Page 51 of The Devil's Advocate

He hung up.

Bloch opened her eyes.

‘We’re in business,’ I said.

Buckstown National was a marble and glass affair, with two tellers and a heavy security. Bloch brought an empty leather bag from the car ; she’d stowed the contents in the trunk – a shotgun, bulletproof vest and ammo.

The bag reeked of gunpowder.

The teller checked the computer, took a copy of my ID and checked with the manager. Then she came back and said, ‘Mr. Flynn, you’re fully authorized for a withdrawal of five hundred thousand. We can have that for you next week.’

‘Next week? No, I need that now.’

‘I’m sorry, we don’t have that in the vault. We can give you one hundred twenty-five thousand today, in cash, but that’s all we’ve got.’

‘Is there another branch nearby with additional funds?’

‘Closest bank to us is in Mobile. Ninety minutes in this traffic.’

My phone rang in my pocket – Harry.

‘Eddie, we need that money, right now. The bail office is closing in fifteen minutes. I’ll try and stall the clerk, but you’ve got to get here asap. I don’t know if I can persuade her to stay open much later.’

‘Does it have to be cash? Did he specify cash?’ I asked.

‘Yep. The court won’t take a banker’s check or bond. Cash only. Do you have it?’

‘The most I can get is one-twenty-five.’

Harry sighed, ‘Lomax is already swinging that nightstick. Kate is staying with Andy in the cells until we post bail, but if we don’t get him out he’s going to get the beating of his life for talking to us. He may not be breathing come the morning.’

What the hell was I gonna do? I was three hundred and seventy-five thousand short.

‘Harry, do they have a counting machine in the courthouse office?’

‘You’re in Buckstown, Alabama,’ said Harry. ‘The counting machine is a sixty-one-year-old divorcee named Agatha who is the clerk and has the hots for me.’

‘Bloch, did you ever see the Harlem Globetrotters?’ I asked.

Bloch’s right eyebrow reached for the ceiling.

‘It’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘You’ll get the hang of it.’

I put the phone to my ear, ‘Harry, you ever see the Harlem Globetrotters?’

‘Twice. Are we abandoning the trial to play ball?’

‘No, I’ve already got a player. I just need you to whistle.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

EDDIE

Harry Ford is one of the most charming men on the planet. I think it’s that deep voice of his. Like honey rolling around in a barrel. He’s good-looking for a senior citizen, funny too, without being crass. He’s irresistible to certain women, of a certain age. Although, the fact that there were now three ex-Mrs. Fords spoke to the fact that his charms didn’t last forever. By the time Bloch and I arrived at the bail office, the bail clerk, Agatha, was well on her way to becoming the fourth Mrs. Ford.

Agatha was recently divorced, with a generous head of neatly combed gray hair, a button-down sweater over a neatly pressed white blouse, and grey slacks. She was sitting at her desk in the small bail office, upstairs, laughing at one of Harry’s jokes. Harry was sitting on the desk, and Agatha was gazing into those brown eyes of his like they were made of candy.

‘Agatha, these are my colleagues, Mr. Flynn and Miss Bloch,’ said Harry, rising from the desk with Agatha as we came in.