Miss Jennings looks worried, as if a weight is sitting on her small shoulders.
“I don’t know who it is or what they want with me.” She is visibly shaken. Her voice cracks just a little. Cat knows her tears will follow soon.
“A month ago, none of this was happening. And now, well, I just don’t understand what they want from me. Why are they watching me? I’m just a legal secretary leading a boring life. I don’t understand what these people want with me.”
“Tell me more about Anna Perez. She wasn’t a flirt, was she?”
“No. She did go out with the associates sometimes, but always in a group. It was something we did to make them feel comfortable. After all, these are kids. Some of them are away from their family for the first time. They find themselves working in a huge law firm where they know no one. They are tasked with meeting the firm’s billable-hour requirements for the first five years if they ever want to be considered on the partnership track. And being in a new city can really stress some of these kids out. Making partner after ten years is all many of them want. But to get there, the firm must bust your balls first. Blood, sweat and tears is what they want before you ever get mentioned for partner status. Many of the associates practically sleep at the office. To put in a ten-hour billable day, you would have to be at the office between twelve and fifteen hours a day. The minimum billable hours for the first five years are over two thousand hours a year. If you go way over that, you might make partner. Or should I say you might be considered to earn the possibility of being considered for a partnership spot.” She paused. “And I emphasize the word ‘might.’ It’s a damned rat race.”
“You mentioned trips for Thomas Pierce and Isabella to go overseas to the Eastern bloc. Tell me about those.”
“Yes, about every four months or so, either Thomas or Isabella or both go overseas to Ukraine, Istanbul. Sometimes they fly directly into Moscow, Russia, and then I arrange for them to pick up a rental car to go to Yekaterinburg, which is the third-largest city in Russia, I think. They have a house there, where they stay for about a week or so, and then they fly back, usually connecting through London’s Heathrow.”
“Have you ever asked what they do there?”
“I made the mistake of trying to make small talk with Isabella when I first started to work for Mr. Pierce.” Miss Jennings’ brow furrows again and sweat prickles on her forehead. “It was not a good idea. I asked Isabella about these trips, because I had reviewed a file from Mr. Pierce’s prior assistant that showed frequent trips. I wasn’t being nosy. I was just trying to be nice.”
“What did Isabella do?”
“She said to me that I was never to speak to her again and never to ask stupid questions. She told me that it was none of my damned business.”
Cat continues to write. “Okay. What about Pierce? He ever say anything about it?”
“I think one time he mentioned ‘clients.’ After that, not a word. After the reaction I got from Isabella, I figured I should keep my head down, my mouth closed, shut up and do my work. I figured that’s the best way to keep my job. That’s what I have done. Until now. Until Anna. Until they started following me.”
“Can you get me a copy of Isabella’s passport and some of the recent travel itinerary information for these trips?”
“I’ll see what I can do. I can’t promise anything. It’s my job.”
“I understand. See if you can make me copies of some of it and send it to the address on my card. And send a copy to the Broward County coroner’s office. And don’t talk to anyone about it or our meeting. I’ll talk to a friend of mine and see if we can get a tail on your tails in the Audis. I bet they won’t be expecting that.”
“There’s something going on with Isabella, Mr. Pierce, the partners and those files. They think I know something, but I don’t.” The woman is silent for a while, her hands shaking in her lap, as she looks out the car window.
“I don’t want to end up like Anna.”
This raises an important question Cat had almost overlooked.
“Do you think Anna might have gotten a look at the secret files in Mr. Pierce’s office?”
“Maybe. I know she stayed late to work quite often. She and I used to share lunch in the cafeteria sometimes. We’d go shopping together sometimes too. I miss her. She might have seen something or read something. Maybe one of the files didn’t get put away after one of the partnership meetings and she saw what was inside. That’s what comes to mind. But I have no proof.”
“Could you get access to those files?”
