Jack Reisman and Melanie Welch stepped out of the courtroom together. “Your husband here yet, Mel?”
She shaded her eyes with her hand. “I don’t see him. Wait, there he is.”
“Good. See you in the office at eight tomorrow.”
She paused and looked into his eyes. “Jack? Are you okay? You seem a little weary.”
He sighed. “I am weary. This trial a no-win situation.”
“You could’ve given it to your chief assistant.”
He shook his head. “Dennis would’ve done his best and lost, and I might’ve had to fire him when he was done because of the political pressure. This way, the public takes their anger out on me.” He managed a wan smile. “Maybe you and your next boss will get along half as well as we do.”
“Don’t talk like that, Jack! You’re not going anywhere.”
“Come on, Melanie! Even if I don’t get impeached – or maybe lynched – I sure won’t be re-elected next fall. This trial’s going to bust me back to teaching Intro to Contracts 101 no matter how it ends, and we both know it.”
She opened her mouth but nothing came out. He patted his sister on the shoulder. “Go have dinner with Matt. Have a good time. Relax. Laugh. Go dancing.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Go find a good makeout spot and remind him just what a sexy lady he married.”
She laughed. “Okay, Jack, you’ve talked me into it. See you tomorrow.”
He watched her step into the minivan and then returned his brother-in-law’s wave. He wondered if Matt and Melanie would let him stay with them until he found a new job.
A voice from behind his shoulder startled him. “She’s the lucky one, isn’t she?”
He spun around to find Connie Hunter grinning at him wryly. He put his hand to his chest and mimed distress. “Whoa, Connie, you’re gonna kill me one day doing that.”
“I doubt it. You have to have a heart before you can have a heart attack.”
“Oh, that’s just too cruel.”
“I know.” She dropped her gaze and scuffed her shoe on the concrete. “Did you set her up for me?”
“What? Set who up?”
“Chavez. Did you deliberately stick her out there on a limb, knowing I’d cut it off and let her crash and burn?”
He gave her a knowing smile. “Connie, you know better than that. I’m obliged to present all relevant evidence to the jury concerning the guilt of the defendant.”
“Uh-huh. And the lady with too many names is a good witness?”
“Best I had at the moment.”
She nodded. “I see.”
“I thought you would. By the way, you let it get a little personal in there today.”
“And you know why, too.” Her face hardened. “I detest lawyers who bend the law for personal gain. I despise lawyers who use the courts to cover up their client’s illegal activities. And I truly, deeply loathe a woman who pretends to be barely able to speak English just so she can appeal to the jury’s sympathy for the poor, downtrodden immigrant who’s made something of herself.” She took a step towards him. “What’s wrong with this picture, Jack? We’re supposed to search for the truth! We’re supposed to stand for justice and equality! Instead we’ve got these vultures – “
He lifted his hand. “Easy, Connie, easy. You know you have to maintain an emotional distance in order to pursue your case most effectively. It’s one of the first things they teach you in law school.”
She sighed. “Yeah, you’re right, I should. But I can’t step back. It eats at me, it consumes me, it takes it all out of me. I can’t represent a client as an abstract. I have to make it mean something. It’s always personal, especially when I deal with crooked lawyers like Yolanda Maria whatever.”
“I know. I feel pretty much the same way.”
“Then why don’t you go after them? Why don’t you put them out of business and stick them behind bars?”
He gave her an exaggerated shrug. “Then who’d defend the accused? Green kids who’ve just barely passed their bar exams on the fifth try?”
“Funny man.” She assumed a thoughtful expression. “You know, that might not be such a bad idea after all. Maybe we’d clear out the backlog of cases.”
“We don’t make the rules, Connie, we just play the game.”
She nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m still just hanging on and you’re not doing much better.”
He nodded sadly. “All we can do is all we can do. Besides, if you and I quit, who’ll take our places?”
“Melanie and Blair.”
He frowned. “My sister’s a good attorney, but she doesn’t have that go-for-the-jugular attitude a good DA needs. I haven’t told her this, but I’m hoping Matt can convince her to go back to private practice in a couple of years, after she fills out her resume some more. She should do civil or corporate law, not criminal prosecutions.”
