Counsel (Counsel #1) (4 page)

The table’s littered with files, laptops, and empty cups. Boxes of material we still have to sift through are piled high in a corner.

Jon gets up and arches his back. "How about a ten-minute break?" he suggests.

"I need to stretch my legs, I think I'll wander downstairs for a decent coffee. Can I get either of you anything?" I ask.

"Let’s
all
go and get some lunch, bring it back and keep working," Jodi counters.

"Shit, is that the time?" I exclaim when checking my watch. Jodi and I have been at it for close to six hours. Jon joined us three hours ago, but we still have a veritable mountain of information to sort through. It’s a tedious process, but our spirits are buoyed by what we’ve already uncovered.

Jon’s team really hit pay dirt last night. At first, their searches proved fruitless, but things changed, thanks to the persistence and good instincts of a young detective, who spotted what appeared to be a discrepancy in the length of Silvio’s basement when compared to that of the house. Returning to Silvio’s study where the basement appeared to end, she uncovered a cleverly concealed hinged section in the bookcase. Behind that and down some stairs she found a room housing computers, documents, and weapons; the smoking gun we were hoping for. Once tipped off, the teams at Joseph and Enzo’s homes made easy work of their searches. Without that rookie’s tenacity, we would probably not have been able to arrest the Cordis.

We hurry over lunch and, after a comfort break, get back to sifting through and meticulously cataloging evidence. My blood boils at what I’ve just found. It’s a list of female sex workers, their attributes recorded like one would expect livestock to be listed at auction. The youngest is barely eighteen, but it’s the press clipping in the same folder that sets my senses on high alert. I don't speak or read Spanish, but I recognize the word secuestrar. It means to kidnap and the victim’s name, I can tell from the caption, is Maria Riviera. She looks to be in her early to mid teens.

"Jodi, do we have anyone fluent in Spanish? I ask.

"Gracia Martinez. Why?"

I hand over the clipping. "Can you get her up here to translate this, please?"

Jodi returns with a middle-aged woman in tow. "Hello, Gracia, we're grateful for your help," I greet her when she’s been introduced. "Could you please read the article out loud?"

"Daughter of Millionaire Kidnapped," she starts hesitantly and then, at my encouraging smile, continues more confidently. "Maria Riviera, younger daughter of Estaban Riviera, real estate tycoon, was abducted from outside her school two days ago. Her parents have made an impassioned plea for information from the public and are offering a reward of five million pesos for any clue leading to her return."

The rest of the article concludes that abductions are a growing problem, usually closely followed by a ransom demand. Police remain puzzled as to why one hasn’t been made in Maria’s case.

After Gracia leaves, I return to the list of sex workers’ names, hoping to find some clue establishing whether or not Maria ended up working for Joseph. I don’t, but I can’t shake the feeling that he’s involved.

By late afternoon, we’re satisfied that we have sufficient evidence to lay charges. All six arrested will be charged with drug trafficking, but Joseph is the only one who, at this stage, will also be charged with prostitution-related crimes. The arrests and laying of charges signal only the start of this case for Jodi and me. While Jon continues investigating, we face the enormous and unenviable task of documenting the mountain of evidence seized, initiating further investigations where we believe necessary, and then preparing the cases for trial. We’ll definitely need the help Bristly offered.

Jon leaves to formally lay charges before the forty-eight-hour deadline expires, and as Jodi and I continue working in quiet companionship, I marvel, yet again, at how effortlessly we've slipped into an effective working relationship.

"Adam, look at this," she suddenly exclaims, pushing a document under my nose. It lists the owners and directors of one of Joseph’s many companies. "Fidelity Properties buys, develops, then sells commercial real estate," she says, pointing to a particular section. Justin Wade’s listed as owning a thirty percent share of the company. She produces another document and again highlights a specific line, which lists Liaison, the gentlemen’s club Jon had referred to, as being owned by Fidelity.

I'd desperately been hoping that the allegations against Justin would prove to be unfounded, yet here it is in black and white. Just how dirty his hands are remains unknown, but what we’ve just uncovered is enough to bring him in for questioning.

"You should know that Justin Wade and I were college friends. The DA already knows, but I feel you should also be aware of the facts," I tell Jodi.

