Soldier of the Horse by Robert W. Mackay Read Free Book Online

creased three-button suit with a silk waistcoat, not what Tom would expect for an odd-job man, a graduated law student who had never managed to pass the bar exams.
    Tom followed Bernie into Zink’s inner sanctum, where the stale air reeked of cigars and whisky. A blue haze hovered close to the high ceiling. Besides Bernie, who now lounged against the single window’s frame with a cigarette in his mouth, the room was populated by Heny Zink, of average height but built like an aging bull, large head adorned by two days’ growth of stubble, and in the corner of the room, John Evans, looking out of place in the pedestrian surroundings. A free-standing ashtray overflowed to one side of Zink’s desk, while a tumbler of amber liquid sat by his right hand.
    â€œTom,” Zink grated, “John Evans has agreed to help us with the trial. Who knows, maybe he’ll have more pull with their lordships in the Court of Appeal, if it comes to that.”
    Tom could see why Evans would be an asset on an appeal, but he didn’t understand why he would agree to help Zink with a trial, let alone on a losing file like the Kravenko defence. He remembered that Evans had expressed reservations about Zink when he introduced Tom to Ellen at his party. It felt a little strange to be around the man, especially when he thought back to Ellen’s kiss when he had escorted her to the streetcar.
    Zink spoke from behind his desk. “So, Tom, after a whole day at the library, what does your research tell us?”
    Tom addressed Evans, not knowing how much he had been told by Zink. “Our client at first denied all knowledge of the robbery, but he didn’t stick with that very long, given his boasting to the newspapers about outsmarting the police, even while he was still on the run. Now he’s changed his tune. He claims he was in on the robbery but it wasn’t him that did the shooting.” Tom hesitated. Zink was not a man who took bad news well. “I’ve been researching the issue, and I’m not getting anywhere at the library.” He plunged ahead, ignoring Zink’s fixed stare. “Once Kravenko admits he was part of the robbery scheme when the manager was shot and killed, he’s guilty of murder even if he didn’t actually pull the trigger.”
    â€œJesus H. Christ,” bellowed Zink. “I didn’t say I wanted a goddamned student to tell me the law.” His splotchy face got redder and he pounded his fist against his knee. Wiping spittle from the corner of his mouth, he raised his glass, drained it, then slammed it down on the table. “I’ll tell you one thing for certain,” he raved, glaring from Tom to Evans and back again. “I’ve defended eight murderers—alleged murderers—and they are all still walking around. Bloody Jack is not going to swing, and I don’t give a damn what it takes.”
    Tom and the two lawyers huddled around Zink’s cluttered desk and reviewed the case law Tom had brought from the courthouse library. There was nothing in the law that Tom figured was going to assist in Jack’s defence. Maybe between Zink and John Evans they could weaken the Crown’s case enough to reduce the charge, or at least get him a prison sentence and not the death penalty. It seemed like a long shot, though, given the facts of the case: a man who answered Jack’s description had robbed the Plum Coulee bank and for good measure fired a shot from a revolver, instantly killing the manager. Witnesses told the police they recognized Jack Kravenko, who had lived in the town for some months.
    Zink, with Tom in tow, had interviewed Jack many times while he was in custody. Jack was an intelligent, accomplished con man who could talk a bird off a branch in any of several languages, and he never wasted an opportunity to tell Zink and his jailers about the supposed fortune he had amassed during a life of crime. Tom sometimes wondered