Even the Wicked

"Harvard," I admitted. The Kongs, their real names David King and Jimmy Hong, were a pair of hackers devoted to probing the innards of the phone company's computer system. They were high school students when TJ introduced them to me, and now they were up in Cambridge , doing God knows what.

"You recall the help they gave us?"

"Vividly."

"How many times have you said you wished they's still in the city?"

"Once or twice."

"More'n once or twice, Bryce. Whole lot of times."

"So?"

"We had us a computer," he said, "I could get so I could do the same shit they did. Plus I could do all the legit stuff, diggin' out trash in fifteen minutes that you spend a whole day findin' in the library."

"How would you know how to do it?"

"They got courses you can take. Not to teach you to do what the Kongs can do, but all the rest of it.

They sit you down at a machine and teach you."

"Well, one of these days," I said, "maybe I'll take a course."

"No, I'll take a course," he said, "an' after I learn I can teach you, if you want to learn. Or I can do the computer part, whichever you say."

"I get to decide," I said, "because I'm the boss."

"Right."

I started to say something more, but the veteran fighter picked that moment to connect with an overhand right lead that caught the kid on the button and took his legs away from him. The kid was still unsteady on his pins after an eight count, but there was only half a minute left in the round. The older fighter chased him all around the ring and tagged him a time or two, but the kid managed to stay on his feet and weather the round.

They didn't break for a commercial at the bell, electing instead to keep the camera on the younger fighter's corner while his seconds worked on him. The announcers had a lot to say about what they were showing us, but they said it in Spanish so we didn't have to pay any attention to it.

"About that computer," TJ said.

"I'll think about it."

"Damn," he said. "Had you the next thing to sold on it, and the old man there had to land a lucky punch and break the flow. Why couldn't he wait a round?"

"He was just one old guy looking out for the interests of another," I said. "We old guys are like that."

"This catalog," he said, brandishing it. "You happen to see this here night-vision scope? Came from Russia or some such."

I nodded. It was Soviet Army issue, according to the Gehlen people, and would presumably enable me to read fine print at the bottom of an abandoned coal mine.

"Can't see what we'd need it for," he said, "but you could have fun with something like that." He tossed the catalog aside. "Have fun with most of this shit. It's toys is all it is."

"And what's the computer? A bigger toy than the others?"

He shook his head. "It's a tool, Buell. But why do I be wastin' my breath tryin' to get through to you?"

"Why indeed?"

I thought we might get to see a knockout in the next round, but it was clear halfway through that it wasn't going to happen. The kid had shaken off the effects of the knockdown, and my guy was slower, having a hard time getting his punches to go where he wanted them. I knew how he felt.

The phone rang, and Elaine picked it up in the other room. On the TV screen, my guy shook off a punch and waded in.

Elaine came in, a hard-to-read expression on her face. "It's for you," she said. "It's Adrian Whitfield. Do you want to call him back?"

"No, I'll talk to him," I said, rising. "I wonder what he wants."

* * *

Adrian Whitfield was a rising star, a criminal defense attorney who'd been getting an increasing number of high-profile clients in the past couple of years, and a corresponding increase in media attention. In the course of the summer I'd seen him three times on the TV screen.

Roger Ailes had him on to discuss the notion that the jury system was outmoded and due for replacement. (His position was a tentative maybe in the civil courts, a flat no in criminal cases.) Then he was on Larry King twice, first to talk about the latest star-spangled homicide case in Los Angeles , and then to argue the merits of the death penalty.

(He was unequivocally against it.) Most recently I'd seen him along with Raymond Gruliow on Charlie Rose, all three of them caught up in an earnest discussion of the question of the lawyer as popular celebrity.

Hard-Way Ray had put the issue in historical context, telling some wonderful stories about Earl Rodgers and Bill Fallen and Clarence Darrow.