“There’s one in the guest bathroom. Ah, you want to make a wax impression of the key in case you need to get back in here, eh? I’ll get the candle.”
While Snowden melted the wax on the candle, Sasha looked around the kitchen, poking in the cabinets and fridge. She blinked, then blinked again, as she counted twenty-two bottles of vitamin supplements on the counter. Crazy health nuts, she thought. She checked the mini laundry room, but nothing caught her eye. “I’m not getting this, Avery. Are these people supposed to be rich? If they are, they certainly didn’t furnish this place to impress people. I have furniture that’s better than some of this stuff. The word spartan doesn’t cover it.”
Snowden shrugged. “Not our problem. Did you wipe down everything that you touched?” Sasha nodded. “I’m going to take this candle with us and hope they won’t miss it, since it’s never been lit. A blackened wick might cause suspicion.” Sasha nodded.
“Time to leave. Do you want to go to your hotel? I can have Steve stake out here.”
“I could use a shower and a nap, so I’ll head for the hotel. If you need me for tonight, give me a call. Here are the flash drives. I almost forgot to give them to you.”
Both operatives walked out of the Forrester condo without encountering anyone. They parted company outside, with Sasha driving away and Snowden heading down the street to where he’d parked his car earlier. He sat for a while, his brain racing before he called Charles to bring him up to date. “I’m going to head over to a FedEx office and overnight the flash drives, then have a key made. I’m staying on with my people. I’ll check in later this evening when the Forresters return. The minute I found out the Forresters were headed for the city, to his old firm, I called one of my operatives to stake out the lobby of the building to see when he leaves. I’m told he and his wife took the train in. He’ll follow them back here. If Maggie was successful planting the bug at the firm, my night is going to be busy listening to what went down there and what’s going on in the condo. I’ll be in touch later this evening.”
Snowden signed off and put the car in gear. Nice town, he thought as he drove up one street and down the other. Nice place to retire if you’re an old fuddy-duddy. It was not for him, though. When it was time for him to walk off into the sunset, he wanted bright lights and noise, to prove he was still alive.
* * *
Annie, Myra, Nikki, and Maggie settled down at an outside café to talk. Myra was looking at an incoming text from Charles that said Isabelle and Yoko never made it to Washington. Something went awry at a job site that required Isabelle to be there, and Yoko didn’t want to make the trip alone. She shared it with the others, who just shrugged. They ordered coffee from a waiter as an excuse for taking up a table. Maggie grimaced; she was so counting on food. And it was almost the supper hour.
“Should we go home, or stick around and spend the night?” Nikki asked.
“Your business is finished, so other than taking a trip to Riverville, I don’t see any need to stay,” Annie said. “Unless we can think of a way to get more personal background on the Forresters.”
“I thought Avery Snowden had that covered,” Maggie said, eyeing the menu the waiter had left with their coffee. “Has anyone heard from him?”
“I’m calling him right now.” Annie held up her hand for the girls to be quiet as she listened intently to what was being said. “First things first. We’re going to take the six o’clock shuttle home. You are not going to believe what Mr. Snowden told me. Listen up, girls.” She quickly and concisely repeated everything Snowden had accomplished, ending with, “As we speak, the Forresters are right now traveling to the Ballard law firm’s offices. Seems their day lady overheard a phone call in which the husband and wife were talking to each other. I guess it was a command performance, although I don’t see Arthur Forrester dancing to anyone’s tune but his own. That tells me it was a threatening phone call. And it happened after Nikki and Maggie left their offices. What do you think, Nikki?”
Nikki offered up a low chuckle. “I think the firm wants your business so bad, they can taste it. They know that if your business goes to the O’Malley firm, it will be because of Forrester. They’ll threaten him with lawsuits till the end of time and bleed him dry. Whatever they threatened him with, it was enough to make him hightail it into the city. With his wife, no less. Must be some kind of package deal. The thing is, this is all make-believe. Although I have to say, I did like the partners at O’Malley. I liked that they didn’t try to impress us. If this was for real, I’d recommend them over the Ballard firm.”
