A King's Ransom (41 page)

What are you looking at?

Matthew rubbed his eyes. Nothing. Takes a little getting used to the light, that's all.

I could put the blindfold back on you.

No, that's all right. He tried to hand it up, but with the chains he could only reach so far.

Keep it, said Cerdo. You may want it.

For what?

When families don't pay, JoaquAn always shoots his prisoners in the face. Seven, eight times. He never returns a handsome corpse.

Matthew had hoped that release was near, but now he feared a snag.

Cerdo shaped his hand into a pistol, aiming at Matthew's nose. He made a clicking noise, as if to pull the trigger, then tossed the blindfold in the prisoner's lap. Believe me, those last ten seconds, you'll beg for one of these.

Matthew was more sickened than afraid - to think that good lives had ended at the hands of this worthless thug.

Cerdo snatched back his gift and stuffed the rag in his pocket. What the hell was I thinking? JoaquAn doesn't allow blindfolds.

He laughed at his own joke as he crossed the room, then hit the light switch and closed the door on his way out.

Matthew sank low to the floor in total darkness. It was no better or worse than being blindfolded. The whole exchange had gained him nothing, save the unwelcome insight into how he might die.

Chapter 61

It was almost 10:00 P. M., and Jenna was still at my place. We'd filed an action in federal court that afternoon. An emergency hearing was set for two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, and we'd been preparing all day, even working through dinner. It was a long shot, but it was clearly my last chance.

Ouch, I said.

She was changing the bandage on my arm. Luckily I hadn't needed stitches, but the knife wound was pretty ugly. And sensitive.

Double ouch, I said as she dabbed it with alcohol.

Men are such wimps.

Give me a break, I was stabbed.

You were scratched. I've done more damage to myself with an eyelash curler. She reapplied the butterfly bandages. There. All set.

I checked it out. Nice work. Do you do back rubs?

I think you know everything I do and don't do.

It was one of those half-serious, half-flirtatious remarks in her Kathleen Turner voice that I hadn't heard in a long time. It left me speechless.

Sorry, she said. I think that crossed the line.

It's okay. I'm not really sure where the line is anymore. I sipped my beer. You mind if I ask a personal question?

Depends on what it is.

I took another drink, a longer one this time. Have you dated anyone - you know, since we broke up?

She smiled coyly, as if she'd been expecting that question for some time. Actually, no.

Me neither.

She gave me a serious look. I didn't see much point in getting to know anyone new here. I'm moving to Tampa.

You're what?

I listed my town house a few weeks ago. As soon as it sells, I'll be moving back.

Wow. That's amazing.

It's where I grew up. It still feels a little like home to me there.

Sure.

I talked to my partners. They're all for opening a Tampa office.

Sounds like you have it all figured out.

It just seemed like the right thing to do. At the time.

Does it still seem like the right thing to do?

She dropped her egg roll. Jenna was a natural with chopsticks, so my pointed question had made her nervous, clearly. I don't know.

I wasn't sure where to go from there, but she didn't seem comfortable with the direction so far. So how much are you asking for the town house?

Why? You want to buy it?

No, but I don't want to see you get hurt in a fire sale. It's a really nice place.

How much do you think I should ask for?

Just don't grab the first offer. It might mean having to stay here a little longer, but I'd hold out for maybe six million.

You, she said, smiling. She uncrossed her legs, rose from the floor and started clearing away the empty Chinese food cartons. I grabbed the empty bottles and followed her into the kitchen. The conversation seemed unfinished, but I sensed that she had enough on her mind already.

Are you feeling any better about tomorrow's hearing? I asked, shifting gears.

Honestly? No. We're going to be bounced out of court so fast it's not funny.

Just trust me, all right?

The phone rang, which made me flinch. Lately every time it rang a part of me expected the worst. I placed the empty bottles in the recycling bin and grabbed the phone on the third ring.

Hello?

Duncan Fitz here.

He said it as if he were the president of the United States. Nick Rey over here, I replied with equal self-importance.

What's this crap you served on my client this afternoon?

It's called a complaint and an emergency motion to prevent Quality Insurance Company from intimidating witnesses.

That's preposterous. My client has done nothing improper.

Then you have nothing to worry about.

Look, you can't just bounce around from state court to federal court.

I didn't file in state court. You did. And that was nothing more than an action to enforce the confidentiality provisions of the agreement. That's over.

We'll still oppose this.

I'd expect no less from you. But once a federal judge hears our newly discovered evidence, we'll have a whole new ball game.

What evidence? he said, scoffing.

You'll hear it all at tomorrow's hearing.

Are you planning to call witnesses?

Just one.

Who?

Me.

He laughed, then it faded. You're not serious?

Here's your chance to tear me to shreds.

He paused, then said smugly, I'll look forward to it. Forget what I said about opposing the hearing. This is going to be fun.

The line clicked, and he was gone.

That's what you think, I said as I hung up the phone.

Chapter 62

Jenna and I reached the big center courtroom a few minutes before the scheduled two o'clock hearing. We were in the oldest section of the federal courthouse, which was also the most beautiful, done in the Mediterranean style with colorful frescoes on the arched walls and ceilings. The center courtroom had the largest area for public seating, big enough to accommodate events like the investiture of new judges or the trial of a Panamanian dictator. It was an impressive place, even for the most jaded of lawyers. Yet as I sat waiting at counsel's table with Jenna at my side, the cavernous surroundings made me feel even smaller in relation to Quality Insurance Company.

