Brad Meltzer - Dead Even

Without looking up, the judge read from the complaint form that Sara had prepared. He explained that Kozlow was being charged with second-degree burglary, and he checked that an attorney for Kozlow was present. After reading the rest of the complaint to himself, the judge looked up at Sara. “Are you asking for bail?”

“We’re asking that bail be set at fifteen thousand dollars,” Sara explained. “The defendant has a long history of violent criminal activity, and-”

“Two arrests are hardly a long history,” Lake interrupted.

“I’m sorry,” Sara said. “I thought I was in the middle of saying something.”

“I understand the prosecutor’s point,” the judge said. “And I can see Mr. Kozlow’s record. Now, Mr. Lake, let’s hear the other side.”

Lake smiled smugly at Sara. “My client was arrested twice. That’s clearly not a long history. To keep it short: Mr. Kozlow has ties to this community, he’s lived here almost continuously throughout his entire life, and there isn’t a single conviction on his record. There’s absolutely no reason why bail needs to be that high.”

The judge paused for a moment, then announced, “The 180.80 date is Friday. I’m setting bail at ten thousand.”

Relieved, Sara assumed that even if Kozlow could afford Lake, it’d still take at least a few days to raise that kind of money.

Without blinking, however, Lake said, “Your Honor, my client would like to post bail.”

“Please see the clerk about that,” the judge said. He banged his gavel, and the clerk called the next case. In and out in less than five minutes.

Without saying a word, Sara turned around and walked straight out of the courtroom into the hallway. Guff and Conrad followed. “Okay, so he posted bail,” Conrad said. “What’s the crisis?”

“The crisis is Lawrence Lake. That guy’s not a dial-a-lawyer. It costs about five hundred bucks an hour to talk to him.”

“So Kozlow has some money stashed away,” Conrad said. “Happens all the time.”

“I don’t know,” Sara said, tempted to tell them about Victor. “I have a bad feeling about this. Kozlow doesn’t seem like a kingpin – so where does he get the money and influence to talk to someone like Lake?”

“I have no idea,” Conrad said, looking at his watch. “But it’s way past my bedtime, and we’re not solving this tonight. We’ll talk about it tomorrow morning.”

Standing in the middle of the hallway, Sara couldn’t let it go. “What about-”

“Go home and get it out of your mind,” Conrad said. “The workday is done.”

Before Sara could argue, Kozlow stepped out of the courtroom and brushed past her. “Sorry, Sara,” he whispered. “See you on the streets.”

“What’d you say?” Sara asked.

Without answering, Kozlow headed up the hallway.

Unwilling to run in the early morning rain, Jared got to work at eight o’clock and headed straight to the firm’s private gymnasium and basketball court, hoping that a good workout would relieve the stress caused by the previous day’s events. Located on the seventy-first floor, the private facility had been installed at the request of Thomas Wayne, whose love of basketball outweighed his partners’ hopes for an expanded library. Among the lawyers of Wayne & Portnoy, the private facility was affectionately known as “the highest court in the city,” and its three plate-glass walls provided a stunning view of downtown Manhattan.

During his half-hour run on the treadmill, Jared replayed yesterday’s conversations in his head. First Lubetsky’s, then Rose’s, then Wayne’s. When the odometer read three miles, he showered and went down to his office.

“Feeling better today?” Kathleen asked as Jared walked past her desk.

“Eh,” he shrugged. “Yourself?”

“I’m great. I’m just worried about you.” Kathleen pulled a pencil from behind her ear and wagged it at her boss. “But if you want to put yourself in a better mood, why don’t you ask me what’s going on? It’ll be worth it.”

Jared crossed his arms. “Fine. What’s going on?”

“The usual,” she replied. “Lubetsky wants to see you, Rose wants to speak to you, and a brand-new client wants to hire you.”

“Someone wants to hire me?”

“He came in about ten minutes ago and asked specifically for you. He’s waiting in the conference room.”

“Wait a minute,” Jared said. “Is this some kind of practical joke to make me feel better?”

“No joke. You wanted new clients, you got ’em. He said you came recommended by a friend. If you’d like, I’ll bring him to your office.”

“That’d be great,” Jared said, his pulse racing. “In fact, that’d be downright fantastic.”

Two minutes later, Kathleen returned to Jared’s office with a tall, gaunt, dark-haired man in tow. “Jared, this is Mr. Kozlow,” she said as she stepped into the room.

“Call me Tony,” the man said, extending a hand to Jared.

“Like the cartoon tiger,” Jared joked.

“Exactly,” Kozlow smiled. “Just like the tiger.”

“You don’t think there’s anything fishy about Kozlow having such a high-paid attorney?” Sara asked Conrad when she stopped by his office in the early afternoon.

“Not at all,” Conrad said. “It happens all the time. These mutts have money stashed in a sock drawer for just this occasion.”

“And what about the fact that his lawyer was from my old law firm? I mean, there’re thousands of firms in this city. Don’t you think it’s a little more than a coincidence that they picked mine?”

“Sara, it’s time for you to take a breath and calm down. I know you have a lot of emotion invested in this case, but when that happens, you run the risk of losing perspective. Trust me, I know exactly what you’re going through: When I started here, I wanted every single one of my cases to be front-page material. But sometimes you have to admit that all you have is a footnote that would barely make the high school newspaper.”

“So you think I’m just imagining things?”

“All I’m saying is you should stop worrying about Kozlow’s wallet and start worrying about his case. You have a grand jury coming up next Monday.”

“Not to mention four other cases to deal with,” Sara added.

“Speaking of which, how’d they go this morning?”

“The arraignments? Like last night, but faster. The drug possession and one of the shoplifters were both first-time offenders, so they walked on their own recognizance. Then I got two thousand apiece for the pickpocket and the other shoplifter.”

“I take it they had histories?”

“Almost fifty arrests between them. And the pickpocket? If you can believe it, his name is Marion.”

“Don’t make fun of ‘Marion.’ That’s John Wayne’s real name.”

Tilting her head slightly, Sara studied Conrad. “Wait a minute,” she said. “Did you just make a joke?”

“John Wayne’s never a joke, ma’am.”

Sara laughed. “Okay, I’ll let you have one. That’s fair,” she said. “But according to his record, John Wayne the Pickpocket has twenty-three prior arrests, and he swears he didn’t do any of them – which I guess at least makes him consistent. The shoplifter’s not far behind.”

“Okay, so it sounds like you can plead out the first two. As far as the others, you’re going to have to see what their lawyers say. Don’t get too caught up in them, though. Your time’s better spent preparing Kozlow’s indictment.”

“Then can I ask you one last question? What’d the judge mean by a 180.80 day?”

Conrad paused, his brow furrowed. “Didn’t they teach you anything in that law firm?”

“All I did was civil work. Now cut me some slack.”