TWO
THEY SAT ACROSS FROM EACH OTHER IN ONE OF THE LAWYER meeting rooms, Foley watching Megan Norris move the tin ashtray aside to place her business case on the table. He thought she'd bring out a transcript of his trial and go over some of it. No, what she took out was a legal pad and spent a few minutes looking at her notes. No rings or nail polish. It was the easy way she wore her blond hair, sort of streaked, and the slim business suit in black that told him Miss Megan was expensive. He thought she'd name her fee and ask if he had it. No, she got right into the case. She said: "Jack, the judge was out to get you."
And knew he was in good hands. He saw she was comfortable with him and he said, "No, it's the way the man is. Hands out thirty years like he's happy to oblige. It's why he's known as Maximum Bob."
He liked the way she did her hair, only sort of combed, like the girl who used to be on CNN Foley believed he'd fall in love with if they ever met. At this moment he couldn't think of her name, Miss Megan Norris holding his attention. He believed Miss Megan could have her pick of guys; he couldn't see her spending time with a little Cuban who'd come eye-level with her neckline and try his best to look in.
Megan's next question, "Why didn't you fire that dump truck you had for an attorney? He allowed testimony outside Miranda that you'd robbed as many as two hundred banks."
"Every time my lawyer stood up," Foley said, "the judge told him to sit down."
"And he did, never stating his objections."
"Lou Adams, the FBI agent, came to see me when I was being held at Gun Club. First he said we had something in common, both of us born and raised in New Orleans. He had a list of bank robberies under investigation and wondered if he read them off I'd tell him the ones I did. Like I'd want to help him out since we're both from the Big Easy, both love our hometown when it wasn't under water. Special Agent Lou Adams seemed surprised when I questioned his intention. He said it was so they could close any cases I could help him with, file 'em away. I said, 'You're having fun with me, aren't you?' and kept my mouth shut. But once Lou got on the stand he swore I'd robbed a couple hundred banks and believed he could name them. My lawyer raised his voice objecting, but Maximum Bob allowed it. He said, 'Let the witness have his say, this is good stuff.' That's how he talks, His Honor Bob Isom Gibbs. Out of court he's also called Big, but he's a little bitty guy."
"He sits on cushions," Megan said, "behind the bench. What you say is pretty much what I got from the transcript. I think I can get this reversed based on the judge's behavior and the FBI agent's imagination. We either retry it or work out a deal. Your buddy Cundo is taking care of my fee."
"He never told me what you're asking."
"What I'm getting, not asking. Fifteen thousand for this one. But we'll avoid going to trial again. Thirty years, according to sentencing guidelines, is the maximum you can get. I'll ask the state attorney about a deal, consider the minimum sentence less time served, and see if I can get no parole as part of the deal. I think Jerry already sees the problem with the case and will go along with what we want. He's a no-bullshit kind of guy. Why hang you up that long for no reason? One of these days he'll run for judge and make it."
"All that work for fifteen grand," Foley said, "even if it takes you a couple of days."
"It could take twenty minutes," Megan said, "you get back as much as twenty-seven years of your life. Put a price on that." She said then, "You're wondering how you'll repay your buddy, aren't you? Or how he might ask you to work it off."
"It's crossed my mind," Foley said.
"You'll owe him at least thirty thousand before we're through. The next court appearance will be an exam on the escape case. Corrections would simply extend your sentence. But this examination will focus on kidnapping, the abduction of a federal officer you held as hostage."
"Karen?"
It was the first time in months he had said her name out loud. Foley eased straight up in his chair.
"Karen Sisco," Megan said, "with the Marshals Service. Also an attempted robbery and several homicides the prosecutor in Detroit wants to know about. So there could be more court time up north."
"I have to appear in Detroit?"
"You thought you were getting away with it?"
"Karen shot me. What am I getting away with?"
"We'll go over it the next time I see you," Megan said, "later in the week. I want to talk to Karen first."
"I'll tell you right now," Foley said, "I didn't kidnap her or hold her hostage."
Megan put her legal pad away and got up from the table, her expression pleasant enough.
"Let's see what Karen has to say, all right? She'll be a witness for the state. There's also the guard, Julius Pupko, who was injured."
"I forgot about the Pup," Foley said. "I thought 'the Jewel' would be a good name for him, but everybody liked Pup better."
"Well, if you didn't hit him over the head then someone else did," Megan said. "We'll do the escape-abduction hearing first, then appeal the bank robbery sentence. See if we can make a deal. Jerry knows I'd kill him if he retries the case."
Foley said, "Why don't we do it first? Get the robbery appeal out of the way."
"Why don't you leave it to me?" Megan said.
They met in the bare office once more before the escape hearing. The first thing Foley wanted to know, "Did you see Karen?"
"We'll get to Karen," Megan said, wearing off-duty designer jeans today with a narrow navy blazer. "I see the appellate court assigned an attorney"-Megan looking at her notes-"and he told you there were no issues in his judgment worthy of appeal?"
"I never saw him," Foley said. "The guy turned me down with a half-page letter."
"You keep drawing dump trucks," Megan said. "This one is blind or didn't read the transcript, it would have hit him between the eyes. Don't worry about it. Right now I want you to describe the escape, how you got involved."
He told her the muck rats dug a tunnel that went from under the chapel out past the fence toward the parking lot. "I happened to be in the chapel saying my rosary, meditating I believe on the Sorrowful Mysteries. You know there're also Joyful Mysteries you can meditate on."
Megan said, "Yes…?"
"When the muck rats came in-that's how I think of the guys that dug the tunnel. They came in the chapel, grabbed me and said I was going first. I get shot coming out, they have to decide if they want to try it."
"Wasn't a guard there, Mr. Pupko?"
"That's right, he was looking out the window, watching 'em play football in the exercise yard. Sometimes a play ends, a guy doesn't get up from the pile. The muck rats sneaked up and clocked the Pup with a two-by-four, put him out."
"They had it with them?"
"There was scrap lumber lying around. Some inmates were doing fix-up work in the chapel. Anyway, I made it through the tunnel and the five rats followed me out."
"At that point," Megan said, "couldn't you have put your hands in the air, indicate you want to surrender?"
"I was about to," Foley said, a Sorrowful Mystery look on his face. "But I saw Karen. Her car's right there and she's getting something out of the trunk, a shotgun."
"She sees what's going on."
"By then the siren's going off."
"Before you could give yourself up."
"Yes, ma'am, exactly," Foley said, starting to fall in love with his lawyer. "Before the hacks could blow us away I got Karen in the trunk."
"Deputy Marshal Sisco." "That's right."
"You threw her in the trunk."
"I helped her get in. I remember saying something like, 'Miss, this is for your own good.' " "She still has a shotgun?"