Krasner ignored the remark about his fee.
'Is that five thousand?' he asked.
'Yes, of course. Five thousand. What can you do with it?'
Gladden figured Krasner was probably kicking himself over discounting his inflated fee.
'Okay, that means you can handle fifty thousand bail. I think we're in good shape. It's a felony arrest for now. But the fleeing and the pollution are wobblers, meaning they can be filed as either felonies or misdemeanors. I am sure that they will go low on them. It's a bullshit case trumped up by the cops. We just have to get you into court and out on bail.'
'Yes.'
'I think fifty thousand will be high for this matter but it will be part of the horse trading I do with the filing deputy. We'll see how it goes. I take it you do not want to provide an address.'
'That's correct. I need a new one.'
'Then we might have to go the whole fifty. But in the meantime I will see about an address. There may be additional expenses incurred from that. It won't be much. I can prom-'
'Fine. Just do it.'
Gladden looked back at the man on the other side of the cell.
'What about tonight?' he asked quietly. 'I told you, these cops are going to try to get me hurt.'
'I think they are bluffing but-'
'That's easy for you to-'
'But I am not taking any chances. Hear me out, Mr. Brisbane. I can't get you out tonight but I am going to make some calls. You will be okay. I am going to get you in there with a K-9 jacket.'
'What's that?'
'It's keep-away status in the jail. It's usually reserved for informants or high-power cases. I'll make a call to the jail and inform them that you are an informant in a federal investigation out of Washington.'
'Won't they check?'
'Yes, but it will be too late today. They'll put you in a K-9 jacket and by the time they find out tomorrow it's bogus, you'll be in court and then hopefully free after that.'
'That's a nice scam, Krasner.'
'Yes, but I won't be able to use it again, I think I may have to raise the fee we just discussed a bit to cover the loss.'
'Fuck that. Look, this is the deal. I have access to six grand max. You get me out and whatever's left after the bondsman, you get. It's an incentive deal.'
'That's a deal. Now, one other thing. You also mentioned the need to beat the prints. I need to have an idea about this. So that in clear conscience I will not make any statements before the court that will-'
'I have a history, if that is what you're asking. But I don't think you and I have to go into that.'
'I understand.'
'When will my arraignment be?'
'Late morning. When I make my calls to the jail after we hang up, I'll see to it you are scheduled for the early bus to Santa Monica. It's better to wait in the court hold than Biscailuz.'
'I wouldn't know. My first time here.'
'Uh, Mr. Brisbane, I need to bring up my fee and the bail money again. I'm afraid I'll need that in my possession before I go into court tomorrow.'
'You have a wire account?'
'Yes.'
'Give me the number. I'll have it wired in the morning. Will I be able to dial long distance in K-9?'
'No. You'll have to call my office. I'll tell Judy to expect the call. She'll then dial the number you give her on the other line and cross-connect you. It will be no problem. I've done it this way before.'
Krasner gave him his wire account number and Gladden used the memorizing technique Horace had taught him to commit it to memory.
'Mr. Krasner, you would be doing yourself a great favor if you destroy the wire records of this transaction and simply carry the fee as paid in cash on your accounts.'
'I understand. Anything else on your mind?'
'Yes. You better put something on the PTL net, tell the others what happened, tell them to stay away from that carousel.'
'Will do.'
After he hung up, Gladden turned his back to the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. He avoided looking at the man across the room. He noticed the snoring had stopped and guessed that maybe the man on the floor might be dead. OD'd. Then the man stirred slightly. For a moment Gladden considered reaching down and pulling the plastic bracelet off the man and replacing it with his own. He'd probably be released in the morning without the cost of a lawyer and $50,000 bail.
It was too risky, he decided. The man sitting across the cell might be a cop and, besides, the one on the floor might be a multiple repeat offender. You never knew when a judge was going to say enough was enough. Gladden decided to take his chances with Krasner. After all, he'd gotten his name off the network board. The lawyer must know what he was doing. Still, the six thousand bothered him. He was being extorted by the judicial system. Six thousand for what? What had he done wrong?
His hand went to his pocket for a cigarette but then he remembered they had been taken away. That brought the anger down on him even heavier. And the self-pity. He was being persecuted by society and for what? His instincts and desires were not of his choosing. Why couldn't they understand that?
Gladden wished he had his laptop with him. He wanted to sign on and talk to those on the network. Those of his kind. He felt lonely in the cell. He thought that he might even start to cry except that the man leaning against the other wall was watching him. He would not cry in front of him.
8
I didn't sleep well after my day with the files. I kept thinking about the photos. First of Theresa, then of my brother. Both of them captured forever in horrible poses, stored away in envelopes. I wanted to go back and steal the photos and burn them. I didn't want anyone ever to see them.
In the morning, after I had made coffee, I turned on my computer and dialed into the Rocky's system to check messages. I ate handfuls of Cheerios from the box as I waited for the connection to be made and my password to be approved. I kept my laptop and printer set up on the dining room table because I most often ate while using them. It beat sitting at the table alone and thinking about how I'd been eating alone for more years than I cared to remember.
My home was small. I'd had the same one-bedroom apartment with the same furniture for nine years. It wasn't a bad place but it was nothing special. Other than Sean, I couldn't remember who the last visitor was. When I was with women, I didn't take them there. There hadn't been many of them, anyway.
I thought when I first moved in I'd only be staying a couple years, that maybe I'd eventually buy a house and get married or have a dog or something. But it hadn't happened and I'm not sure why. The job, I guess. At least that's what I told myself. I concentrated my energy on my work. In each room of the apartment there were stacks of newspapers with my stories in them. I liked to reread them and save them. If I died at home, I knew they'd come in there and find me and mistakenly think I was one of those pack rats I'd written about who die with newspapers stacked to the ceiling and their cash stuffed into the mattress. They wouldn't bother to pick up one of the papers and read my story.
On the computer I had only a couple of messages. The most recent was from Greg Glenn asking how it was going. It had been sent at six-thirty the night before. The timing annoyed me; the guy okayed the assignment Monday morning and on Monday night he wanted to know where I was going with it. 'How's it going?' was editor- speak for 'Where's the story?'
Fuck him, I thought. I sent back a brief reply saying I had spent Monday with the cops and was convinced of my
