Brad Meltzer - Dead Even

“They’re really going to fire you?”

“That’s what he said,” Jared replied. “I know it might hurt you if you lose, but by then, your office will realize what a thorough prosecutor you are. They’re not going to get rid of you just because you lost your first case.”

“Who said I’m going to lose?” Sara asked with a strained smile.

Jared breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, honey. I really appreciate what you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything. If you’re on the opposite side, I’m still going to come at you with guns blazing.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less.”

Sara got up from the sofa and followed her husband out of the room. As they walked toward the bedroom, Sara asked, “So if Kozlow’s not paying his own bill, who’s signing the check?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Jared said defensively as he entered the bedroom. “You’re the enemy.”

“Uh-oh, here we go,” Sara said. “Now the real battle begins.”

Leaning back in his seat and staring at the small black receiver on his desk, Rafferty smiled. “Well?”

“Sounds like round one goes to our boy,” the other man said as he took off his headphones. “He really knows how to pull her strings.”

“That’s why we picked him,” Rafferty said. “Now we just have to hope he can do the same thing in court.”

“And if he can’t?”

“I’m not entertaining that thought.”

“But Kozlow said-”

“Don’t even bring him up. I should put him through a wall for what he did.”

“And I’m sure you would – except for the small fact that he’d rip your head off first.”

Rafferty ignored the comment. “Don’t let him intimidate you. He was smart to go with the burglary idea, but that doesn’t solve our problems. Until Kozlow wins, we’re all in trouble. So regardless of what I have to do, he’s going to win.”

At a quarter to two in the morning, Jared was lying awake in bed. In the past hour, he had dozed off four times. But each time, just as he was about to lose consciousness, just as he was about to forget it all, he was jolted awake. And in that single moment, it all came back again. Each time, he instinctively turned to his wife. He watched the rise and fall of her chest to make sure she was breathing. That was all he cared about. As long as she was safe, he could handle the rest.

By seven o’clock Wednesday morning, Jared was standing on the subway platform, waiting for the train. Avoiding the edge of the platform, he spent most of his time checking over his shoulder and scanning the crowd. The man wearing the blue shirt and red tie looked unusually suspicious. So did the man wearing the olive suit. So did the woman reading the newspaper and the younger man with the headphones. Backing away from the crowd of strangers, Jared tried not to let his fears get the best of him. But as new commuters filled the platform, he found himself jumping at every random glance. Finally, he turned around, left the station, and hailed a cab.

By the time he arrived at the office, it was almost seven-thirty. Between the break-in, the bad night’s sleep, and the morning commute, he was mentally and physically drained. His eyes were tired, his shoulders sagged, and his stomach was still churning from lying to Sara. Without a doubt, he was in no shape to get an early start on the day. But if he was going to protect his wife, he knew he had a great deal of work ahead of him. Facing someone like Sara meant that every detail had to be accounted for. As he had learned from his very first appearance in court, a good attorney could take even the smallest opening and turn it into a victory.

Heading up the hallway, though, Jared wasn’t thinking about trial strategies or witness preparation or jury selection. Instead, he was still trying to recall every possible circumstance that required a lawyer to recuse himself from a case. When he reached Kathleen’s desk, he forced a smile.

“Good morning,” Kathleen said. “Starting early today?”

“Yeah,” Jared said. “Clear my calendar for the rest of the month. This Kozlow case just became top priority.”

“Why? It’s just a burglary.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not important,” he snapped.

“Take it easy. I’m only asking a question.”

Jared leaned on Kathleen’s desk and lowered his voice. “I don’t want anyone to know this, but the prosecutor on the case is Sara.”

“You’re facing your wife?” Kathleen blurted. Jared scowled.

“Believe me, I’d love to get off the case. That’s why I need your help. As far as I can figure, having a husband and wife against each other has to present some sort of conflict-of-interest problem. Ethically, it seems to be a minefield for everyone involved, especially the client. So I want you to get a legal assistant to go through the rules of professional conduct and double-check whether this sort of arrangement is prohibited.”

“Why not just take her on? We’ll bury her.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” Jared warned.

Kathleen stopped writing and looked up at her boss. “Take it easy, it’s a joke. I’ll let you know what they find.”

Turning toward his office, Jared took a deep breath. Maybe this will actually work out. As he opened the door, he heard someone say, “Hiya, boss. What’s on the agenda today?”

Kozlow was stretched out on the chair in the corner of Jared’s office. His feet were propped up on the wastebasket.

“How’d you get in here?” Jared asked, annoyed.

“Ancient Chinese secret,” Kozlow said. “I wouldn’t mention it to Kathleen, though. She strikes me as the type who hates surprises.”

Walking over to the chair, Jared stared down at his new client. “Let me tell you one thing,” he said as he pushed Kozlow’s feet from the wastebasket. “I know you were the ones who broke into my house.”

“Your house got broken into?” Kozlow asked innocently.

“Don’t be a smart-ass,” Jared warned.

Kozlow shot up out of his seat, grabbed Jared by his tie, and dragged him forward. “Then don’t use that tone with me,” Kozlow shot back. He held on to Jared’s tie with a tight grip. “Do you understand?”

Jared nodded, shocked by the outburst.

“You have a job to do, and we want to make sure you do it. Don’t take it personally.”

“Here’s what I want,” Sara said, sitting at her desk as Guff took notes. “First, I want you to find out if a husband and wife can even face each other in court. That stinks more than a truckload of manure, so if you can find anything that says one of us has to recuse ourselves, maybe Jared will drop the case. Second, I want-”

“You’re scared of facing him, aren’t you?” Guff asked.

“Who, Jared? Not a chance. Why? Do I look scared?”

“Forget I even asked. Now, what else did you want?”

“I may be a little nervous, but I don’t think I’m scared.”

“Okay, I got it. You’re not scared.”

“I’m serious. It won’t affect me,” Sara insisted. When Guff didn’t reply, she added, “What do you expect me to say? Of course I’m scared.”

“Why? Just because he’s your husband?”

“There’s that, but there’s also the fact that things have a way of working out for Jared. They just fall into place for him.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Let me put it to you this way: During our third year of law school, we took a class on the legal aspects of the American presidency. On the first day of class, the professor asked everyone in the lecture hall to stand up. Then, when everyone in this huge room was standing, he said, ‘Anyone who’s female, sit down. Anyone who was not born in the United States, sit down. Anyone who’s five-eleven or shorter, sit down.’ And one by one, the whole room started sitting down. When he was done with his list of questions, the only person still standing was Jared. And then the professor said, ‘This is the only person in this group who, except for the age requirement, is qualified to be president.’”