Wearing the Spider (A Suspense Novel) (Legal Thriller) (Thriller)

by Schaab, Susan

  Walking around the house barefoot for a few minutes, trailed by her new Doberman friends, brought the anxiety down a fraction and she settled on a leather sofa in a paneled den to rest for a few minutes. The pups fell asleep on the floor next to her. Their presence now represented an enormous comfort to Evie, who only hours ago had considered them a danger.

  She picked up an issue of The Economist and flipped pages. What was she really so tormented by? Was it the web Alan was weaving or the fact that he was weaving it? It had to be possible to convince the partners that she’d had nothing to do with the Gerais Chevas deal. No amount of mistaken recordkeeping should stand unchallenged. Her denials had not yet been fully tested, but even if Paul didn’t believe her, Hanover would. But, how much of an impact would this smear campaign have? How far would Alan go? The magazine fell open to a dog-eared page containing an article analyzing tribal conflicts in South Africa.

  She began to read, but the next thing she would remember was being awakened by Joe, who was gently blotting the beads of perspiration from her brow with a handkerchief. She was disoriented for a moment.

  “You were having a nightmare,” he said.

  “Oh. I don’t remember. It was just all ethereal images and shadowy feelings of dread.”

  “Relax. Take a deep breath.”

  Evie breathed and blinked at him. “How long was I sleeping?”

  “Not long. I was only gone about forty-five minutes.”

  She nodded.

  “Hungry?”

  She smiled. “Yes.”

  After a casual dinner in front of a fire, Evie followed Joe up the stairs to a bedroom with a queen-sized bed and a suite of furniture in a rustic Sante Fe style. It had its own bath. He deposited her small suitcase on top of the dresser and pulled back sheets that smelled of musk. She sat on the bed. Every part of her wanted to reach out and invite him to join her, but she resisted. He pulled a comforter out of a closet and laid it on the bed.

  “It gets chilly here at night.” He kissed her on the forehead and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

  When she awoke the next morning, she could see the early morning light nestling in, but there was no sound except the subtle rhythmic waves as if charged with maintaining the intimacy of their ongoing weekend communion with the sea.

  She looked at the clock and realized that Joe had let her sleep—it was now after nine o’clock in the morning. She could smell coffee and some kind of fruit-filled bread coming from downstairs. The morning sun was now aggressively warming the room. She energetically showered, straightened the bed and changed into a clean pair of jeans and a light blue pullover. Not sure how to tell him she was leaving, she descended the staircase slowly and found him typing on a laptop computer at the dining room table, a steaming cup of coffee to his right. He was wearing khaki colored shorts and a polo shirt and seemed to be deep in thought.

  At the sound of her footsteps he looked up, a welcoming “good morning” in his face.

  “Hey, Evie. How are you feeling?”

  “Great. Leisure sleep is a rare luxury.” She took a few more steps down the stairs. Ayoka waddled up to meet her and licked her shin. Evie smiled, patted the smooth head of her greeter and looked at Joe with an appraising gaze.

  As she moved closer to him, she noticed that his hair was wet, he smelled freshly showered and his eyes glistened with the concentration of a man who was engrossed in his work.

  “You look like you’ve been up awhile.”

  “Awhile,” he said. “Would you like some coffee? There’s this cranberry bread I bought last night. Or, we could run out for breakfast?”

  “Just coffee for me, thanks.” She looked over his shoulder at his laptop and noticed that there were no wires. “You’re accessing your company’s systems?”

  “Yeah, we’re all wireless.”

  “Don’t you worry about security?”

  “It’s a relative concept.”

  “Law firms are starting to go wireless, but my firm hasn’t come to terms with the vulnerability when we’re transferring sensitive files. Our client file systems are still modem-only. Did you see where I left my briefcase? I need to check email.”

  “Now, why would you want to do that?” he said as he stood and faced her with a broad dimpled smile. He moved close for a kiss and she willingly received it. “It’s on the table in the den.” She draped her arms around his neck and they kept kissing. He broke away gently and disappeared into the kitchen. She retrieved her briefcase from the den and pulled out her BlackBerry, but she laid it on the table when Joe returned seconds later with a cup of coffee for her.

  The coffee was presented, bacheloresque manner, in a black mug with a mismatched ill-fitting saucer underneath. A look of amusement on her face, she sat down at the table across from where he had been working and looked over at the spread of diagrams and documents circling his small laptop. He noticed her gaze.

  “Just monitoring a new project we’re working on,” he said. “It’s body-scanning technology. A database of thousands of stored images, identifying a specific person.” He smoothed back a lock of wet hair that fell on his forehead.

  “The database of images can then be used to create digital simulations of that person’s movement. You’ve probably seen it used in media to create special effects.”

  “Oh, yes. I think I have. Did your company originate that?”

  Joe sat down and started to organize the frenzied spread of hard copy. The edges of the paper clicked against the tabletop as he stood them in a vertical stack to align them.

  “No. But we’re working on variations. Artificial intelligence applications. For example, so a digital image can interact like a real person.” Joe took a sip of his coffee. “Well, almost,” he continued. “The range of conversation for the electronic ‘person’ will be limited by the stored responses in the database file.”

