The Racketeer

suppress the search that yielded a van-load of coke.” Westlake paused and watched Jimmy Lee carefully. Jimmy Lee’s eyes yielded nothing. He finally shrugged and said, “So?”
    “So, did you have any knowledge of this bribe?”
    “If I knew about it, then that would be a crime, wouldn’t it? You think I’m stupid enough to admit to a crime. I’m offended.”
    “Oh, don’t be offended, Mr. Arnold. I’m not accusing you of anything.”
    “Did Quinn Rucker implicate me in the bribe?”
    “He’s been vague so far, said only that a lawyer was the intermediary.”
    “I’m sure this particular gang of thugs has access to a lot of lawyers.”
    “Indeed. Were you surprised when Judge Fawcett denied the motion to suppress?”
    Jimmy Lee smiled and rolled his eyes. “Nothing surprises me anymore. If you believe in the Constitution, then it was a bad search and the evidence, 150 kilos of pure coke, should have been kicked out. That would take some spine, and you don’t see much of that anymore, especially in big drug busts. It takes balls for a judge, state or federal, to exclude such wonderful evidence, regardless of what the cops did to get it. No, I wasn’t surprised.”
    “How long did you practice in Judge Fawcett’s courtroom?”
    “Since the day he was appointed, twenty years ago. I knew him well.”
    “Do you believe he would take a bribe?”
    “A cash bribe for a favorable ruling?”
    “And a lighter sentence.”
    Jimmy Lee crossed his legs, hanging one ostrich-skin boot on a knee, and locked his hands together just below his gut. He thought for a moment, then said, “I’ve seen judges make some outrageous decisions, but usually out of stupidity or laziness. But, no, Mr. Westlake, I do not believe Judge Fawcett, or any other state or federal judge within the Commonwealth of Virginia, would take a bribe, cash or otherwise. I said nothing surprises me, but I was wrong. Such a bribe would shock me.”
    “Would you say Judge Fawcett had a reputation for high integrity?”
    “No, I wouldn’t say that. He was okay his first few years on the bench, then he changed and became a real hard-ass. My clients have all been charged with crimes, but they’re not all criminals. Fawcett didn’t see it that way. He was much too happy to send aguy away for twenty years. He always sided with the prosecution and the cops, and to me that’s not integrity.”
    “But he didn’t take money?”
    “Not to my knowledge.”
    “Here’s our quandary, Mr. Arnold. If Quinn Rucker is telling the truth, then how did he manage to get the money to Fawcett? Here’s a tough street kid from D.C. who’s never met Fawcett before. There had to be an intermediary somewhere along the line. I’m not saying it’s you, and there’s no suggestion that you’re involved in his story. But you know the system. How did the $500,000 change hands?”
    Jimmy Lee was shaking his head. “If the system involves bribery, then I don’t know how it works, okay? I resent the implication. You’re talking to the wrong man.”
    “Again, I’m not implicating or accusing you of anything.”
    “You’re getting pretty damned close.” Jimmy Lee slowly got to his feet and reached for the recorder. “Let’s say this little meeting is over.”
    “No need for that, Mr. Arnold.”
    Jimmy Lee picked up the recorder and returned it to a pocket. “It’s been a real pleasure,” he said as he yanked open the door and disappeared down the hall.

    Directly across Church Street, Dee Ray Rucker was entering another law office as Victor Westlake and his agents left Jimmy Lee’s.
    Quinn had been arrested the previous Wednesday night and had spent the first ten hours of his captivity in the interrogation room. After he confessed, on camera, he was finally taken to the Norfolk City Jail, placed in solitary, and slept for twelve straight hours. He was not allowed to use the phone until Saturday morning, and it took most of the day to reach a family member whowas willing to talk. Early Saturday evening, Quinn was driven from Norfolk to Roanoke, a four-and-a-half-hour journey.
    Once Dee Ray realized his older brother was in jail for killing a federal judge, he scrambled to find a lawyer who would take the case. Several in D.C. and Virginia declined. By late Sunday afternoon, another Roanoke character named Dusty Shiver had agreed to represent Quinn through the initial stages of the prosecution, but he reserved the right to step down if a trial became