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First and foremost, I was a soldier. I had taken the mission knowing the risks. Alistair had repeatedly warned me what would happen if I got caught. Just because things hadn’t gone my way didn’t mean I was going to go back on my word to keep MI6 out of it.
Because of that, I had steadfastly maintained that the guns weren’t mine – that they were there when I rented the car.
However, it didn’t help that the cops couldn’t locate the company that had rented me the car.
Which made sense since it didn’t exist.
Which I’m sure the prosecutor would use as the final nail to pound into my coffin.
“Unless you come up with a better explanation, then your chances are very bad,” Silvia explained. “In Italy, there is no jury – there is a panel of judges. This is a problem. There was recently a scandal where a member of the Cosa Nostra pled guilty to bribing judges, so public sentiment is very strong against the judiciary at the moment. As a result, judges are giving harsh sentences and trying to avoid any appearance of corruption. You really should take the plea deal. If the judges convict you with the suppressors charge attached, you could potentially serve 15 years.”
Jesus.
But I grabbed onto something she’d said like a drowning man grasping at straws.
“Judges can be bribed?” I asked.
Silvia got a steely look in her eyes. “They could… before. But this is the realm of the mafia, and I am not that kind of lawyer. If that is something you wish to consider, you need to find someone else to represent you.”
“How much would you charge if we went to trial?”
“You were caught with the guns. You have not given a compelling reason why you had them. It’s a, how do you say – open and shut case. You would be wasting your money to pay me to go to trial.”
“Just tell me how much.”
“An additional 15,000 euros to prepare the case, plus one day of trial. It will be more if the case goes longer than one day… although I don’t think it will.”
Gunnar had already paid Silvia 5000 euros. I couldn’t ask him to front me another 15 grand.
“Hypothetically… how much would it cost to bribe a judge?” I asked.
Silvia looked irritated at the question, but she at least gave me an answer. “Before the scandal… 50,000 euros. Now? Triple that. And if you are caught trying to bribe a judge… if the attorney is caught trying to bribe the judge… it is an automatic 20-year sentence. That is why I will not risk it. And it is 20 years for the judge, too, which is why none of them will risk it, unless they are paid extreme amounts of money.”
Fuck.
I wouldn’t feel bad about bribing a judge. After all, I was here at the behest of the United Kingdom and her Majesty’s Secret Service.
I just didn’t have anywhere near that kind of money.
I stared down at the floor and ran the calculations in my head.
In the end, there was only one answer.
“Alright… take the plea deal,” I muttered.
“Very wise.” She sounded relieved, but it was quickly replaced by worry. “There is one more thing I should tell you.”
I looked up at her and waited for the other shoe to drop. “What?”
“Because this will be viewed as a mafia-style crime, and because judges are trying to appear tough… you will likely be sentenced to a prison full of mafiosos.”
“Which means what, exactly?”
“There will be very dangerous men in prison with you.”
Great.
“But the odds of me getting a ‘not guilty’ verdict are incredibly low, right?” I asked.
