Scott Turow - The Burden of Proof

"You couldn't resist the game, Dixon, could you?" Dixon shrugged.

"Competitive instincts," he said.

"Why do you feel so 'improved by my weakness? You love to see me bend, Dixon."

They were still across from one another. But the traces of some forgotten laughter already sneaked through Dixon's expression in spite of his most disciplined efforts at suppressing it. He was wonderfully amused, tickled pink.

"t want to plead guilty," he said. He knew he had won, as he knew all along he would, if it came to this.

Stern went down the hall and returned with coffee for both of them. It was, he admitted, an opportune time to negotiate. Sennett would be reluctant to confront a motion concerning the govemment's relationship with Peter. While he would ultimately prevail, Sennett knew he'd be seriously criticized along the way. The judges would chastise him for his zeal and the defencked."

"Nevertheless."

"Listen, you scared the shit out of me with that song-anddance about search warrants. I believed you. I thought it was the best place for it."

"But you did not even take the precaution of destroying the check Clara had brought you."

"How could I? I figured the bankers would go look for it.

Or the lawyer for the estate. I had my whole routine planned when they got here: 'She wanted to open a new investment account for the kids, died before we finished the papers, boy, am I glad to see you, sign right here."

"Dixon smiled at himself.

"Yet you must have recognized some risk that I might piece it together?"

Dixon leaned over the broken desktop.

"They're your children, Stern. You may give me all your high-minded advice about turning them in, but I don't see you banging down the prosecutor's door. You'd never do it."

Dixon, with his canny, handsome face, his weary eyes, regarded his brother-in-law. "You'll do what I want. You've got to."

"You couldn't resist the game, Dixon, could you?" Dixon shrugged.

"Competitive instincts," he said.

"Why do you feel so 'improved by my weakness? You love to see me bend, Dixon."

They were still across from one another. But the traces of some forgotten laughter already sneaked through Dixon's expression in spite of his most disciplined efforts at suppressing it. He was wonderfully amused, tickled pink.

"t want to plead guilty," he said. He knew he had won, as he knew all along he would, if it came to this.

Stern went down the hall and returned with coffee for both of them. It was, he admitted, an opportune time to negotiate. Sennett would be reluctant to confront a motion concerning the govemment's relationship with Peter. While he would ultimately prevail, Sennett knew he'd be seriously criticized along the way. The judges would chastise him for his zeal and the defense bar would protest vehemently. The papers might say unpleasantlhings. Sennett would be eager to avoid the damage to his reputation.

"Sure," said Dixon, quick to agree.

"But I shall not let them stampede us in the interval.

Sennett may seek to use the proceedings concerning me as leverage against you. I shall not negotiate from weakness.

If they must hold me in contempt-"

"Fine, fine," said Dixon, "we can take adjoining cells." He handed Stern the phone.

It. was before eight; the secretaries were not in. But they were in luck. Sennett picked Up the line himself.

SENNETT agreed to see him at four. The U.S. Attorney was cagey on the phone and asked what their meeting might concern, but Stern said merely that it was imperative that they speak. Sennett was at an obvious disadvantage, too apprehensive to ask him to elaborate. The idea came to Stern while they were still speaking. That brittle unyielding edge in Sennett's voice suddenly riled him, but before placing the call, he waited to see Dixon off, and to attend to a few matters on Remo's case, scheduled to start trial a week from Tuesday. By then, it was close to noon.

"Would you have a few minutes for lunch?" He had reached her directly.

"I'm not eating," Sonny said. "The beat's Sort of got me."

She hung on the line, waiting for something, probably an explanation.

"If it's about your meeting with Stan, I won't be there."

More a personal matter, Stern responded. He would welcOme a moment of her 6me. "Could you meet me at the Morgan Towers Club in twenty minutes?"

"Oh, Sandy, I hate those private clubs. I'm dressed like a bag lady.

You know, with the heat." As always, the air conditioning in the new federal building had failed.

"I prefer a neutral locale." Away from her office, he meant. "For your sake. I promise there will be no fashion commentary."

"My sake?"

"When-we meet," he responded.

He feared at first that she would not come. He sat in one of the overstuffed c!ub chairs across from the elevators, watching the polished steel doors open and close and the business types disembarking. When Sonny arrived, she looked rosy and agitated and, as she herself was the first to acknowledge, out of place, dressed in a simple sleeveless maternity frock better for a country outing. Sonny seemed to have reached that point in her pregnancy where the premium was on merely surviving. There was a vague ungainly roll as she walked. Approaching, she removed a broad slouch hat, with a pink satin ribbon, which she had worn to protect herseft from the sun.

"Here." Stern had raised a hand in greeting. He complimented her appearance, and asked again about lunch or a drink.

"I couldn't." She put a hand on her stomach and made a face. "And I'm on the run. Come on, Sandy. What's this about?" '

On second thought, he led her down a hall to a rear cloakroom, a small space paneled in red oak, unused in the sununer. The banging of the kitchen went on behind the wall, and the vegetable and meat smells of luncheon cooking emerged through the air returns. The place had a vague secret feel.

"I apologize for this maneuvering. I suspect Sennett might eriticie you for meeting with me."

She made another face in response: Who cared? "Sonny, I am deeply grateful for your act yesterday, but it was illadvised. I am certain that the United States Attorney was displeased."

"I wouldn't call him cheerful."

"No doubt."

She was looking around for a chair. Her legs' hurt, she said-she had walked over too quickly. He found a round back card chair in a comer.

She put herself down in front of the empty coatrack and fanned herself with her hat.

Stern remained standing.

"Sandy, what's the point?"

"Go to Stan, today. Tell him you have thought the matter over and that you are prepared to proceed with full vigor."

"I'm not ready to proceed with full vigor. And today he doesn't care, anyway. He's flipped out over the fact that you found out about"-she dropped a beat-"about the informant. He had four assistants in the library' last night until two doing legal research. That's Stan. It's always this macho crap: it's okay because I say so. Then when it hits the fan he wants to call out the Marines to cover his der-riere." She stopped abruptly. He knew that as usual she felt she had spoken too freely. "I had no idea, by the way," Sonny said. "You know, who it was. I finally asked Start three days ago. Right after we got off the phone. I think it's sick."

"Sonny, I would not pretend I am not deeply chagrined, but I shall tell you in the privacy of this room that I do not believe the govemment's conduct in this matter was unlawful."

"Probably not," she said. "But it's shitty. If Start didn't have a smirk on his face, it wouldn't bother me as much.

It's not disembodied principles to him. It's a grudge."

"Sonny, there are no disembodied principles in the practice of law." He spoke with some weight. "There are human beings in every role, in every case. Personalities will always matter."