Dead Lawyers Tell No Tales (36 page)

IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS EXAMINATION,
Landon experienced a brief pang of fear. This was the CEO of one of the most powerful organizations in the world. This man had orchestrated the deaths of three lawyers at Landon’s firm already. Who was Landon to think he could escape Sean Phoenix’s wrath?

But then he thought about Harry. He remembered his mentor’s relentless tenacity.
“There are times,”
Harry had told him,
“when you are the only person standing between your client and a lifetime of incarceration. Sometimes, in your client’s defense, you may have to implicate some pretty powerful people. Never back down. And remember, if you’re going to shoot the king, you’d better kill the king.”

Sean Phoenix was already wounded. It was time to move in for the kill.

“Harry McNaughten figured this out, didn’t he?” Landon asked.

“I don’t know if Harry McNaughten had the same kind of fertile imagination as you or not.”

“He told his partners about it, and Parker Clausen called you.”

Phoenix smirked. “Is that a question?”

“Yes.”

“Then I deny it.”

“Do you also deny giving an order to have Harry McNaughten and Brent Benedict and Rachel Strach killed?”

Sean Phoenix had heard enough. He clenched his jaw and turned to the judge. “Is this the way our justice system works?” he asked. “I have to sit here and allow this man—” he motioned derisively toward Landon— “a man who has never raised a hand in the defense of our country, a man who has served years in prison because he sold out his teammates in a football game—I have to allow
him
to make these kinds of wild accusations against
me
?”

“This is precisely how our system works,” Judge Deegan said coldly. “And I’d suggest you learn to respect it.”

Sean Phoenix took a sip of water and turned back to Landon. He waited for a moment and then spoke in a calm voice, barely audible. “What was the question?”

“Whether you ordered the deaths of Harry McNaughten, Brent Benedict, and Rachel Strach.”

“No. Of course not. Next question.”

Landon took a deep breath and walked back to his counsel table. He picked up the piece of paper that Freeman had handed him just before Phoenix took the stand.

“What about my death and my client’s? Did you order those?”

Landon might as well have detonated five pounds of TNT in the courtroom. Murmurs rose from the spectators. Sherman leaped to his feet, shouting an objection, demanding a mistrial. Deegan banged her gavel.

“Approach the bench!” she demanded.

Landon and Sherman hustled forward, and Deegan began talking before Elias King could even make it to the front. She made little effort to keep her voice low enough so the jury wouldn’t hear. “I thought I told
you that was off-limits,” she said, scolding Landon. “There was to be no mention of the attempt on your client’s life.”

Landon wondered if the judge would throw him in jail without even giving him a chance to explain. “We have evidence,” he said quickly. “Cell phone records. I’m about to reveal them. And it fits our theory of the case.”

Sherman was beside himself, pulsing with angry energy. He looked like he wanted to strike Landon. “I’ve never seen anything this underhanded,” he sputtered. “Talk about disrespecting the court.”

“I didn’t mean any disrespect,” Landon interjected.

“I move for a mistrial, and I move that the defendant be retained in custody without bond pending a new trial,” Sherman said.

“I’m inclined to grant the mistrial,” Deegan said, shaking her head. “Even after all the work to keep these jurors in place.” She eyeballed Landon. “You really haven’t given me any choice.”

By now, Elias had shuffled to the bench on his crutches, but even he could think of nothing to say in Landon’s defense.

“Judge, I can understand why the court’s upset, and I apologize. But if you would give me four questions—just four—I’ll show you how this all ties in. And if I don’t link it up in four questions, you can grant the mistrial and I won’t even object.”

“But I might,” Elias added.

“Four more questions?” Sherman asked derisively. “Four more of these ‘When did you stop beating your wife?’ questions without any evidence to back them up?”

Deegan thought it over for a second, her rage subsiding a little. “Four questions, Counsel. And they’d better be good.”

Landon took his time getting back to his counsel table, formulating the precise wording for the questions.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Elias said under his breath.

Landon waited until everyone was in place, then walked to the well of the courtroom. He waited a few beats. The eyes of the jurors and the entire gallery were glued to him. Sherman was leaning forward, ready to
object. The witness was staring him down. And Elias King, a man with way more jury experience than Landon, had his freedom hanging in the balance.

This was, Landon thought, the reason he had sacrificed everything to become a lawyer.

“Do you own a cell phone?”