“When things settle back down, I’ll personally send both firms letters thanking them for their interest and tell them this isn’t quite the right time to separate my holdings, but will keep them in mind,” Annie said.
“Sounds like a plan,” Maggie said as she ran her finger up and down the plastic menu.
“You know what the best part is. Avery will get it all in real time, since I planted that listening device under the conference table. When Fergus handed it to me at the last minute, I have to admit I was a tad worried how I’d get to do it and get away with it. I vote that we head for the airport and go home when we finish our coffee,” Maggie said.
The women reached out and high-fived each other, wicked smiles on their faces. They had really pulled off their little caper, with no one the wiser.
“Mr. Arthur Forrester, aka Mr. SOP, you are toast!” Myra said, shooting two thumbs up in victory.
Nikki looked around at the sisters. “What can I say? When you’re good, you are soooo good!”
Another round of high fives was followed by hilarious laughter, which had the other patrons smiling, wishing that they were part of whatever happy-making events were taking place at table four.
* * *
As the sisters were high-fiving each other, Arthur Forrester and his wife were stepping out of the cab they had taken from Union Station onto the sidewalk in front of the building in which Ballard, Ballard and Quinlan was located. Arthur looked at his wife, but didn’t say anything. He then looked at the building where he’d worked for thirty-odd years. His stomach muscles tightened. This was the first time in close to three years that he’d come anywhere near to the building where he had plied his trade for all those years. Since retiring, he had avoided this area as though it were the locus of the latest plague. He thought of the work he had done at Ballard, Ballard and Quinlan as having slaved his life away.
“What are we doing here, Arthur? I don’t understand why I had to come here with you. What are you waiting for? Open the damn door and let’s get this, whatever this is, over and done with. I don’t mind telling you that I am really fed up with this mess you’ve gotten us into. I mean really fed up, Arthur.”
“You asked me the same question on the train ride in four times, and four times I told you I do not know the answer. It was the malpractice lawyer who called this meeting. I have to be here. And, to answer the second question, yes, I am stalling. I do not want to go into that building any more than you do. I hate this place with a passion. When I walked away from here, I never thought I would ever come near it again, and yet here I am.”
Forrester drew in a deep breath and opened the heavy plate-glass door to allow his wife to go in ahead of him. She sidestepped him neatly. With his wife walking behind him, he marched across the cavernous lobby to the bank of elevators. He pressed the button and could not help but remember how slow the elevators always were.
He turned to his wife. “Listen to me, Nala. I don’t want you to say anything, and for God’s sake, do not volunteer anything, even if it is to comment on the weather. Do you understand me?”
His tone was a low snarl. Nala reared back, her eyes narrowing. “You’re the idiot in this family, Arthur. Don’t you tell me what to do. The days when you could tell me to jump and I would ask ‘how high’ are long gone. Do-you-understand- ME?”
They were alone in the elevator, riding up to the fourteenth floor, before Arthur Forres
ter spoke. “Seriously? You expect me to respond? Just do as I say, so we can get out of this place.”
His breathing in check, Forrester walked over to the courtesy desk. This was going to be awkward. His stomach muscles started to tense up. “Hello, Carol. I have a meeting scheduled with Henry. Could you tell him I’m here?”
The receptionist turned pink. “Ah . . . Arthur . . . ah, nice to see you again. Hello, Mrs. Forrester.” Nala nodded a greeting. “Mr. Ballard said to bring you right back when you got here. I . . . ah . . . I know you know the way, but I . . . have to . . .”
“It’s not a problem, Carol. We’ll follow you.”
The room was full. The Ballard brothers and Robert Quinlan all sat in a row. Juan Lorenzo, the malpractice attorney, sat across from them. There was no coffee on the credenza, no bowls of fruit or pastries. Not even bottles of water. Nothing for the pariah. That was fine with him. He sat down next to Juan Lorenzo, with Nala on his other side. He clamped his lips shut and waited for what was to come. He knew that the partners would say nothing, giving the floor to Lorenzo. He leaned back, but he didn’t take his eyes off the three men sitting across from him—the three lawyers that he, along with all the other drones who worked at the law firm, had helped make rich over the years. The three men he hated more than anything in the whole world. If they thought he was going to speak first, they could wait till hell froze over.