“I don’t think so. Not now. Ever since Anna’s death, Pierce is even more secretive about them. The partners’ meeting minutes say almost nothing about them now. That’s one of the reasons I think she might have seen something.”
Cat continues writing.
“And for about a week before she disappeared, Anna was acting strangely. She had always been talkative and friendly. But in that last week before she disappeared, she seemed nervous. I asked her what was wrong. She said she was tired and had her period. I took it at face value because that is the way I am. The week she was gone was the week after the partners’ meeting a month ago, so she might have seen a file. She just might.”
Miss Jennings starts to cry, a small, soft cry, her body heaving slightly with each breath. “God, I never put it together before right now. She got killed like an animal because of those stupid files.”
Cat stops writing and reaches into her purse for a tissue and hands it to Miss Jennings.
“If you cared about Anna, and it is obvious that you do, then it is important that you get me the copies as soon as possible. Like I said, I’ll see about providing you some security. We’ll be discreet. It is what we do.”
She wiped away tears. “Thank you. Can you have them check my car for bugs too?”
“Yes. Take the car to this address tomorrow and I will have it checked. If anyone asks at the office, you got in a minor car accident and you are having bodywork done for repairs. There is an Enterprise Rent-A-Car right beside the shop. I will let them know you are coming.” Cat scribbled down the name of the shop and her contact’s name there and at Enterprise. She will make the call tomorrow to fill them in on Miss Jennings. Cat hands her the FBI business card with the information written on the back.
“Thank you. I am sorry about the tears.”
“It’s okay. There is no need to apologize. Let’s keep in touch. But don’t call me from your cell or home or the office. Go buy one of those prepaid burner phones and use that. Feel free to call me day or night if anything happens, but do it on that phone. And trust your instincts. One last thing: I didn’t get your first name.”
“It’s Ruth. But everyone calls me Roxie. I’ve got to go. I’ve probably been talking to you too long now.” With a final thank-you, Ruth “Roxie” Jennings slides out of the C-Class and walks back to her car.
Cat looks around for either a black Audi or a red Audi Quattro—with super-dark smoked windows. She doesn’t see either car, but she knows that means nothing.
Whoever these people are, they are out for blood. And they have some big secrets that they have been hiding for a long time.
They are professionals.
Cat drives back to her hotel to try to get some rest. But in her soul, she already knows there will be no sleep for her tonight.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The saint and poet seek privacy.
—Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Culture.”
Cat is right about getting no sleep tonight.
Each day just seems to roll into another. The same dreary routine. Wake up, coffee, breakfast of whatever is available on the hotel menu that is fast and then mentally step into the case. But who is Cat kidding? She never mentally steps out of any case. That’s why she feels so sad and so drained. Each case consumes her. Each case takes over her life. Each case takes over her soul. Why? Because she lets it. Maybe she likes it this way. Not being able to feel anything in her own personal li
fe. Because when a case gets intense, she has none of her own personal life. It just simply vanishes. Just as the answers to all her questions keep vanishing into thin air. She needs to find out more about Black and Knight. What is this firm all about? What makes it tick? Other than Pierce, who are the firm’s partners? What was with Clayton Pierce’s weird interaction with her in the elevator? Was he trying to intimidate her? And what is Isabella Arsovska’s role in all of it? For that matter, what is her real name? Is it Isabella Arsovska or Isabella Sudakova or something else? Is the passport she is using for travel real or is it part of a cover-up?
A cover-up of what?
What is the tie-in to Eastern Europe? And the frequent trips? And why is Pierce lying about Anna and Isabella?
Cat has so many questions going through her head. They seem to come to her all at once, so fast she must write each one down. They are like a freight train that can’t be stopped.
First things first. She sits in a white T-shirt and cotton panties in front of her silver-gray laptop. “Let’s look at Black and Knight’s partners.” Cat’s fingers fly across her keyboard as she searches Google and other search engines, typing in the firm name. Her search leads to a professional-looking Black and Knight firm home page, which gives a brief history of the law firm in a section entitled, “About Us.” Cat clicks on the tab that opens this page.
