Noah's Law (17 page)

‘Brilliant!' I mouthed.

‘Sir, while I wait for this ridiculously slow computer to load, could you confirm Maureen's sister's name? I'd like to waive her joining fee, under the circumstances.'

There was a pause then Nadine looked at me and winked. ‘So that's
Claudia Hognio
? Thank you, sir. Oh look the computer has come back to life again. I'll just press this button here and your wife is now off the system and you never have to hear from us again. Thank you for your patience, sir. Bye!'

Nadine hung up.

‘You were awesome!'

She took a bow and grinned. ‘What a sucker.'

‘Was he suspicious?'

‘I don't think so. It sounded like his main worry was the gym continuing to take payments. So what's this all about?'

I shrugged.

‘Tell me,' she pleaded.

‘I can't. It's work stuff. Breaks client privacy if I blab.'

‘That's bull. Amit's in on this. I hear you guys talking about a case all the time on the phone.'

‘He's different. And stop eavesdropping.'

‘What? A client's privacy can be broken to him and not me?'

‘Couldn't have said it better myself. He's my friend. You're my sister. End of story.'

She glared at me. ‘Dishwasher duty for a month.'

‘We agreed on two weeks!'

She walked to the door and flashed me an angry look. ‘That information is clearly valuable so my price was too cheap. Dishwasher duty for a month or I
will
blab. Maybe even get a week-long disciplinary hearing with Dad. Wouldn't that be nice?'

‘I thought you weren't a snitch.'

‘Only when I choose not to be.' She grinned and walked out.

I sighed and turned on my laptop. Amit was online so I sent him an email.

From: [email protected]

The sista's name is Claudia Hognio. Can you try and get an address?

From: [email protected]

You got the name?! HOW??

From: [email protected]

Subterfuge is a Nabulsi trademark. I have an idea. Jacinta will kill me if she finds out but it's got to be done. I'm going to send an anonymous note to the defendant's solicitors. I want them to know about Bernie's girlfriend. And I want them to know Claudia hates Bernie. Maybe they can get some information out of her. Use her at the hearing.

From: [email protected]

I'm on your side. Jacinta will come around. Every time she cries about Bernie's rights remind her that his wife's head was bashed to a pulp and that the scumbag is trying to make money out of her blood.

 

Amit's email was just the kind of encouragement I needed. I spent the next hour coming up with a five-line note to Humphries.

Humphries,

Bernie White has a girlfriend.

Claudia Hognio is Maureen White's sister. Speak to her.

Burn this note.

It was pretty dumb, really. A note would be evidence of my tip-off. I was wasting my time. I would call him. That way there'd be no evidence. Nothing to connect the tip-off to me.

I used the payphone near the train station on my way to work the next morning. I dialled Humphries' direct line. He answered.

‘Jeff Humphries speaking.'

‘Listen carefully,' I said in a low growl. ‘Bernie White has a girlfriend.'

‘Excuse me?'

‘Just listen. Claudia Hognio is Maureen's sister. Speak to her. Tell no-one about this call.'

‘Who is this?'

People were so predictable. Like his question was so original that it would convince me to reveal myself. I hung up.

I heard Jacinta's voice: ‘
The end does not justify the means. So if you intend to wage a war against him, you're on your own.
'

I couldn't undo what I'd done. The war had begun.

BAZZA WOZ HERE
was the best discovery of my life. It had only let me down a couple of times so far (I'd just got one foot on bazza when the guy beside me, who'd figured out my strategy, pushed his way onto woz). Most of the time now, I was getting a seat.

At first I'd been sickened by people who slept on the train. Why would you let yourself go like that? Head lolling around like one of those dashboard figurines; mouth hanging open. Sometimes, there was even dribble.

But then I fell asleep myself and it was awesome. I got an extra half-hour. The humiliation was worth it.

That morning I fell asleep three stops before Wynyard station, which was stupid of me but totally out of my control. When I woke up I realised I'd missed my stop. I was in St Leonards.

When I arrived at work at nine thirty John was standing by the lifts.

‘Hey, dude, you're late. I was just leaving for a Law Society young lawyers morning tea down at the Supreme Court. Want to come?'

‘Why not?' I said cheerfully. It was a chance to get out of the office. What better way to start a working day?

‘So do you like being a lawyer?' I asked John as we walked to court.

‘I love it,' he said. ‘I get up in the morning and I
want
to go to work. Casey tells me it's because I'm a graduate and that I'll be a cynic soon enough.'

The Law Society brunch was being hosted on the top floor of the Supreme Court building. The restaurant was massive and had a great view of the city and suburbs beyond, the sparkling harbour and the Botanic Gardens. We checked out the food selection: platters of cheese, olives and crackers; pastries, tarts and donuts. I went straight for the donuts while John grabbed a handful of crackers, spreading one with some Brie.

‘My dad buys that stuff,' I said. ‘But I have a real problem eating cheese that smells like my socks.'

John grinned. ‘The smellier the cheese, the better it tastes.'

