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Omar looks at Ahmed for a moment. "You are a good young man and always want to help everyone, but remember you have your studies, and you are in no position to be financing such a deal. When do you go back to the university?"

"I start again in June for summer session. I don't need much to finish."

Omar smiles and puts his hand on Ahmed's shoulder. "You concentrate on your studies and your work; you do not need to be worrying about Josef. I'll call him and see what he needs tonight. I will arrange it for him. Are you hungry?"

Ahmed answers his cousin apprehensively. "All right Omar, thank you."

He goes into the front of the store to grab a sandwich from Kari, she greets him, and she is already making his lunch.

Kari asks a question as she finishes Ahmed's sandwich. "Did Mrs. Avakian pay the past-due on their account?"

Ahmed looks at her, wondering if finance and western ways have consumed her focus. "Yes, and she also paid cash on the delivery. They are all up to date." She nods with approval. "She said to thank you and Omar."

He watches Omar out front as the store begins to fill with lunch customers. Ahmed grabs his sandwich, goes over to get milk, and rushes out the back.

Omar asks, "Where are you going?"

Ahmed answers with his back to him, "I forgot to get gas for the afternoon deliveries."

He exits the market and jumps in the van. He is concerned about Josef's phone call, and he knows it must be time to begin. Ahmed hopes he can talk with Josef before Omar contacts him. He is nervous about contacting Josef as he heads for a cell phone store on Leetsdale Street in Denver.

He needs to purchase four disposable phones for the plan so that he can avoid detection by the authorities.

He turns the corner in the parking lot at the store and pulls the van around to the side to avoid any video cameras at the shopping center. He knows that he has to be careful from this point forward.

Ahmed walks around the corner and into the store. He looks around but does not find what he's looking for. A Middle Eastern man comes from the back and asks him if he needs help. Ahmed answers the man in an Iraqi tongue.

"Do you have the 'Go' cell phones or any that do not require a sign up? I also need the cards for the phones for international calls back home."

The proprietor smiles at hearing his native language and answers Ahmed in his tongue as he pulls two types of phones from the wall behind the counter, "Yes I have two kinds, but these are more reliable for international calls, they're a few dollars more."

"The cards are easy. You just buy the cards, put in the codes, make your calls and it will tell you how much time and credit you have. You can buy as much time as you like." The storekeeper studies Ahmed.

"Where are you from?" Ahmed looks at the man.

"I was raised in Iraq near Baghdad." The proprietor proudly announces. "I am from Iraq also."

Ahmed responds as he forces a smile. "I saw your advertisement in the Westword newspaper. How much for four phones and sixty minutes per phone?"

"I'll give you a good deal: one hundred forty-three dollars, plus tax."

Ahmed reaches into his pocket, pulls out the cash, counts out one fifty, and tells him to keep the rest.

He looks in the corner near the ceiling and sees a camera pointing toward him. Another is near the door; he makes a mental note that he will have to return there. "So do you have family here in Colorado?"

The proprietor hands Ahmed the bag of goods. He smiles as he points to some photos on the wall of a woman and two little boys. "I have a good wife and two great sons. Allah has blessed me."

Ahmed forces a smile as he speaks, "Thank you.
As-salumu Alaykum
." He does not like his thoughts as he exits the store. The proprietor responds to Ahmed "
Alaykum as Salaam
."

Ahmed gets in the van and begins arranging his new phone charger; he connects the charger to the lighter outlet and plugs in the phone.

The screen shows minimal charge. Ahmed gets out of the van and opens the engine compartment. He stashes the other phones in the bag next to the battery. He wedges the bag against the body well for safekeeping and closes the hood. He gets back into the van, looks at his watch, starts the van and disappears down the street.

***

The law firm that Matthew Cohen works at has only nine attorneys and fourteen other employees. It is now one of the top trial firms in Colorado, specializing in criminal defense and business litigation matters.

Joe Rothman, a decorated Vietnam veteran, started the firm in the early nineties after moving to Colorado. He served as an assistant district attorney in the special prosecutor's office of narcotics investigations in Brooklyn, New York.

He ran that office for seven years then moved to head the white-collar crimes unit in Manhattan. He had earned the reputation as one of the top prosecutors in the state of New York. He served in Manhattan for four years and then decided to make a change from the big city and seek his future in private practice.

Joe is in his office and is listening to the complaints of some of the victims of Matthew Cohen's earlier morning mock assault on partners and other staff members.

He has heard complaint after complaint since he returned from court just before lunch, and he has heard enough whining about Matt's antics.

Joe heads down the hall with a look on his face that could part the sea. Matt is in his office counseling a potential client whom he had represented once before.

The client is Reginald Haynes, a body shop owner and mid-level drug dealer. Mr. Haynes has been released on bond, which he posted in cash that morning.

Matt sets the police report down on his desk and sighs as he looks at his client. "Look Reggie, the police report clearly states that you were driving twenty-five miles an hour over the speed limit, giving them probable cause for a traffic stop. Lights then summoned you to pull over, which you did. Upon contact with the officer, who claims to have smelled the odor of burning marijuana when he approached your vehicle, requested that you shut off the vehicle and step out of the vehicle, at which time you said that you did not want to step out of the car, and refused to comply with his order."

The client stares as the young attorney goes over the report with him. He is waiting for the bottom line regarding his legal opinion.

Matt reads on, "This is where it gets good. The officer states that he drew his weapon and ordered you out of the vehicle a second time, at which time you sped off and a vehicle pursuit took place. Then after four miles in pursuit, two other officers from another jurisdiction, who joined the pursuit, witnessed you throw two weapons out of the vehicle during said pursuit.

