Power Lawyer 2

by Dave Daren

  “The white Toyota,” I replied. “He’s been back there since we left Roscoe’s. I just want to see if he’s really following us, or if he just happens to be heading the same way.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “For now,” I said, “Just drive and see how far he’s willing to follow us.”

  “Is there somewhere else we could go?” she asked. “Somewhere we could hide?”

  “Maybe.” I tried to sound more certain than I felt, but I was coming up against a blank wall. Short of checking into a hotel, I wasn’t sure what options we had. And I wasn’t sure that Agent Smart would appreciate a late-night plea for help.

  I made a quick left turn at the next yellow light, narrowly missing a cab out prowling for fares. The Toyota hung with me, cutting off a truck and eliciting a long honk from the horn.

  “Hold on,” I warned as I pulled the car into a sliding turn and up the ramp for the interstate. I’ll say this for Theo’s buddy, he knows how to fix a car. The Honda handled the sudden change in direction with barely a quiver. The Toyota, on the other hand, was a sliding mess. It nearly clipped another Toyota and got tapped by a truck. The car kept coming, though, so I punched the gas and felt the Honda shoot forward.

  We headed north, back towards the hills. We dodged traffic like old pros now, heavy even at this time of night. I hoped that someone in the pack of cars we just zipped through would be angry enough to call the police on our little chase, but no sirens or flashing lights appeared in our wake.

  I peeled off the interstate when traffic ground to a halt. I could see the guy with the stop sign just ahead, and yet another road crew at work. I wondered if it was the same guys who’d witnessed our earlier chase, then cut past a couple of cars with the same brilliant idea. As a general rule, driving on the shoulder is to be discouraged, but I figured I could be forgiven in the circumstances. The Toyota was still there, coming up faster than was really safe.

  I turned into a quiet, winding street and instantly realized my mistake. The Toyota closed the distance, no longer trying to hide. I tried to keep the Honda out of reach, but the Toyota managed to put a few dents in the bumper. I had to get back to a major thoroughfare, and I was trying to visualize a map of the city, when Anna grabbed my arm.

  A pair of headlights had appeared at a cross street just ahead. At first, I thought the driver would wait until our little roadshow had passed by. He sat there for several seconds, and then he started to pull out.

  “Crap,” I muttered. Anna said something far more indelicate.

  I slammed on the brakes and came to a halt just inches from the back end of the interloper. I breathed a sigh of relief, only to feel another car plow into the Honda. There was the sound of shattering glass, and my vision was filled with the stark white of the expanding airbag.

  A car alarm went off, and I roused myself from my stupor. I found Anna’s hand, and she squeezed back.

  “Can you get out?” I asked as I tried to maneuver around the airbag.

  “Yes,” she coughed.

  I heard her door squeak open then, just as I finally found the handle for mine. I had to push with all my strength, but the door popped open, and I stumbled from the car.

  I realized that the Toyota had pushed us into the back of the car in front of us, some strange boxy thing I didn’t recognize. It reminded me of those old Russian cars in the old spy movies. Given that it barely had a dent, I could almost believe that it was some secret agent’s car.

  “Hey,” the driver called as he stepped out of his vehicle, “What the hell is wrong with you people? Just how fast were you going?”

  Anna stumbled to my side and grabbed my hand.

  “And you had a woman with you?” the angry man now chided. “Man, you’re a piece of work. I’m calling the police.”

  “Vince,” Anna hissed.

  The door on the Toyota creaked, and I looked over my shoulder. A redhead with a misshapen nose and an angry glare had slid out from the driver’s seat.

  “Run,” I whispered as I tugged on her hand. I took off down the street, with Anna’s hand still in mine.

  “Hey,” the slow driver called out. “He’s got a gun!”

  On cue, I felt something whiz past my ear. I spotted a dark driveway with a handy gatepost and pulled Anna behind it. I risked a glance back towards the scene of the accident. The redhead was scowling into the night. He still had the gun in his hand and looked uncertain as to where he should point it. The third man had dodged behind a tree. He was on his phone and talking loudly.

