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A Lick Of Frost :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 23 из 184We forgot where we were for a moment."
"Do you believe that this is all some sort of inter court politics?" Veducci asked.
"Yes," Doyle said.
Veducci looked at Frost. "Lieutenant Frost?"
"I agree with my captain."
Last he looked at me. "Princess Meredith?"
"Oh, yes, Mr. Veducci, whatever else we are doing, it is most certainly inter court politics."
"His treatment of Ambassador Stevens makes me begin to wonder if we are being used here," Veducci said.
"Are you saying, Mr. Veducci," Biggs said, "that you are beginning to doubt the validity of the charges made against my clients?"
"If I find out that your clients did what they are accused of, I will do my best to punish them to the greatest extent that the law allows, but if these charges turn out to be false, and the king has tried to use the law to harm the innocent, I'll do my best to remind the king that in this country no one is supposed to be above the law." Veducci smiled again, but this time it wasn't a happy smile. It was more predatory. That smile was enough; I knew who I feared the most on the other side of the table. Veducci wasn't as ambitious as Shelby and Cortez, but he was better. He actually still believed in the law. He actually still believed that the innocent should be spared, and the guilty punished. You didn't often see such pure faith in lawyers who had spent more than twenty years on the bar. They had to give up their belief in the law to survive as a lawyer. But somehow, Veducci had held on. He believed, and maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to believe us.
CHAPTER 3
WE HAD ADJOURNED TO A DIFFERENT ROOM. THE ROOM WAS smaller than the conference room, but then so were some single-family homes. There was a huge mirror on one wall, the glass of which held small imperfections, bubbles near one corner. The mirror had an almost smoky quality in a few spots. Its frame was gilt edged, and worn with age. It had belonged to the original Mr. Biggs's great-grandmother. We were here, in Mr. Biggs's inner sanctum, to make a phone call of sorts, though no phones would be involved.
Galen, Rhys, and Abeloec had had their turn at the questioning in the conference room. They hadn't been able to do much but deny the charges. Abe had stood there with his perfectly striped hair: black, shades of gray, white, all perfectly even and artificial like some artful modern Goth, but it wasn't a good dye job, it was real. His pale skin and gray eyes matched the look. He looked odd in his charcoal-gray suit. No amount of tailoring could make it look like the clothes he would have chosen himself.
"Do you believe that this is all some sort of inter court politics?" Veducci asked.
"Yes," Doyle said.
Veducci looked at Frost. "Lieutenant Frost?"
"I agree with my captain."
Last he looked at me. "Princess Meredith?"
"Oh, yes, Mr. Veducci, whatever else we are doing, it is most certainly inter court politics."
"His treatment of Ambassador Stevens makes me begin to wonder if we are being used here," Veducci said.
"Are you saying, Mr. Veducci," Biggs said, "that you are beginning to doubt the validity of the charges made against my clients?"
"If I find out that your clients did what they are accused of, I will do my best to punish them to the greatest extent that the law allows, but if these charges turn out to be false, and the king has tried to use the law to harm the innocent, I'll do my best to remind the king that in this country no one is supposed to be above the law." Veducci smiled again, but this time it wasn't a happy smile. It was more predatory. That smile was enough; I knew who I feared the most on the other side of the table. Veducci wasn't as ambitious as Shelby and Cortez, but he was better. He actually still believed in the law. He actually still believed that the innocent should be spared, and the guilty punished. You didn't often see such pure faith in lawyers who had spent more than twenty years on the bar. They had to give up their belief in the law to survive as a lawyer. But somehow, Veducci had held on. He believed, and maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to believe us.
CHAPTER 3
WE HAD ADJOURNED TO A DIFFERENT ROOM. THE ROOM WAS smaller than the conference room, but then so were some single-family homes. There was a huge mirror on one wall, the glass of which held small imperfections, bubbles near one corner. The mirror had an almost smoky quality in a few spots. Its frame was gilt edged, and worn with age. It had belonged to the original Mr. Biggs's great-grandmother. We were here, in Mr. Biggs's inner sanctum, to make a phone call of sorts, though no phones would be involved.
Galen, Rhys, and Abeloec had had their turn at the questioning in the conference room. They hadn't been able to do much but deny the charges. Abe had stood there with his perfectly striped hair: black, shades of gray, white, all perfectly even and artificial like some artful modern Goth, but it wasn't a good dye job, it was real. His pale skin and gray eyes matched the look. He looked odd in his charcoal-gray suit. No amount of tailoring could make it look like the clothes he would have chosen himself.