The Runaway Jury 22 страница

“It's a deal, ” he said. “We'll wire the money, pursuant to your instructions. I must warn you, though, that wires can take time. ”

“I know more about wiring money than you do, Fitch. I'll explain precisely how I want it done. Later. ”

“Yes ma'am. ”

“So we have a deal? ”

“Yes, ” he said, extending his hand across the table. She shook it limply. Both smiled at the absurdity. Two crooks shaking hands over an agreement no court of law could enforce because no court of law would ever know about it.

BEVERLY MONK'S APARTMENT was a fifth-floor loft in a dingy Village warehouse. She shared it with four other starving actresses. Swanson followed her JOHNGRISHAM to a corner coffee shop and waited until she had settled at a window table with an espresso, a bagel, and a newspaper with want ads. With his back to the other tables, he approached her and asked, “Excuse me. Are you Beverly Monk? ”

She looked up, startled, and said, “Yes. Who are you? ”

“A friend of Claire Clement's, ” he said as he quickly slid into the chair across from her.

“Have a seat, ” she said. “What do you want? ” She was nervous but the shop was crowded. She was safe, she thought. He looked nice enough.

“Information. ”

“You called me yesterday, didn't you? ”

“Yes, I did. I lied, said I was Jeff Kerr. I'm not. ”

“Then who are you? ”

“Jack Swanson. I work for some lawyers in Washington. ”

“Is Claire in trouble? ”

“None whatsoever. ”

“Then what's all the fuss? ”

Swanson gave a quick version of Claire's summons for jury service in a huge trial and his duty to track down the backgrounds of certain prospective jurors. This time it was a contaminated landfill case in Houston where billions were at stake, thus the expense of digging so deeply.

Swanson and Fitch were gambling on two things. The first was Beverly's slow recognition of Jeff Kerr's name on the phone yesterday. The second was her assertion that she hadn't talked to Claire in four years. They were assuming both to be genuine.

“We'll pay for information, ” Swanson said.

“How much? ”

“A thousand dollars cash to tell me everything you know about Claire Clement. ” Swanson quickly removed an envelope from his coat pocket and laid it on the table.

“Are you sure she's in no trouble? ” asked Beverly, staring at the gold mine before her.

“I'm sure. Take the money. If you haven't seen her in four or five years, why should you care? ”

Good point, thought Beverly. She grabbed the envelope and stuck it in her purse. “There's not much to tell. ”

“How long did you work with her? ”

“Six months. ”

“How long did you know her? ”

“Six months. I was working as a waitress at Mulligan's when she started. We got to be friends. Then I left town and drifted east. I called her once or twice when I lived in New Jersey, then we sorta just forgot about each other. ”

“Did you know Jeff Kerr? ”

“No. She wasn't dating him at the time. She told me about him later, after I'd left town. ”

“Did she have other friends, male and female? ”

“Yeah, sure. Don't ask me to name them. I left Lawrence five, maybe six years ago. I really don't remember when I left. ”

“You can't name any of her friends? ”

Beverly drank some espresso and thought for a minute. Then she rattled off the names of three people who'd worked with Claire. One had been checked out with no results. One was being tracked at the moment. One had not been found.

“Where did Claire go to college? ”

“Somewhere in the Midwest. ”

“You don't know the name of the school? ”

“I don't think so. Claire was very quiet about her past. You got the impression something bad happened back there, and she didn't talk about it. I never knew. I thought maybe it was a bad romance, maybe even a marriage, or maybe a bad family, rotten childhood, or something. But I never knew. ”

“Did she discuss it with anybody? ”

“Not to my knowledge. ”

“Do you know her hometown? ”

“She said she moved around a lot. Again, I didn't ask a lot of questions. ”

“Was she from the Kansas City area? ”

“I don't know. ”—“Are you sure her real name was Claire Clement? ”

Beverly withdrew and frowned. “You think maybe it wasn't? ”

“We have reason to believe she was someone else before she arrived in Lawrence, Kansas. Do you remember anything about another name? ”

“Wow. I just assumed she was Claire. Why would she change her name? ”

“We'd love to know. ” Swanson removed a small notepad from a pocket and studied a checklist. Beverly was another dead end.

“Did you ever go to her apartment? ”

“Once or twice. We'd cook and watch movies. She didn't party much, but she invited me over with friends. ”

“Anything unusual about her apartment? ”

“Yeah. It was very nice, a modern condo, well furnished. It was obvious she had money from sources other than Mulligan's. I mean, we got paid three bucks an hour plus tips. ”

“So she had money? ”

“Yeah. A lot more than we did. But, again, she was very secretive. Claire was a casual friend and a fun person to be around. You just didn't ask a lot of questions. ”

Swanson pressed her on other details and came up dry. He thanked her for her help and she thanked him for the cash, and as he was leaving she offered to make a few calls. It was an obvious solicitation for more money. Swanson said fine, but then cautioned her about revealing what she was doing.

“Look, I'm an actress, okay. This is a piece of cake. ”

He left her a business card with his Biloxi hotel number written on the back.

HOPPY THOUGHT Mr. Cristano was a bit too harsh. But then, the situation was deteriorating, according to the mysterious folks in Washington whom Mr. Cristano answered to. There was discussion at Justice about simply aborting the whole scheme and sending Hoppy's case on to the federal grand jury.

If Hoppy couldn't convince his own wife, how the hell was he supposed to influence an entire jury?

They sat in the back of the long black Chrysler and drove along the Gulf toward nowhere in particular but Mobile in general. Nitchman drove and Napier rode shotgun and both managed to act completely oblivious to the mauling of Hoppy in the backseat.

“When do you see her again? ” Cristano asked.

“Tonight, I think. ”

“The time has come, Hoppy, for you to tell her the truth. Tell her what you've done, tell her everything. ”

Hoppy's eyes watered and his lip quivered as he stared at the tinted window and saw his wife's pretty eyes as he laid bare his soul. He cursed himself for his stupidity. If he had a gun he could almost shoot Todd Ringwald and Jimmy Hull Moke, but he could most definitely shoot himself. Maybe he'd take these three clowns out first, but, no doubt about it, Hoppy could blow his own brains out.

“I guess so, ” he mumbled.

“Your wife must become an advocate, Hoppy. Do you realize this? Millie Dupree has to be a force in that jury room. Since you've been unable to convince her with the merits, now you have to motivate her \vith the fear of seeing you go off to prison for five years. You have no choice. ”

At the moment, he'd rather face prison than face Millie with the truth. But he didn't have that choice. If he didn't convince her, she'd learn the truth and he'd go off to prison.

Hoppy started crying. He bit his lip and covered his eyes and tried to stop the damned tears, but he couldn't help it. As they drove peacefulh^along the highway, the only sounds for several miles were the pitiful whimperings of a broken man.

Only Nitchman couldn't conceal a tiny grin.

Thirty-two

The second meeting in Marlee's office began an hour after the first one ended. Fitch arrived again on foot with a briefcase and a large cup of coffee. Marlee scanned the briefcase for hidden devices, much to his amusement.

When she finished, he closed his briefcase and sipped his coffee. “I have a question, ” he announced.

“What? ”

“Six months ago, neither you nor Easter lived in this county, probably not in this state. Did you move here to watch this trial? ” He knew the answer, of course, but he wanted to see how much she would admit, now that they were business partners and supposedly working on the same side.

“You could say that, ” she said. Marlee and Nicholas were assuming that Fitch had now tracked them back to Lawrence, and this was not altogether bad. Fitch had to appreciate their ability to hatch such a plot, and their commitment to carry it out. It was Marlee's pre-Lawrence days that had them losing sleep.

“You're both using aliases, aren't you? ” he asked.

“No. We're using our legal names. No more questions about us, Fitch. We're not important. Time is short, and we have work to do. ”

“Perhaps we should begin by your telling me how far you've gone with the other side. How much does Rohr know? ”

“Rohr knows nothing. We danced and shadow-boxed, but never connected. ”

“Would you have cut a deal with him had I not been willing? ”

“Yes. I'm in it for the money, Fitch. Nicholas is on that jury because we planned it that way. We have worked for this moment. It'll work because all the players are corrupt. You're corrupt. Your clients are corrupt. My partner and I are corrupt. Corrupt but smart. We pollute the system in such a way that we cannot be detected. ”

“What about Rohr? He'll be suspicious when he loses. In fact, he'll suspect you've cut a deal with the tobacco company. ”

“Rohr doesn't know me. We never met. ”

“Come on. ”

“I swear it, Fitch. I made you think I had met him, but it never happened. It would have, though, had you not been willing to negotiate. ”

“You knew I'd be willing. ”

“Of course. We knew you'd be more than anxious to purchase a verdict. ”

Oh, he had so many questions. How did they learn of his existence? How did they get his phone numbers? How did they make certain Nicholas would be summoned for jury duty? How did they get him on the jury? And how in hell did they learn about The Fund?