  “Crazy man has a gun!” I heard him yell. “Get here fast!”

  Lights in a couple of the houses had come on, and I hoped that a few more calls to 9-1-1 were made. The redhead had apparently come to the same conclusion. He eyed his own car, then darted towards the front car. He hopped inside, turned the ignition, and disappeared into the night.

  “Unbelievable!” the driver exclaimed as he stepped out from behind the tree. “He just stole my car.”

  I could hear the sirens now. A few more lights went on, and some of the more adventurous neighbors had stepped outside to have a look.

  “We’ll have to talk to the police this time,” I warned Anna.

  “Okay,” she replied.

  We stepped back into the road and walked towards the cars. I felt Anna stumble, and I braced her until she had her balance.

  “Glad I left these in the car after the gym,” she sighed. She held up a foot so I could see the bright orange sneaker she had on.

  “Pink PJ’s and orange sneakers,” I teased. “You’re a fashion statement, for sure.”

  She gave me a playful punch in the arm just as the first police car arrived on the scene. We were instructed to keep our hands held high while the officers checked our cars. The man with the phone kept insisting that the guy with the gun had driven off, then followed that with a demand that someone go after his car. Anna and I didn’t say a word until the second squad car arrived. We were separated, then, and asked to give our statements to the officer.

  The cop I talked to was a tall man with ebony skin and a no-nonsense air. I told him everything, starting with Anna’s phone call. He asked for a few details along the way, like the who and why, and I told him it was likely related to Anna’s case. I gave him Agent Smart’s name and number, if he needed confirmation of anything.

  When the initial round of questions were complete, Anna and I drifted towards each other again. I saw that someone had at least found one of those silver thermal blankets for Anna, and she’d wrapped it around her shoulders like a cape.

  “She said she would send someone to the house,” Anna sighed.

  “My guy said the same thing,” I replied. “I also gave him Agent Smart’s information.”

  “I hope they let us leave soon,” she said. “I’m getting cold and tired.”

  “I’m sure they will,” I assured her as I rubbed her shoulders. “Tell me about the men.”

  “Are you trying to distract me?” she teased.

  “I am,” I admitted. “But I’m also curious. What do you remember?”

  “Not much,” she replied after a moment. “There wasn’t much to see with all the lights turned off. They were both white guys in dark clothing. I think the guy on the porch had a mole on his chin.”

  “Huh.”

  “What?” she prodded.

  “So, not Asian,” I finally said.

  “No, no Asians,” she agreed.

  “Sounds like Kurzak may have finally decided to take care of the situation,” I explained.

  Anna gave me a puzzled look, but I didn’t have the chance to say anything else. The officer who had interviewed me strolled our way as yet another police car drove up. Two plainclothes detectives got out and surveyed the scene.

  “Ms. Bernardi,” the cop said with a tip of his head. “A squad car went by the address you gave us. There wasn’t anyone still there.”

  “Thank goodness,” she sighed.

  “
Do you have somewhere else you could stay tonight?” he pressed.

  “Yes,” Anna replied as she glanced at me.

  “Mr. Creed,” the cop said as he now turned towards me. “I put in a call to the FBI. I’d like the two of you to stay here until we hear back.”

  “Ms. Bernardi has had a terrifying evening,” I protested. “Surely, whatever questions you have can wait until tomorrow.”

  “I’m sure it won’t take long,” the officer replied as he walked away.

  It was another hour before the police released us. Agent Smart had come through, and we were told to report to the detectives at eleven a.m. to finish our interviews. I started towards the Honda, but the officer stopped me.

  “You can’t drive that,” he said. “We’ll give you a lift.”

  “I just had it repaired,” I moaned.

  “You got someplace you want it towed?” he asked.

  “Here,” I said as I scrolled through my numbers. “Call this tow truck. Ask for Theo. Tell him it’s for Vince, and he’ll know where to take it.”

