Even when a pretty but empty blond head shoved a microphone in his face, Lang managed a mild, "We are very disappointed in the verdict."
"Do you intend to appeal?"
"That is under consideration."
He was thankful when the mayor, never content for the spotlight to shine elsewhere, resumed his tirade.
Actually, Lang had been astonished when the equally racially divided jury had acquitted on the racketeering, bribery, bid rigging, and other counts. The mayor's time as a guest of the federal government had been reduced to a small fraction of the original potential. It was even possible that probation, not time, might be given at next month's sentencing hearing.
Finally sated, the newsies dispersed, no doubt in search of other carrion to strip from the bones of the day's events. A black limousine that had hovered discreetly out of camera range slid to the curb, and the passenger door swung open.
"It could have been a lot worse," Lang observed.
The mayor turned a rage-contorted face to him, something no news camera would ever capture. "Oh, yeah? You're not the one who will lose his law license, are you?" he snarled. "You're not the one who has to live with the humiliation."
Nor the one who bilked the taxpayers out of millions in inflated contracts,
Lang thought.
"If you think that's a performance to be proud of, Mr. Langford Reilly, think again! Consider yourself fired!"
Even the mayor's back conveyed indignation, righteous or otherwise, as he took the few steps to the street and got inside the car.
Lang slowly shook his head. Gratitude was a rare commodity in criminal practice. If your client got convicted, you hadn't done your job. If acquitted ... Well, then he was innocent and hadn't really needed you anyway.
"Unappreciative bastard!" said a voice behind him.
Lang spun around to see Alicia standing there.
"Goes with the territory," he said. He noted the briefcase in her hand. "They let you out early?"
"I was coming back from a witness interview," she explained, "not leaving."
"Wouldn't want the taxpayers shortchanged"
They openly stared at each other for a moment. Since returning from Vienna she had not returned his calls. He guessed he represented a memory that would be slow to fade.
"Speaking of unappreciative," she began slowly, "I don't think I ever thanked you for saving my life."
"Or putting it at risk," Lang added.
"That, too," she admitted. "But I don't think you had reason to think seeing me would put me in danger." "No idea," Lang agreed. "For that matter, I had no idea they were after me."
She jerked her head toward the building. "Got a minute? I'll stand for a round of coffee."
He shrugged. "Why not? Looks like I'm not going to be handling the mayor's appeal."
"Swell," she said. "I'm delighted to present an acceptable alternative."
It was then that Lang realized he might, just might, be around her enough to get used to—and even enjoy—that sarcasm.
I am no physicist. The parts of this book that deal with the Ark as a superconductor come from Laurence Gardner's
Lost Secrets of the Sacred Ark,
as does the theory that Moses and the single-deity-worshiping pharaoh, Akhenaten, were the same person. What little I actually learned about superconductors came from a very patient friend who teaches at Georgia Tech. He, understandably, would rather remain anonymous.
Had chemistry been a required course, I would not be a high school graduate. The explanations of alchemy come largely from an article in the
New York Times
by John Noble Wilford, "Transforming the Alchemist," August 1, 2006.
G.L.
December 14, 2006
*Throughout Exodus also, the Israelites seem to be murmuring about something: the lack of food, the harsh environment, the lack of water, Moses, even against their God.
** Rough equivalency of the measurements, given in cubits.