When she finally smiled at him, North saw a cold, detached intelligence that gave him the answer before she even opened her mouth. “Come on, Agent North. Don’t be so naive. This trial is going to be headline news all the way up until the verdict. For that kind of attention, I think I’m willing to set aside the feminist agenda, at least temporarily. After all, principles can’t buy air time, can they?”
She winked at him, actually winked at him, and then spun on her heel to leave the room. North leaned back in his chair. Well, that was that. Good luck, Ryan. Better you than me, pal.
Especially if you have to deal with her.
When he stepped into the room, Ryan didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look in Elgin’s direction. He shut and locked the door behind him, then checked for a camera in the upper right-hand corner near the ceiling. Seeing nothing but bare walls, he turned to face the prisoner. Elgin was already up and cowering at the far side of the room.
His movements were awkward because of the handcuffs and leg irons that bound him, as well as the heavy brace on his left knee that served as a reminder of their last encounter. The smug look was long gone, replaced by a mask of pure terror.
“What the fuck! What are you doing here, man? Where’s my lawyer at?”
Kealey advanced with startling speed, kicking a metal chair out of the way before reaching the prisoner. His right fist moved in a blur, slamming up into Elgin’s solar plexus. As Elgin slumped and choked for breath, Ryan lifted him up and pinned him against the wall, wrapping his left hand around the man’s windpipe and squeezing hard.
“I don’t have time to fuck around anymore, Tommy. You told me a half truth once. It won’t happen again. There was another name on that bill of lading, wasn’t there? You’re going to—”
“I don’t know! I don’t know anything, I swear!”
Pulling back a few feet, Kealey pushed his weight forward and slammed the injured man hard into the wall. This was immediately followed by another violent blow to the stomach. The second was less powerful than the first, as Ryan struggled to keep the man up-right and maintain his own leverage at the same time.
All the same, it was enough. Elgin retched and continued to slump to the ground. Ryan let him go, then reached around and pulled an object from underneath his jacket at the small of his back.
Elgin’s eyes grew wide when the knife was produced. He leaned away from the weapon, which only made Ryan’s job easier as he reached to pull Elgin’s head back by grabbing a handful of greasy hair, leaving the man’s throat unprotected.
“Do you remember this?” Kealey waved the ceramic knife in front of Elgin’s bulging eyes. “I’m sure you do. That was a bad move, by the way. You really pissed me off with that little stunt. She still got the drop on you, though, didn’t she? I guess you’re not as tough as you thought . . . There was another name on that bill of lading, wasn’t there? Otherwise, it wouldn’t have gone missing from the harbormaster’s office at NIT. Last chance— What was the name?”
Another violent shake of the head. Ryan’s fist was like a stone around the tape-covered handle. He was taking it too far, and he knew it. The knife was on Elgin’s throat, and he pushed it down until the blade began to sink and a thin red line appeared, little rivulets of blood running down and pooling on the cold tile. Elgin was screaming, muffled screams until Ryan realized that he was holding his hand over the man’s mouth. He pulled it away and tried to collect himself.
He realized that his hands were shaking.
“I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you anything! Please stop! Just . . . Jesus, just stop!” Elgin continued to ramble on, although the words were twisted and made incomprehensible by fear and pain.
“The name, Tommy. Right now.”
It was a long hallway, but Alex Harris was in no particular hurry, still fuming at the DEA agent’s arrogance and her own wounded pride. His jab about money was especially painful because it was true. She had spent the better part of the last decade in a prominent Chicago-based firm, but her own firm was in its fledgling years, and she didn’t have the time or resources to represent a client who couldn’t pay, even a client whose case enjoyed broad publicity.
Despite what she had said in the lounge, she had no choice: she would have to file a motion for withdrawal. As she walked, she found her anger at this new development focused on the agent who had brought her the news. What a waste of time, she thought. That guy pulls me away to offer something that he can’t possibly have the authority to deliver, and then—
The realization hit her with the force of a sledgehammer: It was a sham. That guy couldn’t have been more than thirty, and he clearly had no legal training whatsoever. Why would they send someone to deliver a phony offer, though? There was nothing to gain from it, unless . . .
She realized with a start that the guard was no longer stationed outside the interrogation room. In fact, she couldn’t see anyone in the hall, though she could hear a distant conversation to her rear.
She began to run, the heavy briefcase banging against her leg, 100 feet away and closing. The deputies trailing her called out in surprise at the sudden movement.
Ignoring them, she reached the door and burst into the room, looking down into her client’s panicked eyes.
Down until she saw that the blood followed the cracks in the tile beneath her feet.
She stumbled back and screamed in fear and shock, and then in rage as the deputies rushed toward the room.
Ryan turned the corner toward the exit, cursing inwardly when he saw what awaited him. Naomi Kharmai was arguing in loud tones with Adam North, who was sliding his pistol back into its holster after receiving it in exchange for his pass.
Naomi saw him and turned her fury away from the DEA agent.
“What the hell are you doing here, Ryan? I was supposed to be part of this, remember? This is bullshit! Just you wait until the deputy director finds out . . .”
She went on and on as Ryan flashed his identification and slapped his pass down on the counter. The deputy who scooped it up was wearing a wide smile, clearly amused by the scene Naomi was making.
Ryan was less enthralled. Seconds from now he knew there would be a sharp crackle of static, followed by an urgent radio transmission.
This would result in a second call to the watch commander, who would quickly determine what had transpired.
The door to the parking lot was less than 15 feet away.
“You have to stop, Naomi. Okay?” Ryan grabbed her outstretched wrist and pulled her close, whispering harsh words into her ear. “We need to get out of here right now.”
She pulled away, but her face was still only inches from his. She fell silent as he guided her toward the exit. North was already stepping out into the freezing air. He held the door open as they followed him over the threshold.
Ryan was paying attention to everything while he held the door open, Naomi’s hand warm in his own, sounds assaulting him from every direction: a distant conversation in the street, a car horn sounded by an angry motorist. The scrape of their shoes as the tile gave way to damp asphalt, and the crackle of the deputy’s radio as the door eased shut behind them.
Chapter 25