Counsel (Counsel #1) (3 page)

Jon Holmes is a tall man, lean with a strong jaw and dark brown eyes. Well groomed and tailored, he’s nothing like the stereotypical detectives I grew up watching on television. His intelligent, searching eyes and firm handshake tell me there’s much more to him than the urbane exterior he presents.

"It’s good to meet you, Adam. I’m looking forward to working with you," he says when Jodi introduces us.

"The feeling’s mutual," I return, meaning every word because something about this man tells me he’s good at what he does.

"Should we get on with it now that we've gotten the male bonding out of the way?" Jodi interjects cheekily.

"Let’s," I say, matching her tone.

While Jon unpacks several files and a laptop, Jodi pours a cup of coffee, adds cream and stirs in two sugars before handing it to him. Her actions tell me two things; they’ve spent a lot of time together, and they currently know a lot more about this case than I do.

"Adam?" she holds up the pot.

"I'll stick to water, thanks," I reply, moving to grab a bottle.

"This all starts and ends with the Cordi family," Jon announces as he boots up his laptop. "Are you familiar with them at all, Adam?"

"I know the history, but these days they're business moguls and philanthropists aren't they? I mean, rumors about their criminal activities continue, but they’ve never been substantiated."

"That's what they'd like us to believe, but every drug related crime we’ve investigated for nearly a decade’s provided some clue pointing to their involvement. We’ve just never been able to establish a direct link. Until now," he adds on a note of satisfaction and turns his laptop to face me.

"This guy was picked up on suspicion of distributing." A photograph of a behemoth of a man fills the screen.

"Luca Delgado," Jon continues, "claimed the fifty grams of cocaine found on him was for personal use… until we found a kilo hidden in a compartment in his trunk. The reality of fifteen to twenty soon had him talking. He gave up some pretty concrete leads in exchange for a plea bargain. It’s not enough to bring the brothers in, but we’re confident it will get us search warrants for two of their lieutenants’ homes. Delgado swears we’ll find what we need to incriminate the Cordis there."

"Are you sure? I’d hate to end up prosecuting only their minions."

"Delgado’s information was pretty specific, and the Cordis don't know we’ve picked him up yet. If we act quickly, we can move before they get a chance to get rid of evidence."

He brings up three male faces onscreen next. Their familial resemblance is apparent, except for their differing hair and eye color. One’s blond, one has dark brown hair, and the third man’s hair is nearly jet-black. His eyes are almost onyx, the others’ mid-brown.

"The blond, Silvio, is the eldest. He assumed control of the family business after his father’s death. Before him, the family had only been involved in petty crimes and as slum landlords fed off the less fortunate. Under Silvio, they gained control of street crime, especially prostitution and drugs. Not satisfied with small-time distribution, they began importing large quantities. The drugs sold on the streets became more pure and, consequently, more deadly."

"How the hell did they not get caught?" I ask.

"Silvio’s quite the strategist, it turns out. He implemented a hierarchy to protect himself and his brothers. First, he split the operations into two territories headed up by Joseph and Enzo. They, in turn, created geographical areas and appointed district leaders. The leaders appointed lieutenants who hired dealers. The Cordis introduced rules to ensure that no one from one area had reason to deal or associate with their counterparts in the other areas. Only the district leaders knew who was really in charge. A combination of bribery and fear kept it that way. So you can see just how effectively they managed to distance themselves from their crimes.

"While their crime organization thrived, the brothers concentrated on becoming socially acceptable. They each married women from respected families and then used their in-laws to gain entry into society.

"They all have children, but only Enzo has a son, Aleksi, who’s probably being groomed to take over one day."

"How did they finally slip up?" I ask.

"Silvio’s too smart and careful, and Enzo," he points out the brown-haired guy, "the youngest, has always looked up to Silvio. He wouldn’t step out of line. Joseph," Jon’s eyes harden as he jabs at the screen, " however, considers himself smarter than his siblings and according to Delgado, resents Silvio’s position. Well, he got over-confident," he says with a satisfied grin.

I get the strangest sense, as I look more closely at his photograph, that I know Joseph Cordi. I dismiss the notion instantly, telling myself I probably saw him at a social or fundraising event. I turn my attention back to Jon, but find it hard to completely abolish the flicker of memory of a similar, but younger face.

"The brothers became well acquainted with and, in certain cases, befriended prominent businessmen and politicians," Jon says as Jodi and I replenish drinks. "They were strong supporters of former Senator Joshua Wade’s re-election campaign some years ago."