“Of course.”

“Did you leave your cell phone with the deputies at the metal detector when you came upstairs pursuant to our subpoena to testify?”

Phoenix blinked. He knew, even before Landon asked the next question, where this was headed. His arrogant defiance turned to a flicker of panic. “Yes.”

“Did you know that Detective Freeman, from the Virginia Beach Police Department, had obtained a warrant to search your phone?” He pointed at Freeman. “That’s her, right there.”

“Of course I didn’t know that.”

And here it was, Landon thought. Question number four.

“Would you care to explain why you received a text message seconds after the shootings right outside this courthouse yesterday with the words
Mission status—targets hit but survived
?”

The question itself generated another stir that spread like a shock wave through the courtroom. In law school, Landon had been taught that there were some questions so damaging it didn’t matter how the witness answered. And he knew, beyond any doubt, that he had just asked one of them.

///

Sean Phoenix took another sip of water.

He almost smiled as he considered the unbelievable irony of it all. Fifteen years ago, he had given up on the rule of law. Those in power had let him down and caused the death of his lover. Sean had become a renegade, a vigilante. He had been on a personal mission to avenge Fatinah’s death and punish those who had been complicit in it. Along
the way, he had added to his list of enemies. Men like Elias King and John McBride. Greedy and selfish men who had tormented his company in order to advance their careers.

Sean had done plenty of secret things for the good of his country and to enact vengeance on those who had crossed him. Now he was being framed for things he hadn’t done. The shootings of Landon and Elias King. The deaths of Brent Benedict and Rachel Strach. Yes, Sean had framed Elias King, John McBride, and Judge Zimmerman. And yes, he had reluctantly ordered the deaths of Erica Jensen and Harry McNaughten. But someone with even less respect for the rule of law than he had was framing the great Sean Phoenix for crimes he hadn’t committed.

Sean studied Landon for a moment. Did this kid really have it in him? Had Sean Phoenix been duped by an ex-jock? And what was Kerri’s role? Had this all just been an elaborate setup from day one?

These were questions he couldn’t answer—at least not right now. So, with Landon’s devastating question hanging in the air like a guillotine, Sean Phoenix sought shelter in the only place left, a place which suddenly had far greater allure for him than it ever had before.

The U.S. Constitution. The bastion for those who believed in the rule of law.

“I refuse to answer that question,” he said. “I’m availing myself of my rights under the Fifth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.”

ONE DAY LATER

BILLY THURSTON WAS NOT AN IDEAL PATIENT.
After twenty-four hours in Sentara Norfolk’s trauma center, he wanted to go home, but the doctors insisted on keeping him another day for observation. The nurses got a kick out of the guy, and he signed more than a few autographs for their kids.

The Wolfman had shattered Billy’s cheekbone and broken his nose, but none of this stopped his jaw from working, and Billy was not a fan of hospital food. So on Friday, Landon grilled steaks and Kerri fixed mashed potatoes, and the former quarterback and his former center closed the door to the hospital room and had a feast.

In the last twenty-four hours, the two men had witnessed the breathtaking collapse of Cipher Inc. amid one startling revelation after another. Based on Sean Phoenix’s testimony in court and the contents of his cell phone, the Feds had obtained a warrant to search the entire
company’s headquarters. FBI agents descended in droves, and law-enforcement sources were beginning to leak some of the incriminating information they had found. One agent let Landon know that they had found the original photos of him and Rachel. Landon assumed Phoenix had sent them anonymously to pressure Kerri into taking that job in D.C. and to pull Landon away from the firm.

“It happened just like I laid it out in court,” Landon said to Billy between bites. “Cipher Inc. placed their moles at McBride’s firm and Elias King’s firm and in Judge Zimmerman’s office. All three Cipher agents had access to their bosses’ computers. They framed them for insider trading. But Erica Jensen got emotionally attached to Elias. When she found out she was pregnant, she decided to go to the Feds and tell the truth about Cipher’s attempts to frame Elias. She was hoping to cut a deal and avoid jail time. She couldn’t live with herself if Elias went to jail on these trumped-up charges.”

“Ouch,” Billy said. “I’ve gotta chew on the other side. That dude can kick.”

“You wouldn’t believe all the stuff Sean Phoenix did,” Landon continued, ignoring Billy’s comment. “He had an enemies list that started with the men who killed his lover fifteen years ago. Once you make that list, you’re toast.”

