Hot Lawyers: The Lee Christine Collection

by Lee Christine

  I wondered why she preferred to take this rattling form of public transport over driving the little red hatchback she kept in the garage. It seemed a waste to bring it out on weekends only to wash it. And I could see she wasn’t much of a gardener, more a general tidier. She ate fish, and preferred white wine over red. Sometimes, she’d have a glass or two when she got home from work. On those occasions I felt a strong desire to be with her. There’s something sad about drinking alone.

  I wondered if she was still smarting over the argument with Barclay. I’d had to look away, unable to stomach the footage from the central hallway. I hadn’t enjoyed their clinch, their obvious passion for each other after arriving home in the taxi.

  The fire had caught everyone by surprise.

  And now there was a detective hanging around the building.

  I looked away from where Laila sat dozing, a suit jacket covered in plastic lying on her lap.

  The cityscape disappeared as the train rounded a bend and hurtled into a tunnel. Suddenly, I was staring at my reflection in the window beside me.

  Craggy. Lean. Weary.

  I’d done the unforgiveable.

  I was supposed to watch.

  I’d begun to care.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Noon Thursday

  Laila sat beside Scarlett at the conference-room table. Across from her sat Evan, Duncan Peyton to his right. At the head of the table the mediator, Peter Barnes, had just finished introducing himself. Now he was running through the process for the benefit of Scarlett and Duncan.

  ‘No-one is providing evidence here. It’s a mediation only, an endeavour to come to an agreement to save time and expense.’

  Laila crossed her legs beneath the table and accidently bumped Evan’s foot. His eyes cut to hers for an instant, and the corner of his mouth curved.

  Laila swore beneath her breath, crossed her ankles and tucked them out of the way under her chair. Damn him for having such long legs. He was impossible to ignore as it was, and now his limbs were encroaching on her personal space.

  Thinking about the length of his limbs led her to thinking about other body parts, and she threaded her fingers together and clasped them in her lap. If she wasn’t careful, she’d do something really clumsy, like knock over her water glass.

  Sitting across from Evan reminded her of the night they’d met. Was he thinking the same thing? His attention was focused on Peter Barnes, but there was a glint in his eye and a curve to his lips, as if he was as aware of her as she was of him.

  His eyes flicked to hers again, and Laila’s breath quickened, the muscles in her lower body clenching as she tuned out Peter Barnes’ monotone voice. Like an in-flight safety demonstration, this introductory talk was one she’d heard a hundred times, and she didn’t need to listen now. She needed Evan. Needed him to ease the constant ache, needed him like a starving vein needs its next hit. It had been three days since she’d seen him, three days since he’d kissed her in the hallway, and it felt like a month. It was all she could do not to reach across the table, grab hold of his tie and yank him to her.

  Laila’s blood continued to heat as the mediator’s voice droned on.

  ‘No party is able to use any information, or documents provided, against the other party, nor can any offer, made in an attempt to settle the dispute, be used against a party in subsequent court proceedings.’

  Please, get this over with so we can retreat to our respective rooms.

  Suddenly, everything went quiet.

  Warmth rose in Laila’s cheeks as she realised Scarlett had turned and was looking at her. The mediator had finished speaking, and Evan and Duncan were already getting to their feet.

  Laila pushed back her chair just as Duncan leaned across the table and spoke to Scarlett.

  ‘When are you going to answer my calls?’

  ‘Dunk.’ Evan laid a hand on Duncan’s shoulder. ‘Not now.’

  ‘I’ve answered your calls.’ Scarlett gathered her bag and coat and drew herself up to her full height, which made her taller than Duncan. ‘We’ve made arrangements for the children this weekend. What more do you want?’

  ‘An explanation wouldn’t go astray.’

  ‘Come on.’ Laila touched Scarlett on the arm and began walking towards the door. ‘This is not the place.’

  But as they made to leave, Duncan came around the table as if to head her off. Laila halted, unfazed by the aggression. Warring family law clients were nothing new to her.

