Leopard's Baby

After five days in solitary Tammy was led back to her old cell. Sheila Barker was not present, and nobody else had been brought in to take her place. It was lunch time and Tammy entered the dining hall at about the same time Jasmine did. Tammy accepted Jasmine’s invitation to sit with her. Tammy was the only white person at the table.

“Hey, Jas,” one of the other women called. “How come you’re bringing this honky bitch to our table?”

“Ladies,” Jasmine said as she put her arm around Tammy. “This is Tammy. I know she’s white, but she’s still a sister. She’s the one who fucked up that Nazi cunt Sheila Barker. Big time. You shoulda seen it.”

“Yeah I was there,” another of the women said. “Enjoyed watching. Wouldn’t want Tammy pissed at me.”

The conversation turned to Barker. Several of the women talked about confrontations they’d had or seen others have with her. Some had seen the fight, and each one gave her impression. For the first time since she’d been locked up, Tammy was able to relax and enjoy herself.

As she was returning to her cell, a guard told her she had a visitor. Jeremy. He looked haggard and had lost weight. There were circles under his eyes. He and Tammy were separated by a thick glass window with a phone on each side.

“I can’t help thinking it’s my fault you’re in here,” Jeremy said. His eyes glistened with tears. “If I hadn’t been showing Brendan off to the girls sunning themselves in bikinis, it wouldn’t have been so easy for the cops to grab him. Can you ever forgive me?”

“You were doing exactly what I asked you to do,” Tammy said. She felt as if she should take him in her arms and pat him on the back. “If it’s anybody’s fault it’s mine. I thought she’d get some thugs to snatch him and run away. I wanted you to be where it was crowded. I was thinking the more people who were interested in Brendan, the better. It never occurred to me she’d forge my signature on the prenup and get a court order. It should have.”

They continued to talk for as long as they were allowed. A guard came over and told them time was up. Just before he got up to leave, Jeremy said, “When you do get out of here, Tammy, if you need anything from me, just let me know. Anything at all. Night or day.”

***

“How are you doing Manny?” Covington asked as he slid into a seat across from a good-sized man. Covington was wearing an expensive suit. Covington’s companion was casually dressed. He had a prominent nose, a pockmarked face, and oily, slicked-back, black hair.

They were in a booth in a crowded, seedy bar. Even though it was only mid-afternoon, the light inside was dim and the noise loud. The two men had to have their heads close together to avoid shouting. At a nearby table sat two other hefty men who were on the alert for possible threats.

“I’m doing fine, Counselor,” Manny replied. He held up his hand with two fingers extended and signaled to a waitress. “Maybe not as good as you. I’ve read about you. You’ve come up in the world since you use to represent slime like me.” He grinned at his own self-deprecating comment. “I’d of thought a high and mighty lawyer like you, hobnobbing with senators and shit, wouldn’t be caught dead in a dump like this, associating with the likes of me. Haven’t heard from you since you wanted an expert forger a couple years ago. What brings you to this neck of the woods?”

“I never forget my old friends, Manny,” Covington said.

“Bullshit!” Manny said. He was silent as the waitress brought over two beers. No glasses. Manny uncapped a bottle, took a large drink, belched, and said, “I know you. As soon as you get back to your three-million dollar condo you’ll have that five-thousand dollar suit fumigated to remove my stink. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want something only I can deliver. What?”

Covington took a sip of his beer, reached across the table, touched Manny’s chest with his left forefinger, and said, “Because of our past history you’re my first choice, Manny, but I do have other options. You owe me. I kept you out of prison.”

“The first time, maybe, but when I went back to you five years later you wouldn’t even talk to me.”

“It’s not that I wouldn’t be willing to represent you, it’s that I’d taken a job with my current firm. We don’t do criminal law. I sent you some names.”

“Whatever,” Manny said. He looked at his watch. “Let’s cut to the chase. I have to be somewhere.”

“You have influence at the county jail?”

“I might know someone,” Manny conceded. He regarded Covington warily. “You can’t be looking for work. What’s your interest?”

“There’s a girl there named Tamara Roberts,” Covington replied. He handed over a picture of Tammy. “She’s doing ninety days. My principals would like to see her sentence extended. Significantly extended.”

“She’s quite the babe,” Manny said, as he examined the photo. “I can think of a few ways to get the job done. It’ll cost you.”

Manny named a figure. Covington haggled with him briefly before agreeing to an amount ten percent less than the original number. Covington handed him an envelope containing half the agreed amount. The balance would be paid on completion.

***

Ted Bilson, Olivia’s former supervisor at Secret Service, led Olivia to a park bench. Seated there was a short, slight, man wearing thick glasses. He was around fifty, perhaps a little older, and was bald except for a fringe of hair around the sides and back of his head. He kept licking his lips and looking from side to side as if he expected to be attacked at any moment.

“I’m glad you could make it, Fred,” Bilson said. “This is Olivia. I’d trust her with my life. You can also.”

“No names, no names,” Fred said. He kept his hand over his mouth in order to thwart possible lip readers. “I recognize her. I’ve made stuff for her before. I can’t keep doing this, Bilson. If I get caught I’ll get sent up the river and lose my pension.”

