March 17, 1962

“Did you see who just walked by?” Jeremy Thorne said with disbelief to Roger Munro, another associate whose office was close to J.T.’s. Thome had been walking toward the washroom when he recognized Patsy Bedardo.

“Who?” replied Munro, looking out to an empty corridor.

“Benardo, Benito, something … the crime boss that Wright’s representing on a criminal charge.”

“No kidding. Where?”

“Just walking down the corridor as big as you please.” He signaled Munro to come to the door.

The two men stood in the doorway, peeking out at the short, stocky figure walking with another, taller man who carried an attache case. A receptionist coursed along ahead of them toward J.T.’s office.

“Did you ever believe you’d see that in this office?” asked Thorne.

Marty Boxer emerged from the elevator and walked toward J.T.’s office. Thome and Munro pulled their heads in quickly at Marty’s approach.

“This is Mr. Wright’s secretary,” said the receptionist who was guiding Bedardo and his companion.

“Thank you, miss,” said Bedardo.

J.T.’s secretary, who had been involved in reading a Philip Roth novel, stood and ushered the two men into J.T.’s office.

J.T. was a study in concentration as he perused some papers on his desk. He had taken these documents out of a random file in his room when the receptionist announced Bedardo.

“Ah, good morning,” said J.T., rising. “I expected you yesterday afternoon.”

“Well, those rats over in the courthouse delayed me.” Bedardo shook J.T.’s hand with healthy vigor. “And then I had some things to do last night. I was tied up. Somebody was supposed to call and tell you that. Did they?”

“Yes. No problem.”

“Say hello to Joey,” Bedardo said, indicating a full shouldered man with no neck and dark, thick hair. His hand, which J.T. now shook was large and meaty.

Marty entered J.T.’s office.

“You know Marty Boxer.”

“We met at the court.”

“Sit down,” said J.T. “We received a call from the court a short while ago. The case has been assigned to Judge Laird Morgan.”

“Morgan? I hear he’s a crazy Texan.”

“He’s not going to be that crazy with us,” J.T. said without concern.

“I like to hear you say that,” said Bedardo. “But I understood he was a real crazy som-n-a-bitch. A prosecution man through and through.”

“Our information is that he’s not so bad.”

“That’s good news, counselor.” Bedardo winked slowly at J.T.

“Anyhow, the government has requested a bail review in front of Morgan tomorrow morning.”

“What do you think he’ll do?”

“I’m not quite sure,” J.T. said. “He might raise the bail somewhat—to placate the government. Keating was very upset that I was able, to get you any bail at all.”

“I could see that,” Bedardo said with pleasure at the thought. “He’d like to see me in some dungeon. These bastards have no souls, you know what I mean? No feelings. They don’t even know they’re dealing with human beings. And you’re supposed to put your tail between your legs when they look down their noses at you. He’ll be in hell before I dog it for him or any other som-n-a-bitch.” He looked at Joey, who nodded. “What do we do now?”

“Between now and tomorrow morning, you have to do nothing. We have to do some legal research here at the office,” J.T. said, looking from Bedardo to Marty. He already had Marty hard at work on the law books, so he would have citations ready for Morgan.

“In addition, I want to get my investigators working, talking to everyone who will talk to me, taking statements from them, the whole works.”

Bedardo pursed his lips and nodded approval. “Excuse us a minute,” he said to Joey.

Wordlessly, Joey walked out of J.T.’s office.

Bedardo looked at Marty. “Forgive me, counselor, but I have something personal I want to discuss alone with Mr. Wright for a moment. Is that all right?” Bedardo said, turning to J.T.

“Marty is going to be working on this case right down the line. In fact, if I’m not here, he’s the man you should talk to; it’s the same thing as talking to me.”

“I understand that, don’t get me wrong. I just have something that I want to discuss with you personally.”

“Marty, would you mind for a moment?” J.T. asked.

Marty nodded and stepped out of J.T.’s office, closing the door behind him.

