The Turner Chronicles Box Set Edition

by Mark Eller

  Amanda found this extremely interesting since she hadn't decided to chase down a loan until earlier that morning.

  Somebody with foresight and resources was trying to get rid of Aaron. At least one person, perhaps several. Just about everybody with any curiosity knew about the kidnapping attempt, but that affair had been crude, unprofessional, and was for ransom. The problem with the banks was more refined and showed traces of a politically practiced hand. Amanda doubted the two events were connected. Because this was not something IFBIS would be interested in, she needed to hire somebody else to do the looking. Investigating the matter herself would entail a great deal of walking, and frankly, she didn't have the time for it.

  Great. One more item was on her agenda--good thing she liked busy days and lots of stress, because it would be a long time before she got a break.

  "Miss Bivins?"

  Alfred Harrison's white teeth showed through a thick beard and mustache. The man was tall and no longer young, though he was not old. He was at that comfortable age where his youthful lessons were behind him, and his greatest influence and most damaging actions were still before him. He leaned over her as if he had a claim on her body, but he actually invaded her personal space. Amanda did not like it, but she could do little about the situation. Her chair was fixed to the floor, and she could not stand without pushing into him. From the look of the man, body contact was what he wanted. She refused to give it to him. No free feels today, Buster.

  "Mister Harrison," she said coolly, giving her best frown. It was a good frown, speaking of distaste and displeasure, with orders to back off. She had practiced it in her mirror countless times when she was a child. The practice had done her well in the ensuing years but did her no good with him. He paid it not the least bit of attention other than to step up his charm. His smile was welcoming, inviting, promising.

  Smarmy supercilious bastard.

  "Miss Bivins, ee've met before. I am Alfred Harrison. Mistress Bestrow is not available to escort you today so I've been given that happy chore."

  "I remember our previous meeting very clearly, Assemblyman Harrison," she said. "As I recall, we are on opposite sides of this issue, so why are you my escort?"

  "Unfortunately true," he admitted. "Even so, I see no reason why I should avoid someone just because we have different opinions on matters of policy or law. If I were to take that stance, I would find myself ostracized from all the best people. No, Miss Bivins, our differences are for inside the Assembly Chambers; they are not for our private meetings and conversations."

  He studied her like she was an interesting specimen. "I hope you will forgive me when I say this. You are a lovely woman. You are educated and bright and motivated, and I find you enticing. It would be a shame if our public differences reflected in our private lives."

  Amanda thought over her possible responses. She now had a perfect opportunity to simper and flirt and reassure Mister Harrison she really was none of the complimentary things he had mentioned. She could play the part of a man-hungry kitten very well. She had perfected the practice in the past. It would probably help her along now.

  On the other hand, playing the part would not only affect her relations with Harrison, but also her relations with everyone she came into contact with while she was with the man. Playing the part would decrease their opinions of her and eventually make her job much harder when people treated her as the twit she had presented herself to be.

  "No," she said, "I don't forgive you. I am a fully accredited and licensed lawyer in the Province of N'Ark with my offices in the city of N'Ark. I am not some doxy who is so young and stupid as to fall for your deceits. Furthermore, I am here to do a job. I have my documentation handy, and I have both past practice and past law on my side. You can not and will not get your hands on the books legally belonging to Mister Aaron Turner unless a higher court declares these papers to be legally flawed. If one does, I shall appeal the case up to the Supreme Court, and I assure you, sir, I shall win because I went over these papers word by word before Mister Turner signed them. I also paid ten of the top privately practicing lawyers in N'Ark to go over them. These documents are flawless, and you do not have a case."

  She stood abruptly, bumping into his leaning body and almost clipping his chin with the top of her head. Her sudden movement gave him the free feel he wanted, but not on his terms. His fast backpedal was awkward and tripping.

  "The meeting is in ten minutes," Amanda said. "We better start moving."

