But this time, perhaps sensing a rising tide, Hill decided he'd better take control, and slapped his gavel hard three times in rapid succession. 'There will be order in this court or I'll have the gallery cleared.' He barely paused, brought his gaze back to Hardy, spoke sternly. 'Now, counselor, if you want to object to the specials, write your motion, but for the moment, there they are. And bail is denied.'

But Hardy's blood was up now, and he found himself unable to let it go. 'In that case, your honor, before we go any further in this game of political football, I'll also be making a motion about the so-called confession that the prosecution unethically keeps putting in the newspapers.'

This really set off the crowd, with several identifiable explosions – 'Hey, he confessed!' 'The guy did it!' – punctuating the general uproar.

The gavel banged away. But Hill's real ire had become directed at Hardy. 'I'm warning you, counselor. This is not the appropriate time or place. Take it up at the prelim.'

But it was as though Hardy didn't hear him. He'd had enough for today already, and his patience was at an end. He raised his own voice over the hubbub. 'Your honor, Mr Burgess was held for hours before he was charged, he also was not adequately apprised of his right to counsel-'

'That's a black lie!' Ridley Banks was up in the first row. 'We Mirandized him as soon as-'

'He was drunk and barely coherent, your honor! The tape of his interrogation shows it clearly. There's no way this tape will ever be played for a jury. The prosecution has no right to try and prejudice prospective jurors by even calling it a confession.'

Now in the gallery, things were truly getting out of hand. Everyone seemed to be talking, yelling, swearing. Hardy caught a strong whiff of sweat, and couldn't say if it was Cole and his fear or the collective scent of the mob coalescing behind him.

'Sit down, everybody!' The Cadaver had finally come to life, bellowing. 'Down in the gallery.' He slammed His gavel again and again. 'Bailiffs!' The three men in uniform appeared from their various posts around the wall and began moving up to the bar rail.

Ten minutes later, the arraignment was over. Hill called a stop to the bailiff's slow charge as they reached the bar rail. He really didn't want to have to try and remove nearly a hundred people by force. Not only would that be a bad precedent for his fellow judges, he sure as hell didn't want the word to get out that Judge Hill couldn't control his courtroom by force of will alone.

The spectators in the room settled back down. Hill denied bail again and this time nobody argued with him. When Hardy didn't waive time for the preliminary hearing, the judge asked him a second time to make sure he'd heard it correctly. Then he set the hearing for ten o'clock, Wednesday, February 17, in this same courtroom.

He ordered Cole back to the jail and called a recess.

He stood without so much as a glance at anyone in the courtroom or gallery, and left the bench in a swirl of black robe.

Hardy realized that he had been lucky to escape without a contempt citation. And he really hadn't accomplished anything substantive for his client, though he'd certainly succeeded in getting the judge and half the courtroom mad at him. So as the disgruntled masses filed out behind him, he stalled for time, gathering his papers at the defense table. He knew he had a gauntlet to run on the other side of the bar rail and out in the hallway, but he felt oddly satisfied. He'd served notice – no one was railroading his client without a fight.

He felt a light touch on the back of his shoulder, and turned to face the DA. 'Mr Hardy.'

He straightened up and nodded, set his jaw. 'Ms Pratt.'

Hardy and Pratt had a history. A year before, he had gotten her a public reprimand from the bench for her office's cavalier abuse of the grand jury. She, in turn, had nearly filed criminal charges against Hardy for insurance fraud, and had directed her own investigators to explore Hardy's possible criminal involvement in the murder case he was defending. There was no love lost between them.

And now she had another crack at him. 'That was a fairly unprofessional and tawdry display.'

'Maybe it was.' Hardy's lips turned upward, but no one would have called it a smile. 'But I prefer that to self-righteous hypocrisy. Are you really such a political hack that you'd kill somebody for a few votes?'

Pratt turned red at the frontal assault. 'Making false accusations about my motives will get you in trouble with the bar, Mr Hardy.'

Hardy nodded again. 'I couldn't agree more, which is why I don't make them false. And while we're enjoying such a full and frank exchange of ideas, I'd be interested to hear about your decision to ask for special circumstances, much less death.'

'She doesn't have to explain anything to you, Hardy.' This was Torrey. Hardy had been 'Diz' before the arraignment had begun, but now the gloves had come off. 'You go play your cheap defense tricks and when we get to it, we'll see what a jury thinks of them.'

'What a neat idea,' Hardy said. 'That was kind of my plan, anyway. See what a jury thinks. If it ever gets to that, which I doubt.'

'Oh, it'll get there. That's what happens when you get a confession. The presumption of guilt goes way up.'

'It does? That's funny,' Hardy said. 'I'd always heard it was presumption of innocence.'

'Your man isn't innocent.'

'Well, there you go. I guess we're back to that jury thing again, aren't we?'

Torrey wore an expression of great disdain. 'You knew Elaine, didn't you?'

'Yes I did.' Hardy answered without irony. 'I thought she was great. And the idea that you'd want to kill somebody in her name, that makes me gag.'

Torrey shook his head in disgust. 'I just don't see how you can live with yourself.'

'It's easy,' Hardy replied. 'I've got a really good personality.'

'Let's go, Gabe.' Sharron Pratt all but pulled him by the arm. 'Oh, and Mr Hardy? If I were you, I'd go easy on accusing me of playing politics with a man's life.'

'So what would you like me to call it?'

She ignored that. 'If you keep it up,' she said, 'I'm not going to be disposed to drop it when this is over. And you're going to be very sorry.'

Hardy took that in soberly, then nodded thoughtfully. 'You know, that's sounds an awful lot like a threat. Are you threatening me?'

She glared at him levelly. 'You take it any way you want.'

'All right,' he said. 'I'll take it as a threat. And as such I'll be passing it along to the Bar Ethics Committee. Since we started here talking about ethics, that'll bring us around full circle.'

Torrey couldn't resist a parting remark. 'You wouldn't know an ethic if it bit you on the ass.'

For a long moment, Hardy gave him a flat stare. 'Whoa. Clever. I've got to remember that one.' He turned to gather the rest of his papers.

Hardy decided he'd just as soon forgo the excitement in the hallway outside. He was all too familiar with the back way out – it was the way he'd come in – but his client Cole had just had bail denied. Even when this was expected, and it had been, it was never an easy moment.

He caught Cole just outside the holding cell behind the courtroom. The bailiffs were busy transporting other defendants up and down from the jail, and there was another defendant and his attorney waiting in the cell itself, so they'd handcuffed Cole to the elevator bars until they could get to him, which would be when it was.

Hardy stood next to him. 'We'll keep trying on the bail,' he said. 'It still could happen.'

'So what do I do between now and the preliminary hearing?'

'We'll have to talk a lot. Maybe see if you can remember something.'