She places a reassuring hand on my arm. "I don’t doubt your integrity…
at all
if that’s what you’re concerned about. If Wade is involved, I know you'll prosecute him as you would anyone else; but I hope, for the sake of your friendship, that this turns out to be a mistake, Adam."

"Thanks, Jodi," I respond gratefully.

We sort through the rest of the box together and uncover a detailed list of Liaison’s members. Some of the names astound me; respected members of Boston's society, some old enough to be grandfathers, for fuck sake. We also find a letter from Joseph to Justin, referring to an agreement for Angelique Bain’s exclusive services. We find no trace of the actual agreement, however, but I have no doubt it exists. I still don’t understand why Justin would need to pay for female companionship, sexual or otherwise, when he could have the pick of any woman in Boston and beyond. And why would he get involved in anything criminal to do so? This woman must be something else; I can’t wait to find out what makes her so special.

Back in my office, I call Jon with an update and to advise that we have sufficient evidence to question and most likely charge Justin under Chapter two-seventy-two, sections seven, twelve and twenty-four of the Commonwealth’s prostitution laws. He calls back later to advise that the Cordis and their henchmen have been formally charged and adds that he’ll be leaving for Justin’s office shortly.

At home, later that evening, I receive a text message, which simply reads,
The rooftop, six-thirty p.m. tomorrow.
Despite the unrecognizable number and lack of signature, I immediately know who it's from. I now also know that Justin’s been taken in. I choose not to respond; it can wait until tomorrow, I decide.

.

.

I arrive at the rooftop of our Harvard dorm building where we’d snuck up to on graduation night to drink champagne. Tom’s already waiting, and after a rather awkward greeting, he says it’s good to see me. I make some indecipherable sound because his invitation, I know, was not motivated by a desire to be social.

"How's Cait," he asks, reminding me of the brief time he dated my sister. They’d, thankfully, stopped seeing each other shortly after I threatened him with bodily harm.

"She's well; happily married."

"That’s great," he responds with genuine pleasure before we lapse into another awkward silence.

"Why have you asked me here, Tom?" I finally ask.

"What, no stroll down memory lane?" he counters with a wry chuckle.

"It's been years since we've seen or spoken to other each. I think that says everything about how interested either of us are in reminiscing, don’t you?"

"We were good friends once, Adam. I hope we still are because one of us, as you know, is in trouble. Justin’s innocent."

"Tom, you should stop before you say something to jeopardize Justin’s case. It would be unwise of you as his friend, and if you're acting as his attorney, you should arrange for an official meeting."

He narrows his eyes. "Justin’s career could be ruined. He’s worked too hard …"

"He should have considered that before willingly becoming involved with criminals," I interject.

"So,
this
is him; the bastard I’ve heard about?" he asks.

"I make no excuses for being good at what I do.
I've
worked hard at that."

"So Justin be damned?" he challenges.

"He’s no innocent bystander, Tom. He
knew
what he was getting himself into."

"Do you hear yourself? He’s your friend."

"You know the law,
Justin
knows the law. What would you do…or better still, what would you have
me
do?"

"Recuse yourself," he says without hesitation. I turn away.

"It's the right thing to do…" He calls out.

"The
right
thing to do is to uphold the law," I reply, slamming the door to the fire escape.

I take the long way home, wanting time to clear my thoughts. Our conversation didn’t really surprise me. I anticipated an attempt to trade on our relationship because I always felt that, at some point, either one or both Justin and Tom would expect something in return for their friendship. I'm just not prepared to do what they’re asking.

"Your Honor, my client is innocent," Tom pronounces for the third time since taking to his feet.

We’re at Justin’s arraignment hearing, which, essentially, provides an opportunity for him to be fully informed of the charges he’s facing and to advise him of his constitutional rights, and where, despite it not being deemed mandatory, he’ll have the first opportunity to enter a plea. He’s facing three charges; namely, receiving support from or sharing in the earnings of prostitution, procuring persons and enticing persons to enter a place of prostitution, and keeping a house of ill fame. If convicted, he faces two to seven years’ imprisonment.

Today, the court will decide whether he’ll be released on bail or remanded into custody. After this hearing, his case proceeds to pre-trial conference, then several other hearings before proceeding to trial. Tom will have ample opportunity, at the appropriate time, to plead his client's case. The only reason, I believe, Judge Harrison hasn't called him to account for starting his defense early is out of deference to a member of the Massachusetts Senate appearing before her.

