Free The Burden of Proof by Scott Turow

the circumstances, Stern saw little reason to be refn, ing.
    "Two of your storm troopers arrived at my home a few days ago with a subpoena for my client Dixon Harmell."
    An instant passed without sound. Storm troopers. Stern himself was surprised by the ruffian edge in his voice. Ordinarily, he prided himself on his civility. In the mehnfime, Dixon, across the desk, was beaming. He had rarely been exposed to Stern when he was so pointed.
    "Perhaps I need to explain the circumstances," Stern said.
    "I understand the circumstances," Ms. lOonsky shot back.
    She was bristling already.
    No doubt, everyone understood the circumstances, Stern thought. He had many friends in the prosecufmg offices, both the Kindle County Prosecutor's and the United States Attorney's Office, but they were adversaries, too--and human. It was delicious gossip. Did you hear?
    About Stern's wife? Here again, as he contemplated this, the world seemed to open, and the force of painful emotion rushed up at him out of his own breast. How, how was it possible? It was such an unreasoning mess. He closed his eyes, which were burning, and he could sense Dixon stirring. It was a sad comment that his shame, more than anything else, brought on these moments, and that the same pride carded him throughmsome forward-straggling thing impelled him to go on with dignity. Where, damn it, was his cigar? When he spoke, there was no tremor in his voice.
    'If you understood, I must say I find your conduct deplorable. Perhaps I should speak to Mr. Sennett." Stan Sennett, a career prosecutor, had been U. S. Attorney for two or three years now. He was the toughest and most humorless of all, and far from an ally of Stern's. Sennett was unlikely to become exercisedwthe agents, after all, were just doing their jobswbut Klonsky could not say that.
    "Look, Mr. Stern, this was an honest mistake. It might even be," she said, "that if you gave me half a chance, I would have apologized. I've been calling you for days now."
    Stern, rebuked, still chose not to answer. She had een an Assistant for only a year, following a clerkship in the U. S. court of appeals, and, presumably, a distinguished law school career, and he sensed an advantage in her inexperience. She had acquired a reputation as bright but phlegmatic, even flaky, the kind to blow hot and cold. He did not wish to lend her any reassurance.
    "Tell me, Ms. Klonsky," said Stern, shifting the subject, "what is the nature of your investigation?"
    ',I'd prefer not to say right now."
    "Are other agencies involved besides the FBI?" Stern wanted to know about the IRS in. particular. They were always. trouble. And if the federal regulators were in-volvedmthe Commodities Futures Trading Commission he might gain some idea hous gossip. Did you hear? About Stern's wife? Here again, as he contemplated this, the world seemed to open, and the force of painful emotion rushed up at him out of his own breast. How, how was it possible? It was such an unreasoning mess. He closed his eyes, which were burning, and he could sense Dixon stirring. It was a sad comment that his shame, more than anything else, brought on these moments, and that the same pride carded him throughmsome forward-straggling thing impelled him to go on with dignity. Where, damn it, was his cigar? When he spoke, there was no tremor in his voice.
    'If you understood, I must say I find your conduct deplorable. Perhaps I should speak to Mr. Sennett." Stan Sennett, a career prosecutor, had been U. S. Attorney for two or three years now. He was the toughest and most humorless of all, and far from an ally of Stern's. Sennett was unlikely to become exercisedwthe agents, after all, were just doing their jobswbut Klonsky could not say that.
    "Look, Mr. Stern, this was an honest mistake. It might even be," she said, "that if you gave me half a chance, I would have apologized. I've been calling you for days now."
    Stern, rebuked, still chose not to answer. She had een an Assistant for only a