She sighed. “I know what you mean. Blair’s very good, but she’s a bit idealistic, too. I hope this trial doesn’t do too much damage to her psyche.” She rallied and smiled at him. “How about dinner after this is over? My treat.”
A relaxed grin slowly spread over his face. “I thought you’d never ask.”
A shout from the top of the steps pulled their attention upwards. “Well, Jack, I can see that Blair has found me, despite my best efforts at evading her. Time to head back to the salt mine that masquerades as my office and get ready to eviscerate your next witness.”
Jack’s smile vanished in an instant. “Watch yourself, Connie, or you’ll have to visit your client in maximum security when you meet with him about his appeal.”
He didn’t wait for her response. He spun and stalked to the cab stand, trying to convince himself that he didn’t dare ease up on this case. And he also tried to convince himself that his parting shot to Connie hadn’t been personal, hadn’t been thrown because he felt insulted by Connie’s last teasing remark.
And if he somehow managed to win, what then?
As the cab door slammed shut and he gave his home address to the driver, he imagined a city without Superman in it.
The thought gave him no pleasure.
*****
Lois came out of her bedroom after changing into jeans and sweatshirt and stopped. She hadn’t had a chance to shop for groceries lately, so she was down to the kind of meager foodstuffs she’d stocked back when she’d first met Clark. Unless she went out to either shop or eat, she’d have to finally open that last can of tuna.
She was searching in vain for a jar of unspoiled mayonnaise when her Windsor Castle door chime rang. Stupid English doorbell, she thought. Ought to ignore it.
The bell rang again. She sighed and made her way to the door. When she peeked through the spy hole, she was greeted by the sight of a pizza box top. One of the hands holding the box also held a plastic grocery bag, out of the top of which peeked at least two large soft drink bottles.
Reasoning that a burglar, a rapist, or a serial killer wouldn’t bring dinner and beverages with him, she opened the door.
An overly cheery voice called out, “Hey, boss lady! You hungry yet?”
“Ron?” She stepped back and let him in. “Why are you here?”
“I figured you’d be hungry after today, and I overheard you tell Catharine this morning how bare your cupboard was, so I thought I’d surprise you.”
She blinked. “You did that.”
“I got two mediums, one half pepperoni and half hamburger, and one half extra cheese and half supreme. Hope you like part of it, at least.”
“It sounds delicious, Ron, but – “
He headed for the kitchen. “Hey, you got ice? These bottles aren’t cold.”
“Ron.”
The tone of her voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned to face her. “Yes?”
She sighed. “Ron, this is very thoughtful of you, but I’m not sure we should be having dinner together in my apartment.”
He put the pizzas and soda on the kitchen table, then turned back to face her again. “Look, Lois, this is just a guy trying to do something nice for his boss, a woman he respects and cares about. That’s all, I promise.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know – “
He held up his hand. “I’ll make you a deal. We have pizza, we talk, we watch TV, and when it’s time to go I’ll go. That’s your call. No pressure, I promise.”
She frowned in thought. He waited for a long moment, then sighed deeply and nodded. “That’s okay. I understand. Lois, I don’t know what you thought I meant this afternoon, but I don’t have romantic aspirations where you’re concerned. You got Clark and he’s got you. I respect that, really I do. Besides, you’re not my type.”
Her eyes and mouth dropped open. “What? What’s wrong with me that I’m not your type?”
His eyes crinkled. “Aside from the fact that Kent wouldn’t like knowing that you even asked me that question, my type of woman is one who doesn’t sign my annual job performance review. I’d hate to think my business relationship with my girlfriend also determined whether I took her to the Skyview Tower for dinner or to the nearest Burger Whiz.”
Lois allowed herself a light chuckle. “As appetizing as tuna with no mayo might be, pizza and soda it is. I don’t suppose you brought breadsticks, too?”
“Are you kidding? Do you know how fattening those things are?”
*****
Superman flew slowly through the night sky, checking for landmarks along the way. He’d foiled a robbery earlier by just landing beside the store being broken into. The two thieves had looked at him in astonishment, sighed, and simply handed him their tools and sat down against the side of the building to await the police. Superman had made sure the officers knew that the men, while they might be burglars, probably weren’t violent offenders and hadn’t tried to resist him or run away. The two men had wisely cooperated with the arresting officers and were now awaiting arraignment in night court.
