Free Darwin's Blade by Dan Simmons Page B

the right to remain silent, anything he said could and would be used against him in a court of law, he had the right to an attorney, if he could not afford an attorney, one would be appointed for him. Did he understand?
    â€œYou’re reading it?” Dar asked. “You must repeat it ten thousand times a year.”
    â€œShut the fuck up,” explained the trooper.
    Dar nodded and remained silent. He had been Mirandized. And a perfectly good adjective had been made into a verb.
    At the Riverside County jail, a low, ugly structure right next to the tall, ugly Riverside city hall complex, the young CHP officers reclaimed their cuffs and officially handed him over to the Riverside sheriff, who gave him to a young deputy to book. Dar had never been arrested before. Still, all of the procedures—emptying the pockets of personal possessions, fingerprinting, and mug shot—were familiar from TV and the movies, of course, and it all combined to give him a strange sense of disembodied déjà vu that added to the unreal quality of the last hour or so.
    He was put in a holding cell, alone but for the company of a few sullen cockroaches. About fifteen minutes later, the deputy returned and said, “You got a call coming. Want to call your lawyer?”
    â€œI don’t have a lawyer,” Dar said truthfully. “Can I call my therapist?”
    The deputy was not amused.
    Dar called Trudy, who had dealt with so many legal issues that she could have passed the bar exam with half her brain tied behind her back. Instead of handling legal issues herself, however, she and Lawrence kept one of the best lawyers in California on retainer. It was necessary given that Stewart Investigations occasionally got dragged into one of the broad lawsuit nets cast out by hopeful litigants plying the fraudulent-insurance-claim waters as diligently and daily and doggedly as New England fishermen.
    â€œTrudy, I—” began Dar when she picked up the phone.
    â€œYes, I know,” she interrupted. “I didn’t catch it live, but Linda taped it for me. The commentators are going on about road rage.”
    â€œRoad rage!” shouted Dar. “Those bastards tried to kill me and then I—”
    â€œYou’re at Riverside, right?” interrupted Trudy again.
    â€œRight.”
    â€œI’ve got one of W.D.D’s associates on the way. You’ll give a deposition there at Riverside with the associate present and he’ll have you out in an hour.”
    Dar stood and blinked at the phone. “Trudy, bail’s going to be about a billion dollars. Two men are dead. Dead live on Channel Five. Riverside County’s not going to let me out of here without—”
    â€œThere’s more to this than meets the Insta-Cam,” said Trudy. “I’ve been on the phone. I know who the two guys were and why the CHP and county mounties aren’t releasing your name to the media. And why W.D.D. will be able to—”
    â€œWho were they?” said Dar, realizing that he was shouting again. “Did they say on TV?”
    â€œNo, it wasn’t on TV and we’re all going to be further enlightened tomorrow morning at the San Diego deputy district attorney’s office,” said Trudy. “Nine A.M. You’ll be out on bail…the San Diego County DA already has a writ from one of his judges asking the Riverside County judge to be lenient. Don’t worry about media following you home…Your name isn’t going to be leaked until at least tomorrow.”
    â€œBut…” Dar said, and realized he did not know what else to say.
    â€œWait for W.D.D.’s associate,” said Trudy. “Go home and take a hot shower. Lawrence just called in and I let him know what’s going on. We’ll give you a call tonight and then you’ll get a good night’s sleep. It looks like we’ll all need it for tomorrow.”
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    W.D.D. Du Bois,