months studying Japanese culture and learning the language before going to Tokyo and masterminding Mitsushi's buyout of Midland Dynamics. Her strategy had pulled the rug from under four other law firms, one of them a Washington group that everyone had assumed had the inside track. It had earned her a $250,000 bonus and moved her name to number three on the corporate letterhead.
She had been watching Vail since he entered the big room, watching the minglers part like water before him, congratulate him, pat him on the back, then swirl back to continue their conversations in his wake. And at the moment she was thinking, not about her latest legal coup, she was remembering a day ten years earlier when she had suffered one of the worst defeats in her career.
Although they occasionally traded glances from across a theatre lobby or a restaurant, it had been ten years since Venable and Vail had exchanged even a hello. It had been her last case as a prosecutor before moving to a full partnership in one of the city's platinum law firms - and it was one of the most sensational cases in the city's history. A young Appalachian kid named Aaron Stampler had been accused of viciously stabbing to death one of Chicago's most revered citizens, Archbishop Richard Rushman. An open-and-shut case - except that Vail had been the defence attorney.
In a bruising trial presided over by the city's most conservative and bigoted judge, Harry Shoat - Hangin' Harry, as he was known in the profession - Vail and Venable had provided plenty of fireworks for the media. Then Vail had ambushed her. Stampler suffered from a split personality, a fact Vail had not introduced into evidence and had kept from the public. He had tricked Venable into bringing out Stampler's alter ego on the stand, and instead of the chair, Venable had had to settle for far less. Stampler was sent to the state mental institution 'until deemed cured' and she had left office a loser, at least in her own eyes.
But the case had preyed heavily on Vail's mind. After winning his points in court, Vail had had second thoughts. The outcome had troubled him, and in an ironic twist, Vail, the state's deadliest defence lawyer, had replaced Venable as chief prosecutor. Even as a prosecutor he did not get along any better with Judge Shoat. They had continued to clash in the courtroom until Hangin' Harry had been appointed to the state supreme court.
Forgiveness came hard for Venable, but she had held a grudge long enough. Vail had always attracted her, although it was years before she had admitted it to herself. Like her, he was a predator with an instinct for the jugular. In court, he was mercurial, changing moods and tactics on the whim of the moment, dazzling juries and confounding his opponents. And she was also drawn to his dark Irish good looks and those grey eyes that seemed to look right through her. Now he was not only the most dangerous prosecutor in the state, he was also
She moved resolutely through the crowd, charting a collision course with him but staying slightly behind him so that he would not see her. Then an arm protruded through the mass of people. Massive fingers locked on Vail's elbow, steering him towards the perimeter of the ballroom and a small anteroom.
Shaughnessey, the old-timer who had carved a career from city councilman to DA to attorney general to state senator, losing only one political race in thirty years, was claiming Vail for the moment. Two years ago he had made his bid for the governor's seat only to be turned away in the primary. But it had not damaged his power.
Shaughnessey was the state's high priest who with a nod could bring disaster down on the shoulders of anyone who challenged the political powers of the state house.
Compared to him, most of the other state politicos were gandy dancers. The burly man, his bulk wrapped in a fifteen-hundred-dollar silk tuxedo with a trademark splash of coloured silk in its breast pocket, his fleshy face deeply tanned under a thick white mane, his thick lips curled almost contemptuously in what the unsuspecting might have mistaken for a smile, was obviously wooing the new DA.
Her curiosity piqued, she decided to wait. Inside a small, barren room, Shaughnessey fixed his keen and deadly hooded eyes on Vail and smacked him on the arm.
'How do you like being DA?' he asked.
'I told you ten years ago, Roy, I don't want to be DA. I wanted to be chief prosecutor then and that's what I am now.'
'Not any more, my friend. You are the acting DA, you need to start acting like one.'
Vail had a sudden surge of
