The Sixth Man by David Baldacci Read Free Book Online Page B

the morning print edition of a federal government facility denying an accused access to his legal counsel. I would imagine the story could hit the AP wire as well, and then it’s a safe bet to be all over the Internet a few minutes after that. Just to get the facts right, do you spell Carla with a C or a K?”
    Dukes stared up at him, her lips twitching and her gaze bordering on murderous. “Do you really want to do that?”
    “Do you really want to break the law?”
    “What law?” she snapped.
    “An accused person’s Sixth Amendment right to legal counsel.That’s the Constitution, by the way. And it’s always bad to screw with the Constitution.”
    “He’s right, Ms. Dukes.”
    Sean and Michelle turned to see Brandon Murdock in the doorway. The FBI agent smiled.
    “Enjoy your
chat
with Edgar Roy,” he said.

CHAPTER

7
    S EAN AND M ICHELLE WERE ESCORTED into a room that was blankly white. Small. One door. Three chairs, one table, all bolted to the floor. Two chairs faced the one. In front of the one was a three-inch metal ring cemented into the floor. Between the two chairs and the one was a three-foot-wide wall of four-inch polycarbonate glass that ran from the floor to the ceiling.
    And then the door opened and there he was.
    Sean and Michelle had seen photos of Edgar Roy, both in the newspapers and also in a file packet Ted Bergin had sent them. Sean had even seen a segment of video on the man shortly after his arrest for the murders. Nothing prepared them for seeing the man in person.
    He was six foot eight and extremely lean, like a giant number two pencil. He had a golf ball for an Adam’s apple set on a long neck. His hair was dark, long, and curly, and it framed a face that was thin and not unattractive. He wore glasses. Behind the lenses were black dots for eyes, like the die cuts on a pair of dice. Sean noted the man’s slender fingers. Tufts of hair stuck out from inside his ears. He was clean-shaven.
    His arms and legs were shackled and he hobbled in truncated steps as the guards led him over to the chair behind the glass and locked the shackles into the floor ring. It allowed him mobility of about six inches. Two guards stood on either side of him. They were big men, with impassive faces. They were seemingly crafted from stone to guard other people. Neither one had weapons other than telescopic metal billy clubs. These could extend out four feet and deliver crushing blows.
    At the doorway were two more guards. Each one gripped pump action shotguns that had been modified to hold a Taser component that could fire a twelve-gauge projectile up to a hundred feet, delivering a twenty-second pulse of energy that would lay an NFL tackle on the ground and keep him there for a long time.
    Sean and Michelle turned their attention back to Edgar Roy behind the wall of bulletproof glass. His long legs stuck out straight, the heels of his prison-issued canvas loafers kissing the wall of unbreakable glass.
    “Okay,” said Sean, drawing his gaze from Roy and and eyeing the guards. “We’ll need to speak to our client alone.”
    None of the four guards even moved an inch. They could’ve been statues.
    Sean said, “I’m his attorney. We need some alone time, guys.”
    Still no movement. Apparently the four men were immobile
and
deaf.
    Sean licked his lips. “Okay, who’s your supervisor?” he asked the guy holding a shotgun.
    The man didn’t even look at Sean.
    Sean glanced at Roy. Sean wasn’t even sure he was still alive because he couldn’t see the rise and fall of his chest. He didn’t blink, didn’t twitch. His eyes just stared straight ahead, looking but apparently not registering on anything.
    “Having fun yet?”
    They turned to see Agent Murdock staring at them from the doorway.
    “For starters, can you tell the muscle to leave the room?” said Sean, his voice rising slightly. “They don’t seem to get the whole attorney-client thing.”
    “Last night you were just a PI. Today you’re a