by L. J. Taylor
CHAPTER III
Donald Peachtree hung up the telephone, a scowl covering his face. So, Charles Morgan, Jr. was hell bent on revenge and had no interest in settling the lawsuit. Well, they’d just have to get that black bastard to change his mind.
He sat back in his chair. Normally, when he encountered an obstacle like this in the field, he just had it removed – swiftly and brutally. However, with all of the publicity this case had generated, he knew that wouldn’t be the smartest choice to make at this time.
He had to be patient. He knew how to do that. He was a hunter. Sometimes he’d lie in wait for hours to get his prey. He knew the virtues of waiting for just the right moment and then pouncing.
He sighed. Sometimes he missed the old days when things were simpler. Back then, the public was only interested in containing threats to the country – not in the details of how such missions were accomplished. There weren’t so many constraints, so much Congressional oversight, so many rules. It was almost impossible for the government to accomplish its mandate of protecting the people with all that tying it hands. That’s where companies like his came in.
He sat there for a moment and came up with a plan. He didn’t discount the settlement option. He firmly believed that every man had his price. Sometimes that price wasn’t money. Sometimes a man needed to be persuaded to accept money in lieu of other perceived rewards or punishments. He would provide that persuasion.
A grin replaced the scowl on his face. He pushed the intercom button for his assistant.
“Yes?” The sound of Giada’s low, sexy voice never failed to send a little rush of excitement through him. It reminded him of the things she could do to a man. He thought for a split second about calling her into his office then he shook it off. He had to take care of business first. There would be time for pleasure later.
“Giada find McAllister and send him in.”
“Yes Sir.”
A few moments later, there was a knock at the door.
“Come in.”
McAllister strolled in. He was a tall, muscular, good-looking guy with blonde hair and green eyes that women always went for. His laid back demeanor hid a man who was truly driven and exceptionally talented in both espionage and wet work. He was Peachtree’s right hand man. He stopped to stand behind the chairs in front of Peachtree’s desk.
“You wanted to see me, Sir?”
“Yes.” Peachtree gestured to the chairs. McAllister took a seat.
“This is about the Morgan case. What intel have you gathered on him so far?”
McAllister shrugged. “Everything we have is in the file I left on your desk. He went into the Marines ROTC then he served for four years in the Corps. He worked as a corporate security specialist for a couple of years before becoming a novelist. He wrote some pretty good spy novels that became bestsellers. After his wife died, he began to write children’s novels. They made one of his books into a movie. He owns a condo in Key Biscayne and a boat that’s docked at the Key Biscayne Marina.”
Peachtree raised his eyebrows. “So, we’ve got a Marine on our hands. We’ll just have to take that into consideration. In the meantime, I want you to arrange for twenty-four hour surveillance on this guy. I also want someone to check out his online activity. I want to know what he likes to do in his free time, what he eats for dinner, who he’s seeing and what’s important to him. Is that clear?”
“Yes Sir,” McAllister said. He stood up. “Is that all?”
“Yes, for now.”
McAllister nodded. “I’ll get right on that.”
“Good.”
***
Charles sat at the conference room table reading an e-mail from his agent on his I-Phone when Kathy Brooks walked into the room. He looked up and was once again confronted by her beauty. She was a damned good-looking woman. At 5’8” (almost 5’11” in heels) she was on the tall side for a woman, with a curvy figure, a café-au-lait complexion, long legs, and full, sensuous lips that made a man’s mind wander when she talked. She was dressed in a black pantsuit with a gold toned silk blouse and a necklace made of multiple strands of black beads at her neck. Her hair, as usual, was pulled up into a bun and her slightly flashy gold-rimmed Chanel glasses, were, for once, up on the bridge of her nose where they belonged. She looked like a cross between a sexy librarian and a businesswoman in a power suit. He wondered what she looked like with her hair down and those glasses off.
She smiled at him and extended her hand. “Hello Charles. How are you this morning?”
He stood up. “I’m fine, thank you. You?”
“Very well, thank you. Can I offer you some coffee or a bagel or something?” She gestured toward the coffee and breakfast set-up on the credenza on the side of the conference room.
He glanced over and contemplated the offerings. There were bagels, danishes, and sugar-laden little Cuban pastries called pastelitos. None of it appealed to him. “I’ll take a cup of coffee.”
Kathy walked over to the credenza, set up two cups and poured coffee into one and hot water into the other. She then reached into her pants pocket and extracted a teabag and a small green and white packet from inside. She dunked the teabag into the cup of hot water, then ripped open the packet and emptied its contents into the cup. She turned to him. “How do you take your coffee?”
“I take it black. What is that you just put into your cup?”
“I don’t drink coffee. I drink green tea. That was a teabag and a packet of sweetener you saw me put in there,” she said.
“So you don’t use regular sugar or the pink or the yellow or the blue packet either?”
She laughed. “No, being the high maintenance gal that I am, I have to use something entirely different. It’s called Truvia. It’s made from the stevia plant.”
