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uys aren't that slow； are you？〃
〃I'll call the Judge； if necessary；〃 Dr。 Hayani said angrily。
〃Well； he came here with ankle irons；〃 the Sheriff said。
〃That was the FBI； Raymond；〃 Patrick said。 〃And they were leg chains； not ankle irons。 And they hurt like hell anyway。〃
The ankle irons were put away； and Patrick was led into the hallway； where men in matching brown uniforms grew silent at the sight of him。 They gathered around him and the mob moved slowly toward the elevator。 Sandy stayed to his left； gently holding him by the elbow。
The elevator was too small for his entire entourage。 The ones who didn't make it scurried down the staircase and met them in the lobby where they reorganized and shuffled past the front reception and through the glass doors； into the warm autumn air； where a regular parade of freshly waxed vehicles awaited them。 They put him in a sparkling new black Suburban with Harrison County insignia plastered from bumper to bumper； and away they went； followed by a white Suburban carrying his armed protectors。 It； in turn； was followed by three freshly cleaned patrol cars。 In front； two more patrol cars； the newest additions to the fleet； led the invasion as it cleared military checkpoints and entered the civilian world。
Through the cheap thick sunglasses； Patrick saw everything outside。 Streets he'd driven a million times。 The houses looked familiar。 They turned onto Highway 90 and there was the Gulf； its calm brown waters seemingly unchanged since he left。 There was the beach； a narrow strip of sand between the highway and the water； too far from the hotels and condos on the other side of the highway。
The Coast had prospered during his exile； thanks wholly to the surprising arrival of casino gambling。 There had been rumors of its ing when he left town； and now he was riding past large Vegas…style casinos with glitz and neon。 The parking lots were filling； at nine…thirty in the morning。
〃How many casinos？〃 he asked the Sheriff； seated to his right。
〃Thirteen at last count。 With more on the way。〃
〃Hard to believe。〃
The depressant was quite effective。 His breathing became heavy and his body relaxed。 He felt like nodding off for a moment； then they turned onto Main Street and he was anxious again。 Just a couple of blocks now。 A few more minutes； and his past would e roaring back to greet him。 By City Hall； to the left； quickly now； for a glimpse of the Vieux Marche； and in the middle of the old street lined with shops and stores； a fine large white building he once owned a piece of as a partner in Bogan； Rapley； Vitrano； Havarac； and Lanigan； Attorneys and Counselors…at…Law。
It was still standing； but the partnership was crumbling within。
Ahead was the Harrison County Courthouse； only a three…block walk from his old office。 It was a plain； brick two…story building with a small green lawn in the front next to Howard Street。 The lawn was covered with people milling about。 The streets were lined with cars。 Pedestrians hurried along the sidewalks； all headed for the courthouse it seemed。 Cars ahead pulled over as Patrick and his caravan came through。
The horde in front of the courthouse moved in a frantic wave around both sides； but was stopped by police barricades at the rear where a section was cordoned off。 Patrick had seen several notorious murderers rushed to and from court through the back door； and so he knew exactly what was happening。 The parade stopped。 Doors flew open and a dozen deputies spilled forth。 They crowded around the black Suburban。 Its door slid open slowly。 Patrick eventually appeared； his aqua garb quite the contrast to the dark brown uniforms squeezing around him。
An impressive mob of reporters； photographers； and cameramen gathered breathlessly along the nearest barricade。 Others behind them ran to catch up。 Patrick was immediately aware of the spotlight； and he lowered his head and crouched among the deputies。 They walked him quickly to the rear door； a barrage of idiotic questions flying over his head。
〃Patrick； what's it like to be home！？〃
〃Where's the money； Patrick！？〃
〃Who burned up in the car； Patrick！？〃
Through the door and up the back stairway； a brief journey Patrick had sometimes taken when he was in a hurry to catch a judge for a quick signature。 The smell was suddenly familiar。 The concrete steps had not been painted in four years。 Through a door； through a short hallway with a crowd of courthouse clerks gathered at one end gawking at him。 They put him in the jury room； which was next to the courtroom； and he took a seat in a padded chair by a coffeepot。
Sandy hovered over him； anxious to make sure he was okay。 Sheriff Sweeney dismissed the deputies； and they moved into the hall to wait for the next transfer。
〃Coffee？〃 Sandy asked。
〃Please； black。〃
〃You okay； Patrick？〃 Sweeney asked。
〃Yeah； sure； Raymond； thanks。〃 He sounded meek and scared。 His hands and knees shook and he couldn't make them stop。 He ignored the coffee； and despite both hands cuffed together adjusted his black sunglasses and pulled the bill of his cap further down。 His shoulders sagged。
There was a knock on the door； and a pretty girl named Belinda eased her head through just long enough to say； 〃Judge Huskey would like to meet with Patrick。〃 The voice was so familiar。 Patrick raised his head； looked at the door； and said softly； 〃Hello； Belinda。〃
〃Hello； Patrick。 Wele back。〃
He turned away。 She was a secretary in the clerk's office； and all the lawyers flirted with her。 A sweet girl。 A sweet voice。 Had it really been four years？
〃Where？〃 the Sheriff asked。
〃In here；〃 she said。 〃In a few minutes。〃
〃Do you want to meet with the Judge； Patrick？〃 Sandy asked。 It was not mandatory。 Under normal circumstances； it would be downright unusual。
〃Sure。〃 Patrick was desperate to see Karl Huskey。
She left and the door clicked behind her。
〃I'll step outside；〃 Sweeney said。 〃I need a cigarette。〃
Finally； Patrick was alone with his lawyer。 He suddenly perked up。 〃Couple of things。 Any word from Leah Pires？〃
〃No；〃 Sandy said。
〃She'll get in touch soon； so be ready。 I've written her a long letter； and I'd like for you to get it to her。〃
〃Okay。〃
〃Second。 There's an antibugging device called a DX…130； made by LoKim； a Korean electronics outfit。 Costs about six hundred dollars； about the size of a portable Dictaphone。 Get one； and bring it with you whenever we meet。 We'll disinfect the room and the phones before each little conference。 Also； hire a reputable surveillance firm in New Orleans to check your office twice a week。 It's very expensive； but I'll pay for it。 Any questions？〃
〃No。〃
Another knock； and Patrick slouched again。 Judge Karl Huskey entered the room alone； robeless； in shirt and tie with reading glasses perched halfway down his nose。 His gray hair and wrinkled eyes made him appear much older and wiser than forty…eight； which was exactly what he wanted。
Patrick was looking up and already smiling when Huskey offered his hand。 〃Good to see you； Patrick；〃 he said warmly as they shook hands； the cuffs rattling。 Huskey wanted to reach down and hug him； but with judicial restraint he limited the contact t