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adult. But we need to avoid these conversations. They will only feed the
public perception that the case against my client is driven not by reasoned
legal judgment but by raw emotion from the mayor s office.
The mayor gnawed his lower lip. It was a good thing Swyteck wasn t in the
office with him. He might have clobbered him. Thank you for that, said the
mayor. I should have expected nothing less from a money launderer.
Excuse me? said Jack.
The ten-thousand-dollar bond your client posted. It s no secret that you
smuggled the cash out of the Bahamas.
I didn t smuggle anything, said Jack. And the reason there are no secrets
surrounding the bond is precisely because I did everything above-board. My
client has access to cash in the Bahamas. I set up a ten-thousand-dollar
savings account in his name at his Bahamian bank. The money was sent by wire
transfer, the necessary currency transaction reports were completed, and the
feds were completely in the loop. End of story.
No, it s not the end of the story. Thanks to you, this won t be over until
that crazy son of a bitch comes after my daughter again. Then let s see if
you re so smug. He hung up the phone without saying good-bye, doing nothing
to mask his disgust in the presence of his bodyguard. He rose and walked to
the window. Not even the sailboats and the flat, blue-green waters of the bay
could soothe him.
Felipe said, You want me to speak to this Swyteck?
Don t be an idiot, he said, still looking out the window.
You want me to pay Falcon a little visit?
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The mayor turned to face him as he considered it, forcing a little smile.
Felipe smiled back. Before long, the two men were grinning so broadly that the
mayor could hardly contain his laughter. Felipe, too, was on the verge of
laughter, though he clearly didn t know why. What s so funny, boss?
It just amazes me, how stupid you can be.
Felipe s smile vanished. What do you mean?
The mayor s expression was deadly serious. In the great American tradition
of executive-office conversations that never happened, let me ask you two
questions. One, isn t it obvious what needs to be done?
Two, why on earth would you askthe mayor before doing it?
chapter 10
Jack Swyteck liked to think of himself as a full-ser vice attorney, but he
did not make house calls. That was the rule, which, like most rules, was
swallowed by its exceptions. He did visit clients who were in jail, who didn t
have a car, or, apparently, wholived in a car.
You sure about these directions? said Theo.
Jack was leading the way down a footpath along the Miami River. A commuter
train rambled along the track two hundred feet above them. A lazy tugboat
churned downriver toward the bay, its wake breaking against a rusted,
half-submerged barge. Am I sure? said Jack. These directions rolled right
off the lips of a clinically paranoid homeless stalker who threatened to throw
himself off a bridge if the mayor s daughter didn t talk to him. Why would I
question their accuracy?
Theo considered it, then said, Do you speak Globalish?
Do I speak what?
Globalish. It s the universal language of the homeless. Like Esperanto.
What the hell is that?
You never heard of Esperanto? It was invented by some Polish dude, but it s
more like Spanish or Italian. A second language for everyone. That s sort of
what Globalish means. It s English, combined with global, meaning worldwide,
though it can also mean great tits, depending on the context. Globalish.
It s probably what Falcon was speaking when he gave you the directions.
Jack wasn t sure how to respond. Theo had this uncanny ability to make no
sense and make perfect sense at the same time.
They kept walking. Earlier that morning, an unexpected phone call from the
state attorney had lasted only a few minutes. Jack knew almost immediately
that the prosecutor was bluffing. If the state could prove that Falcon was
continuing to harass the mayor s daughter, the prosecutor would have been in
court faster than a bailiff could say All rise. Jack would not agree to a
restraining order. The personal call from the mayor had made it considerably
more difficult to maintain that position, but it was his job to put emotions
aside and to act in his client s interest. He still had a conscience, however.
If his client was determined to continue breaking the law if Falcon refused to
give up his pursuit of Alicia Mendoza then it was time for him to get a new
lawyer. Jack had defended plenty of clients who had committed horrible crimes.
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Anyone who had a problem with that had no business being a criminal defense
lawyer. It was something altogether different, however, to provide legal
protection for someone who was steadily working his way up to the big kill.
Andthat was his problem with Falcon.
We there yet? said Theo.
Jack ignored him. The Miami River stretched five and a half miles in a
southeasterly direction, from the airport to downtown Miami, where it emptied
into Biscayne Bay. Over the centuries, everything from raw sugar to raw sewage
had floated down its tea-colored waters. At any time of day, you might find a
ninety-foot yacht bound for the West Indies sharing the right of way with a
rusted old container ship weighted down with cocaine. It was truly a working
river, handling over four billion dollars a year in legal cargo, and a walk
along its banks was like a slide show of Florida history. There were
two-thousand-year-old relics from the Tequesta Indians, warehouses and
dockyards built by the Florida East Coast Railroad, an old fort from the Civil
War, marinas, public parks, historic homes, mangroves, run-down apartment
buildings, and even some pretty good restaurants.
Theo grumbled to get Jack s attention. Hey, Swyteck. I said, ain t wethere
yet?
Almost. The Big Fish restaurant was one of the landmarks Falcon had
mentioned, so Jack knew they were getting close. Right on the river, it was
actually one of Jack s favorite lunch spots. It was nothing fancy, just a
relaxing place to eat fresh dolphin, tuna, or shrimp ceviche while soaking up
a historic stretch of river, a piece of old Miami where mariners from
houseboats at the west end of the river sidled up alongside bankers and
lawyers from the office towers to the east. Jack led Theo around the
restaurant, past the trash bins and a nearby marina, where the combined odor
of diesel fumes and discarded fish guts nearly gagged him. He imagined that
Falcon had scored many a meal right here, rooting through the Dumpsters for
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