The mention of the Wade name instantly brings me back to the table. "When Justin Wade contested and won his father’s seat, the relationship between the families strengthened with Joseph, allegedly, taking it beyond political support," Jon continues.

"How?" I ask impatiently.

"We’ve been informed that he and Justin are in business together."

"What the hell does that mean, exactly?"

"According to Delgado, Joseph’s expanded the family's street prostitution business into a sophisticated network of brothels. His allegation’s been confirmed by another source, who claims Joseph also recruited girls for clients with
very
specific tastes."

"They've targeted under-aged girls, enticing, sometimes forcing, them into prostitution," he elaborates at my raised brow.

"And how’s
Justin
involved in all of this?"

"The flagship in Joseph’s escort business is a club called Liaison. It's reputedly very exclusive. Justin Wade’s a member and, if our informant proves correct, he’s also a part owner. We’ve learned that he has a special relationship with a woman, Liaison’s most sought-after escort, with a reported nightly fee of five thousand dollars."

I’m both incredulous and disgusted by this snippet of information. "I know what you’re thinking, believe me," Jon says, reading my thoughts. "We don’t know much about her, we don’t know what she looks like, and we’ve yet to trace her."

"Surely someone could have photographed her,
followed
her?" I challenge.

"We don’t have much more than her name at this stage. That information came from a mole we managed to plant as a waitress, but she was fired before she could learn more or before she actually set eyes on this woman. We suspect Joseph had or still has one of ours in his pocket; we couldn’t risk another plant in case the investigation was blown. And as I've said, the club’s exclusive; membership’s near impossible to obtain, guests are apparently not allowed without being carefully vetted beforehand, and phones and other devices are not allowed beyond the reception area. Members comply readily, for their protection as much as the club's.

"This woman’s, apparently, an absolute knock-out, and our informant reports that she was taken off the market when Wade became an owner. She’s now his exclusive escort."

"Who
is
she?" I ask.

"Her name’s Angelique Bain."

Jon’s briefing takes three hours, at the end of which, we agree on the urgent need for search warrants for the henchmen’s properties. Jon’s confident we’ll uncover evidence that will lead to the arrest the Cordis, several more henchmen and possibly Justin. I remain skeptical about his involvement, but from what I've learned, he has some questions to answer, at the very least. Jodi and I agree to meet early on Monday morning to prepare the warrant petitions. It’s ten p.m. when we finally leave the office for the weekend.

.

.

On Sunday, I arrive at my parents’ to find Cait in the kitchen, engrossed in the newspaper. She tucks a swathe of her long, blond hair behind her right ear, providing a momentary glimpse of the area clipped close to her scalp to accommodate her cochlear implant.

Cait was born with a hearing impairment. Cochlear implants had been approved for adults by then, but research into pediatric implants had only just started. Mom and Dad, after agonizing over the risks, decided to delay surgery until it could be more widely tested. When I arrived, aged eight, Cait was six years old, already proficient in sign language and undergoing speech therapy. I learned to sign soon after, and when Cait wanted to learn lip reading, the family joined her. Some years later, when our parents felt confident that the implant procedure for children had been proven safe, Cait, by then old enough to have enough understanding of her options, adamantly refused surgery. Mom and Dad chose not to force her but hoped she’d change her mind.

In her late teens, old enough to contemplate the possibility of marriage and children, Cait chose to undergo surgery. Now, although not what would be considered normal, her hearing’s enormously improved. Cait has never, even before surgery, allowed her impairment to impede her. My sister is smart, successful and incredibly beautiful. Cait’s also the warmest, most down-to-earth person I know. She was my first true and loyal friend. She still is.

She looks up to see me watching. "Have you read this?" she asks and signs.

"No, but I can imagine the speculation." I also sign as I speak because the family still does both when in Cait’s presence. Before her surgery, our parents believed it would lessen her feelings of being different. It’s a tradition that we, including Matt, continue.

"Is Justin
really
involved?"

"I don't know."

"You must know
something
; you work for the DA’s office, for crying out loud!" she says irritably.

"I’ve only just been assigned the case, so I don’t know yet," I reply, counting down the time it takes for her to realize what I've said. Her violet-blue eyes widen, and I smile. Cait’s so predictable.

"
You’re
handling the case?" She jumps up and hurls herself at me. "I'm
so
proud of you!" she exclaims as I wrap my arms around her.

"Thanks, Sis." I kiss the top of her head. She cranes her neck to look up at me.

"Wait … you’d be prosecuting your friend?"