  "Perhaps we should," Harrison replied coolly. He reached out to take her arm, seemed to think better of it, and started out at a brisk walk that made Amanda run to catch up. That was a victory for him, but she refused to walk several paces behind the man.

  He left the main corridor and turned down a side hall.

  "I am not perfectly familiar with this place," Amanda admitted, "but I have been here once before. As I recall, the Assembly Hall is not down this way."

  "True. True," Harrison replied. "The meeting you were scheduled to attend has been cancelled and a new date not yet set up. I am taking you to a more informal meeting. A few of us thought we could speak to you privately. It is possible we can discover a solution that a meeting of the full assembly would not be able to reach."

  In other words, Amanda thought, there had been no arranged meeting with Miss Bestrow. The summons had been a ruse sent by his faction. She had apparently been wrong about one of her assumptions. The people involved in this grab for Aaron's books did not have Isabella's best interests in mind. Instead, they were looking to their own pockets.

  He stopped in front of a door that looked no different from fifteen others they had passed. Amanda gave serious thought to walking away before he opened it. She thought of a dozen good reasons to leave before putting herself in the hands of however many power brokers wanted to set their teeth into her. She could not think of a single good reason to go into the room. Unfortunately, she could think of one not-so-good reason: She was curious as to who was in there and what they would say.

  Opening the door with an exaggerated flourish, Harrison waved her inside.

  Three others waited. They sat at an eight-seat conference table, coffee cups by their hands and a pot on a cart shoved into the corner. An unopened bottle of Runeburg White sat on the table.

  "Miss Bivins."

  One woman Amanda recognized from her last visit came toward her. Well past forty, the woman had gray in her hair and an unmistakable double chin. Her attitude was affable as she shook Amanda's hand, but her palm felt cold, and the irises of her eyes were small with disdain.

  "I am Assemblywoman Sporlain. Have a seat, and where is Mister Turner?"

  Freeing her hand from the unwelcome grip, Amanda took the proffered chair with a small smile. The first time she had met Miss Sporlain, the woman had warned Amanda to stay off of the furniture. "I'm afraid Mister Turner is not available."

  "Obviously," Sporlain said, and if anything, her tone had turned colder. "Under the circumstances, that is for the best since our main business today concerns your future. Now sit down while I prepare my coffee."

  Amanda's side of the table was empty. She sat in an end seat and set her briefcase on the tabletop while the assemblywoman removed the bottle of Runeburg from the table and prepared coffee. With three empty chairs to choose from, Harrison had the gall to sit down next to her.

  Amanda forced a smile. They were closing her in, trying to intimidate her with the strength of their numbers and the weight of their closeness. She hated to admit it, but their ploy was working. She felt like a very small feeder fish in their large pond, and she was alone.

  Aaron Turner, she thought, the next time I see you I'm going to rip your uncaring heart out. The least you could have done was provide a warm and friendly body to sit next to me.

  Miss Sporlain approached the table bearing two coffee cups. One clicked on the tabletop beside Amanda as Miss Sporlain set it down. The other landed on the table in front of the chair Sporlain c
laimed.

  Surprised that such a powerful woman had chosen to serve her, Amanda looked down to see that the coffee was the perfect creamy brown she liked. Somebody had researched her, and that thought alarmed Amanda. They knew all about her, and she knew almost nothing of them. Then again, their research was less than complete, or they would have known Aaron was out of town. They were attempting to appear omnipotent, but were falling far short of their goal.

  Amanda Bivins, she reminded herself, is not an easily impressed woman.

  Miss Sporlain settled into her chair and allowed a few moments of silence. Amanda suspected the break was to allow her time to sip the coffee. She was tempted, but the obstinate part of her nature refused to do what they expected. Besides, she wasn't particularly thirsty.