He would ask them one day when this was behind them and the pressure was off. He'd love to chat with Marlee and Nicholas over a long dinner and get all his questions answered. His admiration for them grew by the moment.

“Promise me you won't bump Lonnie Shaver/' he said.

“I'll make the promise, Fitch, if you'll tell why you're so fond of Lonnie. ”

“He's on our side. ”

“How do you know this? ”

“We have ways. ”

“Look, Fitch, if we're both working for the same verdict, then why can't we be honest? ”

“You know, you're right. Why'd you bump Her-rera? ”

“I told you. He's an ass. He didn't like Nicholas and Nicholas didn't like him. Plus, Henry Vu and Nicholas are buddies. So we didn't lose anything. ”

“Why'd you bump Stella Hulic? ”

“Just to get her out of the jury room. She was horribly obnoxious. Everything about her was disruptive. ”

“Who's next? ”

“I don't know. We have one left. Who should we get rid of? ”

“Not Lonnie. ”

“Then tell me why. ”

“Let's just say Lonnie has been bought and paid for. His employer is someone who'll listen to us. ”

“Who else have you bought and paid for? ”

“No one. ”

“Come on, Fitch. Do you want to win or not? ”

JOHNGRISHAM “Of course I do. ”

“Then come clean. I'm your easiest way to a quick verdict. ”

“And most expensive. ”

“You didn't expect me to be cheap. What do you gain by withholding information from me? ”

“What do I gain by giving it to you? ”

“That should be obvious. You tell me. I tell Nicholas. He has a better handle on where the votes are. He knows where to spend his time. What about Gladys Card? ”

“She's a follower. We have nothing on her. What does Nicholas think? ”

“The same. What about Angel Weese? ”

“She smokes and she's black. Flip a coin. Another follower. What does Nicholas think? ”

“She'll follow Loreen Duke. ”

“And who will Loreen Duke follow? ”, “Nicholas. ”

“How many followers does he have now? How many members are in his little cult? ”

“Jerry for starters. Since Jerry is sleeping with Sylvia, then count her in. Add Loreen and you get Angel. ”

Fitch held his breath and counted rapidly. “That's five. Is that all? ”

“And Henry Vu makes six. Six in the bank. You do the math, Fitch. Six and counting. What do you have on Savelle? ”

Fitch actually glanced at some notes as if he wasn't sure. Everything brought to the meeting in his briefcase had been read a dozen times. “Nothing. He's too much of a weirdo, ” he said sadly, as if he'd been a miserable failure in his efforts to find some way to coerce Savelle.

“Any dirt on Herman? ”

“No. What does Nicholas think? ”

“Herman will be listened to, but not necessarily followed. He hasn't made a lot of friends, but then he's not disliked either. His vote will probably stand alone. ”

“Which way is he leaning? ”

“He's the one juror who's hardest to read now because he is determined to follow the Judge's orders against discussing the case. ”

“Of all the nerve. ”

“Nicholas will have nine votes before the closing arguments, maybe more. He just needs a little leverage with some of his friends. ”

“Like who? ”

“Rikki Coleman. ”

Fitch took a drink without looking at the cup. He set it down and pressed the whiskers around his mouth. She watched every move. “We, uh, may have something there. ”

“Why are you playing games, Fitch? Either you have something or you don't. Either you tell me so I can tell Nicholas so we can nail her vote, or you sit there hiding your memos and hoping she jumps on board. ”

“Let's just say it's a nasty personal secret she'd prefer to keep from her husband. ”

“Why keep the secret from me, Fitch? ” Marlee said angrily. “Are we working together? ”

“Yes, but I'm not sure I need to tell you at this point. ”

“Great, Fitch. Something in her past, right? An affair, an abortion, a DUI? ”

“I'll think about it. ”

“You do that, Fitch. You keep playing games, I'll keep playing games. What about Millie? ”

Fitch was reeling while appearing cool and calm. How much should he tell her? His instincts said to be cautious. They'd meet again tomorrow, and the next day, and if he chose to he could tell her about Rikki and Millie and maybe even Lonnie. Go slow, he told himself. “Nothing on Millie, ” he said, glancing at his watch and thinking that at that very moment poor Hoppy was locked inside a big black car with three FBI men and probably bawling by now.