Forrester was stunned when he heard his wife say in a voice that could have chilled Jell-O, “Why are we here? More to the point, why am I here? If you do not, at this very moment, give me an answer that is acceptable, I am walking out of here. And if you think you will ever get me to come back, you all need to have your heads examined.”
Forrester wanted nothing more than to strangle his wife right then and there. He did his best to hold his emotions in check as he schooled his face to impassiveness. He looked like it was carved in granite.
“Yes, I’m sure you do want to know, and, of course, you have every right to know, so I am going to tell you.” Juan Lorenzo smiled. “Right now. This morning, two young women came into this very room and talked to Henry, Alvin, and Robert. They were, for want of a better term, fact-finding for their employer, who is considering this firm, along with another firm, to handle a portion of her very extensive real-estate holdings. I believe,” he said, looking down at his notes for confirmation, “somewhere in the neighborhood of four hundred million dollars is what the firm would be managing, should it be chosen. The client’s name is Countess Anna de Silva. She was represented here today by one of her attorneys, Nicole Quinn, who owns a twelve-member, all-female law firm in Georgetown. The other woman was the former editor in chief of the Post, which the countess also owns. Quinn has impressive credentials and was named Lawyer of the Year three years running. Maggie Spritzer has several Pulitzer Prizes to her credit. Having said that, I’m sure you can see that everyone is taking the possibility of securing the countess’s account seriously.”
Forrester wanted to outright slap his wife silly when she said, “I don’t see what that has to do with me or my husband, especially since my husband no longer works for this firm. If there’s a point to this, get to it, please.”
“Ah, yes, the point. The point is, the countess is aware of your husband’s lawsuit against Garland Lee, as well as this firm’s part in it all. While Ms. Quinn didn’t come out and directly say the countess would not consider the firm until the lawsuit is settled one way or the other, reading between the lines, the partners believe that is her intent. Which then will mean the countess will more than likely take her business to O’Malley, O’Shaunnesy and McCallister because Ms. Quinn mentioned them as the alternate firm. Which, by the way, is a sterling firm, as your husband can tell you.”
Lorenzo stretched his neck so he could see past Arthur Forrester to his wife, to whom he was responding. “As you know, we’re in limbo here with the judge, who has not ruled on the summary judgment motion filed by Ms. Lee. We can settle this now and avoid a trial. It is, after all, a trial your husband can’t possibly win. All three of the lawyers in this room and I can cite you a thousand cases where celebrity wins out. The firm is prepared to drop their case against your husband and would like to see your husband drop his suit against Garland Lee. Everyone picks up his marbles and just walks away.”
“You forgot to say empty-handed,” Arthur Forrester said coldly. “I have no intention of walking away or settling. I earned those monies held in escrow. I put the deal together. I earned my percentage. What part of that don’t you understand?”
“The part where you are a greedy idiot. You hoodwinked Garland Lee. You know it, and we know it. All you did was plug in numbers and make copies. And that movie deal you tried to engineer without telling Ms. Lee! The deal where you appointed yourself her agent, her manager, and anything else you could tack on to make you money. In the end, you would have made more off the movie deal than Garland Lee would have. But, once she had her eyes opened to what you were doing, she chopped you off at the knees and refused, just the way she refused to do the book deal and the branding deal. A jury will see right through all of your sanctimonious nonsense and see what a greedy son of a bitch you really are. You violated every ethical stricture in the book when you conspired against your own client for your own personal gain.
“You’re finished, don’t you see? Why are you being so blind? Going through a trial, putting your family through that spectacle, only to lose—because you are a greedy bastard—can’t be your endgame. You’ll spend all of your pension, your retirement, only to come out the loser by going through a trial. In addition to that, if the firm loses the de Silva account because of you, you will be sued up one side and down the other. You will be defending yourself in courtrooms till the day you die. Don’t be stupid, Arthur, you cannot win. Either drop the suit or settle,” Lorenzo said, his voice a virtual snarl.