‘That's just what stuck-up snobs say to make themselves think they're really cultured.'

‘I thought you said your dad buys the cheese?'

‘Yeah, he does. He's a stuck-up snob too.'

John let out a laugh. ‘You don't even hold back on your family. He's a big-time QC, isn't he?'

I nodded.

‘He writes a lot of articles too. Hey, he wrote that book on equitable remedies, didn't he? Now I know why your sur-name's so familiar.'

‘Yeah, when he's not working on his cases he uses his spare time to write books and case notes. He forces my sister and me to proofread them. We pretend to know what he's talking about but most of the time we need a dictionary to get through the first page.'

‘His book was the prescribed reading in my equity class. Your dad's a legend.'

I surveyed the room. It was slowly filling up.

‘Do you reckon there are any criminal lawyers here?' I asked, helping myself to another donut.

‘Gotta love the lawyer jokes, hey?' he said, nudging me in the side with his elbow.

I smiled. ‘Yeah, yeah. Let me put it differently: any lawyers who practise criminal law?'

He popped a grape in his mouth. ‘See that girl there with the long dark hair and the navy blue suit?'

‘Yeah.'

‘She works with Legal Aid. Criminal division. We went to uni together.'

‘Okay.'

‘She's my ex. She hates me.' He pulled a face. ‘It was a bad break-up.' He pretended to shiver. ‘I don't even want to remember it.'

I laughed. ‘Oh, right. So why point her out?'

‘Introduce yourself. These things are for networking. People just walk up to other people and introduce themselves, nothing wrong with that. For example, you see that girl there with the cool bob and killer legs, standing by the ugly dude with the gonzo nose?'

‘He's sucking up most of the oxygen in the room with that thing.'

‘I'm going to wiggle myself into their conversation and introduce myself.'

He wiped his hands with a napkin.

‘Teeth check,' he said, standing in front of me.

‘Top right.'

He cleaned his tooth with his napkin and showed me again.

‘Good to go,' I said.

‘Thanks, dude.'

He turned and I called him back.

‘Wait,' I said.

‘What? Did I miss a tooth?'

‘Nah, just a word of advice from the younger generation. Try not to say
dude –
ever again.'

He winked and walked away.

John was right. Nobody cared if a complete stranger walked right up to them, squeezed themselves into their huddle and said, ‘Hey, can I join you?'

I knew this for a fact because I was watching how other people were mingling. I was trying to work up the nerve to talk to the Legal-Aid-ex-girlfriend-with-a-grudge-criminal-law lawyer.

She eventually left her clique and approached the table I was hovering over (I'd demolished two donuts, three pastries and one tart and felt like chucking). She was pouring herself some tea when I said: ‘Hi, my dad's a Queen's Counsel and writes textbooks.'

What?

You know that feeling when you want the world to swallow you up? Well even that wouldn't have been good enough for me. I wanted to undo my life, go back to the time I was a foetus; a chromosome even. I couldn't believe what I'd just said.

‘Well good for you,' she said, looking at me like I was a total weirdo.

‘Sorry, that was a dare. Your ex put me up to it. He wanted to see if I'd have the guts to talk to you. My dad actually works for a car wash. He stands on street intersections and holds up those signs.'

She laughed. ‘So my ex dared you?'

‘No, that was a lie. He's trying to avoid you 'cause of the bad break-up. He's still cut up by it.'

I hoped she could take a joke. He was standing in plain
sight chatting up another girl.

Obviously she couldn't.

She rolled her eyes. ‘I am
so
over him. I've got a new boy friend now . . . So, where do you work?'

Cool. I was passing as a lawyer. I'd have to make sure Jacinta knew of this.

‘I work with John. Personal injury, that kind of stuff. You do criminal law, right?'

‘Yep.'

‘Have you ever come across a plaintiff and defendant plot ting together in a case?'

‘You'll have to explain.'

Without going into too much detail, I told her about the case.

‘I've never come across that before. It's incredibly risky of them.'

‘If they got busted, what would they be in trouble for?'

She bit her bottom lip. ‘Hmm . . . fraud, obtaining money by deception, a whole raft of financial criminal charges.'

‘Would they be locked up?'

‘Yes, I'm pretty sure there's a prison sentence for those kinds of crimes.'

I took a sip of orange juice. ‘It's just so hard to prove. I mean, we need some evidence but they're covering all their tracks.'

You would think I ran my own firm from the tone of my voice. It was fun, realising she actually believed I was a qualified lawyer.

‘Welcome to my world. It's all about the evidence. Sometimes you just wish a smoking gun would drop out of the sky and seal the case.'

‘I have a smoking gun.' I lowered my voice, thinking of the text messages we'd found on the phone we'd stolen. ‘It's just that I didn't get it through . . . er, the proper channels.'

‘Inadmissible, but knock-out evidence. Don't you just love those? So you're stuck.'

‘Big time.'

‘Well, usually it's little things that get you over the finish line. A comment a witness makes. A slip of the tongue by somebody. You've just got to keep your five senses switched on.'