“I wanted to talk to you about your fee,” Bedardo said, taking the attaché case that Joey had left next to his chair. “What is your fee, anyway?”

“I don’t know yet. I have to see just what’s involved in this case, and then I have to talk to the senior partners. Of course, whatever fee is set doesn’t include expenses or investigators, or an appeal if that’s ever necessary.”

“Counselor, I don’t intend to argue with you about money,” he said, putting the attache case on J.T.’s desk and opening it. It was filled with packets of bills in wrappers: tens, twenties, fifties, hundreds. J.T. had never seen so much cash in one place.

“What’s this?”

“I brought a retainer. Lawyers have to be paid.”

“As I said,” J.T. spoke a bit breathlessly, “I don’t know yet what the fee should be, or just how the senior partners want it handled.” J.T. couldn’t take his eyes off the contents of the attache case. “I’ll have to ask what they want to do about cash. I guess cash, check, doesn’t make much difference.”

“What I’ll do is give you this, and then I’ll make out a check. That is my daughter will make out the check. Her husband is an accountant. They’ll make a loan to me and I’ll give you the check. That you put in the bank. That’ll be the fee, in case the Internal Revenue people come nosing around. Another check I’ll give you myself. The rest, whatever it is, I’ll give you like this, and you make it go south, you know what I mean?”

“South? You mean not report it to the Internal Revenue?”

He nodded, automatically looking over his shoulder at the empty room.

“And if the Internal Revenue comes here to inquire about the fee you paid?”

“Counselor, I don’t have to tell you what to do, do I? You do whatever you think is best. The people around here’ll go along with whatever you say, I’m sure.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“You’ve got nice ways about you, counselor. I know you can talk to them. You keep this meanwhile,” he said, closing the attache case.

“I can’t keep this kind of money around.”

“You keep it here,” Bedardo said with a gesture of finality. “You don’t have to say anything to me about what you do, who you know, what kind of arrangements you make, counselor. Maybe some of your friends want something, the judge wants a vacation.” He winked at J.T. “You need more, I’ll get it. Just give me a couple of days.”

“I don’t think the firm is going to go for any of this. And I don’t particularly go for the idea that you think I’m a fixer. If that’s the reason that you’ve come to me to represent you, I think you’ve come to the wrong man.”

“Counselor, don’t get offended. I came because you have a good mouthpiece. I saw you use it in court yesterday, just like I thought you would. That was great, you know? That’s what I want, okay? But if there’s something you have to do, do it. Okay? Investigators, expenses, whatever. I’m not going to question you, you know what I mean? And if, as it happens, because we’re living in the real world, somebody is on the take, give him a taste. If not, it’s okay too. You get me?”

“I guess.so. I just want you to know I’m not here to bribe people.”

“That’s not what I’m here for, either.”

“The firm is certainly not going to get involved with covering up whether or not they received a fee. Frankly, there are too many people involved for that. The whole situation is unwieldy.”

“Unwieldy. That’s a good word. You think good, counselor. Good thing you weren’t a wise guy, with that head of yours. The world would be in for a lot of trouble. You’re right. There are too many people involved. Why don’t you just keep the money for yourself; don’t say nothing to the firm.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not? It’s a nice amount of money to have in your back pocket to start your own practice with, you know what I mean?”

J.T. studied Bedardo. “I’ll meet you in court tomorrow morning, at nine thirty,” he said. “By that time I’ll know how the firm wants to handle this.”

“Okay, counselor. Don’t let the bastards in that U.S. attorney’s office get away with a thing.”

J.T. and Bedardo rose at the same time, J.T. walking around the desk to open the door. Marty and Joey were still in the corridor outside.

“Come on,” Bedardo said, walking briskly toward the elevator. Joey followed silently.

“Come on in, Marty. I want to discuss something with you,” J.T. said.

Marty entered the office. J.T. shut the door, walked to his desk, and picked up the attache case.

“Look at this,” he said, opening the case.

Marty’s eyes widened. “Holy shit.”