The Death Factory

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Authors: Greg Iles
Tags: Fiction, Mystery
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said.
    At last, I thought, I’ve reached him . “Now you do.”
    “What do you want, Penn?” he asked in a weary voice. “Seriously. I can’t try to vacate that plea agreement without setting off a firestorm in the defense bar. It’ll raise too many questions.”
    In that moment, with those words, our relationship changed forever.
    “Joe, you’re a good man. Probably a great one. Don’t let your legacy be tainted by something like this. It’s not worth it, not even to nail Victor Luna.”
    His eyes hardened. “That’s not your decision to make, is it?”
    “No, it’s yours.” I let some of my anger and disillusionment enter my own voice. “But I’m going to be straight with you. If I don’t hear within twenty-four hours that you’re moving to get that plea vacated, I’m going to call a press conference. We both know the media loves you, they always have. And not too many people seem to care what happens down in Gulfton these days. But Mirabel Avila is a very telegenic young lady—especially with the stitches in her face. And I’m not without a certain level of celebrity. If I take Mirabel in front of the cameras and talk about the crime lab, the Hispanic leaders in southeast Houston are going to pick up her cause, and that you don’t want.”
    Cantor’s face went white, then red. It had been a long time since anybody challenged him. A DA in Harris County has a lot of power. He answers to almost no one. I gave him time to process what I’d said. He didn’t yell and scream. He thought about all I’d told him, long and hard. When he finally spoke, he said, “You don’t seem to care that a lot of your stellar cases were tried based on evidence that came out of that crime lab. But if you throw hundreds of convictions into doubt, you’ll create chaos for the office. You could clog up the appeals courts for years.”
    When this didn’t move me, he tried to make it personal again.
    “Now that you’ve got another career, I guess you’re not worried about having your most famous cases reversed. But think about the two hundred good lawyers you left behind in my office. The people in the trenches.”
    “I have, Joe. And I’d like to believe that none of them wanted to put anybody innocent in prison, or to let anybody guilty go free. You don’t want that, either. And look, maybe the lab isn’t that bad. But you need to find out, one way or the other.”
    He just stared back at me like a disappointed older brother.
    “By the way,” I added, “your office isn’t the trenches. Gulfton is.”
    He knew I was telling the truth, but it didn’t matter. “Penn,” he said, “let the Avila case be the trigger that started us fixing whatever problems HPD has over there. That’s how we get blood from the stone on this one. But for God’s sake, be content with that. Don’t blow up years of casework that we both know is solid.”
    “If the work was solid, the verdicts will stand.”
    “But at what cost in time and money?”
    “That’s not my problem,” I said. “It’s yours. If you don’t want to be buried in requests for retrials, then find a loophole in the plea-bargaining system. Use your influence. A hell of a lot of judges and lawyers owe you favors, and you can be pretty damned intimidating when you want to be. I don’t care how you do it, but find a way to balance the scales for the Avila girl. As for the crime lab, that’s on your head.”
    I took out my wallet and left money on the table for our check. “Twenty-four hours, Joe. I’ve got to go. I’ve left Sarah alone too long.”
    He started to get up and come after me, but in the end, he didn’t. There was nothing he could say, and he knew it.
    “Penn?” Jack says. “Penn! Are you with me?”
    “I’m here,” I mutter, not quite sure myself. Down on the river, the long barge has passed far downstream and is rounding the bend that leads to Baton Rouge and New Orleans. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’ve been losing it a little over

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