“Are you sure, Fitch? ”

Nicholas had met Hoppy in the hallway of the motel, just outside his room, a week ago as Hoppy was arriving with flowers and fudge for his wife. They had chatted for a moment. The next day Nicholas had noticed Hoppy sitting in the courtroom, a new face filled with wonder, a new face suddenly interested after almost three weeks of trial.

With Fitch in the game, Nicholas and Marlee were assuming that any juror was a potential target for outside influence. So Nicholas watched everyone. He sometimes loitered in the hallway as the guests were arriving for the personal visits, and he sometimes loitered there as they left. He eavesdropped on the gossip in the jury room. He listened to three conversations at once during the daily walks around town after lunch. He took notes on every person in the courtroom, even had nicknames and code names for them all.

It was only a hunch that Fitch was working on Millie through Hoppy. They seemed like such a nice, good-hearted pair; the type Fitch could easily snare in one of his insidious plots.

“Of course I'm sure. Nothing on Millie. ”

“She's been acting strange, ” Marlee said, lying.

Wonderful, thought Fitch. The Hoppy sting was working.

“What does Nicholas think about Royce, the last alternate? ” he asked.

“White trash. Not bright at all. Easily manipulated. The type we could slip five grand to and we'd own him. That's another reason Nicholas wants to bump Savelle. We get Royce, and he'll be easy. ”

Her casualness about bribery warmed Fitch's heart. Many times, in other trials, he'd dreamed of finding angels like Marlee, little saviors with sticky hands who were anxious to fix his juries for him. This was almost unbelievable!

“Who else might take cash? ” he asked eagerly.

“Jerry's broke, lots of gambling debts, plus a messy divorce around the corner. He'll need twenty thousand or so. Nicholas hasn't cut the deal with him yet, but it'll happen over the weekend. ”

“This could get expensive, ” Fitch said, trying to be serious.

Marlee laughed loudly, and continued to laugh until Fitch was forced to snicker at his own humor. He'd just promised her ten million, and he was in the process of spending another two million for the defense. His clients had a net worth of something close to eleven billion.

The moment passed, and they spent a while ignoring each other. Finally, Marlee looked at her watch, and said, “Write this down, Fitch. It's now three-thirty, Eastern Time. The money's not going to Singapore. I want the ten million wired to the Hanwa Bank in the Netherlands Antilles, and I want it done immediately. ”

“Hanwa Bank? ”

“Yes. It's Korean. The money is not going to my account, but to yours. ”

“I don't have an account there. ”

“You'll open one with the wire. ” She pulled folded papers from her purse and slid them across the table. “Here are the forms and instructions. ”

“It's too late in the day to do this, ” he said, ” taking the papers. “And tomorrow is Saturday. ”

“Shut up, Fitch. Just read the instructions. Every-thing'll work fine if you simply do as you're told. Hanwa is always open for preferred customers. I want the money parked there, in your account, over the weekend. ”

“How will you know it's there? ”

“You'll show me a confirmation of the wire. The money is diverted briefly until the jury retires, then it leaves Hanwa and goes to my account. This should happen Monday morning. ”

“What if the jury gets the case sooner? ”

“Fitch, I assure you, there will be no verdict until the money is in my account. That's a promise. And if for some reason you try to screw us, then I can also promise you there'll be a nice verdict for the plaintiff. A huge verdict. ”

“Let's not talk about that. ”

“No, let's not. This has all been carefully planned, Fitch. Don't mess it up. Just do as you're told. Start the wire now. ”

WENDALL ROHR yelled at Dr. Gunther for an hour and a half, and when he finished there were no calm nerves anywhere in the courtroom. Rohr himself was probably the most relaxed person because his own badgering bothered him not in the least. Everybody else was sick of it. It was almost five, Friday, another week finished. Another weekend planned at the Siesta Inn.

Judge Harkin was worried about his jury. They were obviously bored and irritated, weary of sitting captive and listening to words they no longer cared about.

The lawyers were worried about them too. They weren't responding to testimony as expected. When they weren't fidgeting they were nodding off. When they weren't gazing about with blank looks they \vere pinching themselves to stay awake.

