Brad Meltzer - Dead Even

Before Kathleen could respond, Jared’s phone rang.

“Jared Lynch,” he answered. “Yeah. No. Bring him up.” He hung up the phone and ran his hand through his neatly trimmed hair. “Ready or not, here comes Hartley.”

“And you don’t have jack,” Kathleen added.

“And I don’t have jack.”

As she headed next door to 100 Centre Street, Sara struggled to match Guff’s breakneck pace. Dodging through the stream of lawyers who regularly crisscrossed between the two buildings, Guff explained, “Not only is this where most of the courtrooms are, this is also the home of ECAB.”

“ E -CAB?” Sara asked.

“Don’t worry, you’ll see.” Guff walked in the front entrance of the building. Once past security, they headed straight for the elevators. The elevator doors were about to close when someone jammed an arm between them. The doors opened wide and a tall man with pepper-gray hair and a military-style crew cut gave Sara a cursory glance and stepped inside.

“Good to see you, Victor,” Guff said.

“Mmm,” Victor said coldly. With a freshly pressed dark-blue suit and a perfectly knotted red-and-navy Hermès tie, Victor cut an imposing figure.

Hoping to break the tension, Guff tried again. “Victor, I want you to meet Sara Tate. Sara – this is Victor Stockwell.” Sara and Victor nodded to each other. “Sara just started with us. I’m taking her to ECAB to show her the ropes.”

“Better show them quick,” Victor said. “As of now, they’re letting sixty people go.”

“Sixty?” Sara asked as the elevator doors opened on the second floor.

Sara and Guff followed Victor out of the elevator and into the middle of the hallway. “Where’d you get that number?” Guff asked.

“From Elaine,” Victor said, referring to the district attorney’s secretary. “Although that includes all staff, not just lawyers.” He looked at Sara. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t unpack my boxes just yet. Rookies die first.”

“Thanks,” Sara said, unnerved by Victor’s warning.

“There’s no way to sugarcoat it,” Victor said. As he headed up the hallway, he added, “See you in there later.”

When Victor was out of earshot, Sara said, “How long has he been captain of the cheerleaders?”

“Don’t take it personally – that’s just the way he is,” Guff said. “He’s a former marine, so he’s always hard on the new recruits. It makes him feel like he’s still in the military.”

“Any chance he’ll be fired instead of me?” Sara asked.

“Not one in a grillion. Victor’s probably the best prosecutor in our office, if not the entire state.”

“Mr. Tough Guy with the dark eyes? Juries buy it from him?”

“He may be a stone-cold hard-ass, but they adore him in the courtroom,” Guff said. “Juries love him, witnesses love him, judges eat out of his hands. It’s really incredible.”

“Why?”

“He’s brutally honest,” Guff said flatly. “Too many lawyers bullshit around, throwing everything at the wall just to see what sticks. Victor barrels forward only with the evidence he has – nothing more, nothing less. If he hasn’t proven a point, he admits it immediately; if he has proven something, he doesn’t rub your face in it. People are so shocked by the honesty, they fall in love. He may be rough around the edges, but for almost twenty years he’s been a master at his game.”

“Really that good, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, he’s the best,” Guff said. He opened the door marked ECAB. “Welcome to the Early Case Assessment Bureau,” Guff said as they walked through a reception area. Waving hello to the secretary, Guff headed into one of the many offices in the back of the room. He led Sara in, then closed the door behind them.

“So this is where everyone gets their cases?” Sara asked.

“Exactly,” Guff said, taking a seat behind the desk. “Although no one’s ever heard of it, this is the heart of the entire district attorney’s office. Almost every crime in the city – 125,000 cases a year – comes through this office. When an arrest is made, the officer fills out a booking sheet explaining why he arrested the defendant. Every day, those sheets are sent here, where the ECAB supervisor – one of the senior ADAs – assigns those cases to you and the rest of the ADAs.

“He doesn’t assign them randomly, though. It’s done by experience – the more experience you have, the better the cases you get. But if this is your first week on the job, you’ll probably get a boring little case no one cares about.”

“At least I’ll have a case,” Sara said. “That’s a start.”

“But it’s not enough,” Guff said. “Anyone can get a case. In New York City, there’s so much shit going on, finding a crime is like finding a woman: They’re on every block in town, but you have to work hard to find one that’s worthwhile.”

“So how do I get a good case?”

“That’s the magic question. And quite honestly, it’s one of the best-kept secrets of the office,” Guff explained, as Sara listened intently. “To do it, you have to sidestep ECAB and find someone who’ll trust you with a case before it gets to this office.”

“Who’s going to trust a new recruit with a case?” Sara asked.

“Therein lies the problem,” Guff admitted. “Sometimes, if the arresting officer really cares about the case – for example, if his partner was injured by the criminal – he’ll avoid ECAB and deliver the case personally to the ADA of his choice. Or a judge might see a case he likes and handpick an ADA for it.”

“And that’s completely legal?”

“It’s the office’s greatest conspiracy, but it’s also the way the system has to operate. Winning the biggest cases is what keeps people’s faith in the system. And that faith is the best deterrent to crime.”

“That’s a stirring speech, but where am I going to find a cop or a judge who’ll give me a case?”

“You won’t,” Guff said. “At your level, the only person who’ll help you is the ECAB receptionist – the queen bee herself. She gets all the booking sheets from the precincts. Then she takes each sheet, staples it to the requisite DA’s office form, and delivers those to the ECAB supervisor. But, as only a few people know, if you’re really nice to her, she may pull out one of the good cases before it goes to the supervisor.”

“Is that kosher?” Sara asked.

“I don’t know if it’s Hebrew National, but that’s the way it works.”

“So you think that’s my best option?”

“Without a doubt. If you can get a case and take it to trial, the higher-ups will know you’re not here to play around. And while I’m too low on the totem pole to get a judge or a detective to trust you with a case, I can show you how to get a winner through ECAB. Sweet-talk the receptionist and she’ll slip you a case. Then all you have to do is win it.”

A slow grin crept up Sara’s cheeks.

“Seven hundred thousand dollars?” Jared asked in disbelief. “Where do you come up with a number like that?” Although he had known Hartley was going to ask for a large dollar amount to settle the case, he’d never expected it to be that high. Even if Hartley was overreaching in the hope that the settlement would come out at half that amount, three hundred fifty thousand was still almost double what Jared’s client was willing to pay.

“C’mon,” Hartley said, brushing his hand over his thin, graying hair. “That number’s not completely ridiculous.”

“Hartley, if I bring back a number like that, they’ll slaughter me. Even you know that’s an absurd amount.”

“What can I say? We have a strong case here. If our number’s so crazy, make me a counteroffer.”