Barely Legal

18

James Glick’s cell phone rang on the platform of the Metro station. He’d been scared out of the restaurant by the two torpedoes and was riding the subway a few stops just to make sure they weren’t following him. He jerked the phone out of his pocket and glanced at caller ID.

It was Herb Fisher. That was a surprise. He’d half expected Herb to be at the bottom of the East River.

“James, it’s Herb Fisher. How’d the surgery go?”

“Great, great!” James blurted, his mind in chaos.

“So there’s no complications. You’ll be back in court tomorrow?”

“Oh. Complications. Yes. Well, the surgery went well, but I’ve developed a post-op infection, they’re probably going to keep me.”

“You’re not going to be in court?”

“Sorry about that, but you know how these doctors are.”

“No, I don’t know how these doctors are. This is not what I bargained for, James. I can’t handle a criminal case. You got me cross-examining the key witness, for Christ’s sake.”

“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you take the plea bargain?”

“The client doesn’t want it.”

“The client’s a kid. His father set up the plea bargain. It was all worked out.”

“The kid’s a legal adult. His father can’t plead him out.”

“You were supposed to make him want it.”

“You neglected to tell me that. Now I’m in court trying the damn case. The prosecution led off with the detective who found the drugs on the kid. If we can’t break that down, how do we beat the charge?”

“We cop the damn plea!”

“The kid didn’t take the plea. The detective testified. I’m asking him everything but his shoe size until you get back and take over, so you better get back and take over.”

“If the doctor says I can’t, I can’t. They got more rules here than the county pen.”

James Glick hung up the phone in mounting confusion. Taperelli wasn’t setting him up. Taperelli was telling the truth. The case hadn’t been settled. Herbie Fisher hadn’t taken the plea. The proof of that was that Herbie Fisher was still alive.

His cell phone rang again. He jerked it out of his pocket, checked caller ID.

Bill Eggers.

If he ever wanted to work again, he’d better take the call.

He clicked the button, adopted a weak, coming-out-of-anesthesia, barely-able-to-speak voice. “Yes.”

“Where are you?”

“I had surgery.”

“That’s what I hear. Not from you, the person I should be hearing it from, but from Councilman Ross. Do you know how stupid it makes me look when someone tells me something about my firm that I don’t know?”

“It was an emergency.”

“Are you going to be in court tomorrow?”

“If my doctor lets me.”

“What’s his name?”

“It’s a foreign name. And—”

James Glick’s heart nearly stopped. The two torpedoes had just come down the escalator and stepped onto the platform.

“Oh shit!” he exclaimed, dropping his phone on the concrete. He scooped it up, clicked it off, and headed down the platform.

There was no exit at the other end.

And the men were coming.

Before they reached him a train pulled into the station. The doors hissed open.

He tried to see if the men got on, but there were too many people in between.

James Glick was stuck. Getting on the train with the two men would be bad.

Being left alone on the platform with them would be worse.

James Glick took a deep breath and stepped inside, just as the doors closed behind him.