She reluctantly deposited the drying roses in the garbage, the roses that she now knew had been from Joe. As if he was telepathic, the telephone rang and his voice greeted her.
“Evie, glad I caught you home. Feeling better today?”
“Yes, Joe … thank you. I’m fine. Listen, I want to apologize for last night. And I want to thank you for a really wonderful evening. I didn’t even realize how much time we had spent together until I got home.”
“I’m glad. I called because I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed spending time with you. I really want to see you again.”
“Okay. What did you have in mind?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, it looks like I might be on your side of the continent again this week.”
“Oh. I have to be in Florida this week. I’m leaving Monday night and I don’t know how much of the week I’ll be there.”
“Mmmmm. Okay. Well, then there’s another option. Two weeks from tonight there’s a charity event in New York I was considering attending. One of those I-wish-I-ate-before-I-came sort of things. My sister, who I told you about last night, is on the board of this charity and is threatening me with all sorts of mayhem if I don’t show up.”
“It’s black tie?”
“Yes. But you don’t have to wear one.”
“Very funny. Is it a sit-down dinner?”
“Yes. Dinner and dancing and the usual sort of award presentation to some honoree.”
“Are there horses involved?”
He laughed, “No, not this time.”
“What’s the charity?”
“It’s called ‘Women and Children First.’ It’s a caretaking organization for abused women and children.”
“Hmmm. How interesting. I know it.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Would you like to go with me?”
“Let me just check … okay, I’m completely open. Yes, I think that would be very nice.”
“Great. I’ll get back to you with the details. I may fly in the day before, but I’ll let you know. Do you like champagne?”
“Yes, if it’s dry.”
“Duly noted.”
“Will you be at the Plaza again?”
“No. Probably the Four Seasons. I’ve got to go. Don’t get sunburned in Florida.”
“I’ll sit away from the window. See you in two weeks.”
“Bye.”
“Goodbye.”
She hung up. Well, he seems to be undaunted by the challenge of a long distance pursuit.
After another hour of working on her computer, she felt chilled and remembered that she’d left all the windows open. She trekked around the apartment closing them, but the one over her bed didn’t cooperate. It was a tilt-out window design with a metal crank and latch. The frame on the window was warped and the resulting curvature kept the crank from returning it to its closed position.
As she fought with the hardware, Evie noticed a woman standing at the corner looking up toward her building. She could see that it was a female with dark hair, but she couldn’t make out any more detail, other than the woman’s hands appeared to be holding binoculars or a camera or other type of small object up to her eyes. Tourists, thought Evie. They’ll photograph anything.
~~
On Monday morning, she checked her voice mail first thing, out of habit. All three messages were about the same subject although left by different people. Hanover had been admitted to the hospital to undergo some tests. Something about potential heart blockage. The last message, from Paul Wayford, asked her to proceed with her plan to attend the client meetings in Florida. She would be handling the entire negotiation without Hanover, but a junior associate would be accompanying her to assist.
She flashed on the image of Hanover walking slowly out of the room during her presentation the other day. And Jenna had said he’d been out of the office more than usual.
She dialed Paul’s extension, but he wasn’t in his office. She left a message acknowledging his request and said that she would take care of the client. She busied herself preparing the paperwork for the trip and at 9:45, Paul called back.
“Evie, could you come to my office please?”
“Sure, Paul. I’ll be right there.”
When she walked through the door, she noticed Steve Buniker sitting in one of the chairs at the small table in Paul’s inner office.
“Evie, take a seat,” Paul indicated a chair next to Steve and came around the desk, taking a seat in a third chair at the small table.
“Is Hanover okay? What’s happened?” asked Evie looking from Paul to Steve and back to Paul. The tension in the air offered no clues as to its origin.
Paul took a slow breath, glanced at Steve and turned his gaze to Evie. “Hanover had triple bypass surgery last night. He’ll be in the hospital a few days.”
“Oh my God. Is there anything I can do?”
“No, his prognosis is good, but that’s not why I asked you here.” Paul looked down and then looked directly into Evie’s eyes. “Did you send out an agreement to Sangerson on Friday?”
Evie glanced at Steve and her eyes fixed on Paul. “I sent it to Alan. He told me not to send it out to Sangerson until he’d seen it.”
“Did you draft this?” Steve broke in, raising a stack of paper stapled at one corner. He handed the document to Evie who scanned the first page and felt her blood pressure begin to rise. She was looking at the original Zoomhelix agreement that she had labored extensively to re-work. How did he get this?
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She began speaking while still flipping through the pages. “This was the form of the agreement we received from Zoomhelix. My initial instructions were to minimize the alterations to it. Last week, Alan asked me to change direction and re-write it, which I did. I sent the re-written version to Alan on Friday. I haven’t sent anything to Sangerson yet.”
Steve looked at Paul. Paul reached for the document, glanced at a few pages and returned his gaze to Evie. “Do you have a copy of the re-written document you could show me?”
