“And then what happens? What would you have done in this situation?”

He chuckled at that. “What would Ihave done?”

I looked at him dead serious. “Yeah—what would you have done? Would you break my cooperation agreement right on the spot, or would you give me a slap on the wrist?”

“There's no way I would break your agreement,” he answered quickly. “The consequences are too severe; and I would say that ninety percent of the AUSAs would agree with me.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, Joel doesn't fall into that ninety percent, but that doesn't mean he'll break your agreement. It's just that most of the AUSAs aren't as hard-nosed as Joel.

“But to answer your question, what I'd probably do is give you a stern warning—or, at worst, make you plead guilty to another charge, something like lying to a federal officer or maybe obstruction of justice. My goal would be to teach you a lesson and also to send a message to the jury that you've been punished for what you did.”

“What jury? I've already pleaded guilty.”

He shook his head. “I'm not talking about your jury; I'm talking about the jury you'll end up testifying against. Understand: This is all going to come out under cross-examination. That's why everyone is so pissed right now! I'm sure they know that your motives weren't evil. You were just trying to help a friend.

“Anyway, give me permission and I'll go out there right now and tell them that you're ready to come clean. Then Greg and I will roll up our sleeves and go to work for you, and we're going to pull out all the stops on this one. Once Greg finds out what happened, I'm sure he'll be back here tonight; then first thing tomorrow we'll be down at the U.S. Attorney's Office pleading your case. And we'll go right to the top if we have to. We have an excellent relationship with the chief of the criminal division, and, ultimately, that's who Joel has to go to to sign off on this. In the meantime, I would suggest you speak to Coleman and ask him to put in a good word for you. I know you guys have a good relationship; I've heard from more than one source that he genuinely likes you and that he respects you.”

“Yeah,” I said gravely, “maybe that used to be true, but it's not true anymore. I totally betrayed the guy.” I shook my head in embarrassment. “I mean, I don't even know how I'm going to face him again.” I bit my lower lip at the thought. “He must be really hating my guts right now.”

“Nehhh,” said the Yale-man, with a hint of a smile. “He doesn't hate you. In fact, I'm sure he understands exactlywhat happened here. You know, you're not the first cooperator to do this sort of thing; it happens more often than you think. But at least your heart was in the right place. I mean, Coleman would never admit it, but he probably respects you even more now.” He winked at me. “And so do I. So,that leaves us with Joel: We need to do everything we can to make sure he doesn't shut down your cooperation. Then we can move forward with our lives.”

I nodded, feeling very lucky that I had chosen De Feis O'Connell & Rose as my law firm. Not only were they first-rate lawyers but they were also friends, which was a commodity that I was quickly running out of. Of course, there was still a better than fifty-fifty chance that the Bastard would break my cooperation agreement or at least try to, but with Nick and Greg in my corner— and, if I was lucky, OCD—I still had a fighting chance.

Five minutes later, my captors were back inside the debriefing room, and I was spilling my very guts; thirty minutes later I was done. I had told them everything.

The Bastard took it well, or at least he seemed to. He showed little emotion—telling Nick afterward that he would be in touch with him in a few days. The Witch, to my surprise, stayed out of it, as did the Mormon.

And then there was OCD, who had been unusually quiet.

At first that troubled me—no, it devastated me, because I assumed that any goodwill I had built up with him had been permanently destroyed. After all, I had completely betrayed his trust. I had looked him in the eye and lied to him, and not just when I first handed him the tape but also right here in the debriefing room when he confronted me. So, yes, he had every right to lose my phone number and to chalk the whole thing up to experience.

But I had been wrong; he was just saving his thoughts for when the two of us were alone. That happened about ten minutes later, after he had escorted the Yale-man and me up the service elevator, through the lobby with its endless sea of dark-faced grim-faced semi-illegal aliens, and then out onto the street. It was then that the Yale-man turned left and headed for the subway, and OCD and I turned right and headed for the parking lot.

We were somewhere around Broadway, with 26 Federal Plaza rising up behind us and Broadway in front of us, when OCD stopped dead in his tracks and slapped me on the biceps and said, “What the fuck is wrong with you, huh? Did you lose your mind or something?”

I stopped dead in my tracks too. “Yeah,” I replied sheepishly. “I did.”

OCD attacked: “Yeah—well, you're in some deep shit right now! Do you have any idea of the uphill battle you're facing with Joel? Christ!You don't get it! You're playing with your life here!” He compressed his lips and shook his head. “I can't believe it! And after what you've done, now I gotta go to bat for you and plead your fucking case to Joel, and to my boss, and to Joel's boss, and to everyone else around here!

“And do you have any idea how much fucking paperwork I gotta do because of this shit?” He shook his head angrily. “Unbelievable!” he muttered. “What did I tell you that night when you were all upset about wiring up against Beall? Come on, you're the one with the photographic memory! So, tell me, genius: What did I say to you?”

With my tail between my legs: “You said that if the shoe were on the other foot he would do the same thing to me. And you were right. I don't know what to say.” I paused, trying to find the right words. “Would you like to know why I did it?”

“No,” he answered flatly. “Don't waste your breath. I already know why you did it. That's why I'm out here talking to you and you're not sitting in jail already.” He shook his head some more. “Anyway, it's your mess, and now I gotta try to clean it up. I want to thank you for that.”

I didn't quite know what to say, so I said, “Well, what are friends for?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, “you—my friend. Christ!Who needs enemies when I have cooperators like you?” More head-shaking now. “Anyway, listen to me very closely: I can't promise you how this is gonna turn out, but I'll do everything in my power to try to salvage your life. In return, I want you to step up your cooperation to new levels. You've done a good job so far, but onlygood. You could do better—much, much better. I know what you're capable of and so does Joel, and that's the biggest thing you got in your corner. Now—you know who the targets are, my friend. So I want you to go home tonight and rack your brain on how to reach out to them. This way, while I'm busy pleading with Joel to spare your life, I can tell him that you're prepared to take your cooperation to a whole new level. You understand?”

“Yeah. Clearly,” I said. “You were right all along: There's no loyalty in this world. And everyone rats.” And with that we shook hands and parted ways.

How odd it was that when I sat down with George that very evening, and I asked him to place a phone call to Elliot Lavigne to see if he would send me a bit of the money he owed me in my hour of need, George hung up the phone a minute later, astonished.

“According to your friend Elliot,” George said tonelessly, “you don't need money in jail. Then he told me to wish you well and to go fuck myself. Then he hung up on me.”

Fair enough, I thought. There were a few people in this world I'd committed crimes with who thought they had gotten away with it. Well, they were in for a rude awakening.