  ‘Mr Peyton…’

  Suddenly she was staring at Evan’s back. He was right up in Duncan’s face. ‘She’s right Duncan. This is not the place.’

  ‘Keep him away from me.’

  Laila heard Scarlett’s voice behind her, though it came a little late, like an afterthought.

  Evan swung around, though he didn’t look at Laila, just spoke directly to Scarlett. ‘How about you both calm down. You two have a lot of history. Don’t make this fail before we’ve even started.’

  ‘I agree.’ Laila said, eyes meeting Evan’s for the first time. ‘If you’ll excuse us.’

  She walked towards Peter Barnes, who was holding the door open and watching the proceedings with interest. Outside, she looked around and chose one of the vacant interview rooms. It was marginally bigger than a work cubicle, with four tub chairs grouped around a circular table, and lighting so bright it washed the colour out of Scarlett’s face and highlighted the shadows under her eyes.

  ‘You okay?’ Laila closed the door.

  Scarlett nodded, mouth pulled into a straight line.

  ‘It works this way.’ Laila sat down, glad to get to the business at hand. The parties could bicker on their own time. They were here to begin sorting out the assets.

  ‘We stay in separate rooms. Peter Barnes conveys the information back and forth. Poole Greenwood requested the mediation, so they’ll probably get things underway.’

  She was careful not to use Evan’s name, should the slightest note of warmth or familiarity creep into her tone. Scarlett was a woman who missed nothing.

  ‘We don’t negotiate face to face?’

  Scarlett’s look of disappointment surprised Laila. In general, her clients were relieved not to have to physically face their spouse, especially after a confrontation such as the one that just occurred.

  ‘Sometimes the legal teams confer, especially if an agreement’s reached. Only because it’s quicker.’

  When Scarlett didn’t say any more, Laila went on. ‘Have you come to an arrangement about the children?’

  Scarlett straightened her top more squarely on her shoulders then tugged down the hem of her short skirt. ‘For the moment, they’re staying with me during the week. He’ll have them on weekends.’

  ‘Good.’ Laila gave a satisfied nod. It was part of the job she enjoyed the least, parents, fighting over the custody of their children. ‘I’m glad you’re keeping the lines of communication open.’

  ‘It makes sense.’ Scarlett waved a perfectly manicured hand. ‘He has more time on the weekend, and it leaves me free to socialise.’

  Laila continued to study her client. Scarlett’s demeanour was in stark contrast to the woman she’d spoken to last Saturday. Today, there were no bold statements such as ‘get me custody of my children, they are the most important thing in my life’. Today, she appeared serene — as if she were perfectly satisfied with the private arrangement she’d come to with her estranged husband.

  That’s a good thing, Laila told herself. Scarlett had already relocated to an apartment in the city, and with custody of the children organised, they were free to concentrate on the division of assets. And despite what Evan might think, the sooner the order was lifted the better, in her opinion. She didn’t like holding up development and making life difficult for everyone. But Scarlett was her client and Laila didn’t have a choice. She had to protect the matrimonial assets until an agreement was reached. And there was no doubt that putting those orders in place had expedited the matte
r. If she hadn’t put a bomb under Evan Barclay and Poole Greenwood, they wouldn’t be sitting here right now.

  She looked up as Peter Barnes entered the room and joined them at the table. ‘Mr Barclay has been working closely with the family’s accountants, ascertaining the financial position. They only need a few more minutes.’

  Laila raised her eyebrows, surprised at the delay. ‘I wouldn’t have thought that too daunting a task. Last week the Peytons entered into a formal arrangement with an overseas consortium. Surely their financials would be up to date.’

  ‘I’ll convey those observations to Mr Barclay.’

  Scarlett shot her a triumphant look as the mediator left the room. ‘You’re good.’

  Laila shook her head. ‘I’m only needling them. They should come to the party with a figure pretty close to what you’ll ultimately receive. If you’re satisfied with the initial offer, we’ll agree to lift the orders, but only if they agree to pay a sufficient amount in liquid funds up front, with security for the balance.’

