Brad Meltzer - Dead Even

“Conrad, this is Sara Tate.”

Sara reached out to shake his hand. “Good to meet you.”

“Please, both of you, have a seat,” Conrad said, sinking into his own chair.

“Sara, this is every criminal’s recurring nightmare.”

“So I hear,” Sara said. “Guff tells me you have quite the workload.”

“I don’t complain about it, and I don’t apologize for it,” Conrad said, leaning back. “When it comes to the criminal justice system, America may be in love with high-priced defense attorneys, but as far as I’m concerned, only one side isn’t going to hell.”

“And that’s us?” Sara offered.

“Of course it’s us. Every time we win a case, we’re taking a criminal off the street. It sounds corny, but that means we’re personally making things safer for you and for the rest of the people in this city. That’s the only reason to do it.” Folding his hands behind his head, Conrad added, “So tell me, Sara, why’d you leave law firm life? You must’ve given up a six-figure salary to come here.”

“Who cares about my salary? I thought you were going to help me work on my case.”

“I will,” Conrad said. “After you answer the question. Now why’d you leave law firm life?”

“Well, let me put it this way: money – great; work – terrible. In my six years there, I participated in only two trials. The rest of my time was spent in the library, doing discovery and drafting motions.”

“So you just got sick of it and decided to come on over to the good guys?”

“Not exactly. I wasn’t thrilled with firm life, but I was going to be up for partner in the next year or two. And since that meant my investment in misery was about to pay off, I figured I’d stick around. Anyway, to make an immensely pathetic and long story short, I went for my biannual review, and they told me that I wasn’t on the partner track. According to them, I didn’t have what it took to make it in their firm.”

“But you weren’t fired for that.”

“No. I was fired when…” Sara paused. “How did you know I was fired?”

“This is my ninth year in this office,” Conrad said pointedly. “I have friends at every firm in this city – including yours.”

“You checked up on me?”

“Look, Guff asked me to help you out. For some reason he likes you. But if I’m going to teach someone the ropes, you better believe I want to know what they’re made of first.”

“Then why’d you ask me a question you knew the answer to?”

“To see if you’d lie,” Conrad said flatly. “But I still want to know why you got fired.”

“If you know so many people, how come you don’t know the answer?” Sara asked.

Conrad smiled. “They said you liked to fight.”

“Oh, she likes to fight,” Guff said.

“And to answer your question,” Conrad added, “maybe I want to hear your side of the story.”

“Then how about we save that for another day?” Sara asked. “I’ve already met my embarrassment quota.”

“Fair enough,” Conrad said. “Now let’s talk about this problem you’re having. You’re wondering what to do with the case.”

“I know what to do with it – I have to prosecute it. I just don’t know if Victor’s going to let me.”

“If Victor and Evelyn both know you have it, and they still haven’t asked for it back, the case is yours. Like it or not, you’re stuck with it.”

“Do you think Victor’s going to take it out on me?”

“He’ll be pissed. I wouldn’t worry about it, though. All the supervisors are territorial.”

“If you say so,” Sara said, still wondering why the case had been marked for Victor.

“What about the fact that the case is a loser?” Guff asked. “Do you think it’s too small to save her job?”

“It may be a loser, but it’s the only thing I’ve got,” Sara said.

“That’s exactly right,” Conrad agreed. “And if you plan to impress this office, something is always better than nothing.” He got up from his seat and walked toward the door. “Now let’s get out of here.”

“It’s time to teach you how to fight crime,” Guff said.

“Do I need to bring my cape and utility belt?” Sara asked Conrad.

“Excuse me?” Conrad asked.

“Forget it,” Sara replied. As she followed Conrad to the door, she added, “Where are we going?”

“Back to ECAB,” Conrad said. Looking down at Sara’s hand, he continued, “By the way, let me give you another piece of advice: Lose the wedding ring.”

“What?”

“You heard me: Lose the ring. Now that you’re a prosecutor, you’re going to become enemies with some bad people. The less those people know about you, the better. And believe me, any piece of information you give the other side – no matter how small it is – they’ll find some way to use it against you.”

Walking back to his office after grabbing a candy bar in the firm’s cafeteria, Jared couldn’t wait for the day to end. From Hartley to Lubetsky to Rose, his entire afternoon had been a blur of professional hostility. As he wove his way through the serpentine cherry-paneled hallway, Jared did his best to forget his recent liability and instead thought about his most treasured asset: Sara, the one person who could always help him put things in perspective. He thought about what she would’ve said to Rose and laughed to himself. She’d never take that kind of abuse. When Rose was done with the attack, she’d rip him apart. He’d regret ever opening his mouth. Indeed, that’s what Jared loved about her. She did what he couldn’t. If Jared satisfied her need for predictability and organization, she satisfied his need for whimsy and spontaneity. Slowly, surely, Jared was able to relax again. That is, until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“May I speak with you privately for a moment, please?” Thomas Wayne said, motioning to his office. Thomas Wayne was a founding partner of Wayne & Portnoy, and it was a rarity for anyone under the level of partner to have a private word with him. At six foot two, Wayne towered over most of his employees, which had led to the long-running rumor that the firm never hired anyone who was taller than Mr. Wayne himself. Naturally, the rumor was untrue, but Wayne enjoyed the mystique of it and therefore never quashed it. In Wayne’s eyes, rumors like that were what legends were made of – and if he’d planned to be anything, Thomas Wayne had always planned to be a legend.

“I hear it’s been a rough day,” Wayne said as he closed the door to his office.

“It certainly hasn’t been my best,” Jared responded.

“That may be the case,” Wayne said, taking a seat behind his large, but otherwise understated, walnut desk. “But days like this are not what built this firm. You have to understand, Jared, this firm was built with good, hard, roll-up-your-sleeves-”

“I understand what you’re saying, sir,” Jared interrupted. “But I have to be honest with you – Rose Microsystems may’ve paid a large sum of money, but I truly believe we saved them from a far worse alternative. No matter how much they kick and scream, I stand behind my work and its result.”

“Jared, have you ever heard of Percy Foreman?”

“The name sounds familiar, but I don’t know who-”

“Percy Foreman defended James Earl Ray when he killed Martin Luther King, Jr. And regardless of what you think of the moral issues, Percy was one of the greatest defense attorneys of all time. At one point in his career, he was defending a wealthy socialite who was accused of killing her husband. To take the case, Percy charged her five million dollars. Five million . Even by today’s standards, that’s obscene. But the woman paid, and Percy went to work. Throughout the trial, he dodged and slithered and cajoled his way out of every argument. And in the end, he won her a verdict of not guilty. But the press – they couldn’t get over the fact that this woman was charged those exorbitant legal fees. So when they got Percy on the courthouse steps, they asked him why he charged five million dollars. And with a straight face, Percy looked out at the crowd and said he charged her that amount because that was all she had .”