  “You have a tow truck guy?” the officer asked in amazement.

  “Don’t ask,” I replied.

  Anna and I were placed in the backseat of the detective car which I figured was at least a step up from a patrol car. The detective at the wheel managed the traffic effortlessly, even without the benefit of lights or sirens. Neither asked us any more questions about our nighttime activities, and I wondered if Agent Smart had said something.

  We pulled up in front of my new building, and Anna and I clambered out of the car. The detectives did at least wait long enough to make sure that we made it safely inside the building before they peeled away from the curb. We took the elevator upstairs in silence.

  I opened the door to the apartment and let Anna enter first. She stepped inside and looked around. I could tell she was wobbling. The adrenaline rush had worn off and now fatigue had settled in. I guided her to the second bedroom, pulled down the covers, and tucked her into bed. She rolled to her side, and a moment later, I heard her breathing slow into the steady rhythm of sleep. I tiptoed back to my bed and threw myself onto the sheets. I was asleep a heartbeat later.

  Chapter 15

  The first round of documents arrived at our office from the law offices of Ramsey Taft. They’d gone old school and sent over boxes of paper. There was an index, but it provided just the barest bits of information. Certainly not enough to help identify which pieces of paper actually held anything useful.

  We decided to sort the documents into two groups. I would review all the accounting material, and Sofia would try looking through the rest. Anna arrived near lunchtime and offered to help with the various ledgers.

  At first glance, the books appeared to be in order. Every last penny was carefully accounted for, and its trail carefully marked. Anna kept punching the numbers on the calculator, but she couldn’t find any errors.

  “I can’t believe how clean these numbers are,” she said in frustration.

  “It does seem odd,” I replied. “I’ve seen a lot of corporate reports, and I don’t think I’ve seen any this clean. There’s always an error somewhere. It’s usually so small that it doesn’t really have an effect, so no one notices.”

  “So they’re too clean,” Sofia commented as she stood up and stretched.

  “We just need to find the key,” I replied. “How’s your stack coming?”

  “The emails are really dull,” Sofia sighed. “All business.”

  “Really?” I asked in surprise. “Not a single joke or sports discussion in the lot?”

  “Apparently, their employees take the rule against personal use very seriously,” Sofia said with a shrug.

  “That’s not true,” Anna replied. “Fatima’s sent me personal emails.”

  “Well, they wouldn’t have produced anything that wasn’t related to the case,” Sofia pointed out.

  “Yes, but people usually have at least a few emails that contain both,” I mused. “Especially in those long string emails.”

  “You know,” Sofia said as she glanced through the pages, “I haven’t seen any string emails.”

  “Now I know that’s wrong,” I replied.

  “No,” Sofia confirmed as she flipped through several stacks, “No strings.”

  “They did some serious cherry picking,” I said. “Just like these accounts.”

  “What can we do?” Anna asked.

  “For now, we finish going through their production,” I answered. “Once we have a better sense of what we do and don’t have, we can go to the judge if we need to.”

  “He won’t like that,” Sofia warned. “And I’ll bet they produced just enough to say that they fully complied with the request.”

  “It’s a dastardly plan,” I sighed. “They’ll give us exactly what we asked for, and not a bit more. Each time we make another request, they’ll answer that one just as precisely. They’ll drag this out until we’re forced to go to the judge. And you’re right, they’ll be able to say that they’ve produced everything that was requested, so then we’ll have to ask the judge for more time.”

  “There must be something in all this we can use,” Anna said, an angry note slipping into her tone.

  “I’ve flagged some of the email,” Sofia said hopefully. “Discussions about certain shipments that seem cagey.”

  “There’s definitely something in these numbers,” I added. “I just have to find it.”

