The Justice Game

89

Jason drifted in and out of the fog. Stray thoughts and nightmares tumbled together through the cobwebs of his mind. He heard voices at the end of a long tunnel and felt the intense pain of a pounding headache radiating from the back of his skull. His head felt like someone had it in a vise and was screwing it tighter and tighter as Jason regained consciousness. His mouth was dry as cotton.

He felt something sting his cheek. Once. Twice. He flinched. Another slap.

“Wake up, Boy Wonder.”

He realized he was sitting in a chair. He blinked a few times into the darkness, trying to clear his head. Somebody pointed a bright light into his eyes-some kind of spotlight? He squinted and slit his eyes-a flashlight.

He felt the sting of the next slap on his cheek, a hard shot with an open palm, and he shook his head. He tried to retaliate, but his wrists were handcuffed together in front of him. As he tried to stand up, a strong arm shot out and jammed him back into his seat. He couldn’t yell-they had stuffed something in his mouth; he could feel fabric on his tongue. A rag, maybe, held in place with some kind of tape wrapped around the back of his head.

“Welcome back to reality,” a deep voice said. “Unfortunately for you, reality sucks.”

Jason squinted to get his bearings. He was in an auditorium. A theater? It was dark except for the light shining directly in his eyes. He could make out the shadows of two figures behind the flashlight.

He felt a gun barrel at the back of his skull.

“That’s enough,” someone said. “He’s awake.” It was a softer voice. The person who had just spoken took the flashlight from the first man and placed it on the floor. He knelt in front of Jason.

Andrew?

Jason stared at him, and Andrew Lassiter stared back, blinking. “I never meant for it to turn out like this,” he said.

Robert Sherwood parried questions from Agent Billingsley for nearly thirty minutes, a battle of wits between a brilliant CEO and a savvy investigator. The one thing Billingsley had that Sherwood did not was time. And patience.

Sherwood had clients to call. Fires to put out. His entire business plan was imploding.

“Turn that thing off,” he said, motioning to the recorder.

Billingsley leaned forward and switched off the device.

“Our corporation is a highly sophisticated research firm that provides advice to a number of clients,” Sherwood said in a condescending tone. He would try to keep it simple so Billingsley wouldn’t glaze over with the technical details. “We have a state-of-the-art system for analyzing potential jury verdicts in big cases like the Crawford case. It’s complicated, but the heart of the system is a mock trial we conduct using three different jury panels, all designed to reflect the characteristics of the jurors on the actual case.” Sherwood paused. “Are you following all this?”

“You might want to slow down a little,” Billingsley said sarcastically. “FBI agents can be a little thick.”

Sherwood frowned at the gamesmanship. “Last Thursday evening we heard from our three jury panels. They all came back with a defense verdict based on what we thought the evidence in the Crawford case would be. Over the weekend, we advised our clients, most of them hedge fund managers, that it was our considered opinion that the stocks of gun manufacturers like MD Firearms would not be damaged by this verdict. In fact, we anticipated that a defense verdict would boost the stocks higher.”

Sherwood watched closely as Billingsley processed the information. The agent showed no reaction.

“Today, of course, the final witness for the defense imploded, the case went south, and we look like idiots.” Sherwood leaned forward on his desk. “If the plaintiff gets a verdict in this case, and I suspect he will, our firm might never recover.” He paused, again giving the FBI agent time to process the information.

“So I would appreciate it, Agent Billingsly, if you would get out of my office and find out who’s been blackmailing Jason Noble. I’ve got a few ideas of my own, and I can promise you this-whoever it is had better pray that you find him first.”