by Nick James
Wengler nodded like this all seemed to make perfect sense, not that he was happy about the fact.
“The other thing I’d do is give you a little warning to keep our conversation close to your vest. The legal community is essentially like a small town, a very small town. The top firms will be looking to raid good folks like you. First ones out will do the best, but if everyone starts to jump ship, even though you can’t blame them, they’ll be picked up at a discount price. I give it two weeks before the floor starts to drop out with a massive exodus. Put some feelers out now, quietly. You know the folks to talk to, and if you’re bringing your own book of business, hell the line will form at your door.”
“Yeah, that’s what the wife and I were thinking last night. She knows I haven’t been happy there for the past couple of years. The money was starting to be good, but well now this entire fiasco. God, the handwriting is suddenly right there on the wall.”
“If I can be of any help in your search, Brad, please let me know. I have to caution you though, because of my dealing with just the one client, Morris Montcreff, there are some folks who don’t think too highly of me. And, as you probably know, I was disbarred, still am, so maybe keep our conversation quiet, for your own sake.”
“I’d say you’ve done pretty well for yourself, all things considered. You’re certainly more on the ball than Sawyer or Allen.”
“Maybe set the bar just a little higher,” Bobby laughed.
Their breakfasts arrived and the topic turned to more general information on the firm. Wengler listed the people who had already left. The three who simply quit after the incident with Bennett Hinz. Bobby didn’t recognize their names but he thought he recognized one of them from the description Wengler gave. Another four had submitted their resignations and given a two-week notice, again, none of whom Bobby knew although two of the names sounded familiar. Just listening it had to be incredibly stressful under normal circumstances, and right now that firm was anything but normal.
They finished eating, had another coffee, and then Wengler looked at his watch and said, “I better get moving if I want to arrive in the office on time. We’re all afraid Sawyer is checking every day to see who arrives late. He always lurking around the lobby first thing in the morning, taking names.” Wengler laughed.
“Maybe he’s just got a thing for Marci?”
“Oh please. Although wouldn’t that just be poetic justice. Sawyer having some Marci on the side, or the other way around.”
“Don’t even go there. Don’t think he wouldn’t.” Bobby said. “Hey, did they ever come to an agreement on that insurance settlement for Elizabeth Saunders? I know her elderly mother was getting anxious.”
“Insurance?”
Here comes the icing on the cake, Bobby thought. “Apparently it’s what they were arguing about those last few days with Bennett Hinz. There was a settlement Hinz wanted to sign since she was essentially killed doing some sort of company business. Sawyer and Allen didn’t want him to. Even though it was the right thing to do.”
“That’s what all the yelling and screaming was about? Not paying insurance on an employee that was killed?”
“Yeah, at least that’s my understanding. Sawyer and Allen wanted to screw her elderly mother out of whatever she had coming. Really pissed me off, I think the poor woman is in assisted living or something,” Bobby lied.
“Jesus Christ. let me get this straight. Lizzy Saunders gets sexually assaulted by Noah Denton, the senior member of the firm who had Alzheimer’s or whatever the hell the problem was. She and her partner are killed in a hit and run in Paris and now Sawyer and Allen are worried about a rate increase? God, you can’t make it up.”
“I asked them about it when they let me go.”
“What’d they say?”
“Told me in no uncertain terms to mind my own damn business, only in a lot more colorful language. To be honest, it was one of the many reasons I didn’t put up a fight when they told me my services were no longer needed. I’m afraid it’s not going to get any better. Unfortunately, that appears to be what you’re dealing with, Brad. The best advice I can give you is to watch your back and get the hell out of there just as fast as you possibly can.”
Wengler just stared at his coffee mug and remained speechless for a long moment. When he finally looked up he said, “You got any plans? What are you going to do?”
“I’ve got some irons in the fire. Right now, I just want to get as far away from Sawyer and Allen, as fast as possible.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Bobby walked the five blocks to his new office. Smiling all the way with the fact that he’d been able to plant a couple of potential bombs with Wengler. If the guy was smart he’d just keep his mouth shut, at least until he was out of there. Either way, it would only help to keep Sawyer and Allen off balance.
He took the elevator up to the twelfth floor, made a pot of coffee, and settled into his new office. He took Erin’s advice and opened the safe door part way. The thing had black steel shelves inside plus another smaller safe just large enough to place files in. The shelves held a half dozen pens, a tape dispenser and a package with a half-dozen legal pads. The combination to the smaller safe was taped on the door. He made a note of both combinations, wrote them down on a card in his Rolodex and then filed them in his iCloud as well.
At five minutes before nine he heard the doorbell out in the receptionist lobby.
“Who is it?” he said from behind the door.
“It’s me, Erin.”
He opened the door and let her in. “Great to see you, Erin. You ready for a busy day?”