  Peter Barnes appeared again, this time holding a stack of bound financial statements. ‘Mr Barclay said the figures are calculated from the commencement of the relationship. The value of assets prior to that haven’t been taken into consideration.’

  Laila reached for the documents, unable to suppress the ripple of excitement racing along her nerve pathways. She was beginning to enjoy sparring with Evan — from a distance, when his commanding presence couldn’t distract her.

  ‘I’ll leave you to look over the figures,’ Peter Barnes said. ‘They’ve come up with a figure of seventeen million dollars inclusive of costs.’

  ‘Just a minute,’ Laila objected before Peter Barnes could leave. ‘Some credit has to be given to the prior assets. Those funds constitute an additional financial resource for the husband. The court would take them into consideration, should we end up there.’

  ‘I agree. I’ll convey that to Mr Barclay.’

  Laila ran her eye over one set of financial figures and then another. They’d been duly certified by a reputable accounting firm and looked to be in order.

  Before she knew it, Barnes was back. ‘Mr Barclay said there’s tax to pay and capital gains on the sale of certain assets. Additional costs will be involved.’

  Laila ran her finger down the page. She’d do well to remember Evan was one of the best commercial lawyers in New South Wales. ‘All the assets appear to be included, but at their estimate values.’

  ‘I’ll give you ten minutes to speak with your client.’

  When Peter Barnes left the room for the third time, Laila turned to Scarlett. ‘Look, their offer is in the range, but I believe it’s on the lower side. Your accountant will go through these figures with a fine tooth comb, but what we’re after today is a ballpark figure from which fifty percent can be released to you. My advice is, we make a counter offer somewhere between seventeen and nineteen million dollars.’

  ‘I want thirty.’

  Laila recoiled at the words, shock rendering her speechless as she stared into eyes suddenly gone cold. Finally, she asked, ‘Thirty?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Scarlett.’ Laila put down her pen and tapped her index finger on the cover of the financial statements. ‘According to these figures, that’s outrageous. There’s no way your case is worth that much.’

  ‘I don’t care.’ Scarlett stood up and walked over to stand by the window, her back to Laila. ‘I have information, and I have no qualms about using it. That’s what it will take for me to walk away.’

  Laila said nothing, just worked the air back into her lungs as she waited for Scarlett to go on.

  The other woman turned and came towards her, a superior smirk on her face as if she alone held the trump card. ‘I know things he’s done, in the past. He knows I know.’

  Wary, Laila spoke quietly. ‘What things?’

  Five minutes later, she was both taken aback and angry. It was obvious Scarlett had chosen this particular time to embarrass her husband and smear his reputation. Laila only wished she’d been more upfront with her.

  ‘Those things can’t be used in this forum, Scarlett. The mediator won’t convey threats of blackmail, and as a lawyer I won’t be part of it. I think it’s safe to say neither will Evan Barclay.’

  A flash of anger darkened Scarlett’s eyes. ‘Just tell them I want thirty million dollars.’

  Laila put her hand to her forehead as once again Peter Barnes appeared in the doorway. He came closer, paused, gaze shifting between the two women as if sensing something was wrong.

  Laila massaged her forehead with her fingertips then held up her hand in the halt sign when Scarlett began to speak again. She needed time to think.

  If Scarlett made these allegations public, there was a chance Duncan Peyton could find himself in the criminal court, his stalled business ventures the least of his worries.

  And what about Evan?

  Would he be implicated too?

  Evan Barclay was known as a brilliant lawyer and a hard-line negotiator, but to her knowledge there’d never been a whiff of scandal about him.

  A tight knot of anxiety formed at the back of Laila’s neck. Irrespective of what she personally thought of Scarlett’s outrageous demand for hush money, the woman had made her position clear.

