.

Wouldn’t she have seen Virginia Reilly? Filsen paced around the anteroom, looking at the delicate bird paintings on the wall. Old habit kept him from sitting down—it put you in too passive a position. Two more patients waited: an attractive athletic type leafing through a magazine, and a mother-daughter combo.

When the acupuncturist came out, wiping his hands on a towel, a young woman was with him. He escorted her out the door before he turned to Filsen.

“Counselor!” Wu said, smiling. “What a surprise!”

Filsen followed him back past an examining room to a big office with a Chinese rug and jade frogs with coins in their mouths, koi watercolors on the wall—the whole restful-decor thing. One wall was taken up by a massage table.

“You’re doing well, Dr. Wu,” Richard remarked, settling into a straight-backed, carved rosewood chair.

“Western people are finally accepting the virtues of acupuncture. Back problems, neck problems, knee problems, problems with bad habits.” Wu leaned forward suddenly. “You perhaps could use
a course of treatment yourself, Counselor. Please forgive my suggesting it.”

“Nothing wrong with me. I do fifty miles a day on my bike.”

Wu sat back. “What brings you here?”

“You called me, remember?”

“I didn’t know lawyers made house calls.”

“Attorneys do all kinds of things that might surprise you, Dr. Wu. I’m here because we have something to discuss.”

Wu steepled his fingers. Long and graceful, they were weighed down by a ludicrously heavy gold ring. “I’m concerned about this woman. Mrs. Reilly. I’d like to know how all this is going. Ever since she called my office last month and said she had hired this law firm, that she was going to sue me—”

“I told you, I’ll get you off this hook in a jiffy. But you have to trust me and let me handle it.”

“Why not tell me the details?”

“It’s my job to protect you.”

“That’s not an answer, Mr. Filsen.”

Richard made his voice harder. “I guarantee this woman will go away by the end of the year. That’s thirty-six days away. She will trouble you no more. Your only job is to be patient.”

Wu bit his lip.

Richard stretched out his legs, looking Wu right in the eye. “Remember the case with the girl? Didn’t I dispose of that quietly and without any trouble? You want this taken care of just as quietly, don’t you?”

Wu looked down, no doubt recalling the disagreeable nature of that case, which had cost Wu plenty. But he had been glad to pay.

And Richard had also, during the disposition of that case, discovered an exhilarating detail that should make Wu’s stiff bow tie droop some, once he heard Richard knew.

“I would just like to know how—”

“There will never be a lawsuit, and it won’t cost you a dime over your legal fees. Trust me.”

“But how can you settle this? I can’t compromise. I never
touched this woman. Meantime, I can’t sleep at night, Counselor.”

Richard had to laugh. Wu, with his big, broad innocent Buddha smile, carried concealed weapons, knives to stick you in the back. Richard had seen him in action before, when the man had violated a patient too drugged up to testify about what had really happened when the time came. He would never forget that.

“Let me get this straight. This sick lady, Virginia Reilly, who has probably never done a thing wrong in her life, although I’m certainly going to check into that, made up a story about you for no reason and has no proof that you treated her? Was she stupid enough to pay you in cash?”

“Many of my patients pay in cash.”

“Let me guess. Because you demand it?”

“I never treated her.”

“What’s your daily planner gonna say about that? No appointment notation?”

“She made an appointment, but she never came in.”

Why oh why did all of his clients lie? Didn’t they realize he was on their side?

“She won’t have a canceled check cashed by you?”

“No.”

“No receipt?”

“I often misplace my receipt book.”

“What happened after her fucking finger fell off due to your treatment? Did she at least call to complain?”

“You offend me, Counselor.”

“And no one, not that smart-looking girl you’ve got out there in your reception area, no other waiting clients, no chauffeur or cabbie, absolutely nobody saw her or spoke with her directly about her injury.”

“Correct.”

Richard nodded. “Good.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Of course I believe you. I was only playing devil’s advocate for a moment to keep you aware that this is indeed a serious situation,
although I will have it resolved shortly. Now. Are we clear? You will not question my methods, and I will give you the result I have guaranteed?”

“I suppose I can wait another month to see if you can deliver,” Wu said.

“I will need another twenty thousand dollars. Additional fees. In cash. By Friday.”

That got Wu up on his feet. The genial smile turned poker-faced. “What? Our arrangement was for an initial five thousand, which I have already paid.”

“You’re not licensed to practice acupuncture in the state of California. The opposition will be onto that in a second. I have to work fast and hard here. That’s gonna blow your image, pal.”

Wu’s expression did not change.

“Why don’t you have a license, anyway? You have plenty of money. You seem to be well educated, but I don’t see an OMD among those certificates on your wall.”

“I am well educated. I know what I’m doing.”

“I always check on my clients’ licenses.” Perry had quickly turned up Wu’s problem.

“You are a diligent man,” said Wu, curling his lip at him as if at a stinking salmon. “Right. I passed the national exam but not the state one. I do not have much formal training in acupuncture. And there were some irregularities. But—I’m good at what I do. I’ve studied extensively, both here and in China. I view the lack of a license as an arbitrary decision made by ignorant bureaucrats. Unfortunately, I now have to deal with an unscrupulous character like you.”

“Look. Twenty-five grand total and the case goes away. The alternative is far, far worse. You could lose everything, your business especially.”

Wu dropped the calm Buddha face. “You are blackmailing me.”

Richard said with just the right touch of injured incredulity, “What? Of course I’m not doing anything of the sort. I’m requesting a supplemental legal fee. I’m cheap at the price. Think about it. By Friday. Cash. Or—”

“Or what?”

“Why, I will not be able to prevent the unfortunate working out of your own karma.”

Wu remained impassive. “I have also checked your reputation. Your record is”—he cleared his throat, English suddenly nonaccented and much less formal—“spotty, in spite of all your recent successes. You’ve had trouble with the state Bar. You lost a huge case a few years back that cost your original firm hundreds of thousands of dollars and got you fired. Now you work with one associate. You have a high profile, but few big cases. Do you carry malpractice insurance?”

“Of course I do,” Richard lied. What? Pay those shysters for the privilege of fucking up? He never intended to fuck up again.

“I’ll need to see the certificate of insurance, considering your gambling addiction,” said Wu with that meditation-music calm of his.

“Sure, sure. I’ll get around to that when I get around to it.”

“What would your associate do if he realized you were frittering away all the firm profits playing high-stakes poker in Nevada?”

For one brief second, Richard thought he had met his match.

Nah. “Pay up or close up shop,” Richard said. “Friday.”

The poker face grew dark. Wu’s face meridians must be in full flow. Richard got up, too, happy to make use of his few inches of extra height.

“Your guarantees are as slippery as your fee structure. You’ll hear from me,” Wu said after a minute. He pressed the intercom button. His sharp-eyed assistant came in. “Escort Mr. Filsen out.”

On the way back to Seaside, Filsen continued to smile. This case alone would cover his junkets for a bit, and a few bills that needed paying. He’d give Perry a couple thousand, just because he really needed Perry right now on the custody thing with Bob.

Richard and Wu were like a married couple, knowing each other’s secrets, a mutual protection society. And Wu knew Filsen delivered.

So many balls in the air, and he juggled so well. In his office, set
tling himself in his red chair, he called Remy Sorensen. A message claimed she was out of her office for two days, so he left a message for her to call him back first thing Wednesday morning. He could wait.