Chapter 14 Chapter Fourteen The Judge Arrested

"Two off, Tracy," said Ernestine Littlechap, laughing. "Heard people in the street saying that your lawyer friend Perry Pope can't open. He had a big accident." They drank coffee with milk and ate fritters in a small trattoria off the Royal Street. Ernestine giggled. "You've got a brain, girl. Don't you want to do it with me?" "Thank you, Ernestine. My plan is not yet complete." Ernestine asked eagerly, "Whose turn is it next?" "Lawrence. Judge Henry Lawrence." Henry Lawrence started out as an attorney in the tiny town of Leesville, Louisiana.He is a mediocre lawyer, but he has two very important conditions: he is handsome in appearance, and he is willing to be flexible in the standard of right and wrong.He believed in a philosophy: the law is a soft willow branch, which can be bent at any time to suit the needs of employers.With a credo like that, it's no wonder that soon after moving to New Orleans he became famous for representing a certain class of people.He first took misdemeanor and traffic accident cases, and later also took felony and capital crime cases.By the time he got involved with the people of the world, he had become very good at bribing jurors, dismantling witnesses, and buying off anyone who might be of use to a case.In short, he was exactly what Anthony Ursady needed.The two of them will meet on the road of life sooner or later.This is a godsend in the underworld-Lawrence became the attorney representing the Wusa gang.When the time was right, Usadi made him a judge again.

"I don't know what you can do with that judge," said Ernestine. "He's rich and powerful, and no one dares mess with him." "He's rich and powerful," Tracy said, "but it's not like nobody's going to mess with him." Tracy had already made up her mind, but when she called Lawrence's home, she realized that the original plan had to be changed. "I'm going to speak to Judge Lawrence." A secretary replied: "Sorry, Judge Lawrence is out." "When will you be back?" Tracy asked. "not sure."

"I have something very important to do. Will he be back tomorrow morning?" "No. Judge Lawrence is away." "Oh. Can I call him?" "I'm afraid not. He's out of the country." Tracy tried to suppress her disappointment. "Got it. Can you tell me where he went?" "Mr. Judge is in Europe, attending an international judicial conference." "It's a pity," Tracy said. "Who are you?" Tracy thought nervously. "My name is Elizabeth Lowen Dustin, and I am the president of the Southern Chapter of the American Bar Association. On the 12th of this month, we will hold our annual awards banquet in New Orleans, and Judge Henry Lawrence has been selected as the best judge of the year."

"Very well," said the judge's secretary, "but I'm afraid Mr. Judge won't be back by then." "What a pity. We were all looking forward to hearing his excellent speech. Our selection committee unanimously voted to award Judge Lawrence." "He must be very sorry to miss this party." "Yes. You must know what an honor it is. Some of the most prestigious judges in this country have been elected in the past. Oh, yes! I thought of a way. Would you please, Mr. Judge, make a recording and send it to us?" — A brief thank-you speech, would you say that is all right?"

"Well, I—it's hard to tell. He has a very busy schedule..." "National television, newspapers and magazines will report on our awards banquet." There was a silence.Judge Lawrence's secretary knew that Mr. Judge loved to show off through the media.In fact, as far as she knows, the judge's attendance at the international conference seems to be mainly for this purpose. So the secretary said, "Maybe he can find time to record a short speech for you. I'll discuss it with him." "That's great," Tracy said cheerfully, "then the whole party will be in full swing."

"Do you have any special requirements for Mr. Judge's speech?" "Yes. We'd like him to talk to—" She paused. "It's hard to articulate in a few words. It would be best if I could talk to him directly." The secretary was silent for a while.She finds it difficult.According to the judge's order, she cannot disclose his travel schedule to anyone.On the other hand, if the judge missed such an important awards banquet, she would still end up blaming her. She said: "I should have kept it a secret for him, but since there is such an important meeting, he will allow me to be flexible. He is at the Russian Hotel in Moscow. He will stay there for five days, and then--"

"Excellent. I'll get in touch with him right away. Thanks." "Thank you, Miss Dustin." Several telegrams were sent to Judge Henry Lawrence at the Russian Hotel in Moscow.The first telegram is: A second telegram was sent the next day, and it read: The text of the last telegram read: NKVD personnel awaited further news.When they determined that there were no more telegrams, Judge Lawrence was arrested. The interrogation went on for five days and nights. "Have you handed over the information?" "What information? I don't understand what you're talking about."

"I said blueprints. Who did you give the blueprints to?" "What blueprint?" "A drawing of a Soviet nuclear submarine." "What nonsense are you talking about! How can I know about Soviet submarines?" "That's exactly what we're trying to find out. Who did you meet in secret?" "Secret meeting? I have no secret." "Okay. So tell us, who is Boris?" "Boris?" "The guy who wires money to your Swiss bank for you." "What Swiss bank?" They flew into a rage. "You're really smelly and hard."

they said to him. "We're going to take you under the knife and let those American agents who try to destroy our great motherland see what happens to you." By the time the American ambassador to Scotland was allowed to visit Judge Henry Lawrence, he had lost fifteen pounds.He couldn't remember how long interrogators hadn't let him sleep, and he described himself as haggard and curled up in a ball. "Why are they treating me like this?" the judge said hoarsely. "I'm an American citizen and a judge. For God's sake, you must get me out!" "I'm doing my best," the ambassador said.Judge Lawrence's appearance shocked him.The ambassador was there to greet the judges and other members of the judicial delegation when they arrived two weeks ago.The judge he had seen had nothing in common with the frightened, wretched man before him.

