Ben was almost out of the sawmill when to his amazement he saw Amos Slade sitting in a comfortable chair in what looked like the mill kitchenette. He was flanked by a coffeepot and vending machines; he had a half-eaten cruller in his left hand.
Ben knew it was like bearding the lion in his den, but for his client’s sake, he plunged in. “I thought you had no official ties to the logging industry?”
“Mr. Kincaid.” Slade smiled; bits of doughnut glaze crinkled along his lips. “I don’t have any official ties. But they are kind enough to give me a place to rest my feet from time to time.”
“Unofficially.”
“But of course.” Slade pointed toward a box on the table. “Care for a doughnut? We’ve got jelly-filled.”
“Thanks, but no.”
“You have a disagreement with Adams?”
“What makes you think that?”
Slade shrugged. “Would you believe I just had a hunch?”
“More likely you have his office bugged.”
Slade laughed. “Well, anything is possible.” He shoved the doughnut box down the table toward Ben. “Look, Kincaid, you’ve never done anything to me, and whether you believe it or not, I’m not your enemy. So do you mind if I give you a little advice?”
“Not unless you expect me to take it.”
He laughed again. “I think I’ve got you pegged, Kincaid. You’re Don Quixote.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know what I mean. Tilting at windmills. Fighting for lost causes. That sort of thing.”
“You’re barking up the wrong-”
“Don’t bother denying it, kid. I’ve had you checked out.”
“What?”
“Don’t act so astonished. You don’t go into the courtroom unprepared, and neither do I. Did you think you were going to be able to waltz into this little melodrama and not get your hair mussed? That you could play with fire and not get singed? Well, wrongerino, kid. I’ve got your whole bleeding-heart background stored away in a file folder. As I’m sure those Green Ragers did before me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You thought this was some sort of coincidence? That they just happened to stumble across exactly what they needed most? Sorry, kid, I don’t believe in miracles. At least not at that level.”
“Your problem is that you think everyone in the world uses the same underhanded tactics as you.”
“You know, kid, I do think that. But it’s not a problem. It’s a reality.” He raised his hand to his face and let his fingers dance a moment on his forehead. “Which is all getting me far afield from the tiny piece of advice I wished to convey. Here it is, kid: go home.”
“You’re wasting my time.”
“No, I’m not, and I’m not joking, either. I’m vewwy vewwy serious. Go home. Catch a plane and fly back to sleepy little Tulsa. You’ll be a lot safer back where Ma and Pa still rise with the chickens, everyone believes in God, and nobody’s ever heard of nasty things like industrial sabotage or eco-terrorism. For your own sake, kid. You don’t belong here. So go home.”
“Well, thank you very much for your considerate advice. I promise to give it all the attention it merits.”
Slade leaned forward. “You think I’m going to let you win this case? Let me disinform you. I won’t.”
Ben felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising. “I wasn’t aware you had every juror in the county in the palm of your hand.”
“Then you should be. I can get anything I want, Kincaid. It’s just a question of time and money. And as far as this case goes, I’ve been given the green light.”
“What does that mean?”
“You figure it out. I’ve been authorized to do whatever it takes to accomplish our objectives. And I will.”
Ben tried to be brave, ignoring the fact that Slade was giving him the major-league creeps. “Look, it’s this simple. I don’t think George Zakin did it. And in any case, he’s entitled to a defense. So I’m going to give it to him.”
Slade let his hands flutter to his side. “I’ve got a surprise for you, chump.”
Ben blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“Very soon your newfound employers will be racing back to the rabbit warrens they crawled out of, and you will be left here holding the bag. Very alone. And very vulnerable.”
“If this is supposed to scare me, it isn’t working,” Ben lied.
“Like I said, I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?” Ben sputtered. “What is that, some-some kind of threat?”
Slade shook his head slowly back and forth. “I don’t make threats.” He lowered his eyes till they met Ben’s. “I don’t have to.”