Gorelick made Hammer wait long enough. By the time the D.A. buzzed her secretary to say that the chief could be shown in, Hammer was pacing the reception area, looking at her watch and getting more irritated by the second. The secretary opened a dark wooden door and Hammer strode past her.

“Good morning, Nancy,” the chief said.

“Thank you.” The D.A. nodded with a smile, hands folded on top of her neat desk. “What can I do for you, Judy?”

“You know about the incident at the Greyhound bus station yesterday.”

“The whole world knows,” said Gorelick.

Hammer pulled a chair around to the side of the desk, refusing to sit directly across from Gorelick with a big block of wood between them. There was little more valuable than office psychology, and Hammer was a master at it. Right now, the D.A.’s setup was blatantly overpowering and unwelcoming. Gorelick was leaning forward with hands on the blotter, assuming a posture of superiority and dominance. She was visibly bothered that Hammer had rearranged the order and was now facing the D.A., with nothing between them but crossed legs.

“The Johnny Martino case,” Gorelick said.

“Yes,” Hammer said. “Also known as Magic the Man.”

“Thirty-three class D felony charges of robbery with a dangerous weapon,” Gorelick went on. “He’ll plea bargain. We’ll sock him with maybe ten, get him to agree to consolidate sentencing under five counts. Since he’s a prior record level two, he’s going to be out of circulation for so long he’ll turn into a skeleton.”

“When do you anticipate setting the court date, Nancy?” Hammer wasn’t impressed and, frankly, believed not a word. This guy would get the minimum. They all did.

“I’ve already set it.” The D.A. picked up her big black date book and flipped pages. “Set for superior court, July twenty-second.”

Hammer wanted to kill her. “I’m on vacation that entire week. In Paris. It’s been set for a year. I’m taking my sons and their families, and I’ve already bought the tickets, Nancy. That’s why I came by this morning. Both of us are busy professionals with crushing schedules and responsibilities. You know perfectly well, Nancy, that police chiefs normally do not make arrests and end up in court. When was the last time that you heard of such a thing? I’m asking you to work with me on this.”

Gorelick didn’t care who anybody was, especially not this chief of police with her personal wealth and fame. All in Gorelick’s courtroom had jobs waiting for them, busy schedules, and demands on their time, except the defendants, of course, who generally had nothing in their Day Timers but empty spaces to fill with trouble. Gorelick had never been especially fond of Judy Hammer. The chief was arrogant, competitive, power drunk, noncollaborative, and vain. She spent considerable money on designer suits and pearls and accessories, and, in a word, did not suffer from the same problems, such as body fat, adult acne, estrogen volatilities, and rejection, as others.