“Sure.” Evie started to rise, but Paul motioned for her to sit down. “Not just yet—”
Steve interrupted, “Alan said that you were to send it out on Friday to Sangerson. He promised them they would have it on Friday. He said he didn’t hear from you and he assumed that you had sent it out as agreed. Sangerson called this morning and they said that this was the document they received.” Steve pointed at the document that had now fully made the rounds at the small table. Steve rubbed his chin and with squinting eyes added, “Alan said this morning that you sent a ‘cc’ of that Friday transmission to him. He forwarded it to me. It was this document that was attached.”
Evie’s mind raced and she felt her hands become sweaty. WHAT? He’s lying. He’s lying. He knows that’s not true. “I don’t know how Sangerson received this document,” she said. “I sent the re-written version only to Alan. I had to leave early on Friday …” She suddenly shivered at what must have transpired while she was enjoying her evening with Joe. She shook her head and looked directly at Paul with determination. “Paul, I can prove it. I can print out the email I sent to Alan on Friday. I can print out the attached document … the re-written contract.”
“Okay,” Paul stood. “Go and get the copy of the re-written agreement and the email you sent to Alan on Friday.
Evie stood and felt the blood rush to her head. She ignored the subsequent dizziness and quickly exited the room, unaware of the faces she passed in the hallways back to her office. It was as if they were strangers ignored while running to catch a subway train. She hurriedly docked her laptop and booted it up. She logged into the firm’s system, brought up her email and clicked on the file of sent messages to view the list of emails she had sent on Friday.
To her horror there was an email sent out from her username to Sangerson with a ‘cc’ to Alan! The listing indicated that it was sent at 6:08 p.m. Friday. That was after she had left the office to get
ready for her date with Joe. Her mind raced … could she prove that? She tried to remember if anyone saw her leave. But how would she prove that the email was not sent by her from a modem-connected remote location? How can I prove that my username has been hijacked?
She brought up the message. It was a brief announcement to Sangerson that the revised agreement with her revisions was attached for their review. She clicked on the icon for the attached document with her stomach churning. It was the original Zoomhelix Agreement! She looked down the list of sent messages to find the actual message she had sent to Alan. It was not there. How could he have pulled this off? Erasing all evidence of the message I sent him, fabricating a message with the wrong document attached, sending it from my username after I left … I didn’t know you could send messages from someone else’s username. And how did he get my system password?
She quickly exited email and brought up the firm’s electronic database of client files. She pulled up the document that she had created and saved to the system containing the re-written Sangerson-Zoomhelix Agreement. The file contained the original Zoomhelix Agreement! He must have saved the original over the rewritten version she had created. Why is he doing this? It would have taken quite a bit of time to create this fraudulent electronic trail. What is he trying to do to me that is more important to him than a happy client?
She brought up the history of the saved file to show the names of those persons who had most recently accessed the file. Her name was listed repeatedly with the last timed access Friday evening. He was thorough, wasn’t he? And he’s apparently quite astute with the computer. How did he manage to replace my re-written version with the original and avoid adding his name to the Hit History for this file? He must’ve been working from my network address for some time … he must’ve logged in as me using my username and password … but how did he get my password? What in the hell is he trying to do to me?
The minutes ticked by and she searched the system for any other documentation that might prove that she was telling the truth. Suddenly she thought to search her own hard drive located on her laptop that was independent from the firm’s networked drives. She found her re-written document in a draft form. It was not the final version that she had saved in the firm’s electronic database, which had been overwritten, but it was some proof that she had re-written the agreement. She printed it out and walked back to Paul’s office wondering how she was going to convince two partners that she, an associate, was being set up by a third partner. To what possible motive could she point?
When she reappeared inside Paul’s office and explained, Steve Buniker lost his temper and began to yell. “My client deserves better from you, Evie! I can’t believe you would send out the wrong document and then try to make up some story to blame a partner! So you left early! What was it, a hot date? It’s obvious that you couldn’t finish re-working the document by the time you wanted to leave, so you just sent out the original.”
Paul raised a hand to calm Steve, and Evie simply stared. He’s doing it, she thought with a chill. He’s really doing it. He’s going to get away with it.
“If I was going to send something unfinished, why wouldn’t I send this partly-finished draft? At least it’s better than the original,” she said depositing her printout on the table.
Evie turned again to Paul. “You believe me, don’t you, Paul? I can’t explain how the email was sent out under my username. I can’t explain what happened to my re-written document that I saved in the system library. All I know is that I re-worked it, saved the final version on the system, attached it to an email addressed only to Alan and left at five fifteen. I also left voice mails for Alan, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they have been conveniently erased. I can’t explain how at eight minutes after six, someone pretending to be me sent out the old version to Sangerson under my name. I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m being set up. And yes, I was at a social engagement and can prove I wasn’t sending emails last Friday evening.”
“Yeah, right. I’m sure whoever you were out with would say anything you wanted them to about your whereabouts,” said Steve.
“Why is it so easy for you to believe that I’m a liar?” Evie said staring at Steve.
Paul looked concerned but not convinced. He picked up the document she had dropped on the table and flipped through it. As he walked back around to his desk chair, he seemed to be deep in thought. At the start of each of Steve’s insistent supplications, Paul held up his hand to wave it away.
“Where is Alan, anyway?” Evie asked, feeling slightly emboldened by Paul’s disregard for Steve’s interruption attempts.
“On a plane. Left this morning to meet with a client in London,” he said.
Steve continued in his half-whispered rant of reproach and insisted that Evie be removed from the Sangerson matter. Evie stood her ground, but said nothing. She didn’t have any interest in continuing her work with Sangerson. Her schedule was uncomfortably crowded with matters from other clients. She did have a significant interest in her reputation and her mind raced with what she could say in her defense, but she knew anything she offered would be misinterpreted as a desperate attempt to deflect the blame for this mess. Her face was calm but interested, as if she was observing an incident of road rage on the highway.
“I’m going to look into this with a little more depth,” said Paul finally. “In the meantime, Evie, attend to that Florida matter and leave Sangerson to me.”
It was far from a satisfying outcome to Evie, but she knew instinctively it was the best she was going to get. How odd, she noted to herself, just a week ago Paul was cheering me on as the champion of moral rights … and now … Steve paced and grumbled in the background, but his mumbling failed to distract Paul as he continued speaking to Evie. Steve threw down the original document and picked up Paul’s side telephone, dialing with angry fingers.
Paul, with a myopic focus on future client business, promised to have Hanover’s secretary forward some emails and other information to give Evie the necessary background for the upcoming Florida meetings. He added that if she needed to ask any questions to contact him because Hanover might not be interacting with the office for a few days. She thanked him and excused herself. That certainly changes the forecast.
Back in her office, she sat fuming. It was clear to her that Alan was targeting her, falsifying interactions with her, setting her up for firm reprisals. She didn’t know if Paul really believed her and she knew now that her actions would be closely watched by the partnership. And Alan may have already set other traps. It will be good to get out of town for a few days and work for a client unrelated to Alan. She emailed the Florida client, Martini Investments, that she would be supporting their negotiation efforts solo.
The telephone rang with an internal call and she picked up the receiver when she saw on the digital display that it was Jenna. “Hey!” said Jenna.
“Hey, Jen,” said Evie.
“I haven’t had a chance to talk to you,” answered Jenna. “Did you hear about Hanover?”
“Yes, I know. Kind of shocking. Although when I really thought about it, he hasn’t been his normal energetic self lately.”
“Definitely not, and he just hasn’t been around that much. I tried to see him several times and he wasn’t taking meetings or was out of the office.”
“I hope he’s okay.”
“Yeah, me too. I hate to think of someone else at the helm; in fact I can’t think of anyone worthy. Anyway, how’re you doing? Any new developments with our favorite dickhead?” asked Jenna.
“You don’t want to know … I feel like the character from that Alfred Hitchcock movie, Stranger on a Train, who’s been unwittingly recruited into a sinister plan, but the delegated part of the plan remains unknown,” she sighed. “So, what’s going on with you?”
Jenna sneezed into the telephone and apologized, then said, “I was in D.C. yesterday and I have to go back tomorrow for Breckenridge. They are outsourcing their entire data processi
ng function to Emerson Data Works. It’s going to be an enormously complicated transaction. Lots of deployment phases and performance standards.”
While organizing the contents of her Martini Investments file, Evie spoke into the telephone speaker, “That sounds like a good time. Hey … y’know, I’ve got some really good performance-standard schedules you could use as a guide, with very precise language and good benchmark formulas. I’ll email them.”
“Great. I hate to re-invent the wheel. Thanks … uuhhh … wait, someone just came into my office,” said Jenna in a professional tone. “Hey, if you need to talk, call me tomorrow at the Capitol Hilton—it’s that hotel where we stayed last year near the White House.”
“Okay. Thanks, Jen. Good luck.”
They hung up and Evie looked up to see David Hadelman in her doorway. David was a litigator who had switched to the corporate department to do transactional work. A thirty-something, Brooks-Brothers type, he was tall and pleasant looking with a square jaw, burr-cut, jet black hair and deep set, penetrating eyes.
“Have you actually returned to the office or am I seeing things?” he asked with an amused air as he leaned against the doorframe, balancing a mug of coffee and a donut in one hand.
Evie looked up and smiled even though she felt that she had no time to chat. “David. Hi. Uhhh … how are you?”
“Great. Living large is the best revenge, I always say,” he took a bite of the donut, leaving chocolate traces at the corner of his mouth.
“Did your divorce become final?”
“Yes. She’s calling it a ‘starter’ marriage. I’m calling it an education. And even though I have no money left, I have my Jaguar, my guitar and my books. When are we going to get together?”
Wearing the Spider (A Suspense Novel) (Legal Thriller) (Thriller) Page 11
