No Time To Run (Legal Thriller Featuring Michael Collins, Book 1) (23 page)

Michael turned the envelope upside down.

“
It’s weird.” He let the tapes fall onto the table in a jumble. “I thought I was Ms. Larone’s attorney. You see, it was me in that courtroom today and it’s been just me this past week, busting my ass to get the motions filed and the arguments made.”

“
A notice will be submitted tomorrow making me the attorney of record in this case,” Taylor Goss said, “accompanied by Ms. Larone’s request that you withdraw, of course.”

“
Tomorrow?” Michael put on a fake smile. “That means right now, I’m still employed by her and, if you don’t mind, I really need to review the contents of this box.” Michael turned his attention away from Goss, and stared at Andie. “Because I just might find out who my client is.”

Michael sorted through the tapes, each was labeled with the name of the agent who had made the recording, the date, and the length. He looked at one tape, tossed it to the side, and then another.

“
I think Ms. Larone would like you to leave now.”

“
I haven’t heard her say that.” Michael picked up the most recent recording. “In fact, I haven’t heard her say a word.”

“
You’re being indicted,” Goss said. His voice rose. “You know what that means. You’re going to jail, Collins. You think you can handle a death penalty case from jail?” He took a step toward Michael. “You knew that Andie wasn’t just some client you picked up off the street. You knew the grand jury was coming. Your eyes were wide open walking into this, so don’t go playing the victim with me.”

Michael raised his hand, stopping Goss from coming any closer or saying anything more. He then opened his briefcase and removed a micro-cassette recorder. He pressed a button, the small lid on its face opened, and he put the FBI’s tape inside. Michael was about to press play, but then stopped.

He looked up at Goss. Calmly, he asked: “When were you hired?” 

Goss didn’t answer.

Michael looked at Andie.

“
When did you hire him? It wasn’t this morning. I guarantee that. You just needed to get a little bit more information out of me, right? So that you could cut a deal. That’s how it went? That’s the advice you received from Mr. Goss? Sell me out?”

Michael pressed play, and Andie’s recorded voice filled the room, followed by Helix Johannson.

ANDIE: When will you be in New York?

HELIX: A few weeks, I have some business to take care of. Are you sure you can break free and meet me?

ANDIE: I’m sure.

HELIX: Your little boyfriend won’t be mad?

ANDIE: He’s not my boyfriend.

HELIX: Sure about that?

ANDIE: You are my one and only.

HELIX: That’s my girl.

ANDIE: Love you.

HELIX: Love you, too, beautiful.

Michael shut off the tape player. He looked up at Andie or Jamie or whatever her name was.

“
Should we all listen to it again, since we’re all on the same team here?”

“
I can explain.” Andie came toward him, but Michael held out his hand. “I was hoping he could give me money, money for the resort – ”

“
I trusted you.”

“
I didn’t do it,” Andie said. “I was meeting with Green Earth. That was true. I wasn’t there when he got shot. I swear to God.”

“
I’m leaving.” Michael ejected the tape out of the player, and put it back on the table.

“
That man had the proof,” Andie said. “You told me he had the building’s logs and the security tape, you saw it. I wasn’t – ”

“
Enjoy the rest of your attorney-client conference.” Michael picked up his briefcase, and put the player inside. “I’ll send the file over to your office in the morning.”

He walked over to the metal door, knocked twice, and the bailiff, standing outside in the hallway, let Michael out.

Michael left the room and started walking toward the elevator, but remembered the reporters and television crews that were in the courtroom. They were probably waiting for him out front. The working headline: Kingpin Kutie’s Kounsel Kraps Out.

“
Excuse me.” Michael got the attention of a passing woman. She wore a courthouse staff identification badge around her neck, and clutched a pack of Kool cigarettes while carrying the burdens of all low-level bureaucrats throughout the world on her shoulders. “Is there a back door or stairwell where I could smoke?” Michael asked. “I’d go to the front, but my boss has been on me to quit. You know how that goes.”

Initially the woman looked at Michael with suspicion, but when he got to the part about his boss hassling him to quit, solidarity formed.

“
The other clerks and me go to the delivery dock. Take the main stairs to the second floor, and then there’s a smaller stairwell next to the men’s bathroom. That’ll lead you to an exit door. It says an alarm will sound when opened, but …” she flashed a guilty smile, “somebody may have disabled it.”

“
I understand.”

Michael thanked her and turned toward the stairs. Following the clerk’s directions, he found the emergency exit two floors down.

He paused at the door. Even though she told him it was disabled, the warning signs for the alarm still caused concern.

Michael took a deep breath and pushed.

The door swung open. Cold winter air surrounded him. He waited, but no siren sounded.

A trio of courthouse staff turned. They were huddled at the end of the concrete loading dock near a larger double metal door, sharing their misery and likely complaining about all the arrogant lawyers they had to deal with on a daily basis. They looked over at Michael. He was not one of them.

Michael gave a slight nod, and they returned to their cigarettes and conversation. He hustled down the concrete stairs, through a narrow puddle-filled alley, and finally to the busy sidewalk on the east side of the courthouse building.

“
Making your escape?”

Michael turned toward the voice and saw Agent Vatch sneering up at him.

“
I figured you wouldn’t want to comment on your amazing performance in court today,” Vatch said. “And then I thought to myself, 'What does young Mr. Collins do whenever he’s in trouble or things don’t go exactly his way?' And then I said to myself, 'Well that’s an easy question, Agent Vatch, Mr. Collins runs for the nearest exit and never looks back, like a rat on a sinking ship,' not that I’m calling you a rat or anything like that, but you know what I mean.”