He wished all his adventures would end like that – no fuss, no muss, nobody hurt or even excited. He hadn’t even touched those two men.
Both of them had looked familiar to him. He wasn’t sure, but perhaps they’d been in the holding cell with him and Tiny. If so, he almost hoped they’d catch a break and maybe learn something. Jail wasn’t a pleasant place, and they had a much better chance of staying out of jail if they didn’t try to rob people or places of business.
Without really meaning to, he found himself drifting low over Lois’s apartment building. He told himself he’d only stop in for a few minutes, then he’d have to zip over to the Philippines and do some real work as Clark as well as get some sleep before returning to court the next morning. He angled himself to look through Lois’s wall without looking through any of the neighboring apartments.
It wasn’t like her old place, where he had to fly up and tap on her window. This place had a balcony where he could land and step quickly out of sight before tapping, and he suddenly realized he’d forgotten the balcony was there the night he’d come over after saving the cruise ship.
The thought gave him a chuckle, but then it vanished as he thought about Lois. He hoped she wasn’t hurting too much, but then, if the condition of his own heart was any indication, she might be drowning in a puddle of tears by now. He’d just sneak a quick look and –
And she was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, holding her stomach in hysterical laughter. A half-empty bottle of soda stood on the living room table beside an open pizza box and between two plastic cups.
Two cups? Who else was there?
He raised the angle of his X-ray vision and saw Ron Dombrowski on the far end of the couch, also bent over in laughter.
Ron and Lois.
Lois and Ron.
So that was – whatever it was. And it didn’t look like there was room for him in there.
He didn’t blame her, not really. She’d told him how hard it was for her. She’d made it clear that she wanted certain things from him, assurances of the future he wasn’t sure he could give to her and remain honest. Maybe it was better that she not wait for him. He’d heard about relationships that had been shredded by prison time, families that were torn apart, friendships that had ended, and hearts that simply stopped beating because a loved one was taken away. The last thing he wanted for Lois was for her to waste her life waiting for him.
And if Superman went to prison, Clark Kent would have to disappear. There was no way to maintain both identities from inside the Big House, in the slammer, up the river, in the joint, behind bars, as an involuntary guest of the state, whatever euphemism one might choose. No, a guilty verdict would spell the end of his civilian life, and the end of any relationship he might have had with Lois.
Then, when he finally got out of prison, Superman would retreat to some remote mountain where he could spend the remainder of his days alone, doing whatever good he could, as long as it didn’t involve getting involved with people. The red-and-blue suit would vanish, and the hero would eventually fade into half-remembered history, mentioned only on quiz shows and in trivia games.
He closed his eyes and lifted away from the building. The Philippines were a long way off and he needed to do some real reporting while he was there. Maybe he could take his mind off his problems with some real-world work. At least, as long as he was still free.
>>> Wednesday, September 24th
Superman answered Clark’s cell phone while hovering in the sky between Metropolis and Smallville. “Hello?”
“Superman! This is Connie Hunter! How fast can you get to the DA’s office?”
“Um, about two minutes. Why?”
“Jack Reisman wants a meeting with us before the trial starts today. Blair and I are about ten minutes away from the courthouse. I hope you can meet us there.”
“I can. As soon as I see you reach to top of the steps outside, I’ll join you and walk in with you. Don’t be surprised if I seem to appear out of nowhere beside you.”
“Okay. See you in ten – no, in nine minutes. Bye.”
He flipped the phone shut and coasted the rest of the way. He’d intended to make a quick patrol, but the timing of this meeting was promising. If the DA wanted to drop the charges, that would work almost as well as an acquittal.
He watched for Connie and Blair, and when they reached the top of the stone steps leading up to the courthouse entrance, he swooped down and silently appeared behind them as if he’d teleported there.
He didn’t often show off with his powers, but he couldn’t help enjoying the expressions on the faces of the people – mostly media – who’d nearly swallowed their tongues at his seemingly magical appearance. He glanced down and saw Blair nudge Connie, who grinned back and said, “Well, you know, Blair, it isn’t every day those folks get to see the country’s best lawyer tandem in person.”
Blair laughed musically. “Havin’ the world’s most visible client tagging along behind don’t hurt much neither.”