  Laila took a deep breath, loosened her shoulders and centred herself. She wasn’t used to working cases where millions were at stake, but as Scarlett’s lawyer, her only choice was to put the counter offer to Poole Greenwood and then discuss the reasons for it with Evan. Behind closed doors.

  She raised her eyes to Peter Barnes. Her breakthrough case had just taken an unexpected and worrying turn.

  ‘We’d like to make a counter offer.’

  She could only imagine Evan’s reaction.

  ‘Tell them we want thirty million.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  1 p.m. Thursday

  ‘I’m going to leave you two here and see if you can become a bit more realistic, so we can settle this matter. I’ll be outside, if you have any questions.’

  The instant Peter Barnes was out the door, Evan was on his feet, disbelief blazing in his eyes. ‘What kind of game are you playing, Laila?’

  Laila tried her best to stay calm, though she was anything but on the inside. She glanced at Evan. His coat had gone, his tie was loosened, shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow. A square of sticking plaster covered his burnt palm, the only outward sign of the fire last Monday.

  ‘It’s no game.’ She moistened her lips and did her best to stay cool as he began pacing the floor. ‘That’s the figure she’s demanded.’

  He swung around. ‘On your advice?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Feeling at a disadvantage with him towering over her, Laila pushed back her chair and stood. ‘Would you stop prowling about like a caged animal?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I’m just having trouble getting my head around your offer of thirty million bucks.’

  Laila studied his face and wondered just how closely he was involved in the Peytons’ business activities. He appeared genuinely aggrieved, shaking his head, grey eyes flicking from one side of the room to the other. But Evan Barclay was a master of crisis management, a genius at salvaging deals when everyone else had written them off. Was this part of his game plan?

  Only one way to find out.

  ‘She has information.’

  He ceased pacing and slanted a suspicious look at her. ‘What kind of information?’

  ‘Bribes, paid to foreign officials to secure contracts.’

  He didn’t react, just looked at her the way he had when she’d told him they couldn’t continue their relationship.

  ‘Which country?’

  ‘China.’

  He spread his hands wide, palms facing upwards, the movement tightening the white shirt across his chest. ‘Facilitation payments are part of doing business with countries like China. They may be frowned upon, but it’s how they operate.’

  �
�Frowned upon? They’re illegal, and Scarlett knows it.’

  ‘Like it or not, Laila — both sides of government turn the other cheek. Foreign companies have to observe their business practices. Otherwise they’re not in the running.’

  Laila frowned. ‘So, you condone this?’

  ‘No, I don’t condone it. I acknowledge it happens.’

  ‘Are you’re aware the Peytons regularly adopt this practice?’

  ‘Are you wondering if I’m involved?’

  ‘What?’ Heat suffused her cheeks. Like an amateur, she’d let her personal feelings for him intrude.

  To her amazement, he smiled. ‘No need to worry about me, Laila, and no I wasn’t aware they adopted the practice.’ He went on, as if the little hiccup hadn’t happened. ‘I’m hardly surprised though.’

  Laila decided to stay quiet. She’d put the counter offer to him, and the ball was now in his court.

  ‘Is that it?’ he asked after a while.

  She shook her head. ‘There’s more. He organised high-class prostitutes for them when they came out here on business.’

  ‘Jesus!’ This time he did react. He ran a hand down his suddenly pale face and half turned away. ‘I’m beginning to understand why the marriage failed.’

  Taken aback, Laila wondered at his response. Organising prostitutes wasn’t illegal. It wouldn’t enhance Duncan Peyton’s reputation any, but the facilitation payments were more damaging.

  No, this was something else; it was as if Evan had suddenly turned inward. It was there in the rigid line of his jaw, in the tightness of his stance, in the glazed eyes that seemed to be looking into the past.

  She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. ‘Before you ask, I had no knowledge of that.’

  Laila swallowed at his hard tone. She couldn’t deny it any longer. She wanted to know Evan Barclay at a deeper level, wanted to know what drove him, what made him tick, his loves, his hates, his faults, his prejudices.