Rage of Angels

Rage of Angels Read Free Page A

Book: Rage of Angels Read Free
Author: Sidney Sheldon
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herself inside the witness room. It was a small, uncomfortable-looking room containing a battered desk, an old sofa and wooden chairs. Stela was seated in one of them, his arm twitching wildly. There were four armed deputies in the room.
    As Jennifer entered, one of the guards said, “Hey! Nobody’s allowed in here.”
    The outside guard called, “It’s okay, Al. D.A.’s office.”
    Jennifer handed Stela the envelope. “Mr. Di Silva wants you to refresh your recollection about these dates.”
    Stela blinked at her and kept twitching.

2
    As Jennifer was making her way out of the Criminal Courts Building on her way to lunch, she passed the open door of a deserted courtroom. She could not resist stepping inside the room for a moment.
    There were fifteen rows of spectators’ benches on each side of the rear area. Facing the judge’s bench were two long tables, the one on the left marked Plaintiff and the one on the right marked Defendant. The jury box contained two rows of eight chairs each. It’s an ordinary courtroom , Jennifer thought, plain—even ugly—but it’s the heart of freedom. This room and all the courtrooms like it represented the difference between civilization and savagery. The right to a trial by a jury of one’s peers was what lay at the heart of every free nation. Jennifer thought of all the countries in the world that did not have this little room, countries where citizens were taken from their beds in the middle of the night and tortured and murdered by anonymous enemies for undisclosed reasons: Iran,Uganda, Argentina, Peru, Brazil, Romania, Russia, Czechoslovakia…the list was depressingly long.
    If the American courts were ever stripped of their power , Jennifer thought, if citizens were ever denied the right to a trial by jury, then America would cease to exist as a free nation. She was a part of the system now and, standing there, Jennifer was filled with an overwhelming feeling of pride. She would do everything she could to honor it, to help preserve it. She stood there for a long moment, then turned to leave.
    From the far end of the hall there was a distant hum that got louder and louder, and became pandemonium. Alarm bells began to ring. Jennifer heard the sound of running feet in the corridor and saw policemen with drawn guns racing toward the front entrance of the courthouse. Jennifer’s instant thought was that Michael Moretti had escaped, had somehow gotten past the barrier of guards. She hurried out into the corridor. It was bedlam. People were racing around frantically, shouting orders over the din of the clanging bells. Guards armed with riot guns had taken up positions at the exit doors. Reporters who had been telephoning in their stories were hurrying into the corridor to find out what was happening. Far down the hall, Jennifer saw District Attorney Robert Di Silva wildly issuing instructions to half a dozen policemen, his face drained of color.
    My God! He’s going to have a heart attack, Jennifer thought.
    She pushed her way through the crowd and moved toward him, thinking that perhaps she could be of some use. As she approached, one of the deputies who had been guarding Camillo Stela looked up and saw Jennifer. He raised an arm and pointed to her, and five seconds later Jennifer Parker found herself being grabbed, handcuffed and placed under arrest.
    There were four people in Judge Lawrence Waldman’s chambers: Judge Waldman, District Attorney Robert Di Silva, Thomas Colfax, and Jennifer.
    “You have the right to have an attorney present before you make any statement,” Judge Waldman informed Jennifer, “and you have the right to remain silent. If you—”
    “I don’t need an attorney, Your Honor! I can explain what happened.”
    Robert Di Silva was leaning so close to her that Jennifer could see the throbbing of a vein in his temple. “Who paid you to give that package to Camillo Stela?”
    “Paid me? Nobody paid me!” Jennifer’s voice was quavering with

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