Barely Legal

7

James Glick slipped his cell phone back into his pocket. Mr. Glick was on an Amtrak Acela speeding out of New York as fast as the train could carry him. James Glick was not in the hospital, and his appendix was fine. The only part of what he had told Herbie that was true was about being in court at two o’clock. That, and the plea bargain. James Glick had been offered the plea bargain. He just couldn’t take it.

Ever since he’d caught the case, James Glick had been pressured by mobsters. The pressure had not been subtle. He’d been muscled into a car and taken to a deserted junkyard on Long Island, where he’d been forced to his knees and a gun had been held to his head. He’d been told to lose the case, and to lose it as quickly as possible, or his next trip to Long Island would be one-way.

As a result he’d waived the probable cause hearing and gone right to trial, assuring his client the prosecution would be eager to do so, too. He hadn’t realized how eager until he got into court and was offered such a favorable plea bargain.

The mobsters had stepped in again. This time they hadn’t felt the need to drive him to Long Island, they’d simply spelled it out for him. They didn’t want him to settle the case, they wanted him to lose the case, and to lose it badly enough the kid would wind up with a jail sentence. James Glick had no idea why they wanted this, only that they did, and that a dark fate was in store for him if he didn’t deliver.

James hated passing the buck to Herb Fisher, but he had no choice. If he took the plea bargain he was dead. Another lawyer might escape such a fate. He wouldn’t know what he was up against, and would accept the plea bargain without hesitation. Then there would be no point in killing Herbie, because it would be a fait accompli.

And he would be free of this nagging nightmare. After a while, he might be able to come back. No one knew where he was. They wouldn’t be following him.

Or would they? He had a flash of paranoid fear.

He glanced around and saw no one. Of course, he was snug in his seat. He leaned out, peered down the aisle. There was no one in front of him. He glanced behind him. There was no one there.

But that didn’t mean they weren’t.

Could they have followed him?

They couldn’t, could they?

The Acela hurtled down the track.