Conspiracy (20 page)

"I will."

"Then please sign the return." She scrawled her signature. In addition to the subpoena he handed her a white business envelope with her name on the front. Inside there was a typed note:

 

Taylor:

I've decided to proceed this way. Regrettably, I had no choice.

C. J. Cady

 

She picked up the phone and pounded her fingers hard onto each button as she dialed Cady's number.

Margaret answered. "I'll get him right away," she said when she heard it was Taylor. "He's expecting your call."

"I'll bet."

In an instant Cady was on the line. "I'm sorry. Really, I am."

"Ah, c'mon. You're not sorry at all. You went to McDermott, and he told you to do it."

"I haven't been near McDermott."

"Then Doerr went to McDermott."

"Truthfully, I don't know what Doerr's done. So far I've been running the case myself. Doerr hasn't given me a single order."

"Next you'll try to sell me the Brooklyn Bridge."

Her response was what Cady had expected. Still, he wanted to convince her that he was behaving decently. "I'm doing everything humanly possible to keep this confidential and out of the press. Nobody has to know about it."

"This could cost you your job and any chance of a career you think you have at DOJ."

"No doubt it will if Senator Boyd gets elected president."

"He is going to be elected."

* * *

 

Taylor called the senator's campaign office at the Omni Hotel in Miami. "Bad news?" Boyd asked as soon as he heard her voice.

"Bad is an understatement. Try horrible. The other shoe fell in the matter we've been discussing."

"You need me back in Washington?"

"Tell Bob to change the schedule and get you back here late tonight. I'll be at your house about seven tomorrow morning. We can take it from there."

"What explanation do I give him and the others?"

"You think you're coming down with the flu. You want a day of rest to get your energy back."

"I'm ready to do battle with this prosecutor."

"It'll be tough."

"Don't worry about me. Nobody's going to force me out over some trumped-up charges."

If Taylor were betting, she'd put her money on Boyd. He hadn't done anything wrong. He was articulate enough to persuade Cady and the grand jury of that fact.

Cady had told her that he would take the case to a grand jury only if he had something more than Azziz. What did he have?

She picked up the phone and called Mark Jackson, the P.I. "Any word on Gladstone?"

"Seems to have disappeared from the face of the earth. One of my people made such a pest of herself that Mrs. Gladstone chased her away with a garden hoe."

"Is it possible that the prosecutor brought him to Washington and has him hidden here? That's why we can't find him?"

"Definitely possible. You want me to check D.C. hotels the Bureau uses for witnesses?"

"Do it and let me know. But don't talk to him if you find him."

"Will do, but I'm not optimistic. As far as Azziz goes, the man's a real slime. A couple of prior convictions. He must have had friends in high places or he'd have done some serious jail time. You'll easily be able to discredit him."

That was comforting news, but Taylor was still worried about Gladstone.

She headed down the hall to Harrison's office. Without saying a word, she handed him the subpoena.

"I'm not surprised," Harrison told her after he looked it over. "I thought it was inevitable. I made my own quiet inquiries around town about C. J. Cady. He's not the type to back off."

"I have to let the senator testify."

"You sure you don't want to run that decision by Ken?"

"C'mon. It's a no-brainer."

Harrison locked eyes with her. "Since you asked my opinion, the way I see it is, if he's innocent he tells his story to the grand jury and you do damage control. If he's guilty or so close to the line that there's a risk he'll lose, he shouldn't waste his time taking the Fifth. He should use the leverage he has as a candidate and have you broker a deal with Cady. He drops out of the presidential race. In return they don't prosecute."

Taylor looked bewildered by these options.

"I'm speaking in plain English," Harrison said gruffly. "What part of that didn't you understand?"

"The senator's consistently told me that he didn't do anything wrong. Now you're talking about a deal."

"Telling you is one thing. Telling a lie to a grand jury under oath is another. That's the worst of all worlds."

"You think I'm wrong to believe the senator. Don't you?"

Harrison shoved a plastic cigarette into his mouth, rolled it around for a few seconds, and pulled it out. "Let me put it this way: I think you're awfully close to your client in this case."

She pounded her fist on his desk. "Don't play games with me. I can't handle that right now. I want to know if you think he's guilty."

Harrison ran his fingers through his unruly hair. "How the hell do I know? I'm not God. I wasn't back in Napa twelve years ago or whenever this stuff happened. I haven't spent enough time with your senator to judge him. I've got strictly a selfish interest in all of this."

"Selfish?"

"Yeah, when the dust clears, I want my partner and friend Taylor Ferrari, whom I have come to value and respect, on her feet and still practicing law."

 

 

 

Chapter 16

 

Taylor hated grand jury proceedings. Smacking of the old British Star Chamber, they were the most undemocratic institution in the American legal system. The objective in theory made sense: to determine whether enough evidence existed to indict an individual and thereby force him to plead guilty or to defend himself in a public trial. But grand jury proceedings were conducted in secret, and not susceptible to public viewing. Even the transcript of the proceedings was sealed. Present in the grand jury room were the members of the jury, generally around twenty, the prosecutor, and the witness. Lawyers for the witness were barred from the room, though the witness could, at the risk of creating a bad impression, ask for a recess to consult with counsel outside. There was no opportunity for the witness to confront his accusers, and no restraints on what the prosecutor could do. In the end, on the issue of whether or
not to
indict and thereby force the accused to endure a costly public trial, the grand jury did little more than rubber-stamp the recommendations of the prosecutor.

All of this Taylor explained to a grim and somber Boyd as the two of them huddled behind a closed door Wednesday morning in the den of his Georgetown house.

"Can they force me to testify?" he asked.

