John Lescroart - The First Law
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The First Law
A Signet Book / published by arrangement with the author
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2003 by The Lescroart Corporation
This book may not be reproduced in whole or part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission. Making or distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement and could subject the infringer to criminal and civil liability.
For information address:
The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
The Penguin Putnam Inc. World Wide Web site address is
http://www.penguinputnam.com
ISBN: 978-1-1012-0985-1
A SIGNET BOOK
Signet Books first published by The Signet Publishing Group, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
SIGNET and the S design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Putnam Inc.
Electronic edition: March, 2006
ALSO BY JOHN LESCROART
The Oath
The Hearing
Nothing but the Truth
The Mercy Rule
Guilt
A Certain Justice
The 13th Juror
Hard Evidence
The Vig
Dead Irish
Rasputins Revenge
Son of Holmes
Sunburn
To Lisa
Nunc et Semper
Id like to thank my publisher and editor, Carole Baron, not only for her encouragement and support over so much of my career, but for her truly extraordinary interest and efforts from the earliest outlining stages of this book, which is in some ways so different in structure from my other novels. Mitch Hoffmans intelligence and insights likewise contributed importantly to the finished product; beyond that, his good humor and accessibility are as much appreciated as they are rare.
My friend and agent, Barney Karpfinger, remains an incredible source that I turn to whenever I need an injection of calm, wisdom, or good taste. His receptivity to the idea for this book and his early enthusiasm for it contributed mightily to its creation.
In San Francisco, the peerless Al Giannini was a great help, as always, from the original concept through the eventual execution. His knowledge of the law world within San Francisco has been a cornerstone of the entire Hardy/Glitsky series of books, and this one is no exception. In the police department, Shawn Ryan shared with me his considerable expertise with a variety of firearms; much more importantly, his description of what its like to be under fire provided a crucial perspective. Assistant District Attorney Jerry Norman provided some choice nuggets as well.
Peter J. Diedrich provided much of the background for the very real San Francisco Diamond Center scandals of the late nineties. Peter S. Dietrich, M.D., M.P.H., still makes the best martini in the universe.
Closer to home, my assistant, Anita Boone, aside from being a creative genius in her own right, is simply terrific. Combining a wonderful personality with superhuman efficiency, she is truly one of a kind. I couldnt do what I do without her. The excellent novelist Max Byrd is a great friend and careful reader who was a help many times and at many stages during the writing of this book. Barbara Vohryzeks good karma plays a big role in my daily writing environment, and I want to thank her for thinking to include me in such a positive work space.
My children, Jack and Justine, continue to inspire and hopefully to inform these books, and this one particularly, with a welcome nonadult perspective. Rebecca and Vincent they are not, but Dismas Hardys children could not exist as fully formed characters without them.
Finally, Id like to acknowledge the work of two excellent writers for providing much of the inspiration for this book. Loren Estlemans Bloody Season tells the story of the gunfight at the OK Corral better than its ever been told. Ive read the book five times now, and it just keeps getting better. Carsten Strouds Black Water Transit, though unique in execution, plot, and tone, could nevertheless serve as a primer for the construction of the modern thriller, and in fact did in the creation of this work. The use of language in both of these books reminded this writer again of the power of the unexpected, the original, the inspired word. Thanks, guys. You write terrific stuff.
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept by confused alarums of struggle and flight
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
Matthew Arnold Dover Beach
At a little before two oclock on a chill and overcast Wednesday afternoon, Moses McGuire pulled his old Ford pickup to a grating stop in front of his sister Frannies house and honked the horn twice.
He waited, blowing on his hands, which he couldnt get to stay warm. The heater in the truck didnt work worth a damn and the driver-side window was stuck halfway down, but he knew it wasnt the weather. It was nerves. He blew into the cup of his hands again, lay on the horn another time.
The door opened. His brother-in-law, Dismas Hardy, walked briskly, businesslike, down his porch steps and the path that bisected his small lawn. Normally he was good for a smile or some wiseass greeting, but today his face was set, his eyes cast down. He carried a rope-wrapped package under one arm, wore jeans and hiking boots and a heavy coat into the pockets of which hed stuffed his hands. The coat, McGuire thought, was a good idea, not so much for the cold as to disguise the fact that he was wearing Kevlar, and packing.
Hardy, at fifty-two, was two years younger than McGuire. The two men had known each other for over thirty years, since theyd been in Vietnam. Over there, Hardy had pulled McGuire to cover and safety in the midst of an intense firefightboth of the men had been hit, both awarded the Purple Heart. But Hardy had saved McGuires life and that bond had held, would always hold.
When Hardys first pass at adult life fell apart, hed worked for years at the bar Moses owned, the Little Shamrock, and eventually, when Hardy was ready to risk life and commitment again, he became a quarter partner in the bar. Hed married McGuires sister, was godfather to one of McGuires daughters, as Moses was to his.
Family.
Hardy slid in and dumped the package onto the seat between them. Theres your vest. I did have the extra. Saying it aloud seemed to cost him some energy. He drew a deep breath and took a last look back at his house as the truck moved into gear. Turning back to his brother-in-law, he asked, What are you carrying?
McGuire motioned over his shoulder, indicating the truck bed. I got fifty shells and my over and under wrapped in the tarp back there.
Twelve gauge?
Yeah, and in thereMcGuire pointed to the glove boxI got my Sig.
Automatic?
He caught Hardys tone of disapproval. They dont always jam, he said.
Only takes once.
I expect Ill be using the shotgun anyway.
The truck turned a couple of corners, the men riding in silence until they were rolling on Geary. McGuire blew on his hands again. Finally, Hardy spoke. You okay with this?
McGuire looked across the seat, his dark eyes flat. Completely. You not?
Hardy worked his mouth, shook his head. I dont see another choice.
Thats cause there isnt one.
I know. I know. Its just...
Theres always another choice?
Usually.
Not this time. McGuire bit it off, impatient. He accelerated angrily through a yellow light. You already tried all of them.
Maybe not all. Thats what I worry about. This would be a bad time to get pulled over, dont you think?
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