But Nicholas wasn't the least bit concerned about his colleagues. He wanted them fatigued and on the verge of revolt. A mob needs a leader.

During a late afternoon recess, he had prepared a letter to Judge Harkin in which he requested the trial be continued on Saturday. The issue had been debated during lunch, a debate which lasted only a few minutes because he had planned it and had all the answers. Why sit around the motel room when they could be sitting in the jury box trying to finish this marathon?

The other twelve readily added their signatures, under his, and Harkin had no choice. Saturday court was rare but not unheard of, especially in sequestration trials.

His Honor quizzed Cable as to what they might expect tomorrow, and Cable confidently predicted the defense would finish its case. Rohr said the plaintiff would have no rebuttal. Sunday court was out of the question.

“This trial should be over Monday afternoon, ” Harkin said to the jury. “The defense will finish tomorrow, then we'll have closing arguments Monday morning. I anticipate you'll receive the case before noon Monday. That's the best I can do, folks. ”

There were suddenly smiles throughout the jury box. With the end in sight, they could endure one last weekend together.

Dinner would be at a notorious rib place in Gulf-port, followed by four hours of personal visits both tonight, tomorrow night, and Sunday. He sent them away with apologies.

After the jury left, Judge Harkin reconvened the lawyers for two hours of arguments on a dozen motions.

Thirty-three

He arrived late with no flowers or chocolates, no champagne or kisses, nothing but his tortured soul, which he wore on his sleeve. He took her by the hand at the door, led her to the bed, where he sat on the edge and tried to utter something before choking up. He buried his face in his hands.

“What's the matter, Hoppy? ” she asked, fully alarmed and certain she was about to hear some dreadful confession. He had not been himself lately. She sat beside him, patted his knee, and listened. He began by blurting out just how stupid he'd been. He said repeatedly she wouldn't believe what he'd done, and he rambled on about how stupid it was until she finally said, firmly, “What have you done? ”

He was suddenly angry-angry at himself for such a ridiculous stunt. He clenched his teeth, curled his upper lip, scowled, and launched into Mr. Todd Ringwald and KLX Property Group and Stillwater Bay and Jimmy Hull Moke. It was a setup! He'd been minding his own business, not out looking for trouble, just hustling with his sad little properties, just trying to help newlyweds into their first charming little starters. Then this guy walked in, from Vegas, nice suit, thick wad of architect's plans which, when unraveled on Hoppy's desk, looked like a gold mine.

Oh how could he have been so stupid! He lost his edge and be^an sobbing.

When he got to the part about the FBI coming to the house, Millie couldn't contain herself. “To our house?! ”

“Yes, yes. ”

“Oh my god! Where were the kids? ”

So Hoppy told her how it happened, how he deftly maneuvered Agents Napier and Nitchman away from the house and down to his office, where they presented him with-the tape!

It was awful. He forged ahead.

Millie began crying too, and Hoppy was relieved. Maybe she wouldn't scold him so bad. But there was more.

He got to the part where Mr. Cristano came to town and they met on the boat. Lots of folks, good folks really, in Washington were concerned about the trial. The Republicans and all that. The crime stuff. And, well, they cut a deal.

Millie wiped her cheeks with the back of a hand, and abruptly stopped the crying. “But I'm not sure I want to vote for the tobacco company, ” she said, dazed.

Hoppy dried it up quickly too. “Oh that's just great, Millie. Send me away for five years just so you can vote your conscience. Wake up. ”

“This is not fair, ” she said, looking at herself in the mirror on the wall behind the dresser. She was stunned.

“Of course it's not fair. Won't be fair either when the bank forecloses on the house because I'm locked away. What about the kids, Millie? Think of the kids. We got three in junior college and two in high school. The humiliation will be bad enough, but who'll educate the kids? ”

Hoppy, of course, had the benefit of many hours of rehearsal for this. Poor Millie felt as though she'd been hit by a bus. She couldn't think quickly enough to ask the right questions. Under different circumstances, Hoppy might have felt sorry for her.

“I just can't believe it, ” she said.

“I'm sorry, Millie. I'm so sorry. I've done a terrible thing, and it's not fair to you. ” He was leaning forward, elbows on knees, head drooping low in utter defeat.

