Jason shook his head, trembling uncontrollably.
“Good boy,” whispered his captor. “’Cause I’m going to tell you a little secret.”
He waited, torturing Jason with the silence. “This gun is a revolver with three bullets in the chamber. Kind of like that Dirty Harry movie. You feel lucky?”
Jason shook his head again. Vigorously. But the more he squirmed, the harder the man shoved the barrel down his throat.
“Tough,” said his captor. “We’re going to see if you are anyway.”
He pulled the trigger.
Jason flinched… but nothing happened.
“This must be your lucky day,” the man said. He pulled the barrel out of Jason’s mouth and pressed it against Jason’s neck.
“C’mon.” the man said. He yanked Jason out of the car. The man was larger than Jason, strong as an ox. “When I release you, walk straight to your car. Don’t look back or I’ll fill you with bullet holes.”
With that, his captor cut the plastic handcuffs and pulled the hood off. He pushed Jason forward, in front of the headlights. Jason stumbled and scrambled to his feet, barely able to breathe. Doubled over, he hobbled toward his truck. Just as he was opening the front door, he heard the squeal of tires and looked behind him.
The black sedan was out of its parking spot and gunning around the corner of the garage. A second car followed.
Jason climbed gingerly into his truck and picked up his gun. He tried to get his bearings. He was dizzy with pain, trying to recover from the shock of being attacked. This was the kind of stuff that happened in movies, not in real life to a civil litigation lawyer.
He realized he should probably file a report with the police, but he didn’t want to involve them. They would ask questions that would force Jason to choose between lying and telling the truth about how Luthor was blackmailing him. The truth about the accident ten years ago.
Instead, Jason dialed his father’s number. When his dad didn’t answer, Jason left an urgent message on voice mail.
In that moment of pain, every shallow breath more difficult than the last, a thought hit Jason. Something he should have realized a long time ago. Something that suddenly seemed so obvious he wondered how he could have missed it.
His BlackBerry had been provided by Justice Inc. as part of his severance package, his yearly subscription paid in advance. Possibly-no, almost certainly-somebody was monitoring it. The call to Bella had been intercepted. That’s how they knew he was coming here.
This theory confirmed a lot of things. Justice Inc. wanted to control the outcome of the litigation. They might have a hundred million or more riding on the case. And up until now, they had been able to track Jason’s every step.
Jason turned the BlackBerry off and stared at it as if it were a coiled snake. He thought about his time at the company. In every case, the company put millions of dollars of its own money on the line. How could they be sure that the lawyers trying the mock cases weren’t providing information to hedge fund operators on the side? Those lawyers, like Jason, knew the outcome of every shadow jury trial.
Maybe Justice Inc. had monitored every phone call he had ever made during his time at the company. That might explain how they found out about the DUI accident in the first place-his conversations with his father would allude to it. Jason had probably also mentioned Matt Corey from time to time. It wouldn’t be hard to figure out.
He felt betrayed by the device he had carried with him everywhere, every minute of the day, on his hip, like a Trojan horse. Maybe even now, with the device turned off, Justice Inc. still had some kind of GPS system embedded into the phone that could track his every move. He was dealing with a huge and powerful organization with untold amounts of money at stake.
And he still had the same intractable dilemma that he had thirty minutes ago. Play the game and betray his client, or refuse to play and betray his father. Refuse to play and hurt LeRon’s family. Refuse to play and go to jail.
He powered the phone on and dialed Kelly’s number.
“I can’t make it tonight,” he said. “Something’s come up.”
“Do you need to push it back?”
“No. I just need to call it off. Events have more or less preempted it.”
“Fine,” Kelly said. “I’ll see you in court Monday.”
“Yeah. See you Monday.”
After the call, he waited several more minutes, trying to catch a few breaths without the sharp pain that had been accompanying each inhalation.
Strangely, the attack had increased his resolve. Waiting for the other shoe to drop for the last few weeks had been like torture. Thinking about the fallout from having his treachery exposed had been paralyzing.
But a few minutes ago, he’d thought he was going to die. And at that moment, all he wanted was another chance at life.
Coming that close to death could do something to a man.
He needed to go to the hospital and get his ribs checked out. But first, he had to take care of some other business. He drove out of the parking garage and cruised down Atlantic Avenue a few blocks. He found a metered spot on a side street, strapped on his shoulder holster with his MD-45, and threw a Windbreaker over top even though the temperature was still in the mideighties.
From now on, Jason and his gun would be inseparable; his BlackBerry would stay in the truck. He wouldn’t throw it away entirely, though, or Justice Inc. would realize that he knew how they were monitoring him.
He ducked in and out of the pedestrian traffic for a few minutes, checking behind him, the rapid pace causing more pain in his chest. Eventually, he worked his way to the lobby of the Hilton, where he called Kelly from a hotel phone.
“I’m in the lobby,” he said. “I know this sounds a little schizophrenic, but we really need to meet.”
80
It was late in the evening. Kelly’s meeting with Jason Noble had been over for more than an hour, and there was no way in the world that she was going to sleep. She walked out onto the balcony of her room, overlooking the boardwalk, and breathed in the night air.
She loved this view, had retreated to this spot numerous times in the last few days with the pressure of the trial bearing down on her. It was here, listening to the rhythmic beat of the ocean, that she had fine-tuned her opening statement. Last night, pacing back and forth on the small balcony, staring out at the ocean, she had imagined every minute of the cross-examination of Melissa Davids.
The night air was muggy, but a nice breeze blew in from the ocean, and the air carried a curious blend of salt water and the aromas from the Catch 31 restaurant twelve stories below. She could hear the country band playing next door, at the outdoor Neptune Park. She could see tourists strolling the boardwalk, others walking in the sand, kids playing on the blue playset just below the statue of King Neptune.
But tonight, none of this could begin to calm her nerves. This case had enough pressure of its own. But after her meeting with Jason, the intrigue and mind games had increased tenfold.
Could she trust Jason Noble? Nothing in the history of this case suggested that he had much integrity.
Kelly was confused and restless. She was on the verge of emotional exhaustion, yet at the same time she felt almost jittery with nervous energy. In some ways, this was expected at the end of a long week of trial. She hadn’t exercised all week. The adrenaline just bounced around in her body with no productive outlet, draining her reserves.
She needed some kind of release. She needed to think. Maybe she could hit the hotel pool and do a few laps. The exercise might clear her mind.
She changed into a one-piece swimsuit that she used for training, threw on flip-flops and a pair of shorts, put her goggles around her neck, and grabbed a hotel towel.