“Yeah, don’t worry, I brought a book,” she said and smiled. “Oh, and I got this for you,” she said, setting her computer bag on the counter. She pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to Bobby. “Address, phone, social security, bank. All the stuff you’ll need to get me paid. How often is that anyway?”
“To tell you the truth I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Mmm-mmm, want me to contact a payroll company? I know a pretty good one.”
“I guess you better. I’m going to be lost going over some files in my office. You need anything just give a yell.”
“Yeah, no problem. Hey, Bobby,” she called just as he headed down the hall and he turned and looked at her. “Thanks for the job. I really mean it.”
“You’re going to fit in here very well, Erin. Hey, I got coffee on in the break room.”
“You’ve got an interview appointment coming in at ten and another one at two this afternoon,” she said.
“How do you know that?”
“Mr. Morales gave me a list. There’s a total of five people lined up, two today, two tomorrow and the fifth one Monday of next week.”
“He tell you anything else?”
“No, just the names and the times. I printed them off last night, too,” she said then reached into her computer bag, pulled another sheet of paper out and handed it to him. It had the names, dates, and times, but no other information.
He was tempted to ask her when, exactly, Luis had given her the information, but decided against it. What difference would it make? He smiled, thanked her, and headed back to his office.
At five minutes to ten, Erin knocked on the door frame and said, “Your ten o’clock appointment is here, Mr. Custer.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Griffin Lang looked to be about Bobby’s age. He entered the office flashing a broad smile and extending his hand. “Mr. Custer, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said in a soft voice that at the same time seemed commanding. He had neatly trimmed sandy colored hair, blue eyes, and an athletic build. He stood maybe six feet, just slightly taller than Bobby and had a small, brown leather case tucked under his arm.
“Please let’s keep it very informal. Call me Bobby.”
“I go by Griffin or Griff and God knows what else people call me behind my back.”
“Grab a seat over there on the couch and we can talk,”
Bobby said then noticed Lang walked with a slight limp as he headed for the couch. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“No, three’s my limit, and now-a-days that’s decaf. Don’t let me hold you back if you want some.”
“Not a problem,” Bobby said and settled into the wingback chair. “So, how’d you hear about Privado?”
Lang briefly flashed a questioning look and just as quickly recovered. “I was contacted by Luis Morales. He suggested you and I might talk. I’ve been practicing for the past nine years and can’t seem to break through the ceiling.”
“What firm are you with?”
He smiled, “Bitburg, Holden, and Lang.”
“Any relation?” Bobby asked.
“My father. He passed away back when I was still in high school. I joined the firm right out of law school. Back then I was expecting big things to happen. All of a sudden I put my head up, it’s been nine years, and I haven’t made partner.”
“Other people making partner?”
“Oh yeah. Most recently Terry Holden. Nothing against him, he’s a good attorney, but so am I and I’ve had my nose to the grindstone for an additional four years. At this point it seems rather obvious to me I’m not going to advance any further in my current position.”
“How do you know Luis Morales?”
“To be honest, I really don’t. I knew his sister Camilla a few years back, helped her with a couple of issues. I’d lost touch with her over the last few years, I know she was injured in an incident maybe a year or two ago.”
The second time in as many days that the shootout was mentioned. First Erin and now Griffin Lang. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised. “Privado is just what the name suggests. A very private firm. We’ll be dealing with just one client in a specialized practice.”
“Are you suggesting that you’ll be involved in illegal undertakings?”
“No. I’m suggesting we’ll be involved in using every aspect of the law that can or will be advantageous to our client.”
“And the client is Luis Morales?”
“In so many words.”
“I can give you specifics, but I would suggest that should you check with Mr. Morales or his sister, Camilla. They would speak very highly of the work I’ve done in the past,” Lang said.
“What about the clients you currently have?”
“There’s nothing I couldn’t wind up over the course of the next sixty to ninety days if necessary. That said, would it not be beneficial to have a small book of business outside of the Morales family if for no other reason than appearances.”
“It might be, but it might also lead to problems. You’d be willing to relinquish your current clients?”
“I would.”
“Okay, let me think on it. I want to touch base with Mr. Morales.”
“You interested in a résumé or recommendations?”
“Would you have anything in there that would point to a problem?” Bobby said.
“Not really.”
“We’ll do our own due diligence.”
Lang smiled, then picked up the brown leather case he’d set on the coffee table, unzipped it and pulled out a document, three pages stapled together. “Here, this is my résumé. It will give you a head start on checking me out. You’ll find I’m well-qualified and quite adept in maintaining attorney-client privilege.”
“You have any questions of me?” Bobby asked.
“No sir, I don’t. I appreciate you taking the time to see me. I only ask that in turn you keep our discussion confidential. Should I not get the position, I would just as soon not have to deal with a situation at my current firm.”
“I appreciate you mentioning it, but not to worry. If you’ve no other questions let me see you to the door.”