“I give you my word,” Bilson said as he sat next to Fred and patted his shoulder. “You know it’s good. Neither Olivia nor I will mention your name no matter what, should anyone question the documents you provide.”

“I’ll pay you twenty-five percent more than your usual rates,” Olivia said. “As Ted told you, we’ll never mention your name.”

“Thirty percent more,” Fred said.

“Fine thirty percent,” Olivia agreed. She handed over pictures of Tammy and Brendan and a page containing physical data.

“I think I know this girl also,” Fred said. “She’s older now.”

“What I need is two full sets of credentials for her and a baby. For the first set, her picture should make her hair darker and cut short. Give her a small mole on her left cheek, near her nose and a scar from the right corner of her mouth to her chin. For the second set, her hair should be blond, move the mole to the other side of her nose, and remove the scar. Her age should be about twenty-three and the baby about a year. You’ll have to age his picture. You can do that?”

“Of course,” Fred said in a wounded tone. “What names?”

Olivia thought for a moment. “First set, Judy Felson. Call the baby… Robert. Second set, Melissa Garton. Might as well keep Robert.”

“Credit cards?”

“No, I’ll take care of the credit cards after I have the other ID.”

Fred named a figure and said he wanted payment in advance.

“No way,” Bilson said emphatically. “When we’ve done business in the past it’s always been half down, half on completion. Those will be the terms. Don’t be greedy Fred. You’re already getting thirty percent more than you deserve.”

“Fine,” Fred said. He got to his feet. Olivia handed him money. He shook hands with her and with Bilson and started to leave.

“Wait,” Olivia said, taking him by the arm. “I need a phone number.”

“Bilson can give it to you,” Fred said. He pulled his arm free and left.

***

It was growing dark as Olivia started up the walkway toward the front of the Roberts’s house. She hoped the senator and his wife were out and Karla was in. Karla would probably let her see her grandson. Curtis might. Jennifer would not. Two armed men wearing the uniforms of a security company stepped out of the shadows and blocked her path. She could see movement in the bushes by the front door, and knew more armed men were stationed there.

“State your business ma’am,” of the men said.

“I’d like to see Senator or Mrs. Roberts.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No.”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to leave. In the future call ahead.”

“Would you please ask them if they’ll see Olivia Selinson? Please?”

The man hesitated, shrugged, took out his phone, and pressed a speed-dial button. He turned his back and walked four steps away while he talked. Even with her leopard hearing, Olivia could only make out an occasional word. After speaking for only about a minute, he disconnected and came back to Olivia.

“Mrs. Roberts said that not only are you to be denied entrance to the house at this time, but if you come back without a specific invitation at any time in the future, we are to call the police and charge you with trespassing.”

“My grandson is in that house,” Olivia declared.

“I’m sorry ma’am,” the man said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “These are my orders. It’s not up to me.”

“May I talk with Mrs. Roberts directly?”

The security man hesitated before saying, “I’ll see.” Once again he took out his phone, walked a few steps away, and called. He said something, listened, and jerked the phone away from his ear. Olivia could hear a tinny voice from the phone shouting, “What part of NO didn’t you understand? Make sure she’s gone!” The man put his phone away and came back to her.

“Mrs. Roberts has ordered me to escort you off the property,” he said.

Olivia seethed. She knew she could easily disarm the man and his partner and get by both of them, but even if she could gain entrance to the house without getting shot, not a given, she could be charged with breaking and entering and would not be in a position to help her daughter. Without another word she turned and walked away. The security men followed.

***

It was nearly midnight. Ed, Congresswoman Desiree Martinez’s SF Security companion, drove into the underground garage beneath her apartment building, found her spot, and parked. As per protocol, Ed exited the car first and checked the surrounding area. He beckoned her out and they walked toward the elevators.

Martinez pushed the “up” button. Suddenly three men brandishing aluminum baseball bats jumped out from behind a parked car and charged them, screaming incoherently. Ed stepped between her and the three men and reached for his gun. He got off one shot, hitting one of the assailants in his left shoulder, before another brought his bat down on Ed’s gun wrist, breaking it, and forcing him to drop his weapon. His adversary hit Ed again, this time on his left knee. Ed went to the ground, groaning in pain.

Martinez shrieked and tried to run. The third man clubbed her in the shins, breaking her right leg. The thug struck again, this time hitting her in the ribs, and raised his bat for another blow. Martinez got her right arm up in time to deflect the strike aimed at her head, but getting her arm broken.

“We don’t need guns for a Spic like you!” her attacker yelled, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. “But we don’t want nobody taking them away! Now I’m gonna bash your fucking head in!”

Before he could carry out his threat several shots rang out. Her attacker fell over, just missing landing on her. Blood pooled around him. Ed, from a prone position, had his backup gun out shooting with his left hand. Two of the goons lay still, probably dead. The third was hobbling away, screaming threats.

Ed crawled over to Desiree. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m having trouble breathing,” she gasped. “They broke some ribs and I may have a punctured lung.”

“Crap!” he exclaimed as he took out his phone. “No service down here.”

The elevator pinged and the door opened. Using only his left hand and right leg, Ed dragged her inside, propped her against a wall, and managed to push the button for the lobby.

If only Olivia had been here, Martinez thought. I’ve got to figure out some way to get her back. Then she blacked out.