The Defense: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

accommodations. With the mayor being a former lawyer, it hadn’t taken long for a petition to get the backing of influential councilmen. The courthouse could stay. They would restore the exterior and continue to let the interior rot away. New York was like that sometimes, content to let the polished veneer hide the rotting corpse in the basement. The reality was that Chambers Street Courthouse had historical value, as it was the first night court ever to be established in the United States. Night court is the most important court in the city. Every defendant has to be brought before a judge within twenty-four hours of being charged. With three hundred arrests per day in Manhattan alone, that meant an extra court sitting from five p.m. through to one a.m. When the recession really took hold, crime in the city went up. Now Chambers Street ran a criminal court twenty-four hours a day. Justice didn’t sleep in this courthouse, and it hadn’t closed its doors in the last two years.
    As the line moved slowly forward, I began to hear the occasional beep from the security equipment. Luckily, I knew the security guards by name. One of the secrets to successful litigation was getting to know the court staff—all of them. You never know when you’ll need a favor—an urgent fax picked up, a wayward client located, change for the coffee machine, or in my case, somebody to come get me when an urgent call came through to the pay phone in the lobby.
    Eight people ahead of me.
    I looked around the reporter’s shoulder to get a better view of the entrance hall security. Barry and Edgar were handling the door. Security in most New York courts is handled by security officers who are really cops in all but name. They carry guns and wear a uniform. They can arrest you, restrain you, and if you are enough of a threat, they can put you down, permanently.
    Barry stood behind the bag scanner, handling the trays, collecting cell phones, keys, wallets, and bags and putting them through the X-ray scanner while people stepped underneath the arch of the walk-through metal detector and hoped not to beep . Edgar patted down, removed forgotten offending items found on a person, and then resubmitted them through the gray arch until he was satisfied.
    Beyond those guys, I saw a young, fair-haired guard I didn’t recognize. Behind him I saw a fourth guard. He stood ten feet back from the security entrance with his hands resting on his gun belt, thumbs tucked behind the leather, his arms hanging over his bloated stomach. It wasn’t unusual to have an extra security officer in the lobby as a backup. I couldn’t place this guy; he had a mustache and small, piglike black eyes. Although I couldn’t remember seeing him before, I decided that I must have met him because he clearly recognized me. Barry, Edgar, and the new kid were concentrating on checking those people at the head of the line. The fat guard never took his eyes off me.
    Six people between me and the security check.
    I brushed sweat out of my eyes.
    If I waited in line, I would be put through the same procedure as everyone else. I tried to recall how I usually acted. For me, entering this building had been like brushing my teeth; I had done it every morning, but I couldn’t remember a single thing about it. Did I just rock in past the security check? Did I wait like everyone else and then get waved through? As I stood in the line, with hands trembling and my mouth dry and bitter, I was close to panic. I couldn’t remember any single occasion of having walked through those doors.
    Only four in front.
    The bomb felt bigger and heavier with every step. The fat guard was still staring at me. Maybe I was giving off all the warning signals that these guys were trained to look out for. Since 9/11, everyone who’s even remotely involved in law enforcement gets trained on how to recognize a potential terrorist threat.
    I thought of Amy wiping her tears on her jammies, begging me not to leave.
    No. I