'You can't make any of the charges stick, Mr. Frawley.' Dr. Fletcher addressed the DA in cool, precise tones. She was calm now, sitting in a comfortable leather French Provincial chair inside Frawley's well-appointed, wood- paneled downtown of-fice. Lawrence and Deyo sat in similar chairs off to the side. Dr. Cospe had elected to stay behind at the hospital, his stint as a member of the ad hoc subcommittee at an end.
The police officers, at a glance from Frawley, unshackled Fletcher and promptly retired to the outer room.
She spent ten minutes silently listening to what the DA had against her, then struck back.
'Any charge,' she said, 'related to kidnapping, child abuse, child endangerment, or indeed any charge that implies what I withdrew from Valerie Dalton was in any way human will di-rectly conflict with the Supreme Court's rulings on abortion. If a fetus is human enough that you can accuse me of kidnap-ping, then I accuse the hospital's other abortionists of murder in the first degree. A charge that others have brought with no results.' She glanced at Dr. Lawrence for support; he merely stared ahead at Frawley.
Frawley glared back at Fletcher. 'For criminal purposes, a fetus can be considered a human being. If you'd shot Ms. Dalton in the abdomen, wounding her and killing the fetus, I could easily charge you with murder.'
Fletcher smiled a smile that failed to conceal her contempt. 'The problem is that she asked me to remove the fetus. And it's alive. You can't have it both ways or you'll be playing right into the antiabortionists' hands. You can't arrest me for kid-napping someone I was legally permitted to kill.' She drew her cigarette package and Zippo lighter from her lab coat.
Frawley cleared his throat. 'There's no smoking in city build-ings.' She grinned, lighting up. 'If you really want to get coverage, add aggravated smoking to the charge of fetal kidnapping. The press loves little touches like-'
The sound of arguing voices drifted into the room. From outside the office a policeman thrust in his head to say, 'Sorry, sir. There's a guy out here claims to be her lawyer.' Terence Johnson peered inside, waved at Fletcher as if they were old army buddies, and nodded at the DA.
Evelyn looked back at him with a blank stare.
Frawley cleared his throat. 'Is he?' he asked.
Tapping cigarette ash into an empty coffee cup, she smiled with wry anticipation. 'He said he was, didn't he?'
'What's his name?' Frawley asked her.
'Terence Johnson,' the lawyer spouted before Evelyn could react. He let himself in and dropped his briefcase beside an empty chair. 'But everyone including Dr. Fletcher calls me Terry.' He looked at the bemused doctor. 'You really should give a guy a call. I had the toughest time finding you.'
'I'll remember the next time I'm busted,' she replied, sizing him up with cautious eyes. He looked to be fresh out of law school, full of energy and spirit. If he had legal skills to match his enthusiasm and inge-nuity, he might be worth retaining.
He pulled a canary-yellow notepad from his briefcase. 'How much have you told them?' She reiterated the conversations nearly verbatim. He switched on a tape recorder and took simultaneous notes. Occasionally, he used his Pilot Razorpoint pen to brush a curly lock of black hair away from his eyes, back with the rest of his mop.
'Well,' he said, jotting quick, almost unreadable notes, 'it seems that you don't have any charges centered around child abuse.' He looked up at Frawley, then at Lawrence and Deyo. 'What else have you got left to try?'
'We've got plenty. Failure to receive informed consent-'
'From whom?' Fletcher asked.
Dr. Lawrence folded his arms and gazed down his nose at Fletcher. 'From the women. You'll naturally point out that we can't accuse you of failing to receive informed consent from a fetus since they are not considered humans capable of grant-ing informed consent. But the women were involved in highly risky experimental surgery. The `donor mother,' as you call her, faced the risk of-'
'Valerie Dalton faced the risk,' Fletcher said, 'that any woman seeking an abortion faced. Pain. Bleeding. Severe cramping. Possible hemorrhaging and loss of blood requiring transfusion. Even the chance of being rendered sterile by the procedure. She signed-'
Johnson cut in. 'You don't have to say anything else. I'll handle it from here.'
'Don't interrupt me.' Her voice was harsher with him than with the DA.
'As your legal counsel, I strongly urge you to-'
'When I hired you,' she said in a sharp tone, 'didn't we agree that I'd handle this my way?' Johnson gazed at her
