One to Go by Mike Pace Page A

steps from their office building. All the attorneys appeared to be under thirty-five, most under thirty. The place was packed, and the attorneys had to shout across the table to be heard. Pitchers of beer and baskets of thick, homemade pretzels covered the table.
    A blond guy sitting across from them passed the pitcher over to Tom so he could fill his glass. Eva had introduced all of her colleagues as they drifted in, but Tom could only recall a few. He did remember the blond guy’s name—Danny—because Danny and Eva had held each other’s gaze longer than expected for two people engaged in a purely professional relationship.
    â€œFill ’er up, Newbie,” said Danny. “You’re lucky to have Eva as your mentor. She’ll show you the ropes.”
    Danny said the last sentence in a smarmy, double entendre tone, but for the life of him, Tom couldn’t see any double meaning that might be considered sexual, unless Eva was into the dominatrix thing, which he seriously doubted.
    Eva responded to Danny with a glare that could cut glass. Tom couldn’t believe he cared about what was happening or had happened between Eva and Danny. He had less than two weeks to plan and execute a murder and there was no time for distractions of any kind, much less romantic distractions.
    Fortunately, he thought he may have found a target. Reece Mackey had murdered another human being, and therefore fellsquarely into the “bad guy” category. That he’d beaten the rap—Tom wondered if criminal attorneys really said, “beat the rap”—strengthened his rationalization. This vile murderer had escaped justice, and Tom the Avenger was flying in from his secret cave to make things right.
    He turned to Eva. “So, what about Mackey? Will he plead?”
    â€œDoesn’t get him anything. The prosecutor’s pissed. Mackey beat the murder charge, probably because he did threaten a witness like Lutz alleged. Happens all the time. So they’re not going to offer him anything for a plea. The jury can’t take his arrest into account when trying him on the assault charge, but the judge can at sentencing under certain circumstances.”
    â€œWhich means—?”
    â€œWhich means, even for a pissant case like this, they’re gonna do their best to make sure the vic shows up.”
    â€œWhich means—?”
    â€œWhich means in four or five weeks you’re going to have your first jury trial, Booker. Welcome to the deep end.”
    If Tom’s plan worked, Reece Mackey would not be facing a jury of his peers in four weeks for the simple reason that he’d be dead.
    â€œYou ought to talk to Danny,” said Eva. “He defended Mackey in the murder case.” She shouted over the din of the restaurant. “Hey, Danny, Booker needs to talk to you about Reece Mackey.”
    â€œYour wish is my command,” said Danny.
    Tom didn’t want to talk to Danny. He didn’t like Danny. And not just because he seemed to have a thing for Eva. The man should’ve had “asshole” branded across his forehead to warn the unsuspecting. Okay, maybe most of it was because of Eva. “That would be great.”

    That night Tom drove back into Southeast. He’d decided he needed to meet with Mackey sooner rather than later and gain his trust. Tom figured he’d be better able to formulate a plan after spendingsome time with him. But tonight he wasn’t meeting Mackey. He needed another gun, one that was untraceable. His only hope was Chewy Lewis.
    He’d met Chewy during his third year teaching at Jabazz. Chewy’s little brother, Jerome, was a fifth grader. Jerome was very bright and had a particularly high aptitude in math and science. Tom had taken Jerome under his wing.
    Chewy, not even twenty yet, was a big-time dealer. Charismatic with a high degree of intelligence. Problem was, Chewy was Jerome’s only role model, and the