They were past the reporters before anyone could jump in front of them and point a microphone in their faces, and a determined pose from Superman kept the jackals from following the trio into the building.
Jack met them in the hallway and hustled them into a side conference room. “Everyone sit, please. Thanks for coming in on such short notice.”
Connie leaned her elbows on the table. “Let’s make it quick, Jack. I missed breakfast because of this and I’m hungry.”
He gave her a lopsided grin and nodded. “Sure. I can tell that this trial is pretty much a no-win situation for all of us. If I win, I’m liable to be vilified as the man who put Superman behind bars, and if I lose, I’ll be the guy who let a celebrity off just because he’s a celebrity.” He stood and put his hands in his pockets. “Connie, win or lose, this won’t be a career-making case for you or for Blair. A lot of people expect you to win, so you won’t get much of a boost if you win an acquittal, and if the jury returns a conviction, you two will be the dirty so-and-sos who let a superhero go to jail.”
Connie tilted her head to one side. “So what’s your suggestion, Jack?”
“We settle. We reduce the charges to trespassing and simple assault, sentencing recommendation of three years probation, Superman pleads guilty, and his record will be expunged upon completion of the probationary period.” He resumed his seat. “What do you say?”
Connie leaned back and picked at a non-existent piece of lint on her skirt. “I say, why?”
“What do you mean, ‘why’? I’d think that was obvious.”
She lifted her eyes to him again. “It is. You’re trying to salvage your career from a lousy situation and you’re willing to tarnish my client in order to do it.” She looked around. “Is there a reason your sister isn’t here?”
Jack frowned. “She’s prepping our next witness.”
“Lois Lane?”
Jack scowled at her. “Not that it makes any difference to you, but yes, Lois Lane is the first witness we were planning to call today.”
“So, you’re ready to go forward if we don’t accept your oh-so-generous offer?”
He exhaled noisily. “Connie, we go back a ways together. You know me and you know I want justice done just as much as you do. I promise you, this isn’t a trap. It’s not a bad deal, it’s a good one. All I’m trying to do is stop the avalanche of bad publicity for your client.”
Connie looked deep into his eyes for two long breaths, then turned to Superman and whispered, “It’s really not a bad deal, not bad at all. What do you think?”
Superman leaned close to her ear. “Do you trust him?”
“Jack will try to whipsaw crooked lawyers and pressure guilty defendants, but he won’t lie to them and he’s not lying now. Yes, I trust that he’s telling the truth about his reasons and about the deal.”
Superman looked at Blair, who nodded agreement. He sat back and frowned in thought for a long moment, then lifted his gaze to the DA. “Mr. Reisman, thank you for your offer.”
Jack exhaled in relief, then began to stand. “I’ll have Melanie start the paperwork and notify the judge of the deal – “
“But I can’t accept.”
Jack froze in position. “What?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t accept this deal.”
His jaw fell open and he flopped down onto the chair. “You – can’t accept it?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
Jack leaned forward and gestured with both hands. “For crying out loud, why not?”
“I don’t want a deal. I want to be either exonerated or convicted. No middle ground.”
Jack shook his head as if trying to clear it. “Hey! I put my reputation and my relationship with Judge Fields on the line with this offer! I’m trying to save us all a lot more grief!”
“I know that, sir, and I appreciate your efforts.” Superman stood. “But I simply can’t accept any deal that includes my pleading guilty to any criminal act. If I walk out of court with a criminal record, the people of Metropolis will be the ones who make it happen, not me.” He crossed his arms. “I won’t volunteer to be convicted of any crime.”
Jack shook his head, still astounded. He looked at Connie and asked, “Were you conscious when you took this case?”
Connie and Blair both tried to hide their grins. “Yes, Jack. And we’ll be conscious when the smoke clears and we’re standing tall at the end.” She stood and turned to Superman. “Come with me, young man. I haven’t eaten breakfast yet and I’m famished. I must have sustenance in order to defend you from the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Blair, you coming?”
“Naw, you two go ahead. I’m gonna make sure we get a good seat.”
Connie grinned. “Good idea. You ready, Superman?”
He nodded. “As long as you’re buying, sure.” At her surprised expression, he explained, “Where do you expect me to carry money in this suit?”
