Page 11 of Blood in the Water
She chose her words carefully. Seamus had perfected the friendly neighborhood uncle persona, but any information gleaned would be filed away for later, a weapon to be used when she least expected it.
“He’s fighting,” she said. “Trying every new treatment we can get our hands on.”
“Good, good.”
He hadn’t once mentioned all the money she owed him, money he’d been adding to her paycheck for over two years to help with Owen, but she knew it wasn’t a debt that would be forgiven — it was one that would be called in when it was most beneficial for Seamus.
She tried not to think about it. Her only concern was Owen, his care and helping her parents provide for it. She’d long ago resolved not to think about the money she owed Seamus until she had to. The appearance of Nolan after she’d written him off, resigned to the fact that he’d returned to a life of privilege, had been like a Hail Mary, but she hadn’t really believed it would change anything until he’d introduced her to Christophe Marchand and told her he was working with the Syndicate to bring down Seamus.
“Was there something else?” Bridget asked.
Seamus didn’t call her to the Cat to pick up her money.She picked it up on Mondays like everyone else, or whenever she could get to it. When Seamus called or texted it was because he needed something.
“I need you to head to C6 in the morning. Mike got pinched. Need you to post bail,” Seamus said.
“You want me to go tonight?” Seamus usually wanted his guys out fast, before they could start talking to their cell mates or the guards.
“Go first thing tomorrow,” he said. “This is the second charge the eejit has for assault. He needs to be more careful when he’s collecting. Give him the night to think about it.”
“No problem,” Bridget said.
Seamus pulled a stack of bills off the pile of money in front of Baren. He slid the cash toward Bridget. “Give him the speech.”
She could give the speech in her sleep, a speech that involved letting whoever had been arrested know that if he didn’t show up for his court hearing — a hearing Bridget would attend as part of her work for Seamus — his position on Seamus’s crew was forfeit and Seamus would hunt him down to make an example out of him. This was both because Seamus hated to lose the bail money and because his operation only ran as smoothly as it did — or as it had before the Harbor Trust theft — because everyone toed the line, following police instructions when they were arrested, keeping quiet while they were in holding, admitting nothing without Bridget present, showing up in a suit and tie with a fresh haircut for their hearings.
“Anything else?” she asked.
“Not right now.”
“Any word from the FBI?”
She looked over at Baren, surprised the question had come from him. He didn’t usually say much, preferring to watch andlisten. He was a striking man, with piercing blue eyes that must have made him quite a lady’s man back in the day.
“Not since the last interview,” she said. The meeting had been voluntary, but Bridget always recommended Seamus take them. Avoiding the FBI made it look like he had something to hide. The fact that he did was irrelevant. Bridget was his lawyer. She was bound by both the law and the Massachusetts State Bar to provide him with sound counsel.
The last interview had involved more pointed questions about the Harbor Trust theft and a few about Seamus’s finances that were a little too close for comfort. Bridget had advised Seamus not to answer the vast majority of the questions they’d posed and they’d left the agency’s office less than an hour after they’d arrived. She wasn’t under the illusion that showing up for the interview meant they thought Seamus was innocent of involvement in the theft, but at least they couldn’t say he wasn’t cooperating.
“What are you doing to get the Feds to stop sniffing around?” Baren asked.
She stifled her annoyance. “There’s nothing I can do.”
He studied her for a long moment, his eyes probing hers. “Nothing?”
“Nothing legal,” she amended.
“And is that important to you?” he asked. “That it’s legal?”
She forced her voice steady. “I’m a lawyer. I’m bound by the law.”
She was walking a fine line — had been walking a fine line since she went to work for Seamus — but she hadn’t so far engaged in illegal activity. She’d posted bail with cash given to her by Seamus, appeared in court on behalf of his men, and advised him with regard to legal statutes insupposedly hypothetical situations, all of which were par for the course for any criminal attorney.
Would it be enough to keep her license if she were hauled in front of the Bar? She didn’t know for sure, but she thought she had a fighting chance and she planned to keep it that way. Nolan had told her the Feds would credit her and Will for helping them when the dust settled. She had to hope it would be enough.
Baren peered at her through the smoke in the room. She forced herself to keep her chin up and meet his eyes. Acting like she had something to hide would only make him suspicious, and Seamus too.
“And what if we needed someone who wasn’t bound by the law?” Baren asked.
“Then I would tell you you’re not looking for a lawyer,” she said. “Because every lawyer is bound by the law.”