The section outlines the history of the firm, started by one of the Flaglers, a famous wealthy Florida family that made its money in trade, manufacturing and railroad interests. The web-site spoke of the family patriarch, Henry Flagler, who was the visionary who built the Florida railroad that took tourists from St. Augustine through Miami and eventually all the way down to Key West, at the bottom of the Florida Keys. He was known as the father of the East Coast Railroad. His vision made Key West a destination for the rich and famous; its popularity only grew as Fidel Castro shut down tourist destinations in and outside of Havana, which had been a tourist hot spot for the wealthy and elite of American society. Key West became one of the places to be seen in the society pages. It is for this reason that it attracted the likes of Hemingway, Truman and others. Its natural beauty drew famous naturalists such as Audubon.
Black and Knight was bought out by a group of new lawyers in the mid-1990s. The Flagler family no longer owned any interests in the firm. The home page identifies the existing partners as Thomas Pierce, managing partner, Clayton Pierce, Joseph Williams, Robert Friedman, Yosef Liebert and Natasha Klenkov, all designated as just partners. The page shows a photo of each. All the men seem an appropriate age. Cat recognized Clayton Pierce’s photo. His bio said nothing about his real estate holdings, just that he had been in an unspecified “business” before joining the firm.
The sole, strikingly beautiful woman, Natasha Klenkov, appears very young to have been made a partner, especially a named partner. Cat knows this means one of three things—either she is extremely smart, she has slept her way into the named partnership ranks or she is there to oversee things and report back to someone. But who?
Isabella is not mentioned at all, yet she is a regular at the firm’s partner meetings. Why do they allow her to be privy to these secret firm meetings if she isn’t even an attorney, much less a firm partner?
Thomas Pierce’s photo was obviously taken at least ten years ago, when the paunch in his belly was not so obvious. His hair had less silver-gray in it then. He had a straight jawline and eyes that seemed like they could bore right through you. In a different time, Cat might have found him attractive.
Cat’s fingers click on the keyboard as she switches to the firm’s interests and listed clients. Many of the clients’ names appear to be Russian or Ukrainian. With a few more clicks, Cat finds a couple of the listed clients are in Morocco and Turkey. Very few appear to be US-based companies. There are a few, to be sure, but there is a definite emphasis on Eastern Europe.
Like Thomas Pierce, Joseph Williams and Robert Friedman are Americans; both graduated cum laude from Ivy League law schools. Both were born with silver spoons in their mouths, judging from their biographies and photos.
Both appear to be in their mid-fifties, like Thomas. One has the gumption to sport an über-high-end platinum Breitling Chronomat watch in his photo. Cat recognizes the watch from its oversized dial and the avionic numbers. It retails for more than a hundred thousand dollars. The other partner, Friedman, in a photo that has to be more recent, is photographed in front of a brand-new silver-gray BMW i8.
Ah, the all-too-familiar high-end trappings of American luxury.
The “I make more than you do and I’m not going to let you forget it” mentality. The boys’ club.
It is no wonder the rest of the world hates American tourists.
There is nothing noteworthy in either man’s biography. Nothing that sets off any bells in Cat’s mind.
She turns her attention and her browser to Yosef Liebert. He appears of similar age as the other men, but unlike them, he is not sporting a high-end watch or expensive suit, nor posing in front of a $150,000 BMW awarded Automobile magazine’s 2018 Design of the Year award.
By contrast, Liebert’s hair is disheveled, looks like it has not been properly cut in at least a year. He wears a brownish crumpled sport coat with suede elbows—the kind a college history professor would wear. There is nothing stylish or pretty or high-end about him. His hazel brown eyes bore directly into the camera’s eye. There is a sadness in them that Cat cannot fathom.
What has this man been through in his life?