“From the what plant?”
Kathy rolled her eyes and smiled at him. “Never mind. Here’s your coffee.” She put his coffee cup and saucer on the table in front of him before taking her seat. She stirred her tea. “I called you in to talk to you about the next steps in the case. But first, as your counsel, I’m duty bound to tell you that I received a written settlement offer yesterday from counsel for Peachtree,” she said. She extracted a letter from a manila folder and slid it across the table toward him.
Charles skimmed it. They were offering him a million dollars to settle the lawsuit. He slid it back to her. “No deal.”
Kathy nodded, approval in her eyes. “I thought you’d say that. Well, the next step is for the Court to rule on Peachtree’s motion for protective order. In their motion, they claim that information pertaining to the work the driver was engaged in at the time of the accident is ‘need to know’ only. They say they’re willing to stipulate that Wilkes was engaged in authorized company business at the time of the accident to avoid having to answer the discovery requests we served on them.”
Charles took a sip of his coffee. He had reason to believe Peachtree was involved in illegal activities at the time of the accident. He needed to prove that to put Peachtree out of business. The best way to get that proof was through discovery in his civil case. Peachtree wouldn’t be able to deny the authenticity of the documents it produced or the veracity of the interrogatory answers it provided under oath. He had to find a way to make that happen.
He looked at Kathy and debated whether or not to reveal his ultimate goal. On one hand, if she knew the plan, she could devote her efforts to helping him implement it instead of being so focused on winning the lawsuit itself. On the other hand, she might react badly. As an attorney, he understood the possible conflicts she might face if she knew the lawsuit was only a means to an end for him.
He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something about her that made him want to confide in her. He was probably just distracted by the attraction he felt for her. He hadn’t felt this attracted to any woman since his wife’s death. It felt strange to sit there working on his plan to avenge Patti’s death while, at the same time, thinking about ho
w attracted he was to the attorney helping him do it. He shifted in his seat.
No, he couldn’t confide in her. He couldn’t afford to let a pretty face, a sexy voice and an intriguing personality get in the way of his mission. He’d done that once before while serving on a mission in the Corps. It had nearly gotten him killed. He set his coffee cup back onto the saucer. “What are the chances the Court will grant Peachtree’s motion?”
“I’d say about forty percent,” she said. “The standard for civil discovery is very broad. We’re entitled to discover things that might even arguably lead to the discovery of admissible evidence. The judge has to weigh our interest in receiving the discovery to prove our case against their supposed interest in protecting national security interests. I’m not buying the national security argument though.”
“Why not? Peachtree is a well-known defense contractor.”
“I know. But, so far, they haven’t submitted any affidavits from government officials in support of the motion. They still have time to do that, but the fact that they haven’t yet looks a little suspicious to me. Even if the Court buys their national security defense, it will probably choose less drastic ways to protect the information than precluding us from receiving it at all.
“Less drastic measures? Like what?” he asked.
“Like entering a confidentiality order.”
“What sort of restrictions would a confidentiality order have?”
“Well, the court could order that any documents produced by Peachtree that are designated as being highly confidential be provided on an ‘attorney’s eyes only’ basis. In that case, I couldn’t show you the documents. The court could also bar the press from the courtroom at trial and sequester the jury until they reach a verdict.”
Charles leaned forward in his seat. “That’s not what I want at all. We have to do everything possible to prevent that.”
Kathy looked at him, a slight frown appearing between her brows. “Okay, but might I ask why? I mean, whether or not the public gets to sit in on the trial won’t necessarily have an impact on the outcome of the case.”
He shook his head. “Don’t play dumb. I told you during our first meeting that I wanted to make this as public and painful for Peachtree as possible. I can’t do that if the Court enters an order allowing them to keep all of their dirty laundry under wraps.”
“Well, just so you know, it’s very likely the court will enter a confidentiality order no matter how much we fight it,” she said. “Confidentiality orders are pretty routine and you haven’t given me a legitimate reason to not have one entered in this case. Your desire to embarrass Peachtree publicly is not a valid argument against having the order entered. You don’t have the right to share information we obtain in discovery to third parties who are not involved in the lawsuit.”
“What would happen if the information made it out into the public domain despite the entry of a confidentiality order?” he asked.
Kathy stared at him. “If you’re planning to blatantly disobey a Court order, I must advise you against it. The consequences of such an action could be severe.”
“What sort of consequences are we talking about?” he asked.
“The court could enter an order preventing us from being able to use any information leaked to the public to prove your case or it could dismiss your case altogether. The court could even fine or throw you jail for contempt. So please, please, don’t even think about taking such an action,” she said. “Nothing good would come of that.”
“I never said that I was planning to disobey an order of the Court. Anyone could be the source of a leak – someone at Peachtree trying to get the case thrown out, someone from your office, someone at the Court. Everyone wants their fifteen minutes of fame.”
“Well, we’ll just have to do everything we can to make sure that doesn’t happen,” she said.
