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

by Schaab, Susan

  “By the way, Jack. The billing report I just received shows that I billed fourteen hours to Gerais Chevas last month. Either it’s a mistake or it’s a manipulation. It’s wrong.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thank you so much Jack. I knew I could trust you.”

  Evie hung up the receiver, took a deep breath and stood to walk to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. She opened her office door expecting to see Helen, but stared into the face of Alan Levenger.

  23

  Uhh. Excuse me,” said Evie. “I was just going to get a cup of coffee.” A look beyond Alan revealed that Helen was not at her desk.

  Evie hoped that she was not wearing her thoughts on her face. There was nothing to talk about now with Alan. No reason to even share a hallway.

  “Evie, I need to talk to you.”

  “Alan, I’m on a tight deadline, can we talk later?” She silently hoped there wouldn’t be a “later” once Hanover informed him to stay away from her.

  “It’s very important.” Had Alan been listening outside her door? Or maybe he sensed that the momentum was now no longer all his.

  Unable to refuse to speak to him on any pretext, she sat down hard in her office chair and took a few breaths before she looked up to meet his gaze.

  Insincerity oozed from his expression. Evie opened a drawer and her hand made a blind attempt to locate the mini tape recorder, as her eyes focused forward. Alan walked into her office and bypassed the visitor chairs, seemingly studying the framed diplomas on her walls and the books and small photographs standing on shelves. As he neared her side of the desk, she pulled out her hand from the drawer and closed it.

  He stopped himself just before reaching her chair and turned on his heel. With his back to her he asked, “Do you have a hotmail account, Ms. Sullivan?”

  “A what?” Her face showed no recognition, but her mind focused on Joe’s “goliath” email message.

  “A hotmail account. An account to and from which one sends electronic email.”

  “No. I don’t.” She kept her eyes on his back.

  “It can be quite handy for sending anonymous email.”

  “That’s interesting, but Alan I really have to get back to work here.”

  “There’s just one problem with it, though. The identity of the sender can be ascertained in any number of ways.”

  “Alan, is this leading somewhere?”

  “Just a reminder, professionally speaking, to be very careful with the confidentiality of the firm’s clients. You need to consider the consequences and the damage that could be caused, not just to you and the firm, but to outside persons and entities. Actions may have unintended outcomes.” He turned to face her as he spoke and stared.

  “What does that mean?” She stared back at him.

  “It’s just important to remember that the actions you take have consequences, that’s all. And they may have an impact that you didn’t anticipate.” He stood looking at her for a moment, then turned and left.

  Evie suddenly felt like taking a shower—as if a foul-smelling unidentified substance had just been flung at her and was now dripping off of her in slow motion. A second stirring of the contents of her drawer uncovered a box containing the elusive tape recorder. She slid in a fresh tape and deposited it in her briefcase poised in the ready. A persistent flashing on her telephone told her Helen must still be away from her desk so she picked up the receiver and punched the illuminated line.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Eveleen Sullivan?”

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “I’m weeth a company called Romez Nuevo. You are familiar weeth it, yes?”

  “Well, I am aware of a deal being negotiated between your company and Gerais Chevas. How did you get my name?”

  “You are d’attorney for d’seller?”

  “Uhhh … well, I believe my firm represents the seller, Gerais Chevas.”

  “You are dee one negotiateen’ d’deal, yes? Huh-you know … Project Neon?”

  “No. But, since you work for Romez Nuevo, I’m afraid I can’t talk to you. It would be unethical.”

  “I t’ink you need to talk to me.”

  “Your company is represented by counsel. If you have information for Gerais Chevas, you should speak to your attorney who will then present the information to someone in our firm. I’m afraid I will have to end this conversation—”

  “No … huh—you don’t understand. I ‘yave information for you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes.”

  “What kind of information? Why … wait, did you leave me a voice mail message before?”

  “Yes. I am been trying to tell you.” Evie was growing accustomed to the accent, but she couldn’t quite place the nationality of the speaker. She grabbed the tape recorder, put the caller on speaker and hit PLAY.

