David Baldacci: The Sixth Man

“Of course not, but I’m not sure that in light of the circumstances—”

Michelle said, “But his defense will continue. He will be tried at some point. He is entitled to representation. And Sean is also a licensed attorney working with Ted Bergin.”

Dukes eyed Sean. “Is that right? I just thought you were both investigators.”

“I wear two hats,” said Sean, smoothly picking up on Michelle’s spur-of-the-moment tactic. “I’m a licensed PI and attorney in the Commonwealth of Virginia, where Roy will ultimately stand trial for the charges against him.”

“Do you have some evidence of that?”

Sean handed her his State Bar ID. “A call to Richmond will verify it,” he said.

She handed the card back. “So what exactly do you want to talk to Mr. Roy about?”

“Well, that’s confidential. If I told you, it would break the attorney-client privilege. That would be malpractice on my part.”

“It’s a delicate situation. Mr. Roy is a special case.”

“So we’re finding out,” interjected Michelle.

“We really need to see him,” added Sean.

“The FBI called this morning,” said Dukes.

“I’m sure they did,” said Sean. “Was it Special Agent Murdock?”

She ignored this. “He said that the murder of Ted Bergin might have something to do with his representation of Edgar Roy.”

“Do you think it does?” asked Michelle.

Dukes glanced sharply at her. “How would I know anything about that?”

“Had Bergin been to see Edgar Roy?” asked Sean.

“Of course he had. He was Roy’s legal counsel.”

“How often had he come? And when was the last time?”

“I don’t know that offhand. I’d have to check the files.”

“Could you do that?”

Her hand didn’t stray to the computer keyboard. “Why? If you’re working with him you should already know that information.”

“He came up here separately. We were going to meet with him last night and go over everything. But we obviously never got that chance.”

“I see.” Her hand still didn’t venture to the keyboard.

“Did Special Agent Murdock ask for that information?”

“I’m certainly in no position to tell you whether he did or didn’t.”

“Okay, can we see Edgar Roy now?”

“I’m really not too certain about this. I’ll have to consult with our legal counsel and get back to you.”

Sean rose and sighed heavily. “Okay, I was really hoping not to have to go down that road.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Dukes.

“Can you tell me where the local newspaper office is?”

She looked at him sharply. “Why?”

He checked his watch. “If we hurry, the paper can get the story in for the morning print edition of a federal government facility denying an accused access to his legal counsel. I would imagine the story could hit the AP wire as well, and then it’s a safe bet to be all over the Internet a few minutes after that. Just to get the facts right, do you spell Carla with a C or a K?”

Dukes stared up at him, her lips twitching and her gaze bordering on murderous. “Do you really want to do that?”

“Do you really want to break the law?”

“What law?” she snapped.

“An accused person’s Sixth Amendment right to legal counsel. That’s the Constitution, by the way. And it’s always bad to screw with the Constitution.”

“He’s right, Ms. Dukes.”

Sean and Michelle turned to see Brandon Murdock in the doorway. The FBI agent smiled.

“Enjoy your chat with Edgar Roy,” he said.

CHAPTER

7

SEAN AND MICHELLE WERE ESCORTED into a room that was blankly white. Small. One door. Three chairs, one table, all bolted to the floor. Two chairs faced the one. In front of the one was a three-inch metal ring cemented into the floor. Between the two chairs and the one was a three-foot-wide wall of four-inch polycarbonate glass that ran from the floor to the ceiling.

And then the door opened and there he was.

Sean and Michelle had seen photos of Edgar Roy, both in the newspapers and also in a file packet Ted Bergin had sent them. Sean had even seen a segment of video on the man shortly after his arrest for the murders. Nothing prepared them for seeing the man in person.

He was six foot eight and extremely lean, like a giant number two pencil. He had a golf ball for an Adam’s apple set on a long neck. His hair was dark, long, and curly, and it framed a face that was thin and not unattractive. He wore glasses. Behind the lenses were black dots for eyes, like the die cuts on a pair of dice. Sean noted the man’s slender fingers. Tufts of hair stuck out from inside his ears. He was clean-shaven.

His arms and legs were shackled and he hobbled in truncated steps as the guards led him over to the chair behind the glass and locked the shackles into the floor ring. It allowed him mobility of about six inches. Two guards stood on either side of him. They were big men, with impassive faces. They were seemingly crafted from stone to guard other people. Neither one had weapons other than telescopic metal billy clubs. These could extend out four feet and deliver crushing blows.

At the doorway were two more guards. Each one gripped pump action shotguns that had been modified to hold a Taser component that could fire a twelve-gauge projectile up to a hundred feet, delivering a twenty-second pulse of energy that would lay an NFL tackle on the ground and keep him there for a long time.

Sean and Michelle turned their attention back to Edgar Roy behind the wall of bulletproof glass. His long legs stuck out straight, the heels of his prison-issued canvas loafers kissing the wall of unbreakable glass.

“Okay,” said Sean, drawing his gaze from Roy and and eyeing the guards. “We’ll need to speak to our client alone.”

None of the four guards even moved an inch. They could’ve been statues.

Sean said, “I’m his attorney. We need some alone time, guys.”

Still no movement. Apparently the four men were immobile and deaf.

Sean licked his lips. “Okay, who’s your supervisor?” he asked the guy holding a shotgun.

The man didn’t even look at Sean.

Sean glanced at Roy. Sean wasn’t even sure he was still alive because he couldn’t see the rise and fall of his chest. He didn’t blink, didn’t twitch. His eyes just stared straight ahead, looking but apparently not registering on anything.

“Having fun yet?”

They turned to see Agent Murdock staring at them from the doorway.

“For starters, can you tell the muscle to leave the room?” said Sean, his voice rising slightly. “They don’t seem to get the whole attorney-client thing.”

“Last night you were just a PI. Today you’re a lawyer?”

“I already showed my credentials to Ms. Dukes.”

“And you authorized us to see the guy,” added Michelle.

“So I did.”

“Then can we see him?” asked Sean. “In a professional manner?”

Murdock smiled and then nodded at the guards. “Right outside the door, gentlemen. You hear anything out of the ordinary, you know what to do.”

“The guy’s manacled to the floor and there’s a wall of four-inch polycarbonate glass between us,” said Michelle. “I’m not sure there’s much he can do.”

“I wasn’t necessarily referring to the prisoner,” replied Murdock.

The door shut behind them, and Sean and Michelle were finally alone with their client.

Sean leaned forward. “Mr. Roy? I’m Sean King. This is my partner Michelle Maxwell. We’re working with Ted Bergin. I know you’ve met with him previously.”