Shattered Legacy

by Shane R. Daley

  SHATTERED LEGACY

  By Shane R. Daley

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  SHATTERED LEGACY

  By Shane R. Daley

  All Rights Reserved

  Copyright© 2012

  First Ebook Edition

  For Carol, Nathaniel and Katherine.

  Table of Contents

  MONDAY

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TUESDAY

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  WEDNESDAY

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THURSDAY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  FRIDAY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  THE FOLLOWING MONDAY

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  EPILOUGE

  AFTERWARD

  About the Author

  MONDAY

  (AP) With only a day before the historic launch of the space orbiter Naiad, Templar Enterprises announces that it has successfully completed the testing of a new, advanced scramjet thruster. Agency Director Jack Kroft expects the improved engine “to be incorporated into Templar’s second-generation orbiter, with a possible retrofit in store for the Naiad.” - Entrepreneur W. Sinclair Dorian makes his first public statement in months. In a brief telephone interview with CNN, he states that he “looks forward to the launch and joining his employees for the historic event.” - To secure future market share against Templar Enterprises' fleet of low-cost orbiters, the European Space Agency plans to cut its launch prices for satellite payloads by nearly a third.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “You’re going to crater the deal, aren’t you?”

  A hint of a smile crossed Samson Tyler’s face. He kept walking at a brisk pace, eyes forward.

  “You really got the stones to do it?” The question was asked in hushed tones as they approached the double-doors of the executive conference room.

  “I’m not sure,” Tyler replied.

  “Not like you to play it fast and loose.”

  Tyler reached for the door handle. “Sometimes you just have to improvise, Dusty. Keep your eyes open and follow my lead.”

  No one noticed as Tyler walked through the doorway. Briefcase in hand, he paused and watched four dark-suited attorneys engaged in quiet conversation before a large picture window, ignoring the view of the Midtown skyscrapers behind them. Two other attorneys stood a few paces away, heads bowed, with cell phones pressed to their ears.

  Tyler glanced back as his companions followed him inside. The first was a middle-aged, heavyset man dressed in a rumpled blue suit. Behind him was a woman in her mid-twenties. She wore a crisp black and red pantsuit. The three glanced around the conference room. The walls, decorated with large, bland watercolor paintings, were a dark maroon with gold molding.

  F. Maybry Lydell, senior partner of Bryce, Holloway, first spotted the visitors. Tall and hawk-faced, Lydell wore an expensive and exquisitely tailored blue suit. He stared down his nose with a mix of amusement and contempt, but as the visitors crossed the plush gray carpeting, his face cracked into a stunning white smile. As he cleared his throat, his associates broke conversation and scurried to their places around an oval mahogany table that dominated the center of the room.

  Tall stacks of papers were arranged before each leather-backed chair. Tyler set his briefcase on the table as his companions took their places beside him. He remained standing behind his seat. Though his demeanor betrayed no emotion, nothing could hide the evident youth of Templar Enterprises' General Counsel. Trim and fresh-faced, he looked more like a well-dressed junior associate newly minted from law school than a seasoned corporate attorney.

  The secretary assigned to take the minutes entered the room and took her place in the corner.

  Lydell came around the table with long strides. He favored the younger man with an ingratiating smile.

  “Mr. Tyler, I was surprised you wanted to meet today, what with your company’s launch and all.” His voice was smooth and soothing.

  Tyler smiled back. “Fortunately, I’m not an astronaut, so I have time to take care of our more down-to-earth matters.”

  “Of course.” Lydell grasped Tyler’s outstretched hand with both of his own, a signal that the older attorney intended to be the dominant figure at this meeting.

  Tyler ignored that signal.

  “Thank you for bumping up the meeting time,” Tyler said as he settled into his seat. He ran his hand through his dark hair and added, “You really didn’t need your whole team for this.”

  Lydell's smile faded a bit as he took his own place directly across the table.

  The woman seated to Tyler’s left was Denise Jenison, the newest associate in Templar’s legal department. Her brown hair was cut in a short bob. She appeared uncomfortable as she looked around the table.

  To Tyler's right, Dustin “Dusty” O’Dell, Templar’s Assistant General Counsel, reclined in his chair, clasping his hands over his thick gut. A mass of curly red-brown hair topped his head. His eyes were thick-lidded and serene as he appraised the Bryce, Holloway attorneys.

  After a few moments, he glanced over at Tyler, who nodded back slowly. Dusty sighed as he leaned forward and picked up his copy of the twenty-seven-page contract. He flipped through a few pages.

  “Prime industrial area.” His voice was slow, with only a hint of his native Georgian drawl. “Good location, good local infrastructure. Surprising that Penraxis is willing to part with it for such a reasonable price. Guess we drove a hard bargain, didn’t we?”

