“Thanks, but that wasn’t why I was calling. I wanted to check if you’d spotted the piece about Bill Alexander’s resignation in the Times.” Fletcher felt a chill go through his body at the mere mention of the name.
“No,” he said, as he leaned across the desk and grabbed his copy of the paper. “Which page?”
“Seven, bottom right.”
Fletcher quickly flicked through the pages until he saw the headline, Leading lawyer resigns. “Hold on while I just read the piece.” When he’d come to the end, all he said was, “It doesn’t add up. He was married to that firm, and he can’t be a day over sixty.”
“Fifty-seven,” said Logan.
“But the partners’ mandatory retirement age is sixty-five, and even then they keep you on as an in-house advisor until you’re seventy. It doesn’t add up.” Fletcher repeated.
“Until you dig a little.”
“And when you dig a little, what do you find?” asked Fletcher.
“A hole.”
“A hole?”
“Yes, it seems that a large sum of money went missing from a client’s account when…”
“I have no time for Bill Alexander,” Fletcher cut in, “but I do not believe that he would remove one penny from a client’s account. In fact I’d stake my reputation on it.”
“I agree with you, but what will interest you more is that the New York Times didn’t bother to report the name of the other partner who resigned on the same day.”
“I’m listening.”
“Ralph Elliot, no less.”
“They both went on the same day?”
“They sure did.”
“And what reason did Elliot give for resigning? It certainly can’t have been because he was planning to take early retirement.”
“Elliot gave no reason; in fact their PR spokeswoman is reported to have said that he was unavailable for comment, which must be a first.”
“Did she add anything?” asked Fletcher.
“Only that he was a junior partner, but she failed to point out that he was also Alexander’s nephew.”
“So a large sum of money goes missing from a client’s account, and Uncle Bill decided to take the rap rather than embarrass the firm.”
“That sounds about right,” said Logan.
Fletcher could feel the sweat on the palms of his hands as he put the phone down.
Tom burst into Nat’s office. “Did you spot the piece in the New York Times about Bill Alexander’s resignation?”
“Yes, I recalled the name, but couldn’t remember why.”
“It was the law firm Ralph Elliot joined after he left Stanford.”
“Ah yes,” said Nat, putting down his pen, “so is he the new senior partner?”
“No, but he is the other partner who resigned. Joe Stein tells me that half a million has gone missing from a client account, and the partners had to cover the sum out of their own earnings. The name on the street is Ralph Elliot.”
“But why would the senior partner have to resign if Elliot’s name is in the frame?”
“Because Elliot’s his nephew, and Alexander pushed for him to be the youngest partner in the firm’s history.”
“Sit still and revenge will visit thine enemies.”
“No, I don’t think so,” said Tom, “but it might revisit Hartford.”
“What do you mean?” asked Nat.
“He’s telling everyone that Rebecca is missing her friends, so he’s bringing his wife back home.”
“His wife?”
“Yeah. Joe says they were married at City Hall quite recently, but not before she also resembled a big apple.”
“I wonder who the father is,” said Nat almost to himself.
“And he’s opened an account at our Newington branch, obviously unaware that you’re the bank’s chief executive.”
“Elliot knows only too well who the bank’s chief executive is. Just let’s be sure he doesn’t deposit half a million,” Nat added with a smile.
“Joe says there’s no proof, and what’s more, Alexander’s has a reputation for being tight-lipped, so don’t expect to hear anything more from that quarter.”
Nat looked up at Tom. “Elliot wouldn’t come home unless he had a job to go to. He’s too proud for that. But just who’s been foolhardy enough to employ him?”
The senator picked up line one. “Mr. Gates,” said his secretary.
“Business or pleasure?” Fletcher asked when Jimmy came on the line.
“Certainly not pleasure,” replied Jimmy. “Have you heard Ralph Elliot is back in town?”
“No. Logan rang this morning to tell me that he’d resigned from AD and B but he didn’t say anything about him returning to Hartford.”
“Yeah, he’s joining Belman and Wayland as the partner in charge of corporate business. In fact, part of his agreement is that the firm will in the future be known as Belman Wayland and Elliot.” Fletcher didn’t comment. “Are you still there?” asked Jimmy.
“Yes, I am,” said Fletcher. “You do realize they’re the law firm that represents the council?”
“As well as being our biggest rival.”
“And I thought I’d seen the last of him.”
“You could always move to Alaska,” said Jimmy, “I read somewhere that they’re looking for a new senator.”
“If I did, he’d only follow me.”
“There’s no need for us to lose any sleep over it,” said Jimmy. “He’ll assume we know about the missing five hundred thousand and realize he’ll have to lie low until the rumors have died down.”
“Ralph Elliot doesn’t know the meaning of lying low. He’ll ride into town with both guns blazing, with us lined up in his sights.”
“What else have you found out?” asked Nat, looking up from behind his desk.
“He and Rebecca already have a son and I’m told they’ve put him down for Taft.”
“I hope to God he’s younger than Luke, otherwise I’d send the boy to Hotchkiss.”
Tom laughed. “I mean it,” said Nat. Luke’s a sensitive enough child without having to cope with that.”
“Well, there are also consequences for the bank of his joining Belman and Wayland.”
“And Elliot,” added Nat.
