That only made Percy more motivated. She put together a new case against AMR on similar facts, harvesting from the detailed file Miles had assembled on the case. She filed other cases against friends of the administration, having figured out that the civil courts were not yet entirely suborned by the powers in Washington and Austin who had successfully rigged other parts of the mechanics of justice in favor of them and their allies. She figured out the best judges and courts to chase down those cases. But it didn’t move fast enough for her.

“People are dying while we take depositions,” she said, the day she told Donny she was leaving the practice to run for office. He couldn’t argue. Even though he knew the reason she could make that move was that she had managed to settle one of those cases she had filed, and banked enough this time to live on for the next decade, even if she decided instead she wanted to blow it on political ads.

She let Donny pick which of her cases he wanted. AMR was the easy one. If he could get it far enough along, not only could he expose what was going on in the farms but maybe also help bring down the regime, and make a nice payday in the process. He might even find who ordered the hit on Miles, and who carried it out, and make them all pay.

The other thing about that case was, Miles had taken it on in the first place only because of Donny, when one of his oldest clients asked for help for her nephew. Maybe if he had taken it on himself at the beginning, instead of saying I only do criminal defense, Miles would never have ended up embalmed by the frontage road.

The light changed, but his thoughts stayed on his old friend.

18

“It’s been a long time,” said Donny, greeting that old client and her partner at his Houston office later that morning.

“That it has,” said Xelina.

Clint was behind her, casually guarding her. You could see the war in their eyes.

“Thanks for coming down here to meet,” said Donny.

“Wouldn’t miss the chance to see you in your native habitat,” said Xelina, sizing up the conference room. She had a little bit of gray in her hair, coming in early, and her rebel style had mellowed. The clothes were more minimalist, black cotton and denim, and the jewelry that looked like it could hurt you had been replaced by pieces that looked like they could put a spell on you.

“My native habitat is the courtroom, and you’ve already seen me there.”