some sort of deviant. There had to be reason a sick person would be drawn to him.
Brazil was angry as he yanked on running clothes at dawn. He grabbed a tennis racquet,
the hopper of balls, and trotted out the door.
The morning was wet with dew, the sun already making its potent presence known.
Magnolias were dense and heavy with waxy white blossoms that smelled like lemon as
he passed beneath them. He cut through the Davidson campus, sprinting along the small
road winding behind Jackson Court, heading to the track. He ran six fast miles, and
furiously served tennis balls. He worked out with weights in the gym, sprinted several
laps, and did pushups and sit-ups until his body’s natural opiates kicked in.
tw Hammer was preoccupied with her ruined morning. This was what she got for
altering her routine and having lunch with West, who clearly could not keep out of
trouble. Hammer had worn her uniform this day, which in itself was exceedingly
unusual. She had not found it necessary to argue court dates with the district attorney in
fifteen years, and wanted no problem here. She believed in the power of personal
confrontations, and determined that the DA was about to have one. By nine a. m. ”
Hammer was inside the big granite Criminal Court Building, waiting in the reception area
of the city’s top prosecutor.
Nancy Gorelick had been reelected so many times, she ran unopposed and most of the
population would not have bothered to go to the polls were there not other officials to
vote for or against. She and Hammer were not personal friends. The DA certainly knew
very well who the chief was, and in fact had read about Hammer’s heroics in the morning
paper.
Batman and Robin. Oh please. Gorelick was a ruthless Republican who believed in
hanging first and sorting out later. She was tired of people who thought special excuses
should be made for them, and there was no doubt in her mind about the reason for
Hammer’s impromptu visit.
Gorelick made Hammer wait long enough. By the time the DA buzzed her secretary to
say that the chief could be shown in. Hammer was pacing the reception area, looking at
her watch, and getting more irritated by the se con The secretary opened a dark wooden
door and Hammer strode past her.
“Good morning. Nancy,” the chief said. , “Thank you.” The DA nodded with a smile, hands folded on top of her neat desk.
“What can I do for you, Judy?”
“You know about the incident at the Greyhound bus station yesterday.”
“The whole world knows,” said Gorelick.
Hammer pulled a chair around to the side of the desk, refusing to sit directly across from
Gorelick with a big block of wood between them.
There was little more valuable than office psychology, and Hammer was
master at it. Right now, the DA’s setup was blatantly overpowering and unwelcoming.
Gorelick was leaning forward with hands on the blotter, assuming a posture of superiority
and dominance. She was visibly bothered that Hammer had rearranged the order, and
was now facing the DA with nothing between them but crossed legs.
“The Johnny Martino case,” Gorelick said.
“Yes,” Hammer said.
“Also known as Magic the Man.”
“Thirty-three class D felony charges of robbery with a dangerous weapon,” Gorelick went on.
“He’ll plea bar gain. We’ll sock him with maybe ten, get him to agree to consolidate
sentencing under five counts. Since he’s a prior record level two, he’s going to be out of
circulation for so long, he’ll turn into a skeleton.”
“When do you anticipate setting the court date. Nancy?” Hammer wasn’t impressed, and frankly, believed not a word. This guy would get the minimum. They all did.
“I’ve already set it.” The DA picked up her big black date book and flipped pages.
“Set for superior court, July twenty-second.”
Hammer wanted to kill her.
“I’m on vacation that entire week. In Paris. It’s been set for a year. I’m taking my sons and their families, and I’ve already bought the tickets, Nancy. That’s why I came by this
morning. Both of us are busy professionals with crushing schedules and responsibilities.