Robin Cook - Harmful Intent

"It's $450,000," Randolph said.

Mosconi whistled through his teeth, pausing in setting out the

papers. "Who do they think they got here, Public Enemy Number One?" Neither

Randolph nor Jeffrey felt they owed him the courtesy of an answer.

Mosconi's attention returned to his paperwork, unconcerned by his client's lack of response. He'd already done an O&E, an ownership and encumbrance check, on Jeffrey and Carol's Marblehead house when bail had initially been set, securing the first bond with a lien of $50,000 on the home. The house had a documented value of $800,000 with an existing mortgage ofjust over

$300,000. "Well, isn't that convenient," he said. "I'll be able to post bond with an additional $450,000 lien against your little castle in

Marblehead. How's that?"

Jeffrey nodded. Carol shrugged.

As Mosconi began filling out the papers, he said: "Then, of course, there is the little matter of my fee, which in this case will be $45,000. I'll want that in cash."

"I don't have that kind of cash," Jeffrey said.

Mosconi held up from completing the form.

"But I'm sure you can raise it," Randolph put in.

"I suppose," Jeffrey said. Depression was setting in.

"Either yes or no," Mosconi said. "I don't do this stuff for recreation."

"I'll raise it," Jeffrey said.

"Normally I require the fee up front," Mosconi added. "But since you are a doctor..." He laughed. "Let's just say I'm accustomed to dealing with a slightly different clientele. But for you, I'll take a check. But only if you can raise the money and have it in your account by, let's say, this time tomorrow. Is that possible?"

"I don't know," Jeffrey said.

"If you don't know, then you'll have to stay in custody until you got the money," Mosconi said.

"I'll raise it," Jeffrey said. The thought of even a few nights in jail was intolerable.

"Do you have a check with you?" Mos6oni asked.

Jeffrey nodded.

Mosconi went back to filling out the form. "I hope you understand, Doctor," he said, "that I'm doing you a big favor by taking a check. My company would take a dim view, so let's just keep it between us. Now you'll have that money in your account in twenty-four hours?"

"I'll take care of it this afternoon," Jeffrey said.

"Wonderful," Mosconi said. He pushed the papers toward

Jeffrey. "Now if you two will sign this note, I'll run down to the clerk's office and settle the score."

Jeffrey signed without reading what he was signing. Carol read it carefully, then signed. Carol got Jeffrey's checkbook out of his jacket pocket and held it while Jeffrey made out a check for $45,000. Mosconi took the check and put it in his briefcase. Then he got up and sauntered to the door. "I'll be back," he said with a sly smile.

"Charming fellow," Jeffrey said. "Does he have to dress that way?"

"He is doing you a favor," Randolph said. "But it's true, you're hardly one of the lowlifes he's accustomed to dealing with. Before he gets back, I think we should talk about the presentencing investigation and what it entails."

"When do we file the appeal?" Jeffrey asked.

"Immediately," Randolph said.

"And I'm on bail until the appeal is heard?"

"Most likely," Randolph said evasively.

"Thank God for small favors," Jeffrey said.

Randolph then explained the presentencing investigation and what Jeffrey might expect from the penalty proceedings. He didn't want to see Jeffrey any more demoralized than he already was, so he was careful to emphasize the more promising aspects of the appeal. But Jeffrey's spirits remained low.-

"I have to admit I don't have a lot of faith left in this legal system,"

Jeffrey said.

"You've got to think positively," Carol said.

Jeffrey looked at his wife and began to appreciate how angry he was. Carol telling him he should think positively under the circumstances was eminently annoying. Suddenly Jeffrey realized he was angry at the system, angry at fate, angry at Carol, even angry at his attorney. At least anger was probably healthier than being depressed.

"All is in order," Mosconi said as he slipped in the door. He was waving an official-looking document. "If you would?" he said, motioning for the court officer to unhandcuff Jeffrey.

Jeffrey rubbed his wrists with relief when they were free from the shackles. What he wanted most was to get out of the courthouse. He stood up.

"I'm sure I don't have to remind you about the $45,000," Mosconi said.

"Just remember, I'm putting my ass on the line for you."

"I appreciate it," Jeffrey said, trying to sound thankful.

They left the holding room together although Michael Mosconi hurried off in the opposite direction when they got to the hall.

Jeffrey had never been so consciously appreciative of the fresh, ocean-scented air as when he stepped from the courthouse onto the brick-paved plaza. It was a bright, midspring afternoon with puffy little white clouds scudding across a faraway blue sky. The sun was warm but the air crisp. It was amazing how the threat of prison had sharpened Jeffrey's perceptions.

Randolph took his leave on the wide plaza in front of the garishly modem

Boston City Hall. "I'm sorry it turned out like this. I tried my best."

"I know," Jeffrey said. "I also know I was a lousy client and made it extra hard for you."

"We'll get right on the appeal. I'll be talking with you in the morning.

Good-bye, Carol."

Carol waved, then she and Jeffrey watched Randolph stride off toward State

Street, where he and his partners occupied an entire floor of one of the newer Boston office towers. "I don't know whether to love him or hate him,"

Jeffrey said. "I don't even know if he did a good job or not, especially since I got convicted."

"I personally don't think he was forceful enough," Carol said. She started toward the parking garage.

"Aren't you going back to work?" Jeffrey called after her. Carol worked for an investment banking firm located in the financial area. That was in the opposite direction.

"I took the day off," she said over her shoulder. She stopped when she saw that Jeffrey wasn't walking after her. "I didn't know how long rendering the verdict would take. Come on, you can give me a ride to my car."

Jeffrey caught up to her and they walked together, skirting City Hall. "How are you going to raise $45,000 in twenty-four hours?" Carol'asked, tossing her head in her characteristic way. She had fine, straight, dirty-blond hair that she wore in a fashion that caused it to constantly blow in her face.

Jeffrey felt his irritation surface again. Finances had been one of the trouble points in their marriage. Carol liked to spend money, Jeffrey liked to save it. When they'd married, Jeffrey's salary was larger by far, so it was Jeffrey's salary Carol made it her business to spend. When Carol's salary began to climb, it all went into her investment portfolio while

Jeffrey's salary was still used to pay all the expenses. Carol's rationale had been

that if she didn't work, then they would be using Jeffrey's salary for all the expenses anyway.

Jeffrey didn't answer Carol's question immediately. He realized that in this instance his anger was misdirected. He wasn't angry with her. All their old financial disputes were water under the bridge, and wondering where $45,000 in cash was to come from was a legitimate concern. What angered him was the legal system and the lawyers who ran it. How could lawyers like the district attorney or the plaintiff attorney live with themselves when they lied so much? From the depositions Jeffrey knew they did not believe their own prosecution ploys. Each of Jeffrey's trials had been an amoral process in which the opposing attorneys had allowed ends to justify dishonest means.

Jeffrey got in behind the wheel of his car. He took a deep breath to control his anger, then turned to Carol. "I plan to increase the mortgage on the Marblehead house. In fact, we should stop at the bank on the way home."