Sticking her head into the room, Kathleen said, “I’m really sorry. I didn’t-”

“Don’t worry – you couldn’t have known.” Noticing the pink message sheet in her hand, he added, “Did someone call?”

“Lubetsky wants to know if you’re finished with the AmeriTex motions.”

“Oh, shit,” Jared said, shuffling through the pile of papers that covered his desk. “Tell him he’ll have them first thing in the morning.”

“He said to remind you that it has to be filed by five o’clock this afternoon.”

Startled, Jared looked up at Kathleen. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Not a chance.”

“Okay,” Jared said as he glanced at his watch. “That gives me three and a half hours.” Turning on his computer, he opened the AmeriTex file. “I’m going to need two paralegals to do some research and a third- or fourth-year associate for the procedural issue. Have them meet me in a conference room in a half hour.”

“Any associates in particular?” Kathleen asked.

“Anyone who’s good,” Jared said as Kathleen shut the door.

“I’m impressed,” Kozlow said. “But what makes you so sure everyone else is going to drop what they’re doing?”

“This is a big law firm,” Jared said. “With 168 partners, 346 associates, and a hundred-something paralegals, we can always find someone. That’s what you pay the big money for.”

“Is that why you do it? The big money?”

“That’s part of it.”

“And what’s the other part?”

Surprised by the interest in Kozlow’s voice, Jared took a second to respond. This was his chance to break through, he thought. If anger hadn’t worked this morning, maybe honesty would work now. “You want to know the real reason I keep doing defense work? It’s because I think there’s enough justice to go around,” Jared explained. “All I’m doing is distributing it to the side that sometimes gets shut out.”

“You sound like a Boy Scout.”

“That’s what Sara says,” Jared replied. Hoping to stay on topic, he added, “Speaking of which, why don’t you tell me what happened with Doniger and Harrison?”

Kozlow fell silent and shut his magazine. His eyes narrowed in anger. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“What?” Jared asked, taken aback.

“Don’t play fuckin’ stupid, Jared – I’m not going to be your little friend.”

“I just thought we were-”

“Shut the hell up!” Kozlow shouted, his voice booming through the office. “Shut up and do your job.”

“You must be kidding me,” Conrad said, leaning forward on the front of Sara’s desk.

“Not a bit,” Sara said. “He walked in right as I hung up with Harrison. The files were everywhere.”

“I knew I should’ve stopped you on this. There’s no reason for you to be investigating someone like Victor.”

“I’m not going after Victor – I’m just trying to figure out why he wanted the case.”

“Either way, you better be careful. He’s not someone you mess with. If he finds out what you’re doing-”

“I know. I’ve been thinking about that all afternoon. And even if I can handle Victor, I still don’t know what to do with Doniger and Harrison. Both of them said they won’t testify.”

“They’ll testify,” Conrad insisted, pushing himself away from the desk. “They just don’t know it yet.”

“Uh-oh – here he goes,” Guff said. “Make way for the testosterone parade.”

“I’m serious,” Conrad said. “They can cry and whine all they want, but they’ll be there Monday morning. Guff, have you prepared a travel kit for Sara?”

“Had it ready the day she got here,” Guff said proudly. He left the office, then returned with a brown accordion file that he placed in front of Sara.

“Open it,” Conrad said to Sara.

The file was divided by alphabetical tabs. “It’s under S,” Guff said.

She reached into the S section of the file and pulled out the small stack of papers.

“Know what those are?” Conrad asked.

“Blank subpoenas,” Sara answered.

“You got it, Clarence. When you completed your paperwork on your first day here, you gained the power of the pen, also known as subpoena power. Sign two of those, serve them on our witnesses, and by the order of the law of the state of New York, they’ll have to have their asses sitting in that grand jury on Monday. Terrified or not.”

“I don’t know,” Sara said. “Doniger was a bit rude, but Harrison really seemed scared. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to-”

“Don’t ever do that again,” Conrad interrupted, raising his voice.

“Do what?” Sara asked.

“Go on the defensive like that. You’re an assistant district attorney – you don’t back down to threats. Bringing them in is part of the job. I’d never want you to put a witness at risk, but giving up isn’t the solution.”

“Then what is?”

“You tell me. Solve the problem.”

“Conrad, enough with the lecturing-lawyer shtick.”

“Then you’d better come up with a real solution. Solve the problem.”

“You want me to solve it? Then this is what I’m doing: Instead of hitting her with the subpoena tonight, I’ll have a couple of officers serve it on her early Monday morning. That way, if there’s any trouble, the officers are there to protect her. And they’ll also be there to make sure she comes in.”

Conrad was silent for a moment. Finally, he said, “Good. That’s a nice start.”

“Then let’s discuss how this happened in the first place. I assume we all agree it was Kozlow?”

“Hey, boss,” Guff interrupted. “It’s two-thirty.”

“Are you serious?” Sara asked, looking at her watch. She stood up. “I’m sorry, but I really have to run. I have an appointment I can’t miss.”

“What about preparing for the grand jury?” Conrad asked. “You’ve barely scratched the surface.”

“Trust me, that’s my top priority,” Sara said, grabbing her jacket from the coatrack. “Grand jury means indictment, which means trial, which means win, which means happily ever after. There’s no way I’m losing in the first round – especially when there’s still so much to dig up.”

“That’s a wonderful use of the transitive property, but when are you actually going to prepare for this miraculous event?”

“We have tomorrow, and Guff said we could all meet this weekend.”

“Really?” Conrad asked, looking at Guff.

“What’s the big fuss?” Guff said. “You’re here every weekend.”

“I’m busy tomorrow, but I can do Saturday,” Conrad said. “Let’s not forget I have my own cases to deal with.”

“I know – and I really appreciate the help,” Sara said, dashing for the door. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Hold on,” Conrad said. “Don’t run out just yet. What’s so important that you have to leave right now?”

“I have a meeting with my little sister.”

“You have a sister?”

“Not a real sister,” Sara said. “I volunteer as a mentor through the Big Sisters program.”

“Really?” Conrad asked. “What do you do on the weekends? Donate blood or feed the homeless?”

“That’s original,” Sara said sarcastically.

“How long have you been doing it?”

“Since about a month after I got fired from my law firm. That was about how long it took for me to get sick of sitting around waiting for the phone to ring. I figured this was better for my psyche than paying for that extra session at the therapist – not to mention far more fun.”

“Well, I think it’s nice,” Guff said. “Good for you.”

“Thanks for the approval,” Sara said. “And while I’d love to recruit you both to the cause, I’ve really got to go. I’m late.”

“One last thing,” Conrad said. “When you get home tonight, talk to your husband about your witnesses. Tomorrow morning, we have to figure out what the hell is going on.”

“Consider it done,” Sara said as she ran to the door.

At twenty after three, Sara crossed 116th Street and ran up Amsterdam Avenue. On her right were the modern, state-of-the-art facilities of her alma mater, Columbia Law School, and on her left were the timeworn, regal buildings of Columbia University. As she headed north, however, the buildings became far less majestic, and in the span of one block, marble statues, Gothic architecture, and sculpted archways gave way to run-down storefronts, beat-up automobiles, and the worst of the city’s potholed streets. At 121st Street, Columbia University officially ended. And as Sara had learned during her first year at the law school, there was a clear line between the Ivy League and Harlem, New York.