The Wrong Lawyer by Donald W. Desaulniers Page B

would be that I was no actor and had no idea how to
realistically fake a heart attack. I could see that little asshole Matthews
smirking at me while saying something sarcastic about what a pathetic idiot I
was to think I could fool the world’s top security professionals.
    Another problem
was whether any newspaper would act upon my letter if it was delivered to them.
    They likely had
layer upon layer of analysis and verification to plow through before any
decision could be made.
    Almost certainly
they would contact Homeland Security before making my story public and I
strongly suspected that the government could easily apply enormous pressure on the
owner and editor not to run the piece.
    The papers on the
coffee table were all well established, long-standing publications and a closer
inspection revealed that all of them were owned by huge media conglomerates
motivated by profit rather than public service.
    I picked up the
room phone.
    The same male
voice as before asked me what I wanted.
    “I’ve read all
these papers and I don’t feel like watching TV. Can you have some grocery store
entertainment papers and magazines sent up? I’d especially like some of the
racy ones. Oh, and bring up a Sudoku book and perhaps a book of crosswords.
I’ll go nuts if I have to sit here watching TV all week. I’m supposed to be on
vacation enjoying myself.”
    He answered in the
affirmative and hung up.
    Twenty minutes
later my door opened and the guard deposited the requested items on the carpet
and closed the door without uttering a word.
    Over more beer, I
glanced over the selection and discovered that one of the smuttier ones had a
Washington office.
    I decided that “The
Capitol Independent” was the best choice to receive my letter. Besides being
printed and based locally, it was also quite irreverent in its slant on the
political news.
    For the next hour
I sat in the bathtub with the shower curtain drawn closed and pretended that I
was working on Sudoku and crossword puzzles while taking a leisurely bath.
    In fact I was
composing my detailed letter explaining exactly what had been done to me and
how Mr. Haddad was having purposely false evidence publicly used against him by
Homeland Security. The only name I had been able to obtain so far was that of
Special Agent Matthews but I was especially precise in chronicling his involvement
in this travesty of justice.
    I folded the
letter into as small a package as possible and wrote out on a scrap of paper
the name of the political correspondent from the small independent newspaper
and the address of their office. Then I wrapped it in the flimsy plastic which
had individually protected a small paper cup in the bathroom. I secured my
treasure with a bit of scotch tape I had brought into the bathroom from the
desk drawer.
    With extreme care
and caution, I secreted my little bundle of evidence in the palm of my hand and
then hid the package under the pillow of my bed.
    For the next
couple of hours I drank the Old Milwaukee and tried to formulate how I could
possibly convince a doctor or ambulance attendant to deliver my letter to the
newspaper.
    By the time I had
polished off my fifth beer, I was no closer to concocting a successful
strategy.
    I went to bed both
disillusioned with the American government and despondent that my letter would
never get delivered.

CHAPTER
16 (The Hooker Solution)
     
    Linda Page was
still very much on my mind and in the night I had dreams of us making love in
this lavish hotel room.
    When I woke up, a
perfect plan became evident.
    The biggest
impediment to the success of my fake heart attack ruse was finding anyone who
would deliver my message to the newspaper. No one sent by the government to
attend to my medical emergency would risk their careers by passing along my
letter.
    Therefore it was
crucial that I find someone who was definitely not working for the government.
    My horny dream
provided the solution.
    The first thing I did
was to make the