Barely Legal

37

Councilman Ross and his son invited Herbie out to lunch with them, but he courteously declined.

“I’m not hungry, and I’ve got work to do.” Herbie smiled. “Hard as it may be to believe, this is not really my case.”

Herbie didn’t mention the real reason, that if he left the building for lunch there was a strong possibility he wouldn’t be back.

After David and his father left, Herbie called Mike Freeman, the head of Strategic Services. Herbie knew Mike well. Aside from setting up the corporate structure of Strategic Defenses, Herbie had often hired Mike’s firm to provide security for his clients.

“Hi, Mike. Herb Fisher.”

“Herbie. What can I do for you?”

“Funny you should ask. I happen to be appearing in court this afternoon, and I’m going to need a ride home.”

“We’re not a car service.”

“No, but then a limo wouldn’t provide the services that I require.”

“Oh?”

“There are a couple of gentlemen here who would like to offer me a ride with them.”

“Why don’t you take it?”

“I don’t think we’re going in the same direction.”

“I see.”

“I have every reason to believe there are some people who are not going to be happy with my performance here in court.”

“Just how critical are these gentlemen?”

“Most likely armed and dangerous and not apt to take no for an answer.”

“I have a couple of boys who are very good at saying no.”

“I would like to avoid a shooting war. Your boys aren’t trigger happy, are they?”

“Not at all. If someone shoots first, that’s another story.”

“A story I’d rather not star in. I just need a ride home.”

“And once you get there?”

“Unless my fiancée tries to kill me, I should be fine.”

“You’re getting married?”

“I live dangerously.”

“So it seems.”

Herbie hung up, called a deli down the street and had a sandwich delivered. It had just arrived when the two goons who walked him to the limo came in and conferred with the other goons.

Herbie paid off the delivery boy and headed down the aisle, away from the goons. He pushed through the gate, went up, and sat at the judge’s bench.

The bailiff looked horrified. “You can’t do that.”

“I just did.”

“No, no, no. You can’t sit there.”

“Where can I sit?”

The bailiff pointed to the spectators section. “Out there.”

“No, I’m afraid I can’t sit there.”

“Yes you can, it’s perfectly fine.”

Herbie smiled. “We’re talking at cross purposes. Assume I can’t sit here and I can’t sit there. Is there a place back there I could hide out?”

“Yes, if you want.”

The bailiff led Herbie back to the small conference room where he had first conferred with ADA Grover.

“Will this do?”

“This will be great,” Herbie said. He plunked his sandwich on the table and sat down.

“Okay,” the bailiff said. “You can hang out here as long as you want. Is there anything else you need?”

Herbie frowned and considered. “Could you lock me in?”