  We returned to our tasks, determined to find the evidence we knew had to exist. Sofia perked up when she found a series of emails from a shipping agent in Japan, asking about ArDex rates. There was a polite but firm ‘we’re not interested’ from ArDex, and the agent quickly gave up. The interesting emails followed after the agent received the brush-off and involved the head of shipping and Tucker Watts. The head of shipping was ticked off because no one had bothered to consult with him before responding to the request. In fact, no one had even told the head that a request had been made. The first emails from Watts were conciliatory and made vague promises about keeping everyone in the loop. By the end, Watts simply told the guy to shut up and move on or he might find himself without a job.

  I found myself on the trail of a money transfer from Happy Baby. It started off well enough, but then it suddenly disappeared into a black hole. I found it again, now labeled as a generic ‘payment’, in an expense account for office supplies. Where it went in between was still a mystery, and I knew, without a doubt, that if I could crack that case, I would have the key to all of the ArDex books.

  Ari must have used his Spidey-sense to realize that I was in danger of missing dinner because he called just as my stomach was starting to rumble.

  “Ari,” I chirped. “How goes life in the big firm?”

  “Busy,” he replied. “I have a new case involving a certain celebrity and her penchant for hitting her boyfriend.”

  “Never a dull moment,” I observed.

  “How’s it going there?” he asked.

  “Slowly,” I sighed. “We’ve got the first round of material from Ramsey today. There are hints, but nothing that screams mafia men are now running the company.”

  “Very inconsiderate,” Ari laughed. “They should use email addresses like goon1 at yakuza dot com just to make it easier to identify the bad guys.”

  “You laugh,” I replied, “But you guys just hire a bunch of temps to do the hard review work for you. You never see anything until it’s been preprocessed.”

  “Ouch,” Ari replied. “But, also, quite true. Would it help if I offered to take you two to dinner and let you pick my brain on what you should be on the lookout for?”

  “There’s three of us,” I corrected, “And we would love to be treated to dinner.”

  “Three, huh?” Ari asked. “Did you hire another employee without telling me?”

  “Anna’s here,” I explained.

  “Ah,” Ari sighed, “The beautiful damsel in distress. I would be honored if she w
ould join us in our repast.”

  “I’m sure,” I replied with an eye roll. “So where are you taking us?”

  “I’m not all that far from you guys,” Ari answered just as a horn honked in the background. “Just wrapped up a meeting with a client. You up for some steak at Davenport’s?”

  “Davenport’s?” I asked the two ladies in my office and received two enthusiastic thumbs up. “Sounds good.”

  “Great,” Ari replied. “I’ll head over there now and get us a table.”

  “We’re on our way,” I said.

  Davenport’s is technically in Encino, but it was close enough to Van Nuys that we could be there in minutes. Most people think of it as a steakhouse, but it actually has a diverse menu. I’ve seen people swoon over the sole and drool over the roast chicken. Myself, I always went for the steak. In fact, I already knew my order: a chopped wedge to start, with plenty of bacon and buttermilk dressing, and a New York strip, served pink and still sizzling, with a heaping side of french fries. And since Ari was picking up the tab, I figured I would add either a jumbo shrimp cocktail or a serving of salmon and waffles to that order.

  Ari had a table near the back, in a relatively quiet spot. We flopped into our chairs, and I’m sure we looked as bedraggled as we felt, because Ari’s eyebrows had gone up when we lumbered inside.

  “You guys look like hell,” he finally said.

  “Thanks,” Sofia replied. “You, of course, look fabulous.”

  “It’s the suit,” Ari assured her. “My first herringbone, actually.”

  “It’s lovely,” Anna said with a smile.

  “And you must be Anna,” Ari declared as he held out a hand. He had his schmoozer’s smile on, and he steadfastly kept his eyes on Anna’s face.

  “I am,” Anna replied as she shook his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Ari.”

  “The pleasure is all mine,” Ari assured her while Sofia and I exchanged eye rolls.

  The waiter appeared, and we agreed to a round of appetizers while Sofia and Anna reviewed the rest of the menu. Jumbo shrimp, pulled pork sliders, and lobster bites all appeared and were promptly demolished. I think I was still licking my fingers when the waiter reappeared to take our dinner orders.