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Good lawyers didn’t come cheap, especially on a case with as much negative publicity as Khalid’s. Though Ghaniyah’s case would almost certainly be profitable, Alex knew he and Shannon would most likely burn through all that money and a whole lot more by the time they finished defending Khalid. For this reason, they called a meeting on Tuesday morning to request a $50,000 retainer from Khalid and to give him one important stipulation-no Hezbollah funds could be used to pay his lawyers. For Alex, it was a last-ditch effort to extricate his firm from the case. If Khalid refused to pay the retainer, even Shannon wouldn’t argue that they should take the case for free.

Alex had decided not to turn on the television this morning. Given the developments in California, he felt like his firm and Khalid were under siege. Forensics experts had already determined that the same sword used to sever Ja’dah’s head had been used in California. Young lawyers dream about high-profile cases, but Alex had always pictured himself wearing the white hat, not the black one. In this case, Alex felt as if he were wandering aimlessly in the fog of war, bullets flying all around him, and he couldn’t even tell where they were coming from.

He had a one-word strategy for these next few weeks of negative publicity: survive.

He checked his phone messages on the way to work and was surprised to discover that his critics had somehow discovered his cell number. He had already deleted dozens of hate-filled e-mails, including more than a few death threats. But there was something different about actually listening to the voices of his harshest critics; hearing the raw anger unnerved him. He thought about Shannon-the one lawyer in the firm who’d actually had the guts to speak out at Khalid’s bond hearing. She hadn’t said one word about death threats, but Alex was sure she must have received twice as many as he did.

He began to wonder if $50,000 was enough.

When he arrived at the office, Sylvia was behind her desk but looked like she might not last the day. She gave him a tortured look-her migraine face-and groaned out a “Good morning.”

For heaven’s sake, suck it up! Alex wanted to say. Instead, he also mumbled, “Good morning” and headed straight to his office.

Five minutes later, Sylvia was in his doorway, talking softly and moaning about her headache and the threats she had received as the firm’s receptionist. She had called the police, but all they did was take another report. As she talked, Sylvia would occasionally stop and squeeze her temples just to make sure that Alex realized how much pain she was in.

“Do you need to go home?” Alex finally asked.

“I don’t want to leave you stranded. But I can hardly keep my eyes open without the pain becoming just unbearable.”

Alex sighed. “Hold on a second.”

He walked down the hall to Shannon’s office, closed the door, and admitted defeat. It was time for Sylvia to go. It was lousy timing, with everything happening on the Mobassar cases, but Alex couldn’t handle it any longer. Shannon was happy he had finally discovered the obvious; she even volunteered to do the honors but also expressed caution. “Whoever fires her shouldn’t mention the headaches,” Shannon counseled. “They might be covered by the Americans with Disabilities Act.”

Alex rose from his chair. “I need to do it,” he said. “I’ll let you figure out how to replace her.”

Alex returned to his office and tried to let Sylvia down gently, but she did not cooperate. She had a spasm of crying, which only made the headache worse. Alex tried to comfort her but also kept glancing at his watch. It took thirty minutes of coaxing and sixty days of severance pay to send Sylvia packing with any kind of positive attitude.

Alex shuffled back to Shannon’s office and plopped down in one of her client chairs. It felt like the end of a long day, but he knew the challenges were just beginning. He was giving Shannon a full report on Sylvia’s situation when the phone rang. It was Alex’s line, but Shannon picked it up. “Mr. Madison’s office,” she said.

She told the caller that Alex was busy, took a message, and returned the phone to its cradle. Less than a minute later the phone rang again. This time, it was Shannon’s number, an outside line that Alex didn’t recognize. If Shannon answered the phone, she’d get stuck speaking with the person even if she didn’t want to.

She gave Alex a sideways glance- What are you waiting for? -and Alex picked up the phone. “Ms. Reese’s office,” he said. “How may I help you?”

Welcome to the big time, he thought.

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