  “Tell me what?”

  “I am on speaker phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please, take me off.”

  Evie picked up the receiver and tried to position the tape recorder near enough to pick up the conversation. “Okay, you’re off.”

  “You’ave problem.”

  “Uhhh. Huh? How do you—”

  “If d’is deal closes, I lose everyt’ing.”

  “You mean the one involving Project Neon?”

  “Yeah.” The woman coughed and continued, “I not say somet’ing more over d’telephone. You can meet me, yes?”

  “Meet you where? Are you calling from New York City?”

  “Yes. Huh-hyou know Mangia on Fi’ty-Sevent’, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Meet me d’ere tomorrow at eleven d’irty. Ho-kay?”

  “How will I know how to—”

  “Wait beside dee entrance on Fifty-Sevent’. I will find you.”

  “But … wait … what do you look like?”

  “I ‘yave black ‘air, and I wee-ll be wearing red dress.”

  The line went dead. Evie let the telephone receiver slide from her sweaty hand back into the cradle. Since Howard Rolland was representing Gerais Chevas in the negotiation with Romez Nuevo, she knew she could be disciplined by the Bar for meeting with a Romez Nuevo employee without its counsel present.

  She left a vague message for Hanover on his voice mail asking him to call her on the matter they’d discussed earlier. Evie dialed Liza, but she didn’t answer and Hanover’s cell phone voice mail box was full. Other client work beckoned, so she handled the most urgent matters and gathered up the files she was working on with Alan to be redistributed.

  Her thoughts wandered to the new information Joe had intercepted and how it fused with what she already knew. If Senator Arbeson was willing to play games with the IRS, what other legal compromises might he be willing to make? Could this entire $25 million commission be a bribe? Is it payment for channeling a government contract in a certain direction? Would this woman from Romez Nuevo be able to offer any relevant information?

  Helen buzzed, interrupting her thoughts and announcing Adam Peyton.

  “Adam, yes, I got your message about SerosaSoft and I’ve glanced through the revised agreement, but before we get into that I have to ask you something.”

  “Yes, of course. What is it?”

  She struggled momentarily with how to word the next question. “I have to know something. Did you report to the firm that the New York Technologist contacted you about your SerosaSoft deal?”

  “Yes, I did. I did complain. I didn’t want that deal to become public knowledge.”

  “And did you have any information about who leaked the story?”

  “The reporter told me that a man called him out of the blue. It was an anonymous ‘well-placed source,’ but then unfortunately, someone here confirmed the story so they went to print.”

  “A man. You said a man called the reporter?”

  “Yes. Wait a minute. I hope no one suggested that you were the source. I specifically said that it wasn’t you. I will call immedi
ately and clear that up, if there’s any confusion.”

  “No. Adam, no problem. You don’t need to make any calls. I just needed to know. Roma Sori is very important to me. It matters to me that you know you can rely on my discretion.”

  “Of course! Evie, we have nothing but the highest regard for you.”

  “Thank you, Adam. I appreciate your candor.”

  “Absolutely. Okay, let’s talk about these last few issues.”

  ~~

  When Evie arrived at the office the next morning, there was a return voice mail from Hanover. He said he was boarding a plane to London, but had called an urgent meeting of the partnership’s ethics committee, which had been conducted by conference call over the weekend. Alan had relayed a different story regarding the Chicago incident and the partnership was currently divided on whom to believe, but he said not to worry about it. He finished his message by saying that she should expect a visit from Paul, who would be providing additional detail. Nothing about her request for guidance on the proposed meeting with the female caller from Romez Nuevo. Had he not yet received that message? Maybe she would get another call from him from an airport somewhere.

  At 10:20 she returned to her office after spending the morning at client meetings in Soho. No additional messages from Hanover and Helen had not heard from, or seen, Paul. Of course Alan would deny the whole thing. What would they expect?

