Эндрю Найдерман (Andrew Neiderman)Synopsis:
DEFENDER OF THE DAMNED...
When Kevin Taylor joins the Manhattan criminal law firm of John Milton and Associates, he's hit the big time. At last, he and his wife can enjoy the luxuries they've so desired-a chauffeur-driven limo, a stunning home in the very building that Mr. Milton himself lives in. Little does Kevin realize that he's joined
A BROTHERHOOD OF BLOOD
John Milton assigns Kevin one of the most notorious cases of the year, along with a file that had been put together prior to the crime. Throwing himself into his work, Kevin begins to see a pattern of evil emerging from behind the plush facade of his firm. As he watches them win every courtroom battle, and sees every criminal walk free, his mounting suspicions give way to all-out terror. For Kevin has become
THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE and there's no turning back from the world of the damned...
"THE CHILD WAS FOUND THE NEXT DAY IN THE BATHTUB. DEAD."
"Jesus," said Kevin.
"After you're with us for a while, Kevin, you'll stop saying that," Mr. Milton said. Kevin looked con¬fused. "It shouldn't surprise you that the world is full of pain and suffering. And Jesus doesn't seem to be doing much about it," Mr. Milton explained.
"But I just don't see how you can get used to it."
"You do, or at least you get hard enough to do your job well," Mr. Milton said.
Mr. Milton slid a folder across the table to Dave who passed it on to Kevin. Despite his desire to get started on something exciting, Kevin felt icicles slide down his back. All eyes were on him now, so he smiled quickly.
"It's going to be an exciting case, Kevin; you will be baptized in fire," Mr. Milton said. "But there isn't a man here who hasn't been, and just look at them now."
Kevin looked around the room to see the other associates gazing at him. Each had a brilliant, eager intensity. He felt as if he were joining more than a law firm; he was joining some kind of brotherhood of blood...
Prologue
Richard Jaffee hurried down the steps of the court building in New York's Federal Plaza more like an attorney who had just lost a case than an attorney who had just won. Strands of his thin raven-black hair broke loose and danced about his head as he raced down the stone steps. Passersby took only casual notice of him. People in New York were always rushing to make a train, to make a cab, to beat out a changing light. Often they were just being carried along by the momentum moving through Manhat¬tan's arteries, pumped by the invisible yet omnipres¬ent giant heart that made the city pulsate like no other city in the world.