"Given my client's position, reputation and standing in the community, I submit that he does
not
pose a flight risk. Senator Wade intends to stay in Boston, prove his innocence and protect his reputation. For these reasons, we ask that our client be released on bail, Your Honor," he says, finally getting to the point.

Judge Harrison turns to me. "Mr. Thorne, does the Commonwealth have any objections?"

"No objections, Your Honor," I reply without hesitation.

"Bail is set at two million dollars," Judge Harrison announces before elaborating on the conditions of bail.

Justin’s sat stoically throughout the hearing. He hasn’t spoken, even to Tom, and he hasn’t acknowledged me. I have no idea whether he shares Tom’s expectation that I recuse myself, but his demeanor today has shown that he’s either not ready or doesn’t wish to acknowledge or interact with me. Either way, I’ve decided to take my lead from him. I’m determined to treat him as I would any other defendant, but I can’t deny the regret I feel at seeing him in this position. My sadness isn’t for the man accused of a crime, but for the man he once was, the good he could have done for our community and for the friendship we once shared.

"Are you all right?" Jodi asks solicitously. I give her a reassuring smile.

"Yes, thanks. That went just as predicted."

"It did, except for defense counsel’s rather
unique
approach," she adds dryly.

"Tom’s always had a flair for the dramatic. He’s a close friend of Justin’s and also attended Harvard." She raises an astonished brow at my admission.

"Well, that makes it even more interesting. I'm sorry your friendships will be tested in this way, Adam."

"It is what it is," I say, ushering her out.

Later, back at the office, she pops her head in to say that Bristly’s confirmed that Tess and Neil Forbes have been made available to help document evidence.

"Do you want me to brief them or will you?" she asks.

"Would you mind? I'm really into this right now." I wave my hand across my cluttered desk.

"No problem," she replies easily and bounces out.

I call Jon, who answers distractedly.

"Hey, how are you?" I ask.

"Busy, as I'm sure you are. We've picked up a couple more of the Cordi street dealers, but haven't uncovered anything new."

"How are you going in locating the Liaison workers and other potential witnesses?"

"We're working our way through the list. I'll let you have a progress report by the end of the week."

"I look forward to that, but I'd like you to concentrate on Angelique Bain. We need to locate her, and I want to find out everything we can about her. I really think she’s the key to uncovering Wade’s motive."

"I'll deal with it personally. Anything else?"

"Not at this stage, Jon, but let's keep in touch, yeah?" I say before we end the call.

I return to sorting through boxes but give up after failing to find anything relating to the agreement for Angelique Bain’s services. Needing a break, I decide to pick up Jodi on the way to the deli.

"Adam and I, Adam and I.... I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you…" the familiar, but unusually strident voice emanates from her office.

"I’ll speak to Adam," Jodi cuts across the tirade.

"
You'll
speak to Adam? He and I have a special relationship,
I’ll
speak to him!" Tess returns irately.

"I was
asked
to deal with this by lead counsel; and for the last time, I don't have any designs on Adam Thorne, irresistible as he may seem to you. Let me offer you a word of advice; if he's interested in you, let
him
do the chasing."

"Why you…" Tess splutters.

"Jodi, would you mind giving us a few minutes?" I interrupt. "Then, would you like to get something to eat and catch up?"

"I'll meet you at the elevator." She gives me a strained smile, then, with a final pointed look at Tess, gathers her handbag and leaves.

"Adam…" Tess starts immediately.

"What are you doing?" I interject coldly. "You've embarrassed yourself and me; and why the
hell
would you suggest there’s something between us?"

Her lip quivers. I've never seen Tess this emotional before and soften my tone marginally. "You've got to get over whatever notion you're harboring about you and I being more than friends, Tess."

"Why? Am I not good enough? Not part of Boston's social set like Jaclyn or
Lisa Delaney
?"

"That's a load of bullshit, and you know it. I'm not having this conversation with you, and if you wish to maintain any semblance of professionalism, you’ll apologize to Jodi. You have until the end of the day, or I’ll find someone else to work on this case. Shut Jodi's door on the way out, will you?"

I find Jodi, and rather than visiting the deli, I suggest we go to the hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant, a favorite with many in our office.

