The sparrow took off again and vanished through the cherry trees.
“Bird go bye-bye,” Alex said. He looked crushed.
“Yes. Bird go bye-bye.”
But the sparrow wasn’t the only amusement on the block. A man walking a happy-looking German shepherd dog came toward them, and Alex’s gloom at having lost the bird vanished in a big smile. “Woof-woof!” he said.
“Woof-woof,” she said. “It is a dog!”
Before her baby was born, she would never have believed that she’d be having these kinds of conversations. When she had heard friends or relatives jabbering at their small kids like this, she had been amused, even condescending. She would never talk to her kids that way. Or so she had thought, anyway.
The dog, her tail wagging like a crazed metronome, was straining at the leash slightly, obviously wanting to get to Little Alex. Toni looked at the owner, a fit, largish, fifty-something man in a T-shirt, shorts, and running shoes, with short hair and sunglasses. “Does the dog bite?” she asked. “Is she good with children?”
The owner chuckled. “Cady? She’ll lick his face, is all. Maybe knock him down with her tongue. She’s the biggest sissy you ever saw. I’ve seen the cat shove her away from her own food bowl, and all she did was stand there and whine at me: ‘Help, Daddy, protect me!’ ”
Toni grinned. “Alex, you want to pet the woof-woof?”
“Woof-woof!”
“Go ahead, then,” Toni said to the dog’s owner. “Give her a little slack.” She was a little wary, and she edged a tiny bit closer, but she was determined that she wasn’t going to walk around her whole life stopping her son from experiencing the world.
The dog, who had to weigh a hundred and fifteen or twenty pounds, surged forward, and Toni tensed up. Nothing happened, though, except that it began to lap at Alex’s face.
It surprised him, and he flinched, but then he laughed, reached out, and hugged the big beast around the neck. The dog seemed happy enough, and Alex was ecstatic. “Woof-woof! Woof-woof!”
The owner smiled. “Beautiful little boy,” he said.
“We think so,” Toni said. “So is your dog.”
Alex continued to hug the dog, who seemed to think this was a fine game.
A dog, Toni thought. Now there’s an idea. Somebody to keep Little Alex company. She’d always wanted a dog when she’d been little, but living in an apartment in the Bronx made that a problem. No reason they couldn’t have a dog now, though. Alex liked dogs, she knew. He had even had one for a while. And they had a yard. Kids ought to have a dog, right?
They were in the conference room. There just wasn’t enough table space in Michaels’s office for all the hard-copy documents they needed to spread out and examine.
Michaels looked at the sea of paper. “God, I hate lawyers,” he said.
“Present company excluded, of course?”
“No,” Alex said, shaking his head. “Especially present company.”
Tommy Bender laughed. “Sorry, pal, I don’t make the rules. I just try to keep my clients from being skewered by ’em.”
“Yeah, well, Shakespeare was right. Come the Revolution, first thing we should do is kill all the lawyers. It would certainly make things a lot simpler.”
“That quote is always taken out of context,” Tommy said. “King Henry the VI, Part II, Scene II. It’s spoken by a comedy relief character named ‘Dick the Butcher,’ who is a killer, while his buddy Cade muses about what he’d do if he was king. An early lawyer joke is all it was, a cheap laugh.”
“Can’t have too many cheap laughs,” Alex said. “Or lawyer jokes, for that matter.”
“Here’s one,” Tommy said. “A lawyer and his wife are on a cruise in the Caribbean.”
“I hate the locale already,” Michaels said.
“You should have thought of that before you started shooting people down there. Anyway, the lawyer and his wife are watching the sharks swim back and forth, and the lawyer leans too far forward and falls into the water. The ship’s captain, who is passing by, sees the man fall, yells ‘Man overboard!’ and reaches for a life ring, when all of a sudden the sharks stop swimming. One of them dives under the thrashing lawyer, picks him up on his back, and heads toward the ship, while the other sharks line up in two rows on either side. The shark delivers the lawyer to the ladder, where the lawyer climbs off.
“The captain is stunned. ‘I have never seen anything like that!’ he says. ‘That was amazing!’
“And the lawyer’s wife just shrugs and says, ‘No big deal. Just professional courtesy… ’ ”
Michaels smiled and shook his head. “Why is it that all the best lawyer jokes I hear are from lawyers?”
“We have to be able to laugh at ourselves,” Tommy said. “Everyone else does, and it’s easier than crying about it. Nobody loves the undertaker, either, but he’s got his niche.” He shrugged and pointed at the piles of paper. “All right,” he said. “Let’s get back to your situation, shall we?”
Alex groaned. “Do we have to?”
“Unless you want to cost the taxpayers a couple hundred million dollars for violating the civil rights of the dead guys, it would be a good idea, yes.”
“You know,” Michaels said, “I just don’t understand this. We were in international waters, and they were shooting at us. Doesn’t that help?”
“Yes and no. Mostly, it just muddies things up. A few years ago, it wouldn’t have happened, there were actually laws against suing certain agencies in the performance of their duties, kind of like you can’t sue a sitting President, and some states won’t let cops arrest legislators for piddly stuff when congress is in session. But times change. International Maritime Law is unbelievably complicated, and made even worse by the latest round of rulings from the Hague and by the U.N.’s interpretations of those rulings.”
He sighed. “Look, Alex, the way things stand right now, you can get sued in either state or federal court, since the affected persons were all natives of this country, and of Florida, and so are their dependents. American citizens don’t lose their American civil rights while at sea, especially if they are being violated by other Americans. Obviously, the violators in this case would be you, although you personally won’t have to pay out anything, since you are under the Net Force umbrella, and federally insured and all. Still, nobody in the food chain is going to be happy if we lose this suit.”
“What about just settling? Wouldn’t it be cheaper?”
“No question, but the people suing you don’t want to settle — or, more accurately, the attorney representing them doesn’t want to. You know those sharks in the joke? If this guy fell into the water, the sharks would scatter for their lives. Of course, he would just walk back to the ship — on the water, if you get my drift. We are talking about Mitchell Townsend Ames.”
He waited a moment, and when it became obvious that Michaels didn’t have a clue who this was, he shook his head. “Don’t you ever read a paper, Alex? Or watch the news on TV? Ames is the guy who routinely takes on the major drug companies. And wins. He’s filed half a dozen class-action suits against the pharmaceutical houses and has never lost one. This guy’s a doctor-slash-lawyer, bright as an H-bomb fireball, and meaner than a bag full of hungry wolverines.”
Michaels shrugged. “If you’ve seen one lawyer, you’ve seen ’em all.”
“No, sir, that ain’t how it is,” Tommy said. “Mitchell Ames eats top guns and spits shrapnel. He’s fast, sharp, and he knows both ends of the game when it comes to health suits, plus he is good-looking — and can dumb it down so a jury full of third-grade kids could understand every word of his evidence. He is a very dangerous man in court.”