“You should have brought some A.1.,” Billy said. “That way I wouldn’t have to chew—it could just slide down.”

“The best chefs don’t want you smothering their steaks in A.1.,” Landon said.

“Who said anything about the best chefs?” Billy asked. He took another bite. “Looks like you made the enemies list.”

“Yeah. Ironically, I hadn’t even figured out what was going on when they took their shot at me the other day. Harry, on the other hand, figured it out early in the case and went to Parker Clausen. Of course, Parker went straight to Sean Phoenix, who in turn had somebody take care of Harry. Then somehow Brent or Rachel must have figured it out too. So they were the next to go.”

“I guess God decided it wasn’t your time yet,” Billy said.

“I guess so,” Landon replied. He tried to act nonchalant, but his heart leaped to hear Billy say something about God. Until coming face-to-face with his own mortality the day before, the big man had been pretty resistant to spiritual things.

“They going to fry him?” Billy asked.

The man had a way of cutting to the chase. Virginia still had the death penalty, and they weren’t afraid to use it.

“Probably,” Landon said. “He’s undoubtedly got a dozen different crimes that would qualify.”

The two men ate for a while in silence. Billy had the TV on ESPN’s
SportsCenter
even though the news channels were providing hourly updates about Cipher Inc. Billy polished off the last of his steak, chased it down with an energy drink, and wiped his mouth.

“I’m sorry about your knee,” Landon said. “It doesn’t seem right that you fly down here to take care of an old teammate and this happens.”

Billy gave Landon a lopsided smile, the left side of his face turning up. “Poetic justice,” he said. “We both know I deserved it.”

RIO DE JANEIRO, BRAZIL

AT TIMES IT FELT LIKE A DISNEY MOVIE.
At others it felt like a Greek tragedy.

Tonight was Disney. There was magic in the air. It was the kind of night Rachel Strach had imagined four months ago when Brent parachuted out of his plane over the Chesapeake Bay. He had squirreled away enough money in offshore accounts that he and Rachel could enjoy the finer things in life. The tricky part had been creating fake passports. But when you have the money, you can pay for the best experts.

For Rachel, the whole thing still seemed surreal. Her head hadn’t stopped spinning since Brent first talked to her about who had killed Harry McNaughten.

When Harry died and Detective Freeman started snooping around, Brent had been the first one in Harry’s office. He had found Harry’s
handwritten closing statement and had been amazed at how Harry had connected the dots implicating Sean Phoenix and Cipher Inc.

The one piece Harry hadn’t figured out was the role of Parker Clausen. But some of Harry’s notes reflected his phone call with Parker the night before the scheduled partner meeting. Harry had shared with Parker his concerns about Cipher Inc. and his plans to have the firm withdraw from representing them. That night, Harry was killed.

Brent had confirmed his suspicions about Parker’s involvement by leaving the handwritten closing argument in plain sight on Harry’s desk. The next morning, he noticed Parker go upstairs for a few minutes. Later that day, when Brent went into Harry’s office, the papers were gone. Parker never said the first word about it.

If there was any doubt left, it disappeared when Parker argued vehemently to keep the Elias King file. If he was working for Sean Phoenix, it all made sense. Control the defense. Don’t let King get new lawyers who might figure it out. Parker could always make sure that Landon didn’t start connecting the dots the way Harry had done. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

After that firm meeting, Brent had brought Rachel into his confidence, and she had done some research on Parker’s book sales. He had been a midlist author with mixed reviews until about a year before Harry’s death. Then somebody—Parker claimed it was his publisher—began sinking a lot of money into advertising and book placement. Sales began to skyrocket. Reviews did not.

When Brent first suggested his plan, Rachel thought he was crazy. But he convinced her that Cipher had tentacles everywhere and that Glaxon-Forrester would never leave them alone. Why not kill two birds with one stone? Fake their deaths and live happily ever after in a tropical paradise.

Rachel was a sucker for romance and adventure. And Brent was a former SEAL.

They used a little sleight of hand when boarding the plane at the Allegheny airport. Rachel arrived in a limo as Brent was completing
the preflight. The stairs to the jet were on the opposite side of the plane from the small brick terminal. She boarded as Rachel Strach—short skirt, tight sweater, something memorable in case anybody was watching. A few minutes later, she walked down the steps dressed in the black uniform of a chauffeur, silly hat and all.