What kind of trick are the Russians playing?the ambassador thought.The judge was no more a spy than I was.He laughed at himself and thought, if I were to do it, I would be able to pick a more suitable scapegoat. After the ambassador's request to meet with the top Politburo head was denied, he offered to see a minister. "I formally protest," said the ambassador angrily, "that your country's treatment of Judge Henry Lawrence is intolerable. It is simply absurd to call a man of his stature a spy." "When you have finished," said the minister coldly, "you can read this." He handed the ambassador a copy of the telegram.

After the ambassador finished reading, he looked up in bewilderment. "What's the matter? Aren't these all ordinary telegrams?" "Really? Maybe you should carefully read the deciphered telegram again." He handed the ambassador another copy.Some two-character phrases in the telegram were marked, with four characters neatly spaced between the phrases. I've just stumbled upon the devil, thought the Ambassador. Journalists and the public were not allowed to attend the trial.The defendant has always been stubborn and has always refused to admit that he had engaged in espionage in the Soviet Union.The prosecution guarantees that as long as the background is revealed, the sentence can be lenient.Judge Lawrence was eager to reveal his background, but unfortunately he couldn't. On the first day after the trial, there was a bulletin in Pravda that Judge Henry Lawrence, the notorious American secret agent, had been convicted of espionage and sentenced to fourteen years of hard labor in Siberia. The Lawrence case baffled the U.S. intelligence community.Rumors circulated among CIA, FBI, Secret Service, Treasury Department personnel. "He's not one of us," the CIA said. "Maybe he belongs to the Treasury Department." The Treasury Department stated it had no knowledge of the matter. "No, sir, Lawrence isn't from us. Maybe the goddamn FBI is meddling and getting their hands on our property again." "Haven't heard of this individual," the FBI said. "He may belong to the State Department, or to the Department of Defense Intelligence." Defense Intelligence, also ignorant of the case, cautiously replied: "No comment." Every intelligence service believed that Judge Henry Lawrence had been sent abroad by another service. "But we should appreciate his courage," said the CIA chief. "He was tough, he didn't confess, and he didn't implicate anyone else. To be honest, I wish we had a few more good guys like him among our people." Anthony Wusardi was having a rough time, and the gangster couldn't figure out why the first day.For the first time in his life his bad luck began.First it was Joe Romano's escape attempt, then something happened to Perry Pope, and now the judge is stuck in a muddled espionage case.They are all indispensable figures in the Usadi gang and are his main helpers. Joe Romano was the big housekeeper, inside and out, and Wusad couldn't find a replacement for him.Things were so badly run that even those who had never dared to complain complained openly.People said Tony Wusardi was too old to keep his men in check and his gang was going to break up. The final blow came with a call from New Jersey. "Tony, I hear you're having a little trouble over there. We want to help you a little bit." "I'm not in trouble here," Wusa said angrily. "A few things have happened recently, but they have all been resolved." "That's not what we've heard, Tony. We've heard that there's a mess going on in your place, and no one can take the helm." "I'm at the helm." "Maybe you're overburdened. You're probably overworked. I'm afraid it's time for a little rest." "This is my territory, no one can take it away." "Hey, Tony, who said you're going to take your place? We just wanted to help you out. Our family in the east got together and decided to send a few people from us to help a little. Between old friends , there’s nothing wrong with helping out, don’t you think so?” Anthony Wusard felt a chill in his heart.There's only one thing wrong with old friends helping: a small favor can turn into a big favor, and the snowball will snowball. Ernestine made a pot of thick shrimp soup.She simmered the soup on the stove and waited with Tracy for supper when Allie came back. As the September heat wave distraught everyone, Ernestine scolded when Allie walked into the tiny apartment, "Where did you die? The food was going to burn and I was going to pass out. " But Allie was elated, not angry. "I'm busy looking for information, old woman. Listen to me." He turned to Tracy. "They're down on Tony Wusa. Gangs from New Jersey want his place." He grinned. "You beat that bastard!" He looked carefully into Tracy's eyes, and the smile on his face disappeared: "Aren't you happy, Tracy?" Merry, Tracy thought, what a strange word.She had forgotten the meaning of the word.She didn't know whether she could still be happy in the future, whether she could truly experience the feelings of normal people.For such a long time, the first thing she thought of when she woke up every day was revenge for her mother and herself.Now almost all the revenge that should be reported has been reported, and she only feels empty in her heart. The next day Tracy came to a flower shop. “I would like to send flowers to Anthony Wusardi. A funeral wreath of white carnations with a wide ribbon and writing RIP.” She wrote a card: From Daughter of Doris Whitney.