I’d told Volchek I needed to read the case files to make sure there were no more surprises that could threaten his bail. Outside the chambers, in the reception room, Arturas and Volchek were whispering. I tried listening to their conversation, but I couldn’t really make it out. It was past seven, full dark outside and raining hard. Victor lay on the green couches in the outer office, relaxed. I thought of Harry—there was a huge risk in roping him into this. Harry was, after all, a judge. But to me he was more than that; he was a friend. If it weren’t for Harry, I would’ve stayed in the con game my whole life. Hustling seemed like a cocaine rush for the first few years, and if the kick wasn’t addictive enough, the money sure got you hooked real fast. My targets were mostly insurance companies. Companies just like the one that had taken my dad’s health insurance premium every month and then let him die instead of paying out on the policy. Health care fraud played a small part in my operation; I mainly focused on motor accident fraud: a high-risk, high-reward game against some of the most devious minds you could imagine.