"The answer's yes and no."

"Typical lawyer's double-talk response," he said in a sharp tone.

Her own nerves were frayed, her spirits sagging. "Look, Charles, please don't take it out on me. I'm trying to help you."

He groaned. "Sorry. It's just a little frustrating. To get so close and have this come flying in from God knows where. Some fucking bogus charge."

"I know that. I wish I could make it go away, but I can't. So let's come back to your question. The only way you can avoid answering Cady's questions is if you take the Fifth Amendment in response to every question. You have to respond each time, 'On the advice of counsel, I refuse to answer on the grounds that the answer might tend to incriminate me.'"

"And to a nonlawyer, that says I'm guilty as hell."

"Unfortunately, that's right."

"So that's not an option."

She remembered Harrison's advice yesterday. If the senator needed to cut a deal, she would lay that option out for him. She waded in slowly. "But if somebody called to testify before a grand jury knows that he violated the law, then he's better off taking the Fifth and forcing the government to build its case, if it can without his testimony. The worst is to testify and lie. Then a witness ends up with a perjury charge on top of all of his other troubles."

She looked up to find him staring hard at her. "What are you trying to say?"

She paused and took a deep breath. "Is the story you told me Saturday at St. Michaels about your sale of Mill Valley completely true?"

"Absolutely," he said, offended. "Don't you believe me?"

"Of course I believe you. Every good lawyer has to make that one final check before he lets a client testify before a grand jury."

"Is that your guys' version of CYA?" he asked belligerently.

"No, it's called good lawyering."

"Do you have any idea what this prosecutor, what's his name...?"

"C. J. Cady."

"What does he have on me?"

She ran through the Azziz version Cady had shown her Monday.

"Azziz is lying," Boyd said.

"Did you ever meet the man?"

"Never."

"So why'd he say it?"

He shrugged. "They're using him to frame me."

"I thought of that, too. Azziz is a convicted felon for a Securities Act violation."

"That's a hell of a note. In our legal system a criminal can destroy an innocent man."

"I don't know what else, if anything, they've got."

The phone rang. Sally was in Los Angeles with her Italian painter friend, introducing him to some of the gallery owners out there. Taylor and Boyd waited for Donna, Boyd's housekeeper, to answer. Moments later she appeared in the doorway.

"I told you not to disturb us," Boyd said.

She was flustered. "It's a Mr. Cady for Miss Ferrari. He says it's very urgent."

Boyd glanced at Taylor. "Maybe he's decided to fold his hand."

"Don't bet on it."

She picked up the phone. "What's up?"

The sigh that she heard warned her there was more trouble. "Listen, Taylor, there's been a leak. I just wanted to tip you off. I swear I had nothing to do with it."

"A leak!" she said, seething. "You son of a bitch. What kind of leak?"

"I wasn't the source."

"What kind of leak?" she demanded.

"CBS News has gotten word of the grand jury investigation," he said wearily. "They're going public with it on the eight-o'clock news this morning."

"It had to come out of your office. We sure didn't do it."

"It didn't. I swear."

"Then it was McDermott. I'll make sure the Democrats on the Hill fry his ass and yours in the same pan."

"I'm really sorry about this. I'm calling to try to help you out."

Listening to him, she was convinced that he was sorry about what had happened. Still, he was the cause of all of this misery by not backing off on the investigation. "What can you do about it now?" she said bitterly.

"I'll be down at the freight entrance at the rear of the building at ten minutes to ten to help you get him in. That's not much, but it's something."

"Bullshit," she shouted. "The senator goes in the front door with his head held high. I'll be with him. You can be sure that I'll have some choice things to say to the press about abuse of the legal process. We'll bury you before this is over."

"Fine, then, Room two-oh-eight at ten o'clock."

She slammed down the phone and dialed Kendrick at home. "You'd better get over to the senator's house ASAP. Pick up Governor Crane on the way. Tell him this is more important than anything he's doing."

"What happened?"

"We'll talk when you get here. But do yourself a favor. Don't listen to CBS news on the hour."

"That bad?"

"Worse."

* * *

Waiting for Kendrick and Crane, Taylor finished her preparation of Boyd by asking questions that Cady would undoubtedly ask. The phone started ringing furiously. She instructed Donna not to answer it. When Kendrick and Crane arrived, Taylor sent Boyd upstairs to dress while she briefed the others.

As she recounted what had happened, she saw Kendrick getting madder and madder. When she told him about the grand jury proceeding this morning, he looked as if he were ready to explode.

Kendrick roughly pulled her off to one side. "Goddammit," he said in a hiss. His face was red, and the veins in his neck were protruding. "Why didn't you tell me about this fucking investigation as soon as you learned about it?"

"I thought I could make it go away."

"We're supposed to be full partners in this campaign. That was the condition you agreed to when you hired me. You should have told me from the beginning."

He was right. She looked chagrined. "I'm sorry. I was dead wrong. It's been a tough couple of days. I've just been trying to stay afloat. But I would like you to come down to the courthouse with us. Help with damage control with the press."

There was a long pause. She knew what Kendrick was thinking: If this ended in disaster, would he be better off as far away as possible? She wasn't letting him have any choice in the matter. "He'll need you," she stated emphatically.

Crane approached Taylor and Kendrick. "What can I do to help? I mean it. I'll do whatever will help Charles."

He sounded sincere, which impressed Taylor. Even though she had persuaded Boyd to take Crane as his VP in order to get the nomination, she had doubts herself about the silk-stocking, mainline native from Philadelphia. Today Crane was demonstrating that he was a class act. He had the most to gain from a Boyd withdrawal. Yet he wasn't trying to disassociate himself.