find out what he knows, okay? If he knows too much, then maybe we’ll take him out.”
“I’m embarrassed we’re related by blood, Barry. You’re a complete fool, you know that?”
“Okay. But we need to move fast.”
Johnny picked up a stack of papers and began reading. “Send Bono and Pirini, but no more stupid moves. Okay? You’re a idiot, Barry, an imbecile, and I don’t want anything done up there until I say so. Understand?”
“Yes sir.”
“Leave now.” Johnny waved his hand, and Barry jumped to his feet.
The Client
13
IJY TUESDAY EVENING, GEORGE ORD AND HIS STAFF HAD
managed to confine the activities of Foltrigg, Boxx, and Fink to the expansive library in the center ‘of the offices. Here they’d set up camp. They had two phones. Ord loaned them a secretary and an intern. All other assistant attorneys were ordered to stay out of the library. Foltrigg kept the doors closed and spread his papers and mess over the sixteen-foot conference table in the middle of the room. Trumann was allowed to come and go. The secretary fetched coffee and sandwiches whenever the reverend ordered.
Foltrigg had been a mediocre student of the law, and had managed to avoid the drudgery of legal research for the past fifteen years. He had learned to hate libraries in law school. Research was to be done by egghead scholars; that was his theory. Law could be practiced only by real lawyers who could stand before juries and preach.
But out of sheer boredom, here he was in George Ord’s library with Boxx and Fink, nothing to do but wait at the beck and call of one Reggie Love, and so
he, the great Roy Foltrigg, lawyer extraordinaire, had his nose stuck in a thick law book with a dozen more stacked around him on the table. Fink, the egghead scholar, was on the floor between two shelves of books with his shoes off and research materials littered about. Boxx, also a lightweight legal intellect, went through the motions at the other end of Foltrigg’s table. Boxx had not opened a law book in years, but for the moment there was simply nothing else to do. He wore his only clean pair of boxer shorts and hoped like hell they left Memphis tomorrow.
At issue, at the heart of their research, was the question of how Mark Sway could be made to divulge information if he didn’t want to. If someone possesses information crucial to a criminal prosecution, and that person chooses not to talk, then how can the information be obtained? For issue number two, Foltrigg wanted to know if Reggie Love could be made to divulge whatever Mark Sway had told her. The attorney-client privilege is almost sacred, but Roy wanted it researched anyway.
The debate over whether or not Mark Sway knew anything had ended hours before with Foltrigg clearly victorious. The kid had been in the car. Clifford was crazy and wanted to talk. The kid had lied to the cops. And now the kid had a lawyer because the kid knew something and was afraid to talk. Why didn’t Mark Sway simply come clean and tell all? Why? Because he was afraid of the killer of Boyd Boyette. Plain and sim-pie.
Fink still had doubts, but was tired of arguing. His boss was not bright and was very stubborn, and when he closed his mind it remained closed forever. And
there was a lot of merit to Foltrigg’s arguments. The kid was making strange moves, especially for a kid.
Boxx, of course, stood firm behind his boss and believed everything he said. If Roy said the kid knew where the body was, then it was the gospel. Pursuant to one of his many phone calls, a half dozen assistant U.S. attorneys were doing identical research in New Orleans.
Larry Trumann knocked and entered the library around ten Tuesday night. He’d been in McThune’s office for most of the evening. Following Foltrigg’s orders, they, had begun the process of obtaining approval to offer Mark Sway safety under the Federal Witness Protection Program. They had made a dozen phone calls to Washington, twice speaking with the director of the FBI, F. Denton Voyles. If Mark Sway didn’t give Foltrigg the answers he wanted in the morning, they would be ready with a most attractive offer.
Foltrigg said it would be an easy deal. The kid had nothing to lose. They would offer his mother a good job in a new city, one of her choosing. She would earn more than the six lousy bucks