“So you say. I want my day in court. I will not be denied that which I earned,” Forrester said, bitterness ringing in his voice at the threats raining down on him.
Lorenzo appealed to Nala. “Is this how you want it to go forward? Is this what you want for your family? For your retirement?”
Nala Forrester looked shell-shocked. She recovered nicely and sucked in a deep breath, her eyes lasers of hate directed straight at her husband of forty-some years. “This is how I see it, gentlemen. You can’t fix stupid. I do not plan on standing in the wings to watch what you described happening. This might surprise you, but I happen to agree with everything you’ve said here. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving.” Nala Forrester turned to her husband, and said, “I’m going to stay in town tonight. I’ll return home when, and if, I feel like it. Good-bye, gentlemen.”
Arthur Forrester stared at his wife, disbelief at her betrayal plainly showing on his face. Gone was any attempt to keep a poker face. If he had a gun, he would have shot her stone-cold dead.
All the men rose to their feet, except Arthur Forrester. The sound of the door’s closing was so loud, it sounded like thunder in the quiet conference room.
Juan Lorenzo shot Arthur Forrester a pitying look. “Look, Arthur, I know this came as a shock to you today. Why don’t you go home, think it over, and call us in the morning. Please don’t make a decision that you’ll regret for the rest of your life. And while you’re at it, you might want to try to make peace with your wife.”
Arthur Forrester stood up, shook his shoulders, and looked around at the four men. “Do me a favor. Go to hell. But before you leave for that burning inferno, kiss my ass, boys!”
No one blinked. No one said a word. No one even breathed until the door opened and Arthur Forrester walked through it.
Henry Ballard looked at his two partners. “Draw up the complaints. Charge the bastard with anything you can think of. I want everything ready the moment I say to go.”
Juan Lorenzo sighed, as did the others. “We tried.”
“Yes, we did,” the three partners said in unison. “Yes, w
e did.”
Chapter 7
Forty-eight hours after the girls had returned from Washington, Charles called a dinner meeting to further strategize about Garland Lee’s mission. The girls were cleaning up with their usual zest and thoroughness. “We shaved off a second,” Yoko giggled as she hung up the dishcloth to dry. The others high-fived her, laughing as they always did over their impeccable timing where cleanup was concerned. Yoko was last in line to exit the kitchen for the trip down the moss-covered steps that led to the war room.
As was their custom, they all turned silent as they saluted Lady Justice in all her majesty. They took their seats and started to chatter nonstop, bringing everyone up to date on what each one knew and didn’t know.
Nikki spoke first. “I’m taking ten days off. I’m between cases, and there is absolutely nothing urgent that the others can’t handle. I’m available for whatever I can do.”
“I’m with Nikki,” Alexis said. “I won my case yesterday, and the rule at the firm is ten days off to celebrate. I’m also available.”
“I got a text from Kathryn, who said she’s rolling into town tomorrow for ten days. Ten days must be our magic number. She has to have her rig overhauled. She said she might even be here two full weeks. As for me, I’m good. My college boys finished up and are available twenty-four/seven,” Yoko said happily.
“I don’t exactly have ten full days, but I can guarantee seven,” Isabelle said. “My project is ahead of schedule. I do have to be available, however.”
“I’m good for whatever I can do, as long as Annie cuts me some slack,” Maggie said.
“You have all the time you need, my dear,” Annie said generously.
“I think I speak for Annie, as well as myself, by saying we’re here to do whatever is needed, and we don’t have any time constraints,” Myra said.
Charles and Fergus walked down the three steps to the main part of the war room to stand behind Annie’s and Myra’s chairs. “We’re here for Avery Snowden’s report. He should be checking in momentarily. I do believe he has some information that will aid us in our next moves. He’ll be on speakerphone and answer any and all questions you might have. Please hold your questions till after he has given his report. While his report will be verbal for now, he’s overnighting a full written report. He also said we might want to arrange a face-to-face with Ms. Lee after we hear the report, since he said he picked up some information she either forgot to mention or doesn’t want to talk about.”
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