  The attorneys on the other side of the table sat impassively.

  Tyler folded his hands on the table and directed his attention to Lydell. “Since our last discussion, I believe we’ve ironed out the final details of the purchasing contract.”

  Lydell nodded slowly. “We're all ready to sign.”

  “That's great.” Tyler smiled broadly. “It’s funny how fast these deals can wrap up, especially when they’re preceded by such painful negotiations.”

  “True.” Lydell agreed. There were a few grunts from the Bryce, Holloway people. The Templar attorneys had been very particular in how they wanted the purchase agreement structured. Hammering out the contract had been a long, tedious pro
cess, with hours spent negotiating the most trivial terms.

  “Thing is, polycarbonate manufacturing is one of the few things we could do better ourselves than through outsourcing. That’s why the Penraxis plant was so attractive to us.”

  Lydell lifted an eyebrow.

  Tyler spread his hands. “And this ‘iron-clad’ contract of ours… Well, I think it’s just about perfect.”

  That last word hung in the air for several heartbeats.

  Lydell pursed his lips, glanced to his right and his left. His people looked relaxed now, almost smug. Lydell reached into his breast pocket for a pen. “So, are we ready to sign?”

  Tyler glanced over at Dusty, who shook his head a fraction and tapped a finger on his contract.

  “There is one small issue,” Tyler added, as if remembering something.

  Lydell paused, his hand in mid-motion.

  Dusty glanced over at Denise, who was following the exchange with some confusion.

  “It’s just a small concern.” Tyler looked around the table. Now he had everyone’s rapt attention. Not one Bryce, Holloway attorney was even breathing. “Turn to section three, paragraph twenty-six, second clause,” he ordered, his voice losing all pretense of humor.

  Pages fluttered as the lawyers searched their contracts.

  Tyler waited. “Do you see it?”

  Lydell lifted his head a fraction, his face impenetrable as he snapped open his reading glasses, slipped them on, and stared down at the page. One of his associates reached over to point out the particular clause at issue. Lydell swatted the hand away.

  A few moments later, Lydell peered over the rim of his glasses. “So what?”

  Tyler leaned back in his chair and tossed his copy of the contract across the table. “You lied to us. The deal is off.”

  Silence filled the room, but if the senior partner of Bryce, Holloway was surprised, his eyes did not show it. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the bond,” Tyler shot back. “The bond your client agreed to place on the factory. Your client was to guarantee that the property they were selling to us was not environmentally contaminated. Your client was supposed to put aside money in case there was preexisting site contamination. Another financial entity was supposed to secure that bond and hold the money in escrow.”

  “And so we did.”

  “No. What you did, at the very least, was trigger the bring-down clause of this contract.” Lydell opened his mouth to respond, but Tyler kept speaking. “Read the paragraph: ‘All of the Seller’s collective representations and warranties in this Agreement, and each of the individual representations - ’”

  “That's boilerplate language, Mr. Tyler.”

  “That language gives us a walk-right.”

  “Only if there is a material misrepresentation,” Lydell snapped. “And where have we misrepresented ourselves, Mr. Tyler? What exactly is your problem with this contract?”

  “My problem,” Tyler explained slowly, “is that the Penraxis Corporation possesses majority ownership in Wharton Capital.”

  Denise Jenison inhaled sharply. She turned her head to Tyler, who silenced her with a raised hand.

  “So what?” Lydell sneered. “So Penraxis has some interest in Wharton Capital. What’s wrong with that?”

  “It's a conflict of interest, having a subsidiary secure a bond for its parent corporation.”

  Lydell spread his hands. “It happens all the time. What with today's interconnected -”

  “Don’t insult me, Mr. Lydell.”

  The older man clenched his jaw. He shot a glance at his associates; their stricken looks seemed to infuriate him further.

  The thin, balding man seated to Lydell's right sniffed. “Wharton Capital is a reputable company with more than enough financial acumen to handle -”

  “Whaddayaknow?” Dusty spread his hands in feigned amazement. “These other guys can actually speak.”

  “And here I thought they were purely decorative,” Tyler added dryly, before bring his focus back to Lydell. “Did your client think we would skip due diligence because we were dealing with the great firm of Bryce, Holloway?”

  Lydell leaned back and drummed the arm of his chair with his fingers. “I don't think you understand -” he started, and then abruptly changed his tone. His face shifted toward a reasonable approximation of a smile. “Let’s talk about this, Mr. Tyler.” He nodded toward the windows. “Alone.”

  Tyler pursed his lips and glanced over at Denise. Her head hung low as she stared at her copy of the contract. Then he pushed his chair back and followed Lydell across the room.