  "Well, I suppose we are ready," Sporlain finally began. "We are here to meet with Miss Bivins and Mister Turner, but it appears Mister Turner was unable to attend, a fortunate occurrence since we would have soon asked him to step out anyway. Miss Bivins, as you know, I am Assemblywoman Edel Sporlain, First Representative of Altridge Province and Second Chair of Finance. Mister Alfred Harrison you know. He is the Honorable Representative from Jerbancy. Miss Wanda Andrews is Chair of the Liberal Party. She also sits on the Progress, the Environmental, and the Taxation Committees. In addition to these duties, we all serve on the Subcommittee for Domestic Affairs."

  Amanda gave Miss Andrews a good looking-over. The other woman accepted her stare with a quiet aplomb that spoke of long familiarity with public scrutiny. She was younger than the others, probably not more than thirty-seven. Young as she was, her bearing was that of someone accustomed to possessing power. She suspected Andrews had more clout than all the other people in the room--combined.

  Amanda turned her attention to the single person who had yet to be mentioned. The Chairman of Sturm and Cory was no stranger to her. They had done business several times in the past, and Sturm and Cory were on the verge of releasing their first run of aspirin to the public. Unfortunately for the finances of Turner Enterprises, no immediate cash would flow in from those sales. The legal agreement she had with them did not have Sturm and Cory paying Aaron money until their initial start-up costs were covered. Her best estimates said that would not happen for eleven to sixteen months, although those estimates had been reached by wild ass guessing since she had no idea of their distribution plan. Drug companies were so private that not even someone as intimate with the product as she was could obtain inside information.

  Sturm and Cory were also working up a run of antibiotics. Some quick money should come in from that line--hopefully.

  "Mister Chatham," she said. "I am surprised to find you here. I was under the impression that your company stood only to gain from our arrangement."

  "There have been new developments," he said. "Certain facts were brought to my attention."

  "I see. Well then, Miss Sporlain, why exactly are we here?"

  "We are here to convince you to see the light of reason," Sporlain said. "I have--we all have--been over the figures that would result from the agreement with Aaron Turner. Quite frankly, Miss Bivins, those figures are unacceptable. The potential wealth that would be generated and placed into the hands of one single individual is so potentially destabilizing that the Isabella government has no choice but to rescind and rewrite the agreement."

  Amanda gazed at all the people hemming her in. The coffee's aroma enticed her, but with her jitters, caffeine was the last thing she needed. As it was, her hands were folded in front of her to hide her trembling fingers. She was frightened and out of her depth, but neither of her mothers had taught her to give in to bullies.

  "I can not help but notice that the only part of the government represented here is the Liberal Party," she observed "Is this an accident, or is it possible the views you present are only those of a single segment of the assembly?"

  "Like any group," Miss Sporlain said, "the assembly consists of many people holding disparate opinions. Still and all, the overwhelming consensus on this matter is that the present agreement leaves too much wealth and power in the hands of one politically unsound individual."

  "This wealth and power are only possible because Aaron Turner brought those books to us," Amanda pointed out.

  "There is no denying that the books in question were brought to us by Mister Turner," Miss Sporlain said. "Justice and fair play demand that they do belong to him. However, the assembly must see to the well being of Isabella as a whole, not to ensure the enrichment of one individual who is not even a citizen of our country. If Mister Turner is allowed to retain a faulty contract that was erroneously signed by the previous administration, Isabella risks instability, inflation, and the crash of our financial markets. As responsible citizens and representatives, we will not allow this to happen."

  "You have no choice in the matter," Amanda said firmly. Opening her briefcase, she hauled out a neat stack of papers. "I have several copies of the pertinent sections right here. These papers are legal and binding, and there is no way out of them unless you are willing to go for a constitutional amendment. As I see it, you have no legal recourse but to allow matters to proceed exactly as they have been."

  The corners of the papers she held started to tremble. She hurriedly set them down and once more folded her hands together. Hopefully, the trembling had not shown in her voice.

  Miss Andrews spoke up for the first time. Amanda had the impression that the course of the entire meeting had just taken a turn into the area Miss Andrews desired.