*****
They found a booth with no one sitting on either side, and the rest of the morning diners did their best to stay away from Superman and his attorney. Connie dug into her ham and eggs while Superman sipped his apple juice and played with a plate of extra-crisp bacon. “You really were hungry, weren’t you?” he asked.
She nodded and gulped at her milk. “I’d like to think this is something I’d eat every day if I were a farmer.”
“So you don’t eat like this on a daily basis?”
“Are you kidding? Lawyers don’t burn many calories writing briefs, filing motions, and negotiating contracts. A daily breakfast like this and I’d look like that sleazy little weasel over there.”
He looked in the direction of her gesture. “You mean Mike Petersen?”
“Didn’t know his name. Medium height, Caucasian, mid-forties or a little more, somewhat pot-bellied and wide in the rear end, bad haircut, glasses too small for his face, poorly fitted tan sports coat, dull white shirt, dark slacks and socks, and badly scuffed brown loafers. He’s sitting near the register, trying very hard not to look at us.”
Superman smiled. “I’d think that last would describe about everybody in the place.”
“They don’t get many superheroes in here.”
He picked up a piece of bacon and chewed it thoughtfully. “Not too bad. A little greasy, though. My mom wouldn’t have served this without draining it better.”
“Your mother doesn’t cook here, which doubtless makes her a certified genius.” She pointed to his apple juice. “You ordered it, you drink it, okay?” She took another bite and chewed it quickly. “We don’t have much time. The judge will walk back into the courtroom at ten sharp.”
He chomped down on his bacon and washed it down. “You’re the lawyer.”
“Yeah, about that.” She paused and looked directly at him. “Tell me something. Why did you turn down Jack’s offer? If you were any other defendant, I’d strongly advise you to take it and be thrilled.”
“I’m not just any defendant.”
“No, you’re not, but it was still a good offer.”
“You think I should have accepted?”
“That’s your decision. All I can do is represent you and advise you.”
“But you’re not sure I made the right decision?”
She stuffed the last of her toast into her mouth and chewed enthusiastically. “There’s no guarantee in any jury trial. If I had to guess at this point, I’d say you have at least an eighty percent chance of being acquitted.”
“It’s going that well?”
She shrugged. “Unless Jack can pull a shocking witness or a boatload of incriminating evidence out of his hat at the last minute, yes, especially when we start presenting our own witnesses.” She cut the last piece of ham into bite-sized pieces. “Why? You worried?”
He frowned and looked at the table. “Not specifically about the trial, no.”
“Then what?”
He looked briefly at the people nearest them and decided they weren’t close enough to overhear. “I’m not sure I made the right decision.”
“About Jack’s offer? I can call him back. I’m sure he – “
“No. Not about the offer.”
She put down her silverware and gave him her full attention. “Superman, what do you think you might have made the wrong decision about?”
He hesitated, then said, “About Bill Church.”
She leaned forward and spoke quietly but forcefully. “You are about three-plus years too late to be thinking about that. What’s done is done and you can’t change it now. All you can do is deal with the consequences.”
“I – “
“Listen to me! I’m not your confessor, your conscience, or your judge. My function is not to determine your guilt or innocence, but to represent you to the best of my ability in a court of law. If you have moral doubts about your past actions, congratulations! It means you’re just as human as the rest of us.”
He frowned in thought. “I thought at the time that I had to make sure he couldn’t hurt anyone else. I didn’t want anyone else to die. All I could think of at that moment was to make sure he couldn’t be responsible for any more deaths.”
Connie exhaled sharply. “I understand that! Believe it nor not, I’m in favor of capital punishment for some crimes, mass murder being one of them. The deliberate, unprovoked taking of one or more lives is abhorrent to me. God can forgive people like that, but the state has to bring them to justice. Bill Church falls in that category, Superman. He was responsible for the commission of more than forty murders on that one night, and I don’t know how many more during the years before.”
“That doesn’t mean I – “
“Hey!” She grabbed his forearm with both hands and squeezed with all her might. “I said I wasn’t your judge and I’m not! And I detest vigilantes who think they know more than all the courts and judges and citizens who participate in the legal process. But given the provocation, the circumstances, and the whole situation, I think you did the right thing that night.”
He nodded. “Thanks. But I’m still not sure I did.”