A half hour later, Brent took off alone. She and Brent had prerecorded some conversations that he played during the flight so ground control could hear the voice of Rachel Strach. He bailed over the Chesapeake Bay, right after confirming his final approach, just before the explosion. A former buddy from his SEAL team triggered the fireworks from a boat and plucked Brent out of the water.

They had already started their new life in Rio de Janeiro when an unexpected twist occurred—something that even the warped mind of Parker Clausen, in his most convoluted novel, would never have dreamed up. Elias King rehired the firm. Rachel and Brent knew Parker would be ecstatic. He could now ensure that Cipher was never implicated. But they worried for Landon’s safety. What if he figured out Sean Phoenix’s involvement in Erica Jensen’s death or the insider trading scheme, like Harry had done? Somebody, sometime, had to stop Cipher and Sean Phoenix.

She still couldn’t believe they had pulled it off. Outsmarted Sean Phoenix. Beat him at his own game.

Live by subterfuge; die by subterfuge.

Rachel had wanted to act as soon as Landon was rehired by Elias King, but Brent said he needed time to put the plan together. They had argued about it, the first real source of conflict between them. But Brent was stubborn, and they waited until the trial started.

The plan was for Brent to shoot both Landon and Elias square in the middle of their Kevlar vests and frame Sean Phoenix in the process. The day of the shootings, Rachel threw up three times, sitting by the television in Rio de Janeiro, waiting for news of the events. When Brent called, he said the plan had worked to perfection except for one minor detail. Elias hadn’t been wearing a vest. Brent said he felt bad
about it, but he figured Elias would rather deal with a bad leg than a death sentence.

“Why couldn’t you just miss?” Rachel had asked.

“How realistic is that? A sniper hired by Sean Phoenix misses entirely?”

They were both proud of Landon for the way he had quickly figured out the clues they had planted implicating Phoenix. They had been prepared to provide a few anonymous tips to help him, but it hadn’t been necessary. The text message Brent sent to Sean Phoenix’s phone was the clincher. Phoenix would be found guilty of conspiracy to commit murder. He deserved that and more. He had conspired to commit other murders, even if not this particular one. And there was no telling how many charges he would ultimately be facing by the time the Feds concluded their investigation of his company.

When Brent returned from that second trip, the romance was back. Rachel had always been intrigued by his special-ops background, a secret he had shared with her early in their relationship. She loved the way he never bragged about it to others. But it made her feel secure. Protected.

Still, at a time when they should have been enjoying a storybook ending, Rachel sometimes felt more than a twinge of unrest. Her mind frequently drifted to Landon, and she had to remind herself that the one thing you want is not always the one thing you can have.

There was a difference, she knew, between loyalty and love. A lasting relationship required both. She had seen it with Landon and Kerri. The way Kerri stayed loyal when Landon was in prison. The way he had returned the favor once he got out.

Now it was her turn. And the man sitting in front of her certainly deserved her loyalty. Did she love him? On some nights.

And this was one of them.

They were sitting at a quaint outdoor cafe on opposite sides of a round iron table, enjoying some of Brazil’s finest wine. They had watched the sun set after a leisurely dinner. She loved the way he looked at her in the candlelight, the way his eyes conveyed his every emotion. She felt warm and loved and wanted.

Perhaps someday they would return to the States. If it didn’t work between them, Brent had promised her they could both start over—brand-new identities, a whole new life. But that was plan B. Right now, she was determined to make plan A work.

“Now that Parker’s out of commission, maybe
we
should write a book,” Brent suggested. He was leaning back in his chair, legs crossed in front of him. He took a sip of wine. “
The Avengers
.”

“Already taken,” Rachel said. “What about
Lawyers of the Caribbean
?” She smiled at the thought of Jack Sparrow and the characters played by Keira Knightley and Orlando Bloom. The romance seemed to work out okay for them.

“Not bad,” Brent conceded. Another sip of wine.

He put his glass down and sat up straighter. “I’ve got it!” He tilted his head back and put on a stage voice. The man was proud of this one. “
Dead Lawyers Tell No Tales
.” He let the words roll off his tongue and picked up his glass for a toast.

Rachel smirked and extended her own glass, toasting his brilliance and their future together.

Forever.

She hoped.

“
Dead Lawyers Tell No Tales
,” she repeated. She took a drink and put down her glass. “Or do they?” she asked.