  She dialed Joe’s number and was told he was out of the office. His cell offered voice mail. There wasn’t time to track him down before she had to make a decision.

  Still unsure whether to actually meet the Romez Nuevo woman, she decided to ask Jenna’s opinion. Jenna was still traveling on client business, according to her voice mail greeting. Evie decided not to leave her a message. Should she meet with this woman without Hanover’s knowledge? She dialed Paul and his secretary said he was unavailable, but did expect to meet with Evie the next morning if that worked for her. Evie agreed to a ten o’clock a.m. meeting and hung up. She would have to make a decision—the woman would be looking for her today at 11:30 and it was now a few minutes before eleven o’clock. Evie answered some email and shuffled through her inbox. She had to find out what this woman knew.

  As she stood to leave, she was moist with sweat, and had a lightheaded feeling that almost forced her to sit down again. She took a deep breath and steadied herself. Stretching her back, she extended her arms toward the ceiling as if she was trying to pull something out of herself. Despite the assurances from Hanover, she was in charge of her own delicate innocence. Alan was devoted to piloting this subterfuge, whatever it was, and had apparently managed to cause dissension among the partners. His poison was polluting what was left of her honorable reputation. If Alan had compromised the firm’s integrity, this woman might have information crucial to their defense. One good rationalization for the road. Whatever she found out, she would report her findings directly to Hanover.

  Before she closed the door to her office the telephone rang again. Helen placed the caller on hold and told Evie that it was a gentleman caller who would not identify himself. Evie slipped back into her office and picked up the receiver.

  “You’ve been busy,” said a deep male voice with an acidic resonance that created the auditory illusion that the voice was coming from inside the room.

  “Who is this?” A smoldering silence followed. A chill shook her to the core. “Is anyone there? Who is this???”

  “If you’re smart, you will not keep the appointment you made for today.”

  “What? Who are you? How did you—”

  The line went dead.

  24

  Joe threw down his overnight bag just inside the door and grabbed the telephone bearing the hotel logo on the nightstand. He dialed Evie’s office number and sat on the bed, receiver to his ear counting the unanswered rings. This morning’s attempts to reach her from the plane had been futile and his cell battery was now dead. Her cell phone must either be dead or turned off. He did not want to leave messages on her voice mail, preferring to speak to her directly. Maybe a quick trip by her office. He had to reach her.

  He listened to the rings until he was again deposited into Evie’s voice mail. This time, he left a message for Evie to call him at the Four Seasons, Room 3901, as soon as possible.

  He took off his clothes, wrapped a towel around his waist and turned on the hot water in the shower. He was about to shave when the telephone rang. He jogged out of the bathroom and grabbed the receiver.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey Joey! How the hell’s my favorite mama’s boy?”

  “Greg, is that you?” Joe sat on the bed and shifted the receiver to his other ear.

  “Who the fuck do you think it is? 007? Hey Joe, my man, what the hell are you doing back in New York?”

  “Business. Hey, I’ve been trying to reach you for several days. What’re you running from? Creditors or an angry wife?”

  “I know, man. Sorry. Just got back from Germany and leaving for Japan tomorrow.”

  “Sounds like your skills have found a place in the global economy.”

  “Well, yeah. What can I say? I’m thorough.”

  “Have you got some time for me? I need a few inquiries and some background on a barrister.”

  “Wait. Not so fast. Right here. In my hand. I got this lovesick email from you. Pathetic romantic fool. Who is this chick with the incredible eyes you met in the air?”

  “Forget that. Shred it, okay? I should’ve known better than to tell you about her. Okay, business. Seriously, Greg, I need your help.”

  “Okay, okay. How ’bout if I have Rich do some checking?”

  “No, sorry. I’m going to ask you to handle this one yourself, okay? It’s really important. The players are sensitive.”

  “Sure, man. Sure thing. Say, this doesn’t have anything to do with this lady friend of yours does it?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Is she a … ? Don’t tell me. You want me to check out a female barrister, right?”