  Out of earshot of the others, the older man moved close and placed a fatherly hand on Tyler’s shoulder. Tyler glanced down at the hand, but said nothing. He stared out the window as Lydell spoke.

  “Listen, son,” the older man whispered. “You’re a bright boy and a damned good negotiator, but there's no reason to kill this deal over a technicality. We can still make this happen. You know Wharton is one of the strongest -”

  “No.”

  “Then I have an alternate proposal for you -”

  Tyler shrugged Lydell’s hand away. “Don’t waste your breath.”

  Lydell broke into another smile, but impatience flashed in his eyes. His voice dropped even further as he lowered his arm and clasped his hands behind his back. “I suggest we go back to the table and sign the contract, Mr. Tyler. It would be best for both of us.”

  Tyler turned his head to match Lydell’s hard gaze. “You need our two hundred million far more than we need an environmental time bomb.”

  “The site’s not contaminated. We both know that.”

  “Soil and air samples don’t mean much. If they did, there would be no reason to post a bond in the first place.”

  Lydell leaned closer. “Fine. What if we found another financial institution? Would that -”

  Tyler’s cell phone chirped. “Excuse me.” He backed a few paces and turned aside. He pulled the phone from his belt holster. “What is it?”

  “There are people here to see you.”

  “Not now, Cindy.”

  “These people have warrants, Samson.”

  Tyler glanced back. “This meeting is just about over,” he said loud enough for the others to hear. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  He hung up and slipped the phone back onto his belt. He returned to the table and began stuffing papers into his briefcase. “Say ‘Hi’ to the rest of gang at Bryce, Holloway. I'd say it was a pleasure working with you people, but it wasn’t.” He snapped his briefcase shut. Dusty and Denise followed him to the door.

  “You - you’re not going anywhere!” Lydell stormed across the room and managed to block the exit. His face and neck were flushed, his jaw clenched tightly as he spoke through his perfect white teeth. “You can’t walk away from this! Six months! You can’t crater a two hundred million dollar deal over a goddamned bond issue!”

  Tyler looked back at the table and shrugged. “Seems to me I just did.” Then he clapped the older man on the shoulder. “Count yourself lucky that I’m busy this week, because the next time your firm screws with my company, we're going to sue you. Then we're going to bury the client who put you up to the job. Then when we're done with that, Mr. Lydell, I'm personally going after your law license. Now get out of my way.”

  ***

  Outside the conference room, the two attorneys fell into step behind Tyler.

  “I can’t believe you killed that deal,” Dusty said through clenched teeth. “I thought you were gonna negotiate with them. Do you know how screwed we are now?”

  “I did the right thing,” Tyler muttered as he picked up his pace.

  “We talked about this. We were going to work through the bond problem. We were going to have our outside counsel look into forcing -”

  “I decided to handle it differently.”

  “I noticed.”

  “By the way, nice job following my lead.”

>   “I try to keep up.”

  “Denise,” Tyler snapped, breaking off the conversation. “Do you understand what just happened in there?”

  The junior associate cleared her throat. “We just ended negotiations on a purchasing contract for some industrial property. The seller was attempting to circumvent an environmental bond requirement. Because they tried to trick us, we exercised our walk-right. We're free of the contract.”

  Tyler threw her a glance. “Not really. Penraxis will probably sue us for breach of contract, though I doubt they will get far. The bottom line is that both sides spent a lot of time on this deal. Time that was ultimately wasted.”

  “I know.” She fell back a step as they turned the corner.

  “You were heading up our due diligence, Denise. How could you have missed the fact that Penraxis owned the very institution which was to underwrite its bond?”

  She answered in a low voice, “We did find out what they were up to, Mr. Tyler.”

  Tyler shook his head they stopped before the elevator banks. “No, Dusty found out what they were up to - and barely in time. What were you looking for when you investigated Wharton Financial?”

  She hesitated. “Well, I examined Wharton’s financial status. They appeared to be well-funded…”

  “But you never looked for a connection between the two?”

  “Between the two companies?”

  “Yes.”

  “We checked, but there was…”

  “Nothing obvious? Denise, you should have made the connection months ago.” He let his words sink in as he pressed the elevator down button. “If we had purchased that factory, and for some reason environmental litigation ever arose, Penraxis would have left us holding the bag.”

  “It won’t happen again,” Denise assured him. “I’m sorry, guys. Really.”

  She glanced over at Dusty, her expression pleading. His round face was flush, but all he could offer was a sympathetic shrug.

  Tyler took a deep breath and released it. “I'm sorry, too, Denise. Your lack of attention in this matter was inexcusable.”

  Her eyes widened. “Is that why you brought me to this meeting - to rub my nose in my mistake?”

  Tyler's expression showed no sign of anger, only grim resignation. Dusty looked away.