The Racketeer Page 0,101

knows. I watch without being obvious and no cash changes hands. At a desk, we sign a sheet on a clipboard. "I told them you're a lawyer working with me," he whispers as I scribble one of my names. "Just act like a lawyer."

If he only knew.

Rashford waits in a long narrow room the lawyers use for meetings if the police are not using it for anything else. There is no air-conditioning and the room feels like a sauna. After a few minutes, the door opens and Nathan Coley is shoved inside. He looks wild-eyed at Rashford, then turns to his guard, who leaves and closes the door. Nathan slowly sits down on a metal stool and gawks at Rashford. The lawyer thrusts a business card at him and says, "I'm Rashford Watley, attorney. Your friend Reed Baldwin has hired me to look into this situation."

Nathan takes the card and inches the stool closer. His left eye is partially closed and his left jaw is swollen. There is dried blood at the corner of his lips. "Where's Reed?" he asks.

"He's here. He is very concerned and wants to see you. Are you okay, Mr. Coley? Your jaw is swollen."

Nathan looks at the large, round black face and tries to absorb the words. It's English all right, but with a strange accent. He wants to correct this guy and explain that it's "Cooley" not "Coley," but then maybe the guy is trying to say "Cooley," but it just comes out differently in Jamaica.

"Are you all right, Mr. Coley?" the lawyer repeats.

"I've had two fights in the past two hours. Lost both of them. You gotta get me outta here, Mr...." He looks at the card but can't focus on the words.

"It's Watley. Mr. Watley."

"Fine, Mr. Watley. This is a big misunderstanding. I don't know what happened, what went wrong, but I ain't guilty of anything. I didn't use a fake passport and I damned sure didn't try to smuggle in drugs and a gun. Somebody planted that stuff in my bag, you got that? That's the truth and I'll swear on a stack of Bibles. I don't use drugs, don't sell 'em, and I damned sure don't smuggle them. I want to talk to Reed." He sort of spits his words through clenched teeth and rubs his jaw as he talks.

"Is your jaw broken?" Rashford asks.

"I ain't no doctor."

"I'll try to get one, and I'll try to get you moved to another cell."

"They're all the same - hot, overcrowded, and dirty. You gotta do something, Mr. Watley. And fast. I'll never survive in here."

"You've been in prison before, I think."

"I just spent a few years in a federal pen, but nothing like this. I just thought that was bad. This is pure hell. I got fifteen guys in my cell, all black but me, with two beds and a hole in the corner to piss in. No air-conditioning and no food. Please, Mr. Watley, do something."

"You're facing very serious charges, Mr. Coley. If convicted as charged, you could be sentenced to twenty years in prison."

Nathan drops his head and takes a deep breath. "I won't last a week."

"I'm confident I can get a reduction, but still you're facing a lot of time. And not in a city jail like this. They'll send you away to one of our regional prisons where the conditions are not always as pleasant."

"Then give me a plan. You've got to explain to the judge or whoever that this is all a mistake. I'm not guilty, okay? You gotta make somebody believe that."

"I'll try, Mr. Coley. But the system has to run its course, and unfortunately things move rather slowly here in Jamaica. The court will schedule your first appearance in a few days, then formal charges will be handed down."

"What about bail? Can I post a bond and get outta here?"

"I'm working on that now with a bail bondsman, but I'm not optimistic. The court would consider you a flight risk. How much money is at your disposal?"

Nathan snorts and shakes his head. "I don't know. I had a thousand bucks in my wallet, wherever it happens to be now. I'm sure the money's gone. I had five hundred bucks in my pocket too, and it's gone. They've picked me clean. I got a few assets back home but nothing liquid. I'm not a rich man, Mr. Watley. I'm a thirty-year-old ex-con who was in prison about six months ago. My family has nothing."

"Well, the court