Lawrence tried not to laugh as he entered the attorney conference room of the prison. His new lawyer, Julian Huntington III, was the best money could buy and had practically guaranteed that Lawrence would be paroled at his hearing. But Lawrence barely noticed the man in the $1,000 suit; he was focused more on his associate, the man with short, blond curly hair and a thick Eastern European accent.
"Ivan," Lawrence said, his tone slightly bemused. "I don't recall you going to law school."
"This is rather irregular, Mr. Alamain," Huntington said. "Having a non-lawyer in here means that what we say loses the attorney-client privilege."
Lawrence turned to look at the lawyer. "Considering I am only in here because the government illegally recorded communications between myself and my attorney, I give very little credence to your sacred privilege." He sniffed haughtily. "Besides, you're getting your $700 an hour regardless."
The lawyer's mouth opened, but then closed without saying a word.
"So now that we have that settled. . . . Why don't you say your peace and then leave me and your 'associate' to handle the rest of our business?"
Huntington grew a bit uncomfortable. "Mr. Alamain-"
"You heard me, Mr. Huntington. I am paying the bills and, therefore, I am in charge. I hope that you understand that a bit more that your predecessor. Maurice Marchand never fully understood." Lawrence paused for effect. "Such a terrible tragedy to befall him."
Swallowing quickly. Huntington motioned to the conference table. He waited for Lawrence to sit before doing so himself. Ivan took a seat at the end of the table, but said nothing.
"I assume we're here to discuss my parole hearing." Lawrence doubted anything the lawyer had to say would make a difference in the outcome. If Ivan had done his job, Lawrence could have a trained monkey appear on his behalf and he would still be paroled. Still, Lawrence had an image to uphold, so what was a few thousand dollars spent on the best criminal attorney in America?
Huntington began to speak. He explained the parole hearing procedures and who would be sitting on Lawrence's panel. Huntington advised Lawrence to expect Jennifer Deveraux at the hearing, as might others who could make allegations about Lawrence's past.
"It is possible, given some rumors, that the parole board might hear from Alice Horton, Carly Manning, Kimberly Brady, and Steve Johnson-"
"I can't imagine what Mr. Johnson would say," Lawrence said. "I don't even know the man."
Huntington nodded. "Perhaps. . . . It's possible his wife may also appear. I had some worries that Francois Von Leuschner might show up and claim he was held captive in your home, but he is currently in Africa."
"How fortunate for me," Lawrence said.
"I don't think we need to worry about the Bradys and the Johnsons." That came from Ivan. "They seem rather preoccupied at the moment."
Lawrence tried not to smirk. He had seen the newspapers. "Yes, it appears that the timing of Captain Donovan's shooting had been quite fortuitous." At Huntington's shocked expression, Lawrence raised an eyebrow. "Oh, please. . . . As if you have never benefitted from the misfortunate of an adversary. Now what else do I need to know for my hearing?"
"The most important thing, Mr. Alamain, is to be contrite. Tell the panel that you regret your actions and will not repeat them."
Lawrence pursed his lips. "I guess I could do that. I do regret that what was a private, intimate moment between husband and wife because such a public affair."
"I meant you need to apologize for ra-"
"I understood what you meant," Larence snapped. "Do you take me for some kind of imbecile, Mr. Huntington?"
Huntington looked scared for a moment before meekly saying, "Of course not."
"That's right." Lawrence looked at Ivan, then back at the attorney. "And, now, I believe I have heard enough. I must tend to other matters with Ivan."
The room fell silent. Huntington remained in his seat.
Are all Americans this dense? Lawrence wondered.
"Alone, Mr. Huntington," he said sharply.
"Oh. . . ." Apparently unable to think of anything coherent to say, the lawyer stood up and exited the room. Lawrence waited until the door closed and remained silent for another minute.
"Report, Ivan.
Lawrence sat patiently as Ivan detailed the status of the toxin. Things were still moving too slowly, but Lawrence would handle that as soon as he was freed. "And our friend, ex-Captain Donovan?"
Ivan detailed what he could tell about Cal Winters' death and the shooting.
"Everyone else is okay?" Lawrence asked.
Ivan nodded. He knew what Lawrence was truly asking. "I have seen police reports, sir, and it appears that Winters did not . . . take any liberties with Miss Brady and Mrs. Johnson."
Lawrence hardly cared about Kayla, but he was glad to hear about Kimberly. "Very well. Have the police determined how Winters escaped?" Lawrence chose his words carefully in case the room was bugged. "I mean, what an appalling breach of security for a convicted kidnapper to escape for so long without notice."
"Yes, it is." Ivan played along. "As I understand matters, the prison warden covered up the escape. The warden has since disappeared, though." Ivan frowned at that last bit of information. "Unfortunately, nobody knows where he might be."
That news concerned Lawrence. If the authorities found the warden, he might reveal that Maurice Marchand arranged for Winters' escape. And that might raise suspicions about Lawrence's involvement.
Of course, by the time anyone figured that out, Lawrence would be halfway around the world, enjoying his mountain villa. So Lawrence set aside his concern.
At the end of the conference table, Ivan cleared his throat.
"Yes, Ivan? Go ahead."
"There is the matter of. . . ." Ivan lowered his voice to nearly a whisper. "Captain Donovan."
"Don't be so quiet, Ivan," Lawrence said loudly. "Despite my past conflicts with the good Captain, even I see how difficult it must be for his family. What can you tell me about his condition?"
Ivan shrugged. "Very little. The hospital is keeping very quiet, just saying his condition is 'critical.' But I did speak with a nurse who told me he has not regained consciousness." Lawrence wondered how much that little conversation must have cost him, but did not ask, because Ivan continued. "I understand that he is in a coma."
Lawrence mulled that over for a moment.
"Sir. . . ." Ivan glanced sideways at the door and lowered his voice again. "We do have some doctor friends at University Hospital. Perhaps they could assist Captain Donovan in a manner similar to how they helped one of our . . . friends in the past."
Ivan meant Steve Johnson, of course. Lawrence thought a little. Doing the same thing to Donovan was tempting.
Tempting, but unnecessary. His revenge required Shane Donovan alive.
Lawrence had his plans for Donovan and they did not involve him "dying" at University Hospital. Besides, it was too premature to take him. Lawrence needed to wait until the toxin was more advanced.
"No, Ivan, I think Captain Donovan is probably receiving excellent care from his own doctors," Lawrence said. "I am sure there is no need for our assistance." Lawrence then paused and gave Ivan a knowing look. "Perhaps when he has recovered a little, we will see if we can assist. I'm thinking . . . perhaps in December."