Herbie shook his head. “My credit cards are pretty much maxed out.”

“Herbie, they don’t take MasterCard at Rikers.”

“Well, I sure don’t have any cash.”

“Maybe I can get some money out of Lance,” Stone said. He saw his retainer getting smaller.

“You really think this is the right thing to do, Stone? I mean, as my lawyer and my friend, you think this is right?”

“Herbie, it’s the only thing to do, trust me.”

“I trust you, Stone.”

“Thanks, Herbie.”

“I just don’t want to go to jail.”

“The best you can do now is to try not to do anything ever again that will get you sent to jail. Now come on, it’s time for court.” Stone grabbed Herbie’s wrist, hauled him off the bench, and towed him toward the courtroom.

“You’re sure we can’t bribe the judge?” Herbie asked.

“Shut up, Herbie,” Stone said.

STONE LED HERBIE into the courtroom, tightly holding his wrist so that he couldn’t run. His client came along only reluctantly. Stone shoved Herbie into a seat and sat down beside him.

Herbie stood up. “I gotta go to the men’s room.”

Stone grabbed his coattail and jerked him back into his seat. “Sit on it, Herbie,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere until we’re done here.”

“But I gotta go.”

“You should have gone when you had the chance. Am I going to have to handcuff you?”

Herbie stared at his feet. “I didn’t bring nothing that I need for jail, no toothbrush or anything. I thought you were going to make this go away.”

“They have a little store at Rikers where you can buy what you need. They’ll let you keep twenty dollars.”

“And I wore my good suit.”

“They’ll keep it for you, Herbie, and they’ll supply all the clothes you need. It’s a free service to guests.”

“All rise!” the bailiff yelled, and the courtroom crowd got to its feet.

Stone looked to his left and saw four uniforms sitting in the front row directly behind the table where Dierdre Monahan sat. He nudged Herbie. “Those are the four brothers of the ADA,” he said.

“Which?”

“The ones in police uniforms. The youngest is carrying a cane. You knocked him off duty for two days.”

“They’re big guys,” Herbie whispered.

“Very big.”

The judge came out of his chambers and headed for the bench. To Stone’s astonishment, Lance Cabot came out the same door immediately afterward and took a seat on the other side of the courtroom. He didn’t look at Stone. What the hell was going on here?

The judge rapped sharply. “Order! Court is in session!” He turned toward Dierdre. “Ms. Monahan, approach.”

Dierdre got up and approached the bench. There was a brief conversation, and the judge did nearly all the talking.

Dierdre went back to her seat, taking time to glare at Stone on the way.

“Why is she pissed off at you?” Herbie asked.

“I don’t know, but I think we’re about to find out.”

“If she’s pissed off at you, does that mean more jail time?”

“Herbie, she couldn’t be more pissed off at me now than she was an hour ago, believe me. Listen, this is going to take a while. Our case is pretty far down the docket, and I don’t want to hear any more whining about the men’s room.”

The bailiff looked at his clipboard. “People versus Herbert J. Fisher!” he yelled.

“Oh, shit,” Stone said under his breath.

“What’s the matter? This means we get out of here sooner, doesn’t it?” Herbie asked.

“Herbie, try and get this through your head,” Stone said, dragging Herbie toward the gate in the rail that separated the lawyers from the courtroom. “You’re not getting out of here, except in a police van. Got it?”

The judge watched Stone drag Herbie through the gate, and his gaze could have melted ice. He looked down at his papers. “Mr. Fisher, you’re charged with driving with a suspended license, DUI, and resisting arrest with violence. How do you plead?”

“Well, Your Honor…” Herbie began.

Stone leaned toward him. “Say guilty and nothing else.”

“Guilty and nothing else,” Herbie called out to the judge.

Stone winced.

“Mr. Barrington, do you have any objection to sentence being imposed at this time?”

“No, Judge,” Stone replied.

“Ms. Monahan,” the judge said, “do you have a sentence recommendation?”

Dierdre stood up. “Yes, Judge. The people recommend suspension of Mr. Fisher’s driver’s license for five years, twelve months’ imprisonment, and a ten-thousand-dollar fine.”

“WHAT?” Herbie yelled.

“Shut your mouth,” Stone said. Something had gone terribly wrong here.

“That sounds good to me,” the judge said. “Mr. Fisher, you are sentenced to suspension of your driver’s license for five years, a ten-thousand-dollar fine, and twelve months’ imprisonment.”

Herbie began to cry.

The judge looked down at his desk and said, quietly enough so the full courtroom could not hear him, “Imprisonment suspended on condition of good behavior.”

The four policemen sitting behind Dierdre were on their feet, protesting loudly, while Dierdre tried to calm them.

“Pay the clerk,” the judge said, rapping his gavel. “Next case?”

Stone took Herbie’s arm and dragged him out of the well of the courtroom, hoping to get him out before the Monahan brothers regrouped and came after Herbie.

Lance moved out of a row of seats and met them at the rear of the courtroom. “Let’s step outside,” he said, and they went into the hallway.

“You said you’d make it go away!” Herbie wailed.

Stone grabbed him by a lapel and shook him. “It did go away. Didn’t you hear the judge?”

“He said a year!”

“He also said suspended.”

Herbie wiped away a tear. “He did?”

“He did,” Lance said. He took an envelope from an inside pocket and handed it to Stone. “Pay his fine, and let’s get him out of here. Go ahead, we’ll wait here.”

Stone went back into the courtroom, found the clerk, and paid Herbie’s fine with the ten thousand dollars in cash in Lance’s envelope. He got a receipt, then rejoined Herbie and Lance in the hallway.

Lance led them out of the courthouse, and they paused at the bottom of the steps.

“Herbie,” Stone said, “do you know what ‘suspended’ means?”

“It means I’m a free man, doesn’t it?”

“No, it means you’re a free man until the second you fuck up again-until you get a ticket for jaywalking or for playing your car radio too loud-for anything at all. That happens, you’re doing a year at Rikers. You understand that?”

“Yes,” Herbie said.

“Herbie’s not going to fuck up again,” Lance said, staring at Herbie. “You remember your little sojourn in the Virgin Islands last year, Herbie?”

“Yeah, sure,” Herbie said.

“Did you like it there?”

“Yeah, it was great. I had this great deal going where I took pictures at the hotels.”

Lance took an envelope out of his coat pocket and handed it to Herbie. “I’m glad you liked it, Herbie, because you’re going back. Here’s your ticket.”

“I am?”

“Your flight leaves at six-twenty this evening. A man will pick you up at your home at four o’clock. You have until then to sell your car and pack.”

“I have to sell my car?” Herbie wailed. “But I just bought it!” He pointed at a new Mustang parked at the curb ten yards from where they stood. There were three parking tickets on the windshield.

“I’m afraid there’s no car ferry service to the Virgin Islands,” Lance said. “And since you can’t drive that or any other car for five years, you’ll have no need of it. By the way, there’s a voucher in the envelope for two weeks in a small hotel in Charlotte Amalie and transportation from the airport. There’s also two thousand dollars in cash, to help you get on your feet.”

“Herbie,” Stone said, “if you get into the slightest trouble in Charlotte Amalie, your previous and current convictions will pop up on the police computer, and you’ll find yourself back here, in Rikers, in a heartbeat. Do you understand?”