  “No.”

  “Is she the one you want checked out?”

  “No. It’s—”

  “You amaze me, man. You keep up with this dedicated-pursuit thing. There are so many women out there. You’re a free man. Why limit yourself to one? You should taste all the flavors.”

  “Been there, done that, my friend. You should try focusing on that beautiful wife of yours for a change.”

  “Oh, you mean that pampered pigeon that spends all my money and complains because I don’t make it fast enough? Huh! She has the credit cards, I have my freedom. No questions. That’s the way we play it. Hell, I didn’t even say anything when I started getting bills from her ‘colon therapist’ for some kind of green-tea detox powder. It seems she’s become obsessed with her digestive system.”

  Joe laughed. “The modern American marriage.”

  “The less I see her the better.”

  “Epiphanies, my friend. I can’t see mine enough.”

  “Oh jeez … you’ve got it bad. I don’t wanna lose my supper here, so just map out the gig for me, will ya?”

  “Sure. Usual discretion. As fast as you can. I emailed you some dates and details. See if you can find anyone at the Colonial Court Hotel in Dallas who ID’d the woman registering. I also emailed you some information about an anonymous phone call from a Brazilian woman. See if you have any ideas on how to find her. And, most important, see what you can dig up on a New York local—Alan Levenger. He’s a partner at a law firm called Howard, Rolland & Stewart.”

  ~~

  Evie walked along the Avenue of the Americas, barely aware of the minutes marching toward 11:30. Somebody did not want her to meet the mysterious female caller who apparently believed Evie was the attorney negotiating this Brazilian transaction. She could alter her route at any moment and forget about the woman expecting to meet her. There were hundreds of people populating the sidewalks in her immediate vicinity. An illusion of safety accompanied her as she walked, ey
eing the faces she passed and weighing her options. Her mind sorted a series of thoughts.

  It was possible that a number of people on both sides of this Gerais Chevas transaction believed she was running the deal. All communication on it could have been conducted exclusively by telephone and email. The use of her name and email account would have been enough. There would be no reason for those present at Project Neon meetings to suspect that a voice on speakerphone claiming to be Evie Sullivan was anyone other than her. And now she understood how easily her electronic signature could be affixed without her knowledge.

  These possibilities agitated her raw nerves. If her suspicions proved valid, the theft of her identity could be almost complete. So who was this man with The Voice who told her to cancel her meeting? Something drove her forward despite her mushrooming fear. Maybe the woman from Romez Nuevo had some of the answers to her questions. The woman had said that she would lose everything if the deal closed, so she herself must also be vulnerable in some way. Could Evie trust her? Why had the woman selected her to contact?

  It suddenly occurred to Evie that Alan might have mentioned that hotmail message when he was being questioned by the firm’s ethics committee. He clearly suspected that the message had originated with her. She had told Hanover that she was putting everything out on the table. Should she have confessed her electronic sleuthing? No. She would not make Joe a known adversary to the firm, no matter what accusations flew.

  She walked up to the 57th Street entrance of Mangia and glanced at her watch; she was right on time. She looked around. The sun was shining, and the street was crowded with the usual varieties of Manhattan foot traffic. She wondered if she was being tailed. She hadn’t seen the man she had ditched at Starbucks since he hurried off from the street in front of her building. Could the Starbucks Man be the man with The Voice?

  She let her eyes scan each direction. Tourists shuffled by, balancing cameras, shopping bags, fanny packs and maps. Business types wove quickly through the crowds with looks of impatience. Evie’s eyes fell on each lone, dark-haired female moving in her direction until the non-red clothing they were wearing caused her to divert her attention. As each man passed, she gathered herself and measured the air for any indication that he might be the man with The Voice. No person she witnessed looked to be engaged in anything other than regular daily activity. She glanced through the windows into the Mangia café and saw a woman wearing a reddish dress, but she was blonde and speaking loudly with a southern accent. Evie turned her attention back to the street.