They looked at each other – his gaze wide-eyed and innocent, hers narrow and suspicious. The tension in the room became so thick you could cut it with a knife.
There was a knock at the conference room door. Annette walked in carrying a document. Neither Kathy nor Charles broke eye contact. Annette looked curiously from one to the other before placing the document onto the conference room table in front of Kathy.
Kathy broke the stare first and looked up. “Thank you, Annette.”
“No problem,” Annette said. She glanced at Charles again and then left.
Kathy scanned the document. “This is a notice from the Court setting a hearing on Defendant’s Motion for Protective Order on Friday morning at 10:00 a.m.”
Charles pulled out his I-Phone and checked his calendar. “I’m available then.”
“You don’t have to be there,” she said. “It’s just motion practice. I can call you afterwards and tell you what happened.”
So, she didn’t want him there. Well, he had a right to be there and he would be. It was as simple as that. “I’ll be there.”
CHAPTER IV
At 9:30 a.m. on Friday morning, Charles and Kathy stood on the steps of the C. Clyde Atkins courthouse where the magistrate judges were housed. It was an older, more traditional courthouse building than the very modern Wilkie D. Ferguson, Jr. Courthouse.
Once again, news reporters surrounded them and shouted questions. This time though, Charles let Kathy do the talking.
“Do you think the Court is going to grant the defendants’ motion for protective order?” one reporter asked.
“We certainly hope not. Liberal discovery is one of the bedrocks of our legal system. That’s why the standard for seeking to prevent discovery is so high,” Kathy said. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have to go inside and prepare for the hearing. Thank you.”
Charles and Kathy headed into the courthouse. They took a seat at the counsel’s table on the right hand side of the courtroom. It was a smaller courtroom than Judge McCarthy’s, decorated more traditionally in wood and polished brass.
Weisman, Donald Peachtree, Wilkes, and a man whom Kathy did not recognize, sat at the other counsel’s table. Weisman rose from his seat and walked over to Kathy. “Good morning, Counselor. Mr. Morgan.” He nodded at Charles.
Charles nodded back.
“Good morning, Stewart,” Kathy said.
“Do you have a moment?” Weisman inclined his head toward the back of the courtroom.
“Yes.” She got up and followed him into one of the small conference rooms just outside the courtroom.
“Has your client had a chance to consider our rather generous settlement offer?”
“Yes, he has. Your office should have received our letter by now rejecting it,” she said.
He raised his eyebrows. “I see. Well, does your client intend to make a counteroffer?” He held up a hand to stave off any protest she might make.
“I know that you’re not able to discuss your client’s intentions with me. It’s just that, my client has provided me with a certain amount of settlement authority. If we’re able to resolve this matter now, we could announce a settlement to the Court and obviate the need for the hearing. So, is there an amount at which your client would be willing to settle this case?”
“I am not authorized to negotiate settlement with you at this time,” she said.
He grimaced. “Okay. Well, moving on to the next order of business. Have you given any thought to withdrawing your discovery requests in light of our agreement to stipulate that Mr. Wilkes was engaged in authorized company business at the time of the accident?”
“Yes,” she said. “We still need that discovery, so we reject the offer to enter into a stipulation. But thank you for the offer, though.”
Weisman frowned. “I see. Well, I guess that’s all for now.” He walked over to the conference room door and held it open for her. He made a slight bow and swept his arm toward the opening. “After you, Counselor.”
“Thank you,” she said.
He followed her into the courtroom and they took their respective seats.
“Later.” She stood up as the door to the judge’s chambers opened.
“All rise!” the bailiff called.
Everyone in the courtroom rose to their feet as Magistrate Judge Jacobs walked in and took his seat. He was a tall, burly, African-American man, with a full beard and a stern expression on his face. He cut an imposing figure in his judicial robes. “You may be seated.” His deep booming voice resonated with authority. He looked down at the lawyers. “Counselors, please make your appearances for the record.”
“Kathy Brooks from Gold, Rome & Harris on behalf of the plaintiff, Charles Morgan, Jr., your honor. Also with me is my paralegal, Jim Mann.”
“Stewart Weisman here on behalf of Defendants, your Honor. With me is Mr. Donald Peachtree, the President of Peachtree Consulting, and the individual Defendant, Mr. Thomas Wilkes.”
“We are here today on Defendants’ motion for protective order,” Judge Jacobs said. “I have read ----.”
“Excuse me, your Honor,” Kathy said, “but I don’t believe the man sitting at the end of defense counsel’s table has been introduced.” It was normally a huge faux pas to interrupt a judge – especially a federal one - but she couldn’t allow the opportunity to pass without forcing Weisman to introduce the mystery man sitting next to him. Weisman stared at Kathy blandly for a brief moment before addressing the judge.
“Oh that was an oversight, your Honor. This gentleman is David Bradford from the U.S. Attorney’s office. He’s here today in case your Honor requires testimony with respect to the confidential nature of the information at issue in the motion,” he said.
