He held my gaze for half a second, and then his face ran through a slide show of emotions. At first he smiled, stopped, looked at me again to see if I was jerking him around, his eyebrows creased. His eyes flickered and narrowed. He didn’t want to believe what I’d told him. It was only human nature to ignore what we feared the most and to cling to every possibility of hope—even if it was false hope.
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Sure it does. What doesn’t make sense is staying inside and not applying for bail. Gerry never expected you to get alternative legal advice. If what I believe is true he probably expected you to be dead by now, lying in the morgue with a shiv in your heart.”
“No, that’s not true,” said David.
“The guy with the long braid and tats entered your cell when you were in medical—after you had the panic attack in the consulting room. As soon as you went back into the cage, he made his move. You’re not in a gang. You’re nobody in that cage, and I don’t think you would’ve done anything to provoke that guy. He smuggled the shiv in there for one reason only—he was there to kill you, David. And Gerry Sinton sent him.”
He stood and paced the room, working it through in his mind. I shut up and let him think.
A thought brought him to a halt.
“Look, you’re my lawyer now, okay? I’ll fire Gerry if it makes you feel better. I think it’s better if I have an expert criminal lawyer like you, but don’t go making crazy accusations—it scares me.”
“You should be scared. Twelve hours ago a federal task force came to me and told me they were going to put my wife in prison unless I helped them. They wanted me to get close to you and make sure you hired me to defend you in this case. Then they wanted me to lean on you to take a plea agreement: Turn state’s evidence on your own lawyers, Harland and Sinton, and their money-laundering operation, and in return you’ll get a light sentence for murdering your girlfriend. I was all set to do it, too. Then I met you and I discovered two things—I don’t think you murdered your girlfriend and you know nothing about Harland and Sinton. If you did know about their operation, you’d have the next best thing to a get-out-of-jail-free card. If that were the case, you wouldn’t want Gerry Sinton within a half mile of you, and you certainly wouldn’t want him sitting beside you when you were interviewed by the cops.”
His legs seemed to give way, and he half lowered himself, half fell onto the cold concrete floor.
“If you didn’t murder your girlfriend, it sure as hell looks like somebody set you up. And it wasn’t the firm. They don’t want you in the pressure cooker in case you make a deal and give them up in exchange for a reduced sentence. That’s why they didn’t want you to have bail. They wanted you inside, where a random act of violence, totally unconnected to them, would end your life. Dead men don’t testify.”
He shook his head and his breath quickened again. His hands ran over his knees, rhythmically, as he rocked back and forth, fending off the panic.
“The death of your girlfriend could be coincidental, but I don’t buy it. Look, I don’t have it all figured out yet. I know you’re innocent. I know you’re too rich and too famous to get involved in laundering cash.”
“Money laundering? This is Harland and Sinton we’re talking about here. They’re one of the most respected firms in New York. There’s no way they…”
“Hang on. I didn’t believe it at first either, David. But now I’m convinced it’s true. If it was all a pile of bullshit and the feds got it wrong, why would some random gangbanger buy himself a life sentence by killing a one-hundred-and-ten-pound white kid he never met before? It doesn’t get him any status. Yeah, guys like you might get beat up or worse in the cage, but there’s no reason for any of those guys to kill you, because you’re no threat. You’re insignificant to them. My theory is Harland and Sinton paid somebody to make you significant. They want you dead.”
“No, this is crazy, just totally trip-out crazy. No. No way. I mean, I don’t know anything about the firm doing anything illegal.”
“Exactly. I think you’re on the level with that. If you didn’t know shit, you wouldn’t be a target for the feds or for the firm. But you are a target. I’ve been told your IT security system, the algorithm that hides the money if it detects a cyberattack, the firm is using it to launder cash—millions of dollars. They’re pretending that they’re testing the system—but they’re washing the money. The feds want your algo so they can trace the cash back to the partners. If you give it to them, we can make a deal.”
“What? My algo is not designed to launder money. It’s a security system.”
“I know that. But I’m guessing the partners asked you to design their security system to a specification—so that if a threat is detected, the money starts to run. Am I right?”
He nodded.
“The feds want the money and the partners, and your algo is the key. If they can access the algo, it gives the FBI the full money trail—from the initial transactions all the way through to the clean bills. The firm triggered the algo the moment you were arrested. My guess is when the money lands in the final account, the partners will clear out. The FBI want to be there when the money lands. They want you to plead guilty, they want the algorithm, and then they’ll go easy on you and let my wife walk. But I think there’s another deal here.”
“I didn’t kill her. I won’t plead guilty.”
“I won’t let you go to jail for a murder you didn’t commit. We make a new deal. I’ll sell them the algorithm—the price is high—they have to let you and Christine walk.”
I put out my hand, and only then did I see that I was trembling.
He stared at me, just as frightened as I was.
David shuffled backward until his head hit the wall.
“I can’t,” he said.
“You have to. I’m your only shot at getting out of this in one piece.”
“No, I mean I can’t help you. The feds have it all wrong. The algorithm is on a separate internal system at the firm. I can’t access it.”
Lacing his fingers together, he held his hands above his head and then let them fall onto his skull. With both hands locked at the back of his neck, he swung his elbows together, then began flapping his arms. It looked like the kid was trying to blow an idea out of his head, using his arms for bellows.
“Oh God, I wish this weren’t happening,” he said.
He became completely still—frozen in thought. His body came back to life as he let the idea breathe.
“Eddie, what if I could get the algorithm traced? Why should I trust you?”
It was a good question. I thought about spinning a convincing line. Dismissed it and told him the truth.
“If I were you, I’m not sure I’d trust anyone. Unfortunately you don’t have a choice. The firm thinks you’re a threat and they want you dead. If we can give the feds enough to take the firm down, that gives you a shot, and I got something to bargain with for you and my wife. Then I’ll help you figure out who killed Clara. I don’t think this was a robbery gone wrong: Nothing was taken from your apartment. You’ve had time to think. If you’re telling me you’re innocent, then you must have some idea who would want to set you up.”
“There’re a lot of people that don’t like me. Guys who helped me set up Reeler, guys I paid off. They were all friends once, I don’t think any of them would kill somebody. But there’s one person I know who might.”
“Who?”
“Bernard Langhiemer.”
“Who the hell is Bernard Langhiemer?”
“A competitor. Somebody who once told me he’d destroy me. I can tell you everything you need to know about him.”
“We’ll talk about that when we get you out of here. In the meantime, I can protect you on the outside.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I got a friend I can call. He works for an old sparring buddy of mine. This friend is a little unusual, but he’ll keep you alive. People call him the Lizard. Well, to be accurate, he calls himself the Lizard.”
“The Lizard?”
“I told you—he’s a little unusual, but I trust him with my life. And I need contact details for your family, somebody who will get down here and organize your bail money.”
“I don’t have any family. Not really. You can call Holly. She can arrange the money transfer.”
“Who is Holly?”
“Holly Shepard. She’s an old friend and my PA.”
“Can she bring you some clothes, too?”
“Sure.”
He knew the cell number by heart, and I wrote it down in the file. David paced the room, muttering. I thought about the evidence against him, and what Dell had told me. For a moment I wondered if David was playing me.
“Can you really trace the money?” I asked.
He stopped. Rubbed his hands together.
“I’m not sure. I can try. You think they’ll let me off if I give it to them?”
The guard rapped the cell door with his stick. The viewer slid open, and I saw his dull eyes through the door.
“I got a call from the office. Your name’s Flynn, right?”
“Yeah, Eddie Flynn.”
“Your wife’s here to see you,” he said.