"I don't know yet… and there are no friends in law, only attorneys and defendants."

She rolls her eyes, making a derogatory sound as she returns to reading. "I can't believe this," she mutters.

Mom enters the kitchen just then. "My favorite sight," she proclaims at seeing us together. "Come on you two; set the table. Dinner’s nearly ready."

.

.

On my way home that night, I decide to call Kevin Stevens, a friend in the police force, to ask him to run a trace on the runaway driver.

"Sure give me the name," he replies easily.

"A. White. She's probably in her early to mid-twenties."

"That's
it
?" he asks incredulously.

"That’s it," I say, my aggravation returning.

Jodi and I spend Monday closeted away, painstakingly poring over evidence and engaging Jon in several lengthy telephone conversations. We’re scheduled to petition the court for three search warrants in the morning. Two are for Cordi street lieutenants, Nathanial Barnes and Johnny McGill. The third is for Fico Moretti, one of Joseph’s district leaders.

We don’t have enough evidence to justify search warrants for the Cordi brothers’ homes or businesses at this stage, but we intend to apply for anticipatory warrants, which allow for a search to be undertaken only once another event has occurred. They are granted in situations where police can substantiate their belief that, at a future point in time, evidence will be found in a specific location. This is called showing probable cause.

In our application, we’ll contend that evidence uncovered in the Barnes, McGill and Moretti searches would almost certainly implicate the Cordi brothers. Jon won’t, however, be able to search the Cordi premises if his teams fail to find anything incriminating in the first searches. We considered waiting for the outcome from those to obtain normal search warrants, but that thought had been fleeting. Any delay would waste valuable time and could, potentially, provide the brothers with an opportunity to destroy vital evidence.

Courts don’t grant anticipatory warrants lightly, so convincing Judge Chamberlain of the validity of our application will prove the most challenging part of our meeting.

"If anyone can do it, you can, Adam," Jodi reassures me as we leave the office.

"Thanks," I say appreciatively. "Jon and his team have worked hard to get to this point; we simply can’t let them down by failing."

Late that night, while sprawled out on my sofa watching the news, my phone rings.

"Hello Adam, it's been a long time," Lisa Delany’s sultry voice greets me. The daughter of Judge Delaney, she and I met at a charity ball and later partnered each other to a couple of social events. I haven’t seen or been in touch with her since meeting and moving in with Jaclyn.

"Lisa, how are you? It
has
been a while."

"I’ve only recently learned of your single status, Adam. Many women are overjoyed; I thought I’d get the jump on them."

I laugh lightly. "As if you're lacking suitors."

"Strange as it may seem, I
do
need a date for the Abercrombie Dinner tomorrow. My escort had to leave town unexpectedly. I’d love your company, and I’d be
ever
so grateful."

The Abercrombie Foundation funds education and supports programs that find good homes for disadvantaged and abused children. If it were any other event, I’d probably refuse, but it’s a cause close to my heart, and Lisa is one of the few socialites I’ve met whom I instantly liked. She’s attractive, intelligent, and we have good chemistry. I’m not ready to get back into a relationship, but she’s never expressed interest in anything long-term, so I don’t see any harm in accepting.

"I’d be honored, but I'm only doing this to save your reputation," I tease.

"Oh, Adam, thank you. You won't regret it, I promise," she replies, her voice laden with innuendo, which I studiously ignore. We make arrangements and chat for a short time before I excuse myself on the pretext of having an early morning start.

.

.

Two hours after we entered Judge Chamberlain’s chambers, Jodi and I emerge triumphant. He granted our request for the search warrants without too much debate but, as predicted, he made me work hard for the anticipatory warrants. In the end, though, he conceded that we have sufficient and good reason on which to base our claims.

We call Jon with the news, and he agrees to meet us back at our offices to collect the paperwork and revisit plans for the raids. My phone rings just as we enter the lobby of our building.

"Thorne," I answer, motioning for Jodi to go ahead without me.

"Adam, it's Kev."

"Hi. What have you got?"

"It seems you've been played, Counselor. I found no record of a young woman named A. White. I could give you the details for a seventy-two year old, though; I’m going to dine out on how Adam Thorne got duped!"

"Fuck you, Stevens!" I curse good-naturedly.

He laughs out loud. "Sorry man, I tried my best. There really is no record."

"Thanks anyway," I say and after a short chat, hang up.

.

.