Lang stood, shook hands, and headed back out to the lobby.
Bobby noticed the limp again and said, “What did you do that you’re limping?”
Lang talked over his shoulder, but kept moving. “Fallujah, wrong place, wrong time,” he said and didn’t elaborate.
They shook hands again and then Bobby held the door as Lang stepped into the hallway. He watched him head down the hall toward the elevators for a moment, then closed the door.
“What’d you think?” he asked Erin.
“Seemed like a nice guy, very pleasant. A dark-red aura.”
“A what?”
“His aura, it was dark-red.”
“What the hell does that mean.”
She smiled. “Auras are given off by all living things because they emit energy with a special vibration and color. That color can be seen by gifted people, and I’m a gifted person, that guy’s aura was dark-red.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, he’s centered and well-grounded. He’s very self-sufficient and able to survive just about any circumstance. In short, at least based on his aura, he’d be a good hire.”
“What’s my aura?”
She looked at him for a long moment and the smile faded from her face. “I don’t think you want to know,” she said, clearly not joking.
“Hmm-mmm, maybe there is something to it,” Bobby said and headed back to his office.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The next appointment arrived a full fifteen minutes early. Erin stepped into Bobby’s office and said, “Your two o’clock is here. You want me to have him wait a few minutes?”
“No, that’s fine, go ahead and send him back. Besides, he’d only be able to lean against the wall out there and we wouldn’t want to give him a bad first impression of Privado.”
Erin rolled her eyes.
“What’s his aura?”
“I’ll tell you after you talk with him. Oh, his name is Thomas.”
“What’s his last name?”
“Thomas.”
“What’s his first name?
“Thomas.”
“Thomas Thomas, that’s his name?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, send him back.”
Bobby got up from his desk and moved toward the office door just in time to see a large figure hurrying down the hall toward his office. Thomas Thomas was a large black man. Very large. Bobby estimated somewhere north of three-hundred-and-fifty pounds. His grey suit was wrinkled, his tie was almost, but not quite, undone, and the left side of his white shirt was sort of hanging out. He was dark skinned and as he drew closer Bobby could detect that his left eye wandered a bit.
“Mr. Custer, it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Thomas Thomas. But everyone just calls me Thomas,” he said and extended his hand. His smile struck Bobby as genuine.
“Nice to meet you, Thomas. Please, call me Bobby, everyone calls me a lot of things by this time in any given day so let’s just keep it at Bobby. Please, come on in and grab a seat.” Bobby said and pointed toward the couch. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
Thomas had to sort of side step and edge his way around the coffee table. Bobby just nonchalantly reached down and pulled the coffee table away from the couch a good foot or two. By the time Bobby had settled in the wing-backed chair Thomas held a sheaf of papers in a massive hand and thrust it across the coffee table toward Bobby. “Here’s my résumé,” he said and held the papers out until Bobby took them in hand.
He casually glanced at some highlighted areas on the top page and looked up at Thomas.
“You’re an Ivy Leaguer?”
“Yes sir, Yale, class of two-thousand-nine.”
“You went on to law school there.”
“Yes sir, graduated in two-thousand-twelve.”
“It says here on your résumé you graduated Magna Cum Laude.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you headed up the law review?”
“Yes, sir, I did.”
“How come you’re not clerking for the supreme court?”
“I was helping out a family member,” Thomas said, but there was something else there in his tone, maybe the quick glanc
e down at the coffee table, and Bobby picked up on it.
“Care to explain?”
“My two older brothers took a slightly different path. They ended up becoming involved in a drug-related altercation. Acqwon, he was the oldest of the three of us, was killed by the police and I provided the defense for my surviving brother, Cee Cee.”
“And how did that turn out?”
“How did it turn out? I guess that depends on who you talk to. He’s alive, serving a life sentence with no chance of parole. I tend to dwell on the fact that he’s alive and not on death row. The rest of the family prefers to dwell on the fact that he’s incarcerated.”
“But, there’s no death penalty in Minnesota, hasn’t been since 1910.”
“Actually 1911, sir, and this was Indiana. Gary, Indiana.”
“That’s where you’re from, Gary?”
“Yes, sir. Born and raised.”
“So roughly a year out of law school, a recent member of the bar and your involved in a case like that, it would appear you were thrown or maybe jumped in the the deep end. What have you been doing since the criminal trial?”
“I moved up here, passed the Minnesota bar exam. Didn’t have much luck finding a firm that was interested in me. I’ve been working with Legal Aid for the last few years. That’s where I met Mr. Morales, I did some work for a few people who knew him and I guess they sort of passed my name on to him. He was gracious enough to arrange this interview with you.”
“That’s awfully noble, Legal Aid. Didn’t someone over there ever pick up on the fact of your education and want you on board? I mean, you graduated from…”