You still worried? I whispered.

I told you from the beginning, you can't just take the stand and repeat everything Jaime Ochoa said to you. It's all hearsay. It won't come into evidence.

Maybe Judge Weinstein will cut us some slack.

Maybe she'll spit in my eye.

We heard a knock, and a side door opened.

All rise!

Jenna and I were immediately on our feet. Standing at the other table, farthest from the empty jury box, was Duncan Fitz. Beside him was the one lawyer at Cool Cash who seemed to hate me more than my old boss did - Maggie Johans.

The judge settled into her leather chair as the clerk called the case and announced, The Honorable Judge Sylvia Weinstein presiding.

Good afternoon, the judge said. Please be seated.

She spoke without looking up from the open file before her, making eye contact with no one. I might have felt a little better had she glanced my way and conveyed just a hint of sincerity in her greeting, but it wasn't her style to buddy up to lawyers in any fashion. Judge Weinstein had a reputation for being a scholarly thinker and a sharp-tongued talker. I supposed that was a step up from state court, where we'd had to settle for spineless and corrupt.

Finally she peered out over the top of the gold-framed reading glasses that had slipped down to the tip of her nose.

I've read the motion that is the subject of today's hearing, she said. Witness intimidation is a serious charge. Frankly, there's virtually nothing in the filed papers to support it. I scheduled this emergency hearing only because of the immediate danger faced by Mr. Rey's father. While the court is sympathetic to his plight, the plaintiff had better have some evidence.

We do, I said.

Then call your witness.

Jenna rose slowly, as if she were headed for the gallows. She clearly didn't believe in the plan, and now that we were actually in the courtroom, neither did I. I realized that desperation had blinded me and that Jenna was right. No way could she put me on the witness stand and fight off Duncan's objections.

I stopped her with a gentle touch, then looked at the judge and said, The plaintiff calls Maggie Johans.

What? said Duncan, rising.

Jenna shot me an equally surprised look.

Duncan said, I spoke with Mr. Rey last night, and he told me that the only witness he and his girlfriend planned to call at this so-called hearing was himself.

First of all, Ms. Davies is my co-counsel, and I would appreciate it if Mr. Fitz would show her the respect of not referring to her as my girlfriend.

That was rather tacky, said the judge.

I apologize, Your Honor.

More important, I said, had Mr. Fitz told me that Ms. Johans was planning to fly down from New York to be in the courtroom today, I would have told him differently.

The judge shrugged, nonchalant. That's the way it goes, Mr. Fitz. I've seen lawyers pluck witnesses out of the balcony. It's the risk you run if you show up in the courthouse. I'm afraid we may have to put your girlfriend on the stand.

But this is not an ordinary witness. Ms. Johans is a lawyer, and -

Maggie tugged his sleeve, interrupting.

Excuse me, Your Honor. Duncan stooped over to take her comment. Maggie cupped a hand to her mouth to prevent the judge from hearing, but she whispered loudly enough for me to overhear. I presumed it was intentional.

How many jury trials has this kid had?

I didn't hear Duncan's answer, but I did see the smile on Maggie's face.

He straightened up and said, In the interest of bringing this hearing to a rapid conclusion, Ms. Johans will take the stand.

Maggie rose, stepped around the table, and shot one quick glance at me as she passed. It wasn't overdone, just a subtle signal that I couldn't get a thing out of her with a blowtorch.

Swear the witness, the judge said.

Maggie raised her hand and recited the oath, placing particular emphasis on the words the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. She'd said it with such genuine conviction. Liars always did.

I exchanged one last glance with Jenna. She whispered, What are you going to do now?

Plan B.

Which is?

It'll come to me.

The judge said, Mr. Rey, please proceed.

I stepped toward the witness, stopping ten feet away from her icy stare. She stated her name, and I asked, What position do you hold with Quality Insurance Company?

I'm general counsel.

So you're an officer of the company?

Correct.

And you're also a partner with the law firm of Cool Cash. I mean Coolidge, Harding and Cash, which serves as outside counsel to Quality Insurance Company.

That's correct.

That was about as far as my prepared questions would take me. At that point there was nothing to do but go for the throat. Have you ever heard the name Jaime Delpina?

Objection. Just the mention of the man's name had pushed Duncan's button.

The judge said, Give the young man a chance, Mr. Fitz. Overruled.

Yes, Maggie answered tentatively.

He was an employee of Quality Insurance, correct?

She glanced at Duncan, then answered, That's correct.

He was one of the people who processed my father's application for kidnap-and-ransom insurance, correct?

One of several, yes.

How many of those several employees have had their employment terminated? I said with just a touch of sarcasm.

To my knowledge, only Mr. Delpina.

Duncan rose, I don't see how any of this is relevant.

You will, I said. How many applications for kidnap-and-ransom insurance did Mr. Delpina process this year?

I don't know.

More than fifty?

I don't have any idea.

Come now, said the judge. You must have some idea how many of these policies are written. Quality Insurance isn't exactly Lloyds of London.

Fewer than fifty, she said.