Vatch’s tongue flicked twice.

Michael shook his head, turned, and started walking away, ignoring him.

“
You’re going to have to deal with me at some point,” Vatch followed behind. “The grand jury is coming, and I believe your girlfriend is going to be a star witness.”

Michael continued walking, but Vatch continued with even more taunts.

“
Is she still your client? Must’ve been a lover’s quarrel of some sort after that hearing; a real shocker. Jamie Dask, who would’ve known?”

He kept following.

“
You know what’s surprising to me?” Vatch asked. “Not that she lied to you about who she really was. That didn’t surprise me so much, but what really got me …” Vatch wheeled himself closer to Michael. Once on his heels, Vatch continued. “What really got me was how fast that little whore sold you out, but I bet – ”

Michael turned, exploding on Vatch. He had heard enough, been through enough. The rage came from every part of his body, pent up for so long, finally it came out. His calm, his detachment, his calculation, all of it suspended while he moved at Vatch in a blur.

His briefcase dropped to the ground. Michael’s left fist connected with Vatch’s jaw. His right fist drove into Vatch’s nose. Snap. It broke. Blood started to flow. Vatch screamed in pain, but Michael didn’t stop. His left fist drove into Vatch’s nose, again, and then his right, until Vatch finally folded onto himself, cowering, covering himself with his arms.

Michael still didn’t stop. He hit Vatch, again and again until he heard a woman say,“Somebody stop that man before he kills him.” He didn’t know why the woman’s voice managed to cut through the noise in his head, but it did.

Michael took a step back from Vatch, staring down at his hands. They were covered in blood. He was shaking. His rage began its descent into shock, as the crowd of passersby formed a circle around him.

Vatch cried. His body in a heap; still folded onto himself in his wheelchair.

Michael took a step toward him, but, when he reached out, Vatch’s crying slowly turned into shallow laughter. Vatch unfolded himself. Sitting upright, he stared at Michael. The entire lower half of his face painted red from blood. His narrow slit of a mouth bent into a smile.

“
I think you just assaulted a federal law enforcement officer.” Vatch’s tongue licked the blood from his lips. “And I’m placing you under arrest.”

Michael shook his head, staring at Vatch, never blinking.

“
No. Not today.”

Michael turned and ran, bursting through the circle of on-lookers.

“
You see, now, that’s just rude,” Vatch said. Then he pointed at Michael. “Stop that man. He’s under arrest.” 

Michael ran faster, darting between and around other people who were on the sidewalk.

“
Stop that man!” Vatch tried to follow, but distance grew. “He’s under arrest! Somebody stop that man!”

Michael heard sirens in the distance. They were coming for him.

He came to a quick stop in the middle of the block, and turned.

“
Good-bye, Francis.”

Michael cut across the street. On the other side, there were stairs leading down to the subway, but he only got halfway.

A white delivery van barreled toward him, accelerating. Michael waited for it to pass, but, instead, the van screeched to a halt in front of him. Its door slid open, and a man in a ski mask jumped out. There was only one man built like that. It was the Professor.

“
Get in the van.” He grabbed Michael by the coat, but Michael fought. He landed a couple elbows to the Professor’s ribs and a kick to his shin, but the Professor easily threw him into the side of the van. Then he tried to get Michael inside the door. “Come on.”

Michael thrashed in the Professor’s arms, kicking and punching, occasionally landing a shot as car horns sounded and traffic backed up. The police sirens sounded closer.

“
Hurry up,
h
urry up.” the driver screamed. It was a woman’s voice. She sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place her. “Get him inside
.
W
e have to go.”

A gun shot rang out.

People on the sidewalk fell to the ground. Then there was another shot, and the Professor tossed himself and Michael to the pavement. Michael looked back. It was Vatch. His gun was drawn.

Still on the ground, wrestling with the Professor, Michael only had one more chance.

He drove his knee as hard as he could into the Professor’s groin and broke away as the Professor screamed. Michael rolled his body underneath the van, and then over to the other side just as Vatch fired a third and fourth shot into the side of the van. 

Michael looked back. The Professor was too big to follow. The van was low, and the thickness of the Professor’s body would never allow him to get underneath.

“
We have to go!” the driver laid on the horn. And Michael saw the Professor pull himself up and climb inside.

As the van peeled away, Michael entered the temporary safety of the subway station.

CHAPTER FORTY THREE

The picture on the small television strained to find a signal, flickering in and out of clarity. The periodic buzzing and static, however, did not mean that people weren’t watching. The dinner crowd at the Round-the-Clock Diner on 9th couldn’t turn away. They watched the news report about gunshots at the courthouse and the man who fled the scene as if they were all at risk and the city was under siege.

“
That’s great television.” Kermit stole one of Michael’s fries. “I mean really freakin’ good T.V., possible regional Emmy material or maybe national, assuming, of course, there isn’t a huge natural disaster.” Kermit took another handful of fries. “You can’t compete with the natural disasters, you really can’t.”

“
Well, let’s all pray for a year without hurricanes, then.”

“
Pray, indeed.” Kermit took a sip of soda. “You need me to go with you?”

“
No,” Michael shook his head. “Better if I fly solo from here on out.” When he said it, Michael caught his reflection in the mirror. The mirror ran the entire length of the diner’s back wall in a desperate attempt to create the illusion of space where none existed.

Michael’s hair was shaved off and bleached white, an earring in both ears. His suit and tie were gone, replaced by baggy jeans, a black New York Yankees jersey, and a ridiculously puffy North Face jacket.