  "I will forgive you that statement, Miss Bivins. Because you are a lawyer, you tend to think along the paths of law. We are politicians who have been trained to our duties for most of our lives. We understand that the law must occasionally be skirted or even set aside for the greater good. This is one of those times, and we are prepared to deal."

  Uh-oh. Amanda was still fairly new to the legal game. The ink on her university degree was barely dry, but she knew enough to be wary when the term 'deal' was used after the fact of law was dismissed. She started to reach for her coffee, but the trembling in her fingers reminded her that she should abstain. They knew she was frightened; she had no reason to let them see just how much.

  Mister Chatham's eyes caught hers, flickered to the coffee cup, and his head gave a barely perceptible shake.

  Before this meeting she had thought of Mister Chatham as a friend. Maybe he was still a friend. Either way, she would take his warning to heart. Amanda would not touch her coffee, no matter how dry her mouth became.

  "What sort of deal," She asked.

  Miss Andrews lifted her cup, took a sip, and set it back down. "A simple one. We want you to arrange matters so Mister Turner signs his entire interest in the books over to Mister Chatham. In return, he will receive twenty thousand silver. Turner trusts you, and it's well known he has no head for the law and not much more for business. He will sign anything you set before him."

  "And my motivation would be--?"

  "Thirty-five thousand silver deposited in your own personal account. We know of your ambitions. With those funds you will be able to fully establish your firm this year instead of having to wait until finishing your tedious tasks for Turner." She gave Amanda a significant look. "We are offering enough money to found one of the larger firms in Isabella. That is what you want, is it not?"

  There was no hiding this one. Amanda could control her face and voice; she could still her hands. Those actions would change nothing. Sweat ran from her armpits. Her forehead felt damp, and her mouth was dry. Thirty-five thousand silver was an enormous amount of money. In fact, it was precisely the amount she needed to do exactly as Miss Andrews suggested.

  It really was a lot of money.

  "M--Mister Chatham. What do you plan to do once Mister Turner's interests are signed over to you?"

  He shrugged. "I'm not at liberty to say. Privacy issues."

  Privacy? Amanda mentally smiled while her mouth demanded moisture. Her lips were so dry she co
uld almost feel them crack.

  Yes, privacy issues were involved. Three members of the Liberal Party were in this room. All heard this highly illegal offer without even blinking. Obviously, they planned on benefiting from the results. Ownership would go to Mister Chatham, but Amanda was sure the final rewards would wind up in the bank accounts of Miss Andrews, Miss Sporlain, and Mister Harrison.

  Amanda's mothers had taught her to never back down. They had also taught Amanda that there was nothing worse than betrayal. Life had taught her something else. Potential clients would never trust a lawyer who sold out.

  Amanda's fear washed away and was replaced by anger. Lunging to her feet, she glared about the table, not caring who these people were.

  "After giving the matter all due thought and consideration, I have decided that you can take your offer and shove it--and--and--oh, to hell with it! The answer is no."

  Their faces were stern, unforgiving. Their eyes said the battle lines had been drawn, and she was about to go down. Amanda gave them glare for glare while she slammed her briefcase closed and latched it. Her eyes met those of Mister Chatham. His expression seemed both frightened and relieved.

  "To hell with it indeed," Miss Andrews said. Sighing, she stood up. "It really is a shame. You had such a promising career. Mister Harrison will escort you out."

  Rising, Harrison took Amanda by the elbow. He half-dragged, half-led her to the door, flung her outside it, and then followed behind. Amanda ignored his rude roughness. Her mind was too busy to bother with the tiresome details of this drama--and too busy mulling over the last sight she'd caught of her coffee.

  * * *

  "It is a shame," Miss Sporlain said as she slowly walked around the table and to gather up the cups and Amanda's discarded papers. "I don't like it when we have to get rough." She paused when she reached Amanda's untouched beverage. Balls of white floated around on the surface. "We need to have a chat with Mister Harrison. It seems his formula separates and congeals if left undisturbed for long enough. Which one do we kill first?"