Page 117 of The Proving Ground
“You hope.”
“Yeah, I hope.”
After leaving the courthouse, I drove to the warehouse, where I convened with my team in the cage. I explained that we were in a holding pattern until we knew if there was a trial to go back to.
“So, we all going to Cabo till Monday?” Cisco asked.
“I want Jack to stay on Whittaker,” I said. “Right now we have only a lot of smoke, but where there is smoke, there is fire. Find the fire. We need it.”
“I’ll keep at it,” McEvoy said.
“Everybody, keep at it,” I said. “Cisco, maybe you should headnorth to run down what you can on Whittaker. Who he hangs out with, where he goes, what he eats. I need to know everything I can about him before he takes the stand.”
“On it,” Cisco said.
“What about me?” Lorna asked.
“Today, I’m going to work on the Snow petition,” I said. “Lorna, see if you can get me an appointment tomorrow with the CIU.”
“Okay, but that might be easier to get through Maggie,” Lorna said.
“Maybe, but that’s not the way I want to go,” I said.
I waited for pushback or any other comments. There were none.
“Okay, let’s do it,” I said. “I’ll be in my office.”
Before beginning to outline and write the David Snow habeas petition, I went on the website for the California Health Care Facility in Stockton and registered as inmate Snow’s attorney. This would allow me unrestricted access to my client in person or by phone. I then spent the next two hours writing the evidentiary summary and legal argument I hoped to hand to someone in the Conviction Integrity Unit. Maggie McPherson had assembled the unit shortly after her election to fulfill a campaign promise, and now I would put it to the test with the Snow case.
I had finished writing and was reviewing and editing the nine-page document when Lorna entered my office, her eyes wide.
“We have visitors,” she said.
“Who?” I asked.
“The Masons are here. With Victor Wendt.”
Victor Wendt, the billionaire tech investor behind Tidalwaiv. He had been a player in Silicon Valley for decades, was said to have made his fortune on early investments in Apple. I stood up and followed Lorna out into the main bay of the warehouse, where I saw the Mason twins standing on either side of Wendt. Behind them stoodtwo large men in black suits—bodyguards. Cisco had not left yet and was standing with them, seemingly taking their measure, one man with a history of violence appraising two of the same.
Mitchell Mason made the introductions, and I shook Wendt’s hand. He was tall, thin, and not dressed down in the way wannabe tech billionaires favored. He was clad entirely in black, which nicely complemented his slicked-back steel-gray hair and deeply tanned face. He carried a black Zero Halliburton attaché case in his left hand.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Wendt?” I asked.
“I’d like ten minutes of your time,” he said.
“Sure. Follow me.”
The four of us headed toward my office. Wendt slowed to look at the cage as we passed.
“A Faraday cage,” he said. “Very smart.”
I nodded.
“Thank you,” I said.
I entered the office first, followed by Wendt. He started to close the door, leaving the Masons outside.
“Sir, I think we need to be in the room to hear what is said,” Mitchell said.
