The Hidden Man by David Ellis Read Free Book Online

man who paid no heed to the finer details, who freely delegated and expected compliance.
    He stood as his client entered from a side door.
    “Hello, Carlo,” Smith said.
    Carlo dropped his large frame in a plush leather high-back and fixed on Smith. “Tell me about the lawyer,” he said.
    “His name is Jason Kolarich. He grew up with Sammy Cutler. Next-door neighbors. Near Forty-seventh and Graynor, Leland Park—well, you know the neighborhood. Mother was a housewife. Father was a grifter. Mostly small-time stuff, card games, and petty rips. He’s doing eight inside now for a mortgage-fraud scam he ran.”
    “Where?” Carlo asked. “Where’s he inside?”
    Smith thought for a moment. “Marymount.”
    Carlo was silent. Smith figured Carlo was thinking about how he could reach someone inside Marymount Penitentiary. Surely, there was a way.
    “I don’t know how much Kolarich cares about his dad,” he told Carlo.
    Carlo gave Smith a hard glare. He didn’t appreciate the suggestion in Smith’s comment.
    “Continue,” Carlo said.
    Smith nodded dutifully. “He has a younger brother named Pete. Had some scrapes himself but nothing major. Looks like maybe the apple didn’t fall far from the tree with Pete. He lives here in the city. He likes to engage in the occasional recreational drug.”
    Carlo seemed to take note of that.
    Smith knew the notes by heart. “Jason Kolarich was a football player, a real good one. A wide receiver. He played ball at State on scholarship for two years. Then he was kicked off the team when he got into a fight with one of his teammates. Put the guy in the hospital.”
    “The hospital.” Carlo chuckled, allowed a tight smile. “A fighter.”
    “Stayed in school, though,” Smith went on. “Put himself through the last two years, then went to law school. He was a prosecutor for a few years. A pretty good one, from what they say. He was doing felony cases at the criminal courthouse until he went into the private sector. He worked at a law firm called Shaker, Riley and Flemming, which is a very well-established firm in the city. He defended that state senator who was charged with extortion. He won that case.”
    “He beat the feds?”
    “He beat the feds.”
    Carlo seemed impressed. “What about his family? Wife? Kids?”
    Smith shook his head. “Kolarich’s wife, Talia, and their baby daughter, Emily, were killed in a car accident four months ago. Their car went off the embankment on a county road heading downstate.”
    “Jesus.” Carlo winced. Even Carlo, Smith knew, would be sympathetic. “That’s gotta fuck a guy up pretty bad.”
    “Of course,” Smith agreed. “Every day, at lunch, he drives to the cemetery and sits by their graves. He just sits there for an hour, then gets up and goes back to work.”
    “Yeah, well—yeah.” Carlo got out of his chair and paced the large room. A guy like Carlo wasn’t comfortable with these kinds of emotions, and predictably, they evolved into anger. “Well, Jesus Christ, what are we getting with this guy? A violent guy who just lost his wife and daughter?”
    Smith wasn’t sure of the answer. “He was a rising star at a blue-chip law firm before this all happened. After his wife and daughter died, he dropped off the map, left the law firm, and didn’t reemerge for three months. When he did, he opened up a one-man shop, sharing office space with an old high school friend and handling small-time cases. From what I’ve been able to tell, Kolarich is only halfway back. He works sporadically. Some days, he never leaves his house. Much of the time, he stays out at bars all night but doesn’t make a play for anyone; he just gets drunk and then goes home.” Smith took a minute. “This guy Kolarich will not be reliable, Carlo, but he’s the guy Cutler wanted. He wouldn’t take our people. He wanted Kolarich. And we’re going to do all the heavy lifting, anyway. All he’ll really have to do is show up in court. Hopefully, even