“Don’t forget that they were the lawyers overseeing the Cedar Wood project on behalf of the council, and if he ever found out…”
“There’s no reason he should,” said Nat. “However, you’d better warn Julia, even though it’s been a couple of years, and don’t forget Ray has also moved on. Only four people know the full story, and I’m married to one of them.”
“And I’m going to marry the other,” said Tom.
“You’re what?” said Nat in disbelief.
“I’ve been proposing to Julia for the past eighteen months, and last night she finally gave in. So I’ll be bringing my fiancée for dinner tonight.”
“That’s wonderful news,” said Nat, sounding delighted.
“And Nat, don’t leave it until the last moment to tell Su Ling.”
“It’s just a shot across our bow,” said Harry in reply to Fletcher’s question.
“It’s a bloody cannon,” responded Fletcher. “Ralph Elliot doesn’t deal in shots, so we’ll need to find out what the hell he’s up to.”
“I’ve no idea,” said Harry. “All I can tell you is that I had a call from George Turner to alert me that Elliot had asked for all the papers that the bank has ever been involved with, and yesterday morning he called again asking for more details on the Cedar Wood project, and in particular the original terms of agreement that I recommended to the Senate.”
“Why the Cedar Wood project? That’s proving to be a huge success story, with a rush of applications to lease space. Just what is he up to?”
“He’s also asked to see copies of all my speeches, and any notes I’d made at the time of the Gates Amendment. No one has ever asked me for copies of my old speeches before, let alone my notes,” said Harry
. “It’s very flattering.”
“‘He only flatters to deceive,’” said Fletcher. “Remind me of the finer points of the Gates Amendment?”
“I insisted that any purchaser of council land valued at over one million dollars be named and not be able to hide his or her identity behind the offices of a bank or a law firm so we’d know exactly who we were dealing with. They were also required to pay the full amount on the signing of any contract to prove they were a viable company. That way there would be no holdups.”
“But everyone now accepts that as good practice. In fact, several other states have followed your lead.”
“It could just be an innocent inquiry.”
“You’ve obviously never dealt with Ralph Elliot before,” said Fletcher. “Innocent is not part of his vocabulary. However, in the past he has always selected his enemies carefully. Once he’s driven past the Gates Library a few times, he may decide you’re not someone to cross. But be warned, he’s up to something.”
“By the way,” said Harry, “has anyone told you about Jimmy and Joanna?”
“No,” said Fletcher.
“Then I’ll keep my mouth shut. I’m sure Jimmy will want to tell you in his own time.”
“Congratulations, Tom,” said Su Ling, as she opened the front door. “I’m so pleased for both of you.”
“That’s kind of you,” said Julia, as Tom handed his hostess a bunch of flowers.
“So when are you going to get married?”
“Sometime in August,” said Tom, “we haven’t settled on a date, in case you and Luke were booked for another trip to Disneyland, or Nat was off for a spell of night ops with the reserves.”
“No, Disneyland is a thing of the past,” said Su Ling, “Can you believe Luke’s now talking about Rome, Venice and even Arles—and Nat’s not due down at Fort Benning until October.”
“Why Arles?” asked Tom.
“It’s where Van Gogh ended his days,” said Julia as Nat walked into the room.
“Julia, I’m glad you’re here, because Luke needs to consult you on a moral dilemma.”
“A moral dilemma? I didn’t think you started worrying about those until after puberty.”
“No, this is far more serious than sex, and I don’t know the answer.”
“So what’s the question?”
“Is it possible to paint a masterpiece of Christ and the Virgin Mary if you are a murderer?”
“It’s never seemed to worry the Catholic Church,” said Julia. “Several of Caravaggio’s finest works are hanging in the Vatican, but I’ll go up and have a word with him.”
“Caravaggio, of course. And don’t stay up there too long,” added Su Ling, “there are so many questions I want to ask you.”
“I’m sure Tom can answer most of them,” said Julia.
“No, I want to hear your version,” said Su Ling as Julia disappeared upstairs.
“Have you warned Julia what Ralph Elliot is up to?” asked Nat.
“Yes,” Tom replied, “and she can’t foresee any problems. After all, why should it ever occur to Elliot that there were two Julia Kirkbridges. Don’t forget, the first one was only with us for a few days and has never been seen or heard of since, whereas Julia has been around for a couple of years now, and everybody knows her.”
“But it’s not her signature on the original check.”
“Why’s that a problem?” asked Tom.
“Because when the bank cleared the $3.6 million, the council asked for the check to be returned to them.”
“Then it will be tucked away in a file somewhere, and even if Elliot did come across it, why should he be suspicious?”
“Because he has the mind of a criminal. Neither of us thinks like him.” Nat paused. “But to hell with that, let me ask you, before Julia and Su Ling return, am I looking for a new chairman, or has Julia agreed to settle in Hartford and wash dishes?”
“Neither,” said Tom, “she’s decided to accept a takeover bid from that fellow Trump, who’s been after her company for some time.”
“Did she get a good price?”
“I thought this was meant to be a relaxed evening to celebrate…?”
“Did she get a good price?” repeated Nat.
“Fifteen million in cash, and a further fifteen million in Trump shares.”
“That’s a PE ratio of about sixteen. Not bad,” said Nat, “although Trump obviously believes in the potential of the Cedar Wood project. So does she plan to open a real estate company in Hartford?”
“No, