"How did it go with Kit?"
Janek shrugged. "One minute we're pals: ' you can do this, Frank." Next she's the boss and I'm the errand boy." He exhaled. "By the way, we're reporting to Deforest.
Sue came into the room.
"I just got off with Dietz's boss in San Jose-Eliot Cavanaugh, chairman of Sonoron Corp. I should say former boss. Seems Dietz was an executive there until six days ago, when there was a big blowup and he got fired.
Cavanaugh says that on his way out Dietz may have stolen some kind of valuable prototype computer chip from a high-security area of their research lab. They think he brought it here to sell to a foreign competitor."
"Well, there you are, Frank. Whoever killed him tossed his room to find the chip." "Did they report him for stealing?" Janek asked.
"They didn't have any proof it was Dietz, so they just reported it as a robbery. Cavanaugh said at first they were expecting Dietz to offer to return the chip in exchange for a heavy-duty severance package. When they didn't hear from him they figured he was out to screw them. Now Cavanaugh wants to send his security guy here. I got the impression he could care less about Dietz, that all he cares about is getting back his thingamajig."
Janek instructed Sue to run a check on all known KO girls and outstanding KO cases. He made a date to meet Aaron for dinner at Peloponnesus, then phoned Meg Chang. He tried to convince her that the Dietz story wasn't worth her time, but she wouldn't let go. Finally, he agreed to give her an interview in front of the Savoy at eight the following night. Then he called Netti Rampersad.
"Hi! I hear you got goodies," Netti said.
"Goodies for you could be bad dies for somebody else."
She laughed. "You're funny, Janek. A witty fellow. Come on down. I could use a chuckle or two."
The address for her office was on Canal Street, within walking distance of the Criminal Courthouse, but the building, on the edge of Chinatown, was mostly occupied by Asian import-export firms and garment manufacturers inhabiting lofts designated by signs in Chinese characters.
Hmmm, this is curious, Janek thought as he mounted a steep stairway to the fourth floor. He was almost out of breath when he reached a bright red fire door. A neat little sign on it said RAMPERSAD amp; RUDNICK, CRIMINAL DEFENSE. Janek pressed the buzzer. He heard a click.
Someone was examining him through a peephole. Then he heard several locks being unlatched. A moment later he was facing Netti, who was standing in the doorway wearing a black tanktop, red sweatpants and immaculate white sneakers. Her face, arms and chest were slick with sweat.. "Ah-so-you come velly fast," she said in the same imitation Chinese accent she'd used when she'd said goodbye to him at the safe house.
Her office was as surprising as her clothing: a vast open space broken up by columns and decorated with old framed posters for Tangier, Port Said and other exotic ports of call. A home Nautilus machine and a Stairmaster were arranged like sculptures on a bright yellow platform.
On one side of the loft a pretty young woman was working at a computer.
On the other, a middle-aged gray-bearded man wearing a yarmulke was talking into a phone.
"That's my partner, Burt Rudnick," Netti said, gesturing. "This is our secretary, Doe Landestoy." Doe looked up and beamed.
"What's with the Chinese-waiter accent?"
"You don't like it?"
"I don't understand it."
Rampersad shrugged. "Just seems to come out of my mouth sometimes."
Maybe you should learn to restrain yourself, Janek thought. He peered around the room. "I've never seen a law office like this."
"It used to be a karate school. It folded and we picked up the lease.
The clients like it, those who get to visit us. Mostly, of course, it's us who visit them… in jail, prison, wherever." Rampersad grinned. "I like it here. These old walls have seen lots of pain.
Ever do karate?"
Janek shook his head. "Too much chop-chop."
She smiled. "Now that you've met everybody and checked out the joint, let's see what you got."
He handed her copies of Tania's affidavits, had her sign a receipt for them, then watched her as she read. She might, indeed, have strange mannerisms, but now, in defense attorney mode, she was all business.
"My client's going to be pleased," she said when she finished. "You've just handed me his passport out of hell."
"Think you can get him bail?"
"If I get him a new trial, bet your ass he'll be on the street."
"I don't know." Janek shook his head. "He's a rich guy.
He might make a run for it."
"He's served hard time. He's no threat to society.. Anyway, what's it to you?"
"He killed a cop." "Oh, sure," she said, turning sarcastic. "Howard Clury.
How could I forget?"
At that she launched into a little tirade, working herself up as she went along like an actress delivering a curtain speech. Janek didn't much like her tone, but he was impressed by her passion. Toward the end she was spitting out her words:
"No one ever brought charges against Mendoza for that, did they? Maybe because there was no evidence. But still he had to be a cop-killer, didn't he? So, what did you guys do-excuse me, some of you guys?
Cooked up as phony a chain-of-evidence story as this town has ever seen, probably even talked some lame-brained boxer into slicing his wrists while taking a bath. But that didn't matter because it brought the Great Cop-killer down. That was the only thing that mattered… except maybe to a few of us who happen to believe in the rule of law."
Janek stood back from her. Then he clapped. "Nice summation, Counselor."
"Never hurts to rehearse."
"I'm curious-do you see yourself becoming a legal heroine out of this?"
She shrugged. "Major victory in a high-visibility case could do wonders for my practice."
"And if some good cops get hurt, Ms. Rampersad, that won't bother you a bit?"
She studied him. "Please call me Netti."
"That's short for-?"
"Henrietta. And don't worry about good cops. They won't get hurt. As for the bad ones -'You do the crime, you do the time." Isn't that what they say these days?"
Aaron was seated when Janek arrived at Peloponnesus. He was nibbling olives and there was a chilled open bottle of Boutari Retsina on the table. The Greek fish restaurant on White Street catered at lunch to people in the criminal- justice field-court clerks, bondsmen, lawyers, judges. It was barely a quarter full that warm September night.
It was Janek's first chance to unwind since his return but still he felt tense. He told Aaron about Kit ordering him to pay a courtesy call on Dakin, and then about Sarah and the ninety-eight-hundred-dollar estimate on the roof.
"There she is, two years into a relationship with her accountant friend, Gilette. Half the time he's sleeping over in my old house. I'm sure the only reason they haven't gotten married is she doesn't want to lose the income she gets from me."
"Ever confront her with that?" Aaron asked.
"No. Because I can't prove it. If I bring it up it'll just start an argument, and, for me, one of the great benefits of the divorce is I no longer have to fight with the woman." He shook his head. "Thing is, I feel like I'm being taken."
"I got news for you, Frank-you are."
"Yeah… I I "I used to like Sarah fine. But what she's doing to you isn't right.
Why don't you get yourself a good lawyer, go in tough and cut off the alimony? At the least get it reduced. " "I've thought of that. But the idea of fighting again after all these years… " He shook his head.
"If we'd had children I think things would have been different. It was her decision, her fear. She was adamant. Whenever I'd bring it up she'd get irrational. After a while I stopped trying to convince her. Then it just seemed to hang between us, this unspoken thing that turned everything mean. We didn't talk about it but it was always there.