“How long does the process take?” Quentin asks.

“That can vary. We’re talking about supercomputer time, plus bleeding-edge chemical and mechanical processes. It could take five hours, five days, or five months. There’s no way to know until they start.”

Turning away from Kaiser, I kneel in front of Quentin’s chair. “How bad is this? I mean, if they succeed in restoring the tapes. I need to know.”

Quentin shakes his head. Even if he knows, he’s not about to answer in Kaiser’s presence.

“We’re already late,” Kaiser says. “I told Judge Elder I’d get you there on time. Let’s move.”

After a last look into Quentin’s unreadable eyes, I stand, move behind his chair, and follow as he rolls quickly toward the door, which Kaiser holds open for him.

Chapter 58

Shad and Judge Elder are waiting when we arrive in Shad’s conference room. As we take our seats around the table, I find myself thinking about Joe Elder being the son of Claude Devereux, and how impossible that seems. It must seem even stranger to him. Does he hate Devereux the way Lincoln hates my father? If Quentin’s assessment can be trusted, he does.

“Gentlemen,” the judge begins, “what happened today was not only a violation of the sanctity of my courtroom, but of the American judicial system. Agent Kaiser has determined that this poisoned needle contraption was triggered by someone in the courtroom using a radio detonator. I’m hopeful that the FBI and ATF will identify the killer in a very short time, and that you, Mr. Johnson, will seek the death penalty for him.” Elder nods at Kaiser. “I’m sure there will be federal charges as well, but I want whoever killed that witness to spend his last living hours in Mississippi.”

“Absolutely, Your Honor,” Shad says unctuously.

Our DA has periodically made noises about being against the death penalty, but never with much conviction, and whatever principle he may have believed he had, he throws to the wind before the judge’s anger.

“What about this trial, Your Honor?” Quentin asks.

Joe Elder gives Quentin a penetrating stare. “Are you hoping for a mistrial, Mr. Avery?”

“Never entered my mind, Your Honor.”

Shad looks at Quentin with ill-concealed shock.

“I’m surprised, Mr. Avery,” Judge Elder says in his bass voice. “And gratified. For it is my intention to continue this trial.”

“When?” Shad interjects.

“Tomorrow, if possible, Mr. Johnson.”

“What about security?” Quentin asks.

“We have ATF bomb techs searching the courthouse now, and more on the way. They’ll have the building secured well before midnight. Federal agents will search and clear City Hall as well. The jail has just been designated a secure area, so Dr. Cage can be returned there.”

“Judge,” I cut in, “I’m still concerned about my father’s safety.”