At 2:00 p.m., away from the stampede of reporters, Rusty and Kirk appeared via remote cameras in front of a federal magistrate. They had not had time to retain counsel, though both were busy trying to do so. They were being held separately and could not compare notes or give each other advice. Rusty requested a reasonable bond but the government objected pending a more thorough hearing. The assistant U.S. Attorney described both men as having access to money and owning vacation homes. Thus they, at least for the time being, should be considered flight risks. It was also noted that just three weeks earlier, Rusty Malloy had chartered a private jet for a vacation in the Caribbean.
The fact that the government knew this stunned Rusty because it proved that the FBI had been digging through his life for some time.
The magistrate, a man Rusty knew on a first-name basis, did not buy the flight risk argument, but was not ready to set a bond either. He ordered a bail hearing for 9:00 a.m. Monday.
Barring some slick end run by a defense lawyer, the Malloy brothers would spend the weekend in jail.
（40）
The slickest defender in town was F. Ray Zalinski, a white-collar-crime specialist Rusty had known for years. F. Ray had begun the day in federal court in Columbia, but upon hearing the news raced back home to St. Louis. At 2:45, he finally made it to the jail and was taken to an attorney conference room where he waited half an hour for his client. Rusty eventually arrived in handcuffs and a faded, oversized orange jumpsuit. When the jailers removed the handcuffs and closed the door, the two awkwardly sat at the metal table.
With a raspy, wounded voice, Rusty said, “Thanks for coming.”
F. Ray offered a quick smile and said, “I assume you want me for the defense, right?”
“Sure, thanks. I tried to call.”
“So how are you doing?”
“How do you think? Not good. I’m still in shock, you know? Still sleepwalking through this, can’t believe it. Every minute or so I have to remind myself to try and breathe.”
“I got Doyle on the phone driving in and we discussed bail. Looks like you might be here for the weekend, get out Monday.”
Rusty shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Whatever. It’s not that bad. I feel safe. A lot safer in here than out there. You seen the news?”
“No, not yet.”
“It’s awful. Everything’s awful. I can’t believe it.”
“You want to talk about the charges?”
Rusty shook his head and scratched a jaw. A minute passed. “Back when I finished law school, my father made me work as a public defender, said I needed to get my hands dirty, learn what life was like in the streets. I had a lot of clients, all of them poor, almost all guilty, and I learned the lesson that you, the lawyer, never ask a criminal client if he’s guilty, if he did the crime. Why? Because they never tell the truth. Second, because you don’t want to know the truth.”
“I’d like to hear the truth, Rusty. It’ll make it easier.”
“Okay. The truth is that Bolton had a deal with Sturgiss to buy a pardon for two million dollars. We found out about it. We went to Jackal and offered to top Bolton’s deal to kill the pardon. For a lot of reasons, Bolton needs to stay in prison.”
“How much?”
“Jackal came back and said it would cost three million, plus a little on the side for him. We agreed to their terms.”
“Who tipped the Feds?”
“Don’t know.”
“Okay. As far as the Feds are concerned, assume they’re listening to everything. Do not talk to your brother or anyone at the firm. In fact, don’t say a word to anyone period. If you get out Monday we’ll find a place to hide. You okay until then?”
“Yes. If Bolton can survive five years in prison, I can handle a long weekend in jail.”
“Good. Something else to start thinking about. There are multiple defendants and not all will be treated the same. It’s never too early to go to Doyle and get a deal.”
“I’m not sure—”
“Cooperate, Rusty. My job is to get you off free and clear, but if that doesn’t work, then to get you the best deal. You gotta think about saving your own skin because you can bet your ass the others will try to save theirs.”
“Turn state’s evidence?”
“You got it. Rat ’em out for a good deal. Play ball with Doyle, make his case easier, and you get off much lighter. The big question, Rusty, is this: Can you turn on Jackal?”
“No problem.”
“Can you turn on your brother?”