She relaxed her grip. “Then deal with it however you need to, but do it after the trial. The people of Metropolis will decide the issue of your guilt for the charge of murder in the second degree. The question of the morality of the deed is up to you, and I’m sure we’ll hear from a whole bunch of people who think they know the absolute right answer. They’ll be on each side of this issue, and nothing anyone says will change their minds.”
“I know that. I just – “ His head popped up and he leaned to one side for a moment, then Connie felt a ‘whoosh’ and suddenly Superman was standing beside the table with the lumpy man she’d pointed out a few minutes earlier.
Superman was holding the smaller man by the collar of his coat and one forearm. “Connie, this is Mike Petersen. He works for the National Daily Whisper, a newspaper quite unlike the Daily Planet. I don’t think you two have met.”
She leaned back and crossed her arms. “I gather that your introduction isn’t a mere social nicety.”
“It’s not.” He reached into Petersen’s jacket and pulled out a tape recorder connected to a long tubular device. “He had a shotgun microphone trained on us. This is a recording of our conversation.”
She held out her hand. “May I?”
“Of course.”
Petersen finally roused himself. “Hey, that’s private property!”
Connie impaled Petersen with a laser glare. “So what? You were using it to record a private conversation without the knowledge or consent of those being recorded. That’s a Federal offense as well as a violation of state law.” She opened the recorder and dropped the tape into her hand. “Let’s see, should I give this to Jack Reisman, let the Federal prosecutor know about it, or just keep it and sue you and your bird cage liner of a newspaper for every nickel any of you might have stashed in some piggy bank somewhere?”
Petersen paled, and his eyes grew immense. “Look, lady, I was just doin’ my job! I got a right to make a living!”
Superman reached under the back of his coat and pulled out a second recorder. “Not if it violates the rights of others, you don’t.”
“You’re a public figure, Superman! Anything you do is news!”
“Then write about this, Petersen.” Superman crushed both tape recorders, the microphone, and the second tape into tiny plastic and metal fragments, then let them slowly dribble between his fingers and down to the floor. Connie looked at the tape in her hand, sighed, and handed it to Superman, who persuaded it to join its brother in magnetic tape heaven.
Connie looked down at the pile of rubble and made ‘tsk-tsk’ noises. “What a shame. I guess they don’t make unlawful eavesdropping equipment like they used to.” She stood and gathered her belongings. “Oh, Mr. Petersen? If you try to publish anything you might have overheard using your illegal surveillance equipment, I will gleefully sue you and your boss and your paper and your publisher and anyone else remotely connected to your sleazy enterprise. The resulting scandal will make the Preston Carpenter fiasco look like a child’s first birthday party.” She stepped close and drove her gaze upward into his face. “Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
Petersen tried to step back, but Superman’s thumb in the center of his spine prevented him from moving. “Answer the nice lady, Mike.”
Petersen licked his lips, then nodded. “Yeah. You’re clear.”
Connie leaned even closer and her voice hardened. “And nothing of this will appear in print, will it, Mr. Petersen?”
Petersen gasped as he leaned against the steel thumb held in place against his spine. He looked at Superman, who only gazed back impassively. He turned back to the diminutive but terrifying woman in front of him. “Yeah. Okay. Deal. Nothing in print. I didn’t hear anything anyway.” She didn’t move for a moment. “C’mon! I swear it! It was all on the tapes! I didn’t have an earpiece and he still spotted me!”
She stepped back and smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Petersen. I’m pleased to have made your acquaintance. Perhaps we can do lunch some day.”
He felt the pressure disappear from his back and heaved a great sigh. “Yeah. Great. Lunch.”
Connie gathered Superman with a hand gesture. “Have your people contact my office and we’ll set a date. Sorry I can’t stay and chat, but I do have an appointment with a judge. Toodle-oo.”
Petersen watched them leave. When both had vanished from his sight, he glanced down at his pulverized equipment. Then he pulled a grubby handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his sweaty face dry. He sighed in relief that he wasn’t in pieces on the floor beside his stuff.
He knew what Superman could do. More importantly, he knew what Superman would not do, at least not to him. He could take whatever the hero chose to dish out, because his ethics would prevent him from doing anything permanently damaging. But that woman scared him stiff. He was far more frightened of the attorney than the client.
And he had no idea what he’d tell his boss about the loss of the tape recorders.