  Hmmm, she thought. What Alan could do to me if he had access to this technology with a database of my images. “Does your company have any patents on this technology?” she asked.

  “No. There are dozens of companies working on similar projects.” Joe looked up from the pile of paper and his face seemed to animate when allowed to fully focus on her.

  “Joe, Sandra called last night. She left a message for you. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I was on the sunroom balcony and—”

  “It’s okay. I would have played it for you, if you’d asked.”

  “You would?”

  “Evie, I’m a pretty transparent guy. Do you believe that?”

  “I want to.”

  “I have no feeling left for Sandra. I’ll return her call, but it’s over.”

  “Joe, I have to leave. I need to get back to New York.”

  “Evie, I promise. It’s over.”

  “No, not because of Sandra,” she said. “I listened to my voicemail. There was a message that was very disturbing.”

  “Did it cause that bad dream you were having?”

  Evie sipped her coffee and tried to decide how much to confide in Joe. Maybe she could trust him. The telephone message from Sandra had supported Joe’s recounting as if on cue.

  Joe seemed to be reading her thoughts. “You can trust me, Evie. Is something bothering you? Are you worried about something?”

  “I don’t know if I should tell you. It’s complicated. And actually, it’s confidential. It involves client information, so I really can’t tell you.”

  “Maybe I can help.” He sipped his coffee. “If you tell me without revealing the identity of the client, you haven’t really broken a confidence, have you?”

  She regarded him on this second day in his house. He was very open.

  “Okay.” She sat forward, propping her elbows on the table. “Do you remember that password-protected client file I asked for your help with?”

  He put down his coffee mug and nodded. His eyes targeted hers, his brow registering dedicated attention.

  “I was trying to access a couple
of files that contain documents on a specific deal someone in my firm has apparently been working on. It’s a deal that places very unusual obligations on the seller’s attorney, and we apparently represent the seller. There’s some question in my mind as to whether these obligations are legal.”

  Joe shifted back in his seat, but remained attentive.

  “I found out they existed and I had reason to suspect that there was something fishy about them, so I had to try to access them.”

  Joe’s brow furrowed, but he sat silently.

  “Okay. Let me back up,” she said. “There’ve been a number of coincidental mishappenings with clients lately that have implicated me. My reputation in the firm is on the line. And, specifically on this deal, I’ve overheard things. Found things. An email was sent to me by someone who I think is involved. And this voice mail I just got—it’s from a woman who says matter of factly that she has information for me related to the deal, as if I’m the point person. I’m not. These things taken together seem to be creating a picture that I’m the one who put this deal together, or is at least running it. Negotiating it. Drafting the documents. In short, I think someone is setting me up as a scapegoat on a deal that could have an illegal element to it and that someone is undermining my reputation with the firm to make me vulnerable.”

  “Hmmm. Can you be any more specific? What happened initially to make you suspicious?”

  “It’s a Brazilian deal. I overheard a conversation late at night over a conference room phone with snippets of a Latin-sounding language. Could have been Portuguese. My name was mentioned and there was something being said about a ‘paper trail’ and about somebody acting alone who ‘won’t be a problem.’”

  “Do you know who was speaking?”

  “At the time, I didn’t clearly identify who it was, but now I think I know.”

  “You said things. What else did you discover that made you suspicious?”

  “My name was added to an access list for this client’s electronic files. In my firm, if a series of documents is restricted, it’s a sensitive matter. It’s highly unusual for someone to be included on an access list who has nothing to do with a deal. That access allowed me to read the main contract. It’s a sale of a business unit. The file that contains the specific obligations I’m concerned about is still protected by a password I don’t have, but I’m betting this file houses a key schedule. During the conversation I overheard, the person mentioned a schedule and that it would ‘show the deal take shape.’ As I said, I received an email from someone in the client company telling me to proceed with the deal, a Brazilian man whose name also appeared in an email sent by … by the person I overheard talking. It seemed to be suggesting a closing date for the deal.”

  “How did you get a look into this person’s email?”

  “I snooped around in the person’s office.” She watched Joe’s eyebrows rise.

  She continued, “Okay, I know this sounds crazy. You must think I’m a nut case, but there’s more. There was this erroneous expense report filed under my name that had a list of Brazilian telephone calls attached. I never made any of those calls and I’ve never talked to any of those people. And, this person has been sending documents and email from my user name. I was working on another client matter with him and he sent out the wrong document from my email to make me look bad with the client and to get me in trouble with the partnership.”

  “Him? Is this—this isn’t that guy. What’s his name? Alan something? That guy with the penchant for undressing women in public?”

  Evie let out a long sigh. Then she nodded slowly.

  “So, this guy, Alan, has been stepping all over you politically, hijacking your user name and generally being an asshole. Now I understand why you didn’t want to talk about him. But Evie, is there any way you could be mistaken about some of this? I mean, this guy is obviously not a stand up guy, but are you sure he’s setting up something illegal?”