“It's not fair to the people in this trial. ”

Hoppy couldn't have cared less about the other people involved in the trial, but he bit his tongue. “I know, honey. I know. I'm a total failure. ”

She found his hand and squeezed it. Hoppy decided to go for the kill. “I shouldn't tell you this, Millie, but when the FBI came to the house, I thought about getting the gun and ending it all right there. ”

“Shooting them? ”

“No, myself. Blowing my brains out. ”

“Oh, Hoppy. ”

“I'm serious. I've thought about it many times in the past week. I'd rather pull the trigger than humiliate my family. ”

“Don't be silly, ” she said, and started to weep again.

FITCH AT FIRST had considered faking the wire, but after two phone calls and two faxes with his forgers in Washington, he was not convinced it would be safe. She seemed to know everything about wire transfers, and he had no idea how much she knew about the bank in the Netherlands Antilles. With her precision, she probably had someone down there waiting for the wire. Why run the risk?

In a flurry of phone calls, he located in D. C. an ex-Treasury official who now ran his own consulting firm, a man who allegedly knew everything about the rapid movements of money. Fitch gave him the bare essentials, hired him by fax, then sent him a copy of Marlee's instructions. She definitely knew what she was doing, the man said, and assured Fitch his money would be safe, at least during its first leg. The new account would belong to Fitch; she would have no access to it. Marlee was requiring a copy of the confirmation, and the man warned Fitch not to show her the account number either from the originating bank or from Hanwa in the Caribbean.

The Fund had a balance of six and a half million when Fitch cut his deal with Marlee. Throughout Friday, Fitch had called each of the Big Four CEO's and instructed them to immediately wire another two million dollars each. And he had no time for questions. He would explain later.

At five-fifteen Friday, the money left The Fund's untitled account in a bank in New York and within seconds landed at Hanwa in the Netherlands Antilles, where it was expected. The new account, numbered only, was created upon arrival, and a confirmation was immediately faxed to the originating bank.

Marlee called at six-thirty, and, not surprisingly, knew the wire was complete. She instructed Fitch to erase the account numbers on the confirmation, something he planned to do anyway, and fax it to the front desk of the Siesta Inn at precisely 7: 05.

“That's a bit risky, isn't it? ” Fitch asked.

“Just do as you're told, Fitch. Nicholas will be standing by the fax machine. The clerk thinks he's cute. ”

At seven-fifteen, Marlee called back to report that Nicholas had received the confirmation, and that it looked authentic. She instructed Fitch to be ai her office at ten in the morning. Fitch quite happily agreed.

Though no money had changed hands, Fitch was elated with his success. He collected Jose and went for a silent stroll, something he rarely did. The air was crisp and invigorating. The sidewalks were deserted.

At this very moment, there was a sequestered juror holding a piece of paper with the amount “$10, 000, 000” printed twice on it. This juror, and this jury, belonged to Fitch. This trial was over. For certain, he would skip sleep and sweat bullets until he heard the verdict, but for all practical purposes, the trial was over. Fitch had won again. He'd snatched another victory from near defeat. The cost was much greater this time, but so were the stakes. He'd be forced to listen to some pointed bitching from Jankle and the others about the price of this operation, but it would just be a formality. They had to bitch about costs. They were corporate executives.

The real costs were the ones they wouldn't mention: the price of a plaintiff's verdict, certainly with the potential to exceed ten million, and the incalculable cost of a torrent of lawsuits.

He deserved this rare moment of pleasure, but his work was far from finished. He couldn't rest until he knew the real Marlee, where she came from, what motivated her, how and why she hatched this plot. There was something back there that Fitch had to know, and the unknown scared him immensely. If and when he found the real Marlee, then he would have his answers. Until then, his precious verdict was not safe.

Four blocks into his walk, Fitch was once again his angry, pouting, tormented self.

DERRICK MADE IT to the front lobby and was poking his head through an open door when a young woman politely asked him what he wanted. She held a stack of files and looked quite busy. It was almost eight, Friday night, and the law offices were still swarming.

What he wanted was a lawyer, one of those he'd seen in court who represented the tobacco company, one he could sit down with and cut a deal behind closed doors. He'd done his homework and learned the names of Durwood Cable and a few of his partners. He'd found this place, and he'd waited outside in his car for two hours, rehearsing his lines, steadying his nerves, mustering the guts to leave the car and walk through the front door.

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