David Kessler - No Way Out

The other partners, looked down or away, anything to withdraw from this pragmatic way of looking at the issue. Alex realized that the question was directed at him. He met the old man’s eyes.

“It's going to be an uphill struggle.”

“How steep uphill?”

Alex thought about this for a moment.

“There’s a lot of evidence for us to refute — not to mention that we still have to overcome the effect of Claymore’s past. It won’t be easy. The problem is I can’t desanctify the victim without seeming like a bully.”

“‘Desanctify the victim’?” Levine echoed softly.

Jo Gale spoke into the silence that followed.

“A euphemism for character assassination… used by sleazy shysters who like helping rapists and wife-killers beat the rap.”

Alex smiled, not in mockery, but out of respect for Jo Gale’s feisty attitude.

“I prefer to think of it as, leveling the playing field after the DA’s finished milking the sympathy of the jury for all it’s worth.”

“Well if you can’t ‘desanctify the victim,’” asked Jo Gale, “how do you propose to level the playing field?”

“By making Claymore seem harmless.”

“And how do you propose to do that?”

Alex looked around the table to gauge the mood. It was obvious that no one else had anything more to say. This was turning into a grudge match between himself and Jo Gale.

“That’s very simple. A picture paints a thousand words.”

She rested her elbows on the oval-shaped table, and leaned forward, meeting Alex’s eyes implacably.

“And how do you propose to paint a picture for the jury without words?”

“By putting an attractive woman next to Claymore. She doesn’t even have to say a word on his behalf, just sit there looking comfortable and relaxed. That’s all it takes.”

Jo recoiled. It was an actual, physical retreat.

“You can forget it Mr. Sedaka,” said Jo. “‘Cause it ain’t gonna happen .”

Alex had to fight hard to resist the urge to smile.

Sherman, who until now had been leaning back in a desperate effort to make himself invisible, now sat forward, sensing an opportunity to earn some brownie points with the senior partners.

“There’s Andi Phoenix.”

All the other heads in the room looked round at him. But it was Jo who spoke — and her tone was audibly defensive, or rather passive-aggressive.

“Who’s Andi Phoenix?”

“She’s from our New York office. We needed some one to fill our victim litigation slot and she took the bait. She knew she wasn’t going anywhere in the Big Apple so she came out here.”

“Will she do it?” asked Webster.

“She’s hot and she’s ambitious. I know she’d just love a piece of the action. If you want a cute piece of ass to sit next to Claymore looking comfortable and keeping shtum , you won’t have any trouble convincing Andi Phoenix to take the seat.”

“I won’t do it!” said Andi, flatly.

This time they were in one of the smaller conference rooms: Andi, Paul Sherman and Alex Sedaka. When she was first summoned here, Andi thought she was going to be consulted about a civil lawsuit against a convicted criminal. It had been a rude awakening when she discovered what Sherman really wanted. In fact she had been so angered when he told her, that it would have had pacifying effect if he’d told her then and there that he was just joking and that what Alex really wanted to sleep with her.

She was standing by the window, half-looking out, half-glancing at this Laurel and Hardy pair of clowns. Alex met her eyes across the table, surprised by the ferocity of her resistance.

“Why not? It’ll be great experience for you — and a challenge.”

“Don’t patronize me. I’m past the stage when I need that sort of a challenge. And I’ve had plenty of experience back east — ”

“Oh my mistake,” said Alex, “I thought you came out here was because you hit the glass ceiling in the Big Apple.”

Andi felt like punching him in the face for the sarcasm. She felt like punching Sherman too for exposing her to it. But she contained her anger.

“That doesn’t mean I have to scramble for the dregs.”

“No one’s asking you to scramble. I’m coming to you remember. All I’m asking of you is your help for our client.”

“He’s your client not mine .”

“He’s Levine and Webster’s client,” Sherman stepped in. “That makes him your client too.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to prostitute myself defending him.”

“We’re not asking you to prostitute yourself,” said Alex. “We’re just asking you to stand up for the principle that a man is innocent until proven guilty.”

“Oh come off it Mr. Sedaka. What do you need me for? I’m a civil litigator.”

“You’ve had criminal experience,” Sherman cut in. “Working both sides of the fence.”

“There are plenty of criminal lawyers here with a lot more experience. Why do you need me?”

“Okay I’ll be honest with you,” said Alex. I don’t want you to play an active role. I just want you to sit next to him, make him look harmless. Look, you know the kind of pre-trial publicity this case is going to arouse — the sort of publicity it’s already aroused. They’ll drag in every incident from Claymore’s past. They’ve already compared him to O. J. Simpson. They’re going to savage his reputation before the case ever gets to trial. That’s what we’re up against.”

“And how do you think me sitting there next to him is going to refute all that negative pre-trial publicity?”

Alex met her eyes, trying to read her.

“When the jury sees a beautiful young women sitting next to him, it’ll melt away their prejudice. It’ll make him look like a normal, everyday human being. It’ll show them that he’s safe, harmless, inoffensive… not the monster that the prosecution is trying to make him out to be.”

“And you say you’re not asking me to prostitute myself?”

She was looking at him hard, telling him with eyes as much as her words that she wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

“Look,” he said after a long pause and a deep breath, “Claymore has an image problem with Middle America. Everyone knows about his past, how he raped white women and said it was political. How he broke out of prison and fled to Libya. But he has the right to be judged by the evidence in this case — not his past history from when he was an angry and embittered young man.”

“I don’t deny that Claymore’s got a problem,” she conceded, shifting uncomfortably. “But trying to solve his image problem by asking me to sit next to him and make him look harmless is like… like trying to use my body to sell a product.”

“What product ? We’re talking about a man’s reputation.”

“Then sell it like a reputation, with reasoned argument — not with head of bottled blonde hair and a pair of silicone-enhanced tits.”

Alex was about to argue, but again he fell silent as his face melted into a smile. He realized that there was an element of self-satire in Andi’s description of herself. Finally, he spoke again.

“Okay, you’ve nailed me. We’ve got to use Madison Avenue techniques. But you know what? We’re doing it in a worthy cause.”

“What you’re proposing goes way beyond Madison Avenue… more like Sunset Boulevard or Old Moulin Rouge.”

“All right Ms Phoenix,” said Sherman. “Let me lay it on the line for you. You’re an employee of Levine and Webster and I’m pulling rank.”