Gibson & Clarke (Failed Justice Series Book 2) by Rick Santini Page A

had been watching him from a kitchen window signaled a few men to go out, gently lift the chair, and carry Mr. Yeung to his own bed after removing his shoes only and covering him with his own blanket.
    It was sometime in the middle of the night when Xiang woke in a sweat from a horrible nightmare. He did not recall everything, but he remembered his parents forcing him to leave the house and telling Mei Ling to never look at him again. He had done something to disgrace the family and was forbidden to ever return to his home again.
    Xiang began to plead and cry. He was sorry and would never do whatever it was again.
    The voice told him it was too late.
    Xiang knew exactly what it was. Now he had to make up for it. He would contact Mei Ling in the morning. Whatever she said, he would do. Gladly.
    For the balance of the night, Xiang laid in bed and thought of what he had done for the last forty years. Sleep never came.
     
    ***
     
    “What kind of shit did you pull? I’ll have you arrested for tampering with evidence. I will take you to the bar association. I will have your ticket. You won’t get away with this—I promise you that.”
    Marta sat at her desk and listened. She had no idea what Ronnie Rosenthal was talking about. He had to be foaming at the mouth. He couldn’t get his words out fast enough.
    “Ronnie, I don’t know what the hell you’re saying. Call me when you’re not drinking and are able to communicate in English.”
    She slammed the phone down.
    It rang three minutes later. It was ADA Rosenthal.
    “The fucking evidence is gone. All we have is three large bags of talcum powder. I don’t know how you did it, but I’m coming after you personally.”
    Now Marta was ready to have him for lunch. No one accused her of evidence tampering or misconduct.
    “Let me ask you this, asshole. Where were the bags of talcum powder kept?”
    “In the damn evidence room. You know that.”
    “And who controls the evidence room? Me or the sheriff? Maybe the arresting officer switched it, assuming it was the real stuff to begin with. You better be careful who you’re threatening, or your next job will be cleaning the urinals in the DA’s office. Have a nice day, lackey.”
    Marta was about to hang up when she added, “See you at trial, Ronnie. Oh, you might want to think about who assigned the case to you and who set you up to fall on your face. It certainly wasn’t me.”
    You just made my day, asshole. Her next thought was , I wonder who actually made the switch?
    Ronnie sat at his desk wondering, Did someone really set me up?
     
    ***
     
    “Mei Ling, it’s me, your brother. Please don’t hang up. I want to talk to you. I want to see you.”
    All Xiang heard was silence, followed by a click. Mei Ling obviously hung up.
    He called back a second time. The phone rang and rang. No answer. Reluctantly, he hung up.
    The third call was to his lawyer.
    “Ms. Clarke, it’s Mr. Yeung. I need your help.”
    “Yes, Mr. Yeung. When and where?”
     
    ***
     
    Marta was shocked by his candor. Mr. Yeung—she felt uncomfortable calling him by his given name—laid it all out. The size and scope of his operation, really an empire, his approximate net worth, just a shade under one billion, the fact he was tired, wanted to retire, and do some good for all those he had hurt. Most of all, he wanted to reunite with Mei Ling.
    Although attorney/client privilege clearly attached, Marta was not comfortable knowing confidential inside information—suppliers, dealers, locations—that could potentially shut down a billion-dollar drug operation. She could hardly tell Mr. Yeung to stop telling her all the ins and outs. He was unloading, baring his soul, and in effect, asking for forgiveness.
    I’m not your confessor; I cannot grant you absolution. I’m your lawyer, not savior. Stop telling me everything. I don’t want to know. Now or ever.
    “This has all been most informative. Now what do you want me to do with it?”
    Xiang