The weapons which were recovered by yet another officer who had also joined in the pursuit stated that the weapons recovered were a Ruger Red Hawk 44 Magnum handgun and a nine-millimeter Browning handgun."

A double knock on the door interrupts them. The door opens, and Joe sticks his head in.

"Matthew, excuse the interruption, could I see you for a minute?"

Matt, not surprised, responds to his boss. "Sure. Excuse me for a minute Mr. Haynes." Reggie looks at Joe and recognizes his face from past news coverage. "No problem man, do your thing."

Matt exits into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Joe stands there, all six-foot-three inches of him, looking down at Matt as he closes the door.

Joe discreetly leans close to Matt in the hallway. "What kind of knucklehead crap was that stunt this morning, Matthew?"

Matt is just going to take the verbal punishment that he knows he has coming.

"Did you bump your frigging head?" He does not give Matt a chance to answer. "What possesses you to perform these juvenile stunts in my law offices?"

Matt looks at Joe as humbly as possible, knowing that he was the candidate chosen over thirty-one other applicants for his new position there at the firm. "Joe, everyone expects me to brighten their day. They wait with the anticipation of my next juvenile stunt, to help break up the monotony here in the office. I think they count on me." Joe gets that heated look he uses to rattle witnesses in court.

"Listen to me, Matthew. Do not be smug with me, you arrogant bozo. You will not, shall not, pull any more of your clown routines here in this firm. Is that clear?"

Matt tries not to smile at Joe's "tough guy" routine in the hallway. "Yes, sir. Sorry. No more bozo stunts, I promise."

Joe cannot help but to smile at Matt's response, but he holds back as he pictures Bill and Susan, as Matt blasted them, during one of their intimate talks in the break room. "Look Matthew, you are a rising star in this firm, and I respect and appreciate you as an attorney. Don't screw that up."

Matt nods.

"So who is the big black guy in your office?"

"That gentleman is Mr. Reginald Haynes, accused drug trafficker, with one minor prior arrest, who was arrested last night on several felony counts including major drug and weapons charges. He made bail on a very substantial bond early this morning. Mr. Haynes has come to us as he is one of my previous clients prior to me joining the firm here, and he is seeking representation in this more serious matter and is about to retain our services for a hundred thousand dollars."

Joe shakes his head, recognizing how the young attorney just disarmed him and demonstrated his value in one short statement; that is why he hired him.

"A hundred-grand retainer? Well Mr. Cohen, that is what we should be focused on, not that other nonsense. And on that note, I will just be on my way."

Joe walks down the hall, quietly laughing.

Matt returns to his office and closes the door behind him. "Sorry, Reggie, now where were we . . . look, they got you with four pounds of heroin, a scale, twenty-one thousand dollars in cash, two loaded firearms . . ."

Reggie interrupts. "That's bullshit, man. I unloaded them guns before I threw them out and got rid of the clips and ammo while I was running after the crash and setting that car on fire."

The young attorney smiles at his client's candor and responds, "Reggie, they also have you charged with felony eluding, felony reckless endangerment to the public, obstruction of justice, and arson, with six law enforcement officers testifying in unison. What exactly are you looking for me to do for you?"

Reggie smiles at him. "I feel you, Mr. C. You're just keeping it real, and that's why I'm here man." Reggie pulls a large, zippered freezer bag out of his down parka. It has one hundred thousand dollars in it, and he tosses it on Matt's desk. "Look man, I do what I do. And I got two hundred grand that says you are going to do what you do, and do it well."

Matt looks at his client, "That will get us started." Reggie shakes his head. "Get us started? Man, you're a trip Mr. C. That should get us more than started, that should get us past the gate."

Matt leans forward and looks his client in his eyes. "Reggie, this case is no joke. I suspect the feds will push the state out of the way and pick up this case. So prepare for that possibility. The good news is that it will buy us the time we need to prepare, so if I take your case, you have to agree to stop all transactions with dope of any kind, and no firearms possession. Is that clear?"

Reggie looks at the attorney. "Man, you asking a lot, Mr. C. I feel naked without a piece in my world, it's dangerous out there." Matt looks at him coldly. "Twenty years to life is dangerous too, Reggie." He considers the attorney's last comment. Reggie stands up, reaches behind him, and pulls a forty-five from his belt. He ejects the clip, then the round from the chamber, and sets them on his attorney's desk. "Okay, Mr. C. It's you and me. Anything else I need?" Matt looks at the gun on his desk, "Is that legal?" Reggie smiles. "It's all good. None of my tools are ugly with past sin. They're ice cold and registered."

Matt picks up the gun with his handkerchief, places it in his bottom desk drawer, repeats the action with the clip and round, and then locks the drawer. "Why are you carrying a gun just a few hours out of jail?"

He looks at his attorney. "Would you carry two-hundred grand in cash without one, Mr. C.?" Matt shakes his head as he answers. "Probably not, you're right."

Chapter Four

Dana Underwood is proud of her accomplishments. At twenty-seven, she had just closed her biggest commercial real estate deal, and all the parties seemed happy as the buyers and seller were receiving their files from the title officer at the closing table.

Dana is the daughter of prominent real estate investor and broker Richard Underwood, so this deal is as much her validation as it is her right of passage in the family business.

Dana had graduated CU Denver with a bachelor in business just three years ago, when she joined an independent Denver real estate brokerage, where the agents and brokers were able to build their own business base and retain the majority of their commissions without the normal corporate policies and red tape.

She is overseeing the deal as the transactional broker. Dana is the agent who has the listing from the seller to market the property. The buyers had also sought her out in finding investment properties, allowing her to collect commissions from the buyer as well as the seller on this deal.