“What’s up?” she asked.
“Kelly Starling called,” Jason lied. “She wants to discuss settlement.”
“What? Does Mr. McAllister know?”
“Not yet,” Jason said. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything.”
“He’s not coming back in tonight. It’s just me and Andrew.”
Bella hesitated, probably considering whether she should push the point.
“What is it?” Jason asked.
“Well, with all due respect, I think some cases are basically a matter of principle. I like Mr. Crawford and all, but I really don’t think MD Firearms wants to pay him a dime.”
“I understand that,” Jason said. “But it never hurts to listen.”
After he hung up with Bella, Jason tried reaching Kelly Starling on her cell but had to leave a message. He drove to his cottage, changed into shorts and a T-shirt, and sat down in front of the TV.
He flipped from one channel to the next and then turned it off. If things didn’t change, on Monday morning he would put Chief Poole on the stand, and the trial would implode. Juror 7 would lead the charge for the plaintiff. Jason would have betrayed his client in order to protect himself, his father, and Matt Corey.
Jason wasn’t very religious and hated cliches. Nonetheless, this felt like the proverbial deal with the devil. Once Poole took the stand, Jason’s decision would be irrevocable. How could he live with himself if that happened?
Even if he wanted to do the honorable thing and not call Poole, there was no way to salvage the trial now. If Poole didn’t take the stand, Marcia Franks probably wouldn’t turn against him. But he would still be stuck with Juror 3, Rodney Peterson, meaning that the best Jason could hope for would be a hung jury.
And Luthor would still reveal to the world what had happened ten years ago. Jason would face potential disbarment, national shame, and the scorn of LeRon’s family, along with possible jail time. The Crawford case would be tried all over again by somebody else.
And that was the best case.
Jason’s only hope was to figure out Luthor’s identity. That was the real reason he needed to meet with Kelly. He was going to confront her about how she had obtained the incriminating information on Poole. He would mention Luthor’s name. He would watch the look on her face.
By the time Kelly returned his call, it was nearly nine. She had been doing some television interviews, and they had made her turn off her phone. “I like to try my cases in court, not on TV,” Jason said.
“Good then; I’ll see you there Monday.”
“Actually… I was hoping to get a few minutes of your time tonight.”
“For what?”
“Can I tell you when we meet? It’s not something I want to talk about on a cell phone.”
79
They agreed to meet at Catch 31, a bar and restaurant located on the ground floor of the Hilton. At a few minutes after nine, Jason found a spot in the 31st Street parking garage just across the street. He left his gun under the passenger seat and started walking toward the corner of the garage where the stairs and elevator were located.
His mind was on his meeting with Kelly. How would she respond when he mentioned Luthor? How much should he reveal?
The garage was dark and about half full on the fourth level where he had parked. He could hear people on the street below, a band playing at Neptune Park, Atlantic Avenue buzzing with tourists.
He was preoccupied with thoughts of the upcoming meeting and didn’t even notice that a few cars on this level were actually running. Without warning, two vehicles on the far side of the garage turned their lights on-high beams-putting Jason directly in their spotlight. He turned toward them, shielding his eyes with his hands.
The blow came from behind, something solid against the back of his skull. Jason tried to pivot, but his knees went weak. Before he realized what was happening, someone had grabbed him and yanked a hood over his head.
Almost simultaneously, someone drove a fist into Jason’s side, and he felt the wind leave his lungs, his ribs screaming with pain.
“Yell out, and you’re dead,” said a thick voice in his ear. The man pulled the hood tighter, cinching it around Jason’s neck.
A second person pulled Jason’s hands behind his back and snapped some plastic handcuffs on his wrists.
“Get in the car!” the first man hissed. He pushed Jason’s head down and shoved him into the backseat of some vehicle. Every breath Jason took sent pain shooting through his side. It felt like his ribs were broken, and he could only breathe in short, painful bursts.
“We told you not to settle.” The voice was hoarse and raspy. Jason didn’t recognize it. He was sandwiched between two men in the backseat.
One of them leaned over so his mouth was just a few inches from Jason’s ear. “With the heel of my hand, I once hit a guy so hard that I drove the bone from his nose all the way up into his brain. You have any idea what that feels like?”
Jason shook his head emphatically.
“Why are you getting ready to meet with Kelly Starling?”
Jason tried to catch his breath. “We had some things to go over for Monday. Just… logistical stuff-”
“Umph!” Another blow to the ribs sent the wind out of Jason’s chest. He doubled over in the seat and moaned in pain.
“Sit up!” One of the men jerked him back in his seat, causing a fresh wave of agony. The man pulled up the bottom part of the fabric covering Jason’s face and jammed the hard steel of a gun barrel into his mouth. Jason gagged. Cold sweat broke out on his back and forehead.
“Cross me again and you die,” one of the men hissed. “Understood?”
Jason nodded his head.
He froze when he heard the hammer cock back. “You still want to settle?”
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.