Noel Hynd - The Sandler Inquiry

"Go ahead", said Thomas noncommittally.

"Okay," said Andrea, calming slightly.

"Augie Reid sent them to the State Detective Bureau. Nothing. Then, automatically, they went into a New York Police Department computer at One Police Plaza. From there, when nothing turned up in N.Y.C. records, they went through a computer linked to Washington. It took a couple of hours."

"And?" asked Thomas calmly.

"Nothing turned up in New York. But in that Federal computer the lights must have started flashing from here to hell and back."

"Oh, really?" asked Thomas with guarded evenness. He watched Leslie as he listened. Her position on the sofa was now subtly seductive. Or perhaps it was the angle from which he was watching her.

"I had a visitor this afternoon," said Andrea.

"A Fed."

"A what?" He'd heard it properly the first time, but wanted to be sure.

"A Fed. A pricky career Treasury Department type named Hammond. Paul Hammond. Name mean anything?"

"Nothing. Should it?"

"Secret Service" crackled Andrea as Thomas Daniels listened without replying.

"Those prints blew a fucking gasket on the Federal computer. Not only were the prints classified as to identity, but this Hammond prick was God-awful anxious to find out where I'd gotten them."

"Did you tell him?"

"No. But I might have to."

Why?"

"I told him they were from a minor piece of evidence in an article on a case I was working on. Not important at all."

"What did he say?"

"He told me I was a liar. Which I was."

"Then what?"

"Then I told him I wasn't telling him anything else. I told him I had the right to protect my source of information. He cursed my God-damned ear off and told me I'd be getting written orders from the nearest Federal court to tell everything. Then he stalked out."

Thomas put his hand slowly to his head, as if to welcome an enormous headache. He was still looking at the woman who, in some way, had begun this.

"I'd love the publicity of a court fight," she added, 'but I don't have the stomach for it. Not now. And I doubt that this is the end of this."

"No, I doubt it, too," Thomas said with resignation.

There was a pause on Andrea's end.

"Tom," she finally said, "this is my first brush with Feds and I'm not looking forward to the next one. But…" she added slowly "I did ask around a little bit!

"About what?"

"Fingerprints in that category. The classified category."

"And?"

"One gets two words of advice on any investigation involving prints like these." "Go ahead ' "Drop it!" It's more than either of us bargained for."

Thomas slowly placed the telephone back down on its hook. He could feel a thin film of sweat on his face and he felt slightly hot. He also thought he felt a sensation he'd not felt for a long time, and never in such a circumstance. Fear.

He turned to the woman in his apartment.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Really want to know?" He smiled.

"Sure" "A girl friend;' he said.

"I'm glad I didn't say anything," she said.

"I might have made her jealous."

He smiled weakly and searched uneasily for the proper words.

"Look" he said, groping.

"This is all getting very much out of control " He paused.

"If I've betrayed your trust, I'm sorry. But I've been trying to put things together on this case as best I can under the circumstances." He hesitated.

"Maybe that's not very good.

Maybe what you need is a bigger firm with more power to represent you.

Why don't we both think things over for a day or two?

Then you can decide whether or not you wish to continue with me.

And vice versa."

She peered at him. He had the distinct impression of being transparent.

"You're trying to get out of the case. Aren't you?" she said.

He wanted to say 'no. But so far, lies hadn't been successful.

"Maybe," he said, wondering how his father might have played the hand.

"All right," she said.

"You think about it. And I'll think about it.

But… you won't have to go very far to find me."

"What do you mean' "I'm not leaving here' tonight' she said politely.

"There's no way I'm stepping out on the street"' "What are you talking about?"

"I can't take the chance that your police friends have found where I was staying. Not in the dark anyway. So' she said casually, "I didn't think you'd mind if I installed myself in your study. The sofa looks comfortable"

"The final word'in lawyer-client relationships," he mumbled. But then, uneasily, he was convinced he had to agree.

The sound of the bedroom door opening made him turn over on his mattress. He was instantly awake. The light in the room was dim but there was no doubt what he was hearing.

He suddenly felt sweaty. He tried to think of something to take in his hand as a weapon. But there was nothing.

The door opened fully. He sat up quickly. In the dimness he saw her hands. They were empty.

"I'm sorry," she said very softly.

"I couldn't sleep Relieved, he leaned back against the headboard.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

. She moved forward. There was light from the other room now.

She moved to the edge of his bed and sat down. She looked at him.

Her manner was totally different now, as if she were a different woman.

No longer the toughened woman used to defending herself Now she was nine-year-old Leslie, defenseless and threatened.

"I'm worried," she said.

"What about?"

"You, "Me?" He was baffled.

"Why?"

"You're hesitating" she said.

"I'm afraid you're going to drop my case."

"Jesus," he thought to himself. Here he was half scared of her.

And now she was upset that she'd be dropped as a client.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"I've trusted you this far. I've trusted you with my story, with my claim, practically with my life. I was speaking rashly before. I was upset" Her hands were folded in her lap.

The thin nightgown, one of Andrea's, clung snugly to her legs and body.

"I don't want to start all over with someone else," she said.

"I want you to continue."

She sat sideways to him. He could see the nightgown's low neckline.

Her face in the soft light was even more delicate and alluring than it was by day. He knew he was being manipulated. She established eye-to-eye contact, but he broke away from it, looking down her trim arms to where the hands and fingers were folded in her lap.

"That telephone call earlier," she said.

"It concerned me, didn't it?"

He didn't speak.

"The truth," she said evenly.

"Yes ' "You don't trust me anymore, do you?" she asked.

"You think there's something wrong."

"I took your case for two reasons," he said softly.

"One, I needed money. Two, I believed you. I believe in simple justice under the law, you see" His smile was pained.

"You appeared with a credible, interesting Story. You had been wronged. You had documented proof and a certain amount of apparent sincerity. I felt you deserved your day in court."

"But something has changed she observed.

"Why are your fingerprints in Washington?"

For a moment her eyes were angry. But they softened quickly.

She calmed herself. Her body was motionless. The question hung in the air.

"How long have you been checking on me?" she asked.

"From the start?"

"I do background on all my clients' he said.

"You believe in simple justice and 'the honor of the individual" she said, mocking slightly.

"But with a security probe tossed in For good measure" "I'd feel a lot better if you'd answer my question" "Beneath it all, you're as cynical as the next man." She looked away.

"But you do deserve an answer."

"I'm waiting" Again there was a pause.

"My father," she said.