That night, seated at our table and while Lisa’s engaged in conversation, I take the opportunity to observe the veritable who's who in attendance. I recognize Joseph Cordi the instant my eyes come to rest on a table a short distance away. He’s smiling and deep in conversation with the woman on his right, and I can tell from Jon’s photographs that the blonde, dripping with jewels on his left, is his wife. That same feeling of knowing him assails me, but I dismiss it, concentrating on what needs to be done instead.

He glances up as I stand and excuse myself to Lisa. His eyes narrow for a split second at the sight of me before, with an almost imperceptible shake of his head, he turns back to his companion.

"Where are you?" I ask Jon when he answers.

"We found what we needed to execute the anticipatory warrants, and we’re about to move in on the brothers’ homes."

"Joseph Cordi’s here at the Royale. His wife too, so I don't know who you’ll find at his place."

"Good to know, thanks," he says. "My guys already have the placed staked out; his mother-in-law’s home. We'll simply serve her the warrant. Keep your phone on."

"I’ll wait to hear from you," I tell him before ending the call.

I pretend to be oblivious to Joseph’s stare when I return to the table; I do, however, surreptitiously watch him. Some time later, when my phone vibrates, I excuse myself once more.

"We've got them!" Jon exclaims triumphantly.

"Do we have what we need?"

"We’re still going, but what we have is dynamite. We’ve already taken Silvio and Enzo into custody.

"What about Joseph?"

"I'm on my way to you now. Find some way to detain him if it looks like he’s about to bolt. I don't think anyone’s tipped him off, but I don’t want to take any chances."

"They're about to serve coffee. You want me to go back in or wait for you in the lobby? "

"Wait in the lobby, we’ll be there soon."

Joseph’s still holding court as I whisper a request for Lisa to follow me. Out of earshot, I apologize and explain what’s happening. "I'll be preoccupied for some time, but I could arrange for someone to take you home," I offer.

"I understand, Adam, but I’d prefer to wait. If it looks like you can't get away, or if it takes too long, I'll call a cab," she says. I thank her for understanding before escorting her back to the table. While waiting for Jon, I call Jodi and arrange to meet in the office at seven a.m.

He calls soon after. "We're here," he announces without preamble.

"I'm at the entrance to the ballroom," I tell him, watching Joseph lean in to speak to his wife. Jon arrives moments later and stops beside me. "I'll lead the way. He’s two tables down from mine at three o'clock, " I say, walking off.

Joseph looks up. He pales at the sight of Jon and his companions, but his expression, otherwise, remains unaltered. He turns to rapidly converse with his wife then gets up, straightens his jacket and walks to meet Jon. You have to give it to the guy; he has balls. He hasn’t made a run for it; he’s tried, instead, to orchestrate the nature of his arrest. Jon's having none of it; he lays his hands firmly on Joseph’s shoulder and reads him his rights before handing him over to his colleagues.

People at surrounding tables are stunned into silence, but Joseph ignores their gaping stares. He turns to me with baleful eyes. "See you in court,
Counselor
," he sneers. I choose not to respond.

With Joseph safely on his way to the precinct, Jon and I walk out to meet the media to make an impromptu statement. We’d planned on making a formal announcement in the morning, but with reporters covering the charity event having witnessed the arrest, we have no option but to make a statement.

I tap the microphone on the hastily erected lectern to call for quiet. "I’ll make a short statement, then Senior Detective Holmes and I will take questions.

"Tonight, Boston police searched the homes of Silvio, Joseph and Enzo Cordi and three of their associates. Several arrests have been made as a result of evidence found. Charges will be laid within the mandatory timeframe, and we'll provide details of those when appropriate. We'll take one question at a time, please."

Jon and I are subjected to a barrage of questions, including a number about Justin’s alleged involvement. We shut those down immediately, and shortly after, I call an end.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. As you can see, we have a lot of work to do," I announce before we retreat.

"I hate those bastards nearly as much as I hate criminals," Jon mutters as soon as we’re out of earshot.

"An unwelcome, but sometimes necessary and useful part of what we do," I commiserate.

.

.

"I apologize for being preoccupied. I’m sure it wasn’t what you expected when you invited me," I say as I pull up outside Lisa’s apartment.

"My expectations haven’t been dashed
yet
, Adam," she replies seductively. I smile, but choose not to respond, unsure whether or not I should accept her blatant overture.

She breaks the short, somewhat awkward silence with an affected sigh. "You're probably going to be very busy aren’t you?"

"Given tonight’s events, I don't anticipate having much free time in the foreseeable future."

"Then we should make the most of the night," she pointedly suggests.

After a moment’s contemplation, I turn off the engine and face her.

"Invite me up."