From his name, she suspects he is from Israel, and his biography confirms it. He was a world-renowned expert in international law at a college in Jerusalem before joining the firm a few years ago. Other than foreign ties, his expertise and the sadness in his face, once again, nothing stands out to Cat.
And then there is Natasha Klenkov. This woman, a girl really, looks to be in her early twenties. She has a striking bone structure and ebony dark black hair. Her eyes seem to jump off the photo—they are a shade of blue that Cat can only describe as ice. Her skin is ivory in color. High cheekbones. The mixture of dark and light in her features makes Cat wonder if people stop dead in their tracks on the street when they see her. She has lips that do not need lipstick, although for the photo, she appears to have on some nude lip gloss. Her figure, like her face, is perfect. Her straight dark hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, allowing her perfectly long neck to show. She wears a pearly white silk blouse and a perfectly fitting gray wool suit and large topaz earrings, which seem to set off her eye color even more. She wears no other jewelry in the photo. She is striking not only in her looks, but in the way she stands. The way she looks at the camera. Defiant. Confident. In another life, she could have been a supermodel or an actress.
Her biography, unlike the men’s, is surprisingly short. All it says is that she was born in Ukraine, studied law at Oxford University, was a Fulbright scholar, spoke six languages fluently and immigrated to the US at the age of eighteen. She was made a partner at Black and Knight almost immediately after she began working for the firm.
Cat is sure that made all her fellow associates unhappy.
But from the photo, Cat can see there is a natural ease and maturity to the girl, despite her age.
Like Yosef Liebert’s, her photo was taken in front of black, yellow and red legal books in the firm’s library.
What secrets do her icy eyes hold?
Cat researches the firm’s clients. Some hold oil and gas interests in Eastern Europe and sell to the highest bidder. Not surprising as capitalism had swept through post–Cold War Russia and the Eastern bloc. Some have mining operations in that part of the world. Some companies are in the “entertainment business” in Morocco and Turkey—holding nightclubs and casinos that Cat has never heard of. Some are in unspecified “import-export businesses.” Some are in the lumber trade.
There is a language school in Yekaterinburg listed as a client. Why would a language school need to employ a high-powered i
nternational law firm like Black and Knight? Cat remembers Roxie Jennings mentioning this city during their conversation. Could the language school be a front for something else for which knowledge of international law is important?
Cat has no answers at this point.
There is a Ukrainian wire-transfer business listed. As a matter of fact, as Cat goes down the list, she sees multiple wire-transfer businesses listed—one each in Ukraine, Turkey, Morocco, Poland and Israel.
Why all these wire-transfer clients for a major high-end international law firm?
Also listed is a famous fashion house in Milan, Italy, called Cesari. One of the largest and most well-known in the world. Cat can understand why a fashion house would want to employ a firm like Black and Knight. For counterfeiting issues, certainly, for licensing products, for assistance with bills of lading and the shipment of goods to all its stores worldwide. This client explains the impeccable suits many partners wear. They are gifts from this client. Perfectly cut and perfectly tailored to each man’s physique.
The same is probably true of the gray wool suit that Natasha Klenkov sports. Cesari’s meticulous tailoring is the reason that suit hugs her curvy figure just so. It was custom-made for her.
There is a small vineyard and an olive oil merchant on the firm’s client list. Also listed are few small clothing shops located throughout the world. One in London, another in Paris, one in São Paulo, Brazil, and two in Turkey. Cat can understand the vineyard and olive oil merchants as clients, but why would small clothiers all over the world need the services of Black and Knight? More important, how could such small shops afford the expensive high-powered legal services of Black and Knight?
Cat is sure from the multiple offices and multiple employees that Black and Knight’s monthly billing is at least in the thousands for each client. Probably more. She knows that by the time a Black and Knight legal team is assigned to a case, the firm is billing more than a thousand dollars an hour for “legal talent.” And if a case involves a partner, the costs could be upward of fifteen hundred dollars an hour.
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