  “No, I’m not sure of anything. That’s the problem. It’s possible that the deal is completely benign—some sort of perfectly legal role for the attorney to play. But, it smells. It’s secretive. I have had no part in it but my name seems to be all over it. I know he sent out documents from my email address so he must’ve logged on as me. He must have gotten my system password somehow and I think he’s created an electronic trail that leads to me. If I were to be assigned this deal legitimately, it would have … I can’t imagine a deal to’ve proceeded this far that I was supposed to be involved with that I know nothing about. By the way, after I overheard that phone conversation, Alan came into my office and had the perfect opportunity to tell me about it. If I had been picked to work on it, it just seems strange he wouldn’t at least mention it, since he’d just talked about it on the phone in association with my name. He said nothing about it and acted like we were the best of friends. We’re not. This was after we’d had an argument earlier in the day over another client matter.”

  Joe rose with a set jaw and went to the kitchen to retrieve a fresh pot of coffee. When he returned, there was a look of contemplative consternation on his face. They moved to the sofa in the den and sat facing each other. Joe draped his arm behind her on the leather in a protective gesture.

  “So, the client incidents you said have been happening. All with Alan?”

  “Yes, mostly. His presence has been everywhere lately. Do you remember that former client of mine we ran into at the ball? Alan bragged to me in advance that he was going to get that man fired from his job. I don’t know if Alan actually had anything to do with his termination or not, but it was disconcerting, to say the least.”

  “Why would this jerk want to target you, Evie? I believe you, but what—did you cross him somehow?”

  “No, not exactly.”

  “He hasn’t come on to you, has he?”

  Evie bit her lip, paused, sipped her coffee and took a deep breath.

  “He kissed me.” She watched Joe and saw the anger rise, but thought she’d better get the whole story out.

  “We were meeting with a client in Chicago. We walked back to the hotel together like any two colleagues would, but he followed me up to the door of my room and tried to push his way in. After he kissed me, I slapped him and threatened to call the managing partner, but he apologized. Said he got carried away with the success we were having with the client. He swore it was just an impulse and that it would never happen again. I didn’t know him that well at the time and in a moment of stupidity, I agreed not to report it. I’ve regretted it ever since—for many reasons, not the least of which is that he might do it to someone else.”

  Joe’s eyes flashed with a contained rage. After a few moments, he spoke.

  “Evie, have you talked to the other partners about any of this? It’s not too late to report the sexual harassment. It also provides a foundation for your distrust of this guy and validates your motive for investigating. And it adds another dimension to everything you’ve told me about this secretive deal.”

  “No, not yet. I was going to. Even without tangible proof, I was about to tell the partner who’s managing the firm at present. Right before I left town, I found out he was scheduling a private drink with Alan, something I never heard of him doing before. I don’t know what their relationship has become. I was afraid even if he lent a sympathetic ear to me, he might say something to Alan that would tip him off, let Alan know I’m investigating. I don’t think he knows I am. That’s why I’ve been able to discover what I have. And snoop in his office. I can’t let him find out what I know or he’ll really bury the evidence, or spin things around so I look crazy. He’s already succeeded in damaging my credibility.”

  Joe listened intently. He rose from the sofa, walked to a window and stood staring out into the morning sun for several minutes. He took a breath and turned to face Evie, a serious expression on his face. The Doberman pups had sensed his unrest and had wandered over to stand at his feet, looking up at him expectantly. Evie was surprised to see that he d
eclined to greet or even acknowledge them as he had each time they’d approached before.

  “This guy, Alan, has a serious problem with the way he sees himself,” Joe began at a low volume. “He has some kind of personality disorder. You’ve got to get away from him.” With one hand, Joe leaned against the wall, with the other he kneaded his wavy hair. “Does it mean that much to you to stay with this firm? With your expertise, you know you could—”

  “Joe, I can’t leave like this. I can’t let him just dispose of me because I wouldn’t—I mean … In a way that’s why he’s doing it. Because he can. You have to understand that.”

  He walked over, squatted down in front of her and looked at her in a concerned manner she hadn’t seen before. “I do understand. And I respect you. I’ll respect how you decide to handle this, but I can tell you it will be very difficult for me to stand by and watch this guy at work.” He took one of Evie’s hands in his. “I have strong feelings for you, Evie. There are going to be strong male instincts here. You’ll have to tell me if you want me to act on them.”

  “Yes. Please. Joe, I want your help. I mean—it’s not going to solve anything to … Well, confrontations won’t accomplish anything, but I do have to think this through. I need you to help me think this through. There’s got to be a way to play this, prove my suspicions. I need you as a sounding board. I need your strength. I also need your guidance.”

  “You’ve got it. You’ve got me.” Joe kissed the palm of her hand and continued to plant tiny rhythmic kisses there for a few moments while deep in thought. His eyes stared beyond her at nothing in particular. “Evie, you have to tell me the name of the client,” he said suddenly. “Forget about confidentiality. If Alan is setting you up in the way you suspect, it’s likely that someone from that client has to be involved in the planning. Maybe even this guy who’s emailing you. You know there are exceptions to client confidentiality. This is self preservation.”