She doesn't raise her altercation with Tess, yet her circumspection doesn't surprise me. Jodi, I’ve come to learn, is the consummate professional. We discuss the Cordi arraignments scheduled for the next afternoon instead. Just before we leave, I finally raise the matter and apologize. "I need you to know that there has never been, nor have I ever given Tess reason to believe she and I could be anything other than friends," I tell her.

She brushes my apology aside. "It was just a combination of professional and personal frustration on Tess’ behalf," she generously replies and smiles mischievously, "but the woman has a serious crush on you."

I let out a frustrated groan. "I'll deal with her. The more important issue is whether you’re able to work with her? I'm more than happy to speak to Bristly if you decide you can't."

"I'll be fine. I'd hate for her career to be affected by a momentary lapse in judgment," she says, and with that, the subject’s closed.

Back in the office, I turn my attention to the box marked as containing the contents of Joseph’s desk. In it, I uncover a copy of his will. He's left everything to his wife and children and named his brothers as co-executors to his estate. Then, I find the deed to an apartment in the name of a woman clearly
not
his wife. I note her details before documenting it with the rest of the evidence.

I’ve just about convinced myself that my search has been futile when I find it. The contract between Joseph and Justin for the exclusive services of Angelique Bain is for the astounding monthly payment of seven thousand dollars. It stipulates a three-year term and includes an option for renegotiation at the end of that period. The agreement, it also specifies, is subject to Justin entering into a business partnership with Joseph, whereby he’s required to purchase a thirty percent stake in Fidelity Properties. This last clause strengthens my belief that Angelique Bain is somehow linked to Justin’s decision to enter into business with Joseph.

Late that afternoon, Tess comes to inform me that she’s apologized to Jodi. "Good. Jodi and I need everyone on our team to be focused on getting the job done; there’s no place for personal feelings or petty squabbles. She’ll let you and Neil know exactly what needs to be documented," I say in response.

I detect her frustration but refuse to relent, and she leaves without saying another word. There’s unease between us that I know will need to be addressed, but I don’t have the time or the inclination to deal with it now.

Dad calls out of the blue to invite me to join him for a quiet drink and a bite to eat after work. I readily accept because we so rarely spend time on our own these days.

He’s already ensconced in his favorite booth at his local pub when I arrive. His old friend Sean O'Connell claps me on the shoulder as I slide into the seat across from Dad. "Who'd have thought this hellion would grow up to make us proud, Callum?" he remarks jovially.

Sean, a retired beat cop, had often been the cause of my teenage friends and I being grounded for fighting with rival boys. He’d threaten to lock us up and throw away the key and, on one occasion, made good on his promise. He confined us in a holding cell occupied by hardened and, to us, very menacing criminals. That had been the first time, since moving in with Mom and Dad, that I felt real fear. The experience went a long way toward scaring us straight. I'm pretty sure that was exactly what Sean and our parents intended because, I have no doubt, they all colluded in the matter.

"We always knew Adam would amount to something special, but we’d have been proud of him, no matter what," Dad says, making my heart swell with love.

Callum Thorne is the kind of man I aspire to be. He’s been more of a father to me than the man who sired me; the fortune Adam Winston left me means nothing compared to the love and guidance I’ve received from the man sitting across from me.

Sean leaves soon after, and Dad and I each order a simple steak, fries, salad and a beer.

"We don't do this often enough," I lament.

"You're busy, Son, and you're young. You have your own life to live."

"When these trials are over, I promise we'll do this more often, Dad."

"I look forward to that. How's the case going? Justin’s involvement must really be hard for you."

"It is. I feel bad about it, but agreeing to prosecute wasn’t a difficult decision," I say and then tell Dad about my discussion with Bristly, the meeting with Tom, and my feelings on our friendships; what it was and what I think it will become. He listens patiently like always, in no hurry to share his views and waits until I've exhausted the subject before he speaks.

"I'm proud of you, Adam. I may not understand all the legal implications, but I can say, without a doubt, that you've made the right decision. You know why you became a prosecutor; you can't let friendship get in the way of that and doing what’s right. Don't feel you need to apologize for it, not to
anyone
."

Dad doesn't often get this serious with me these days, but when he does, it has the same impact it had when I was a little boy. His words and confidence buoy me. I hadn’t, until this conversation with Dad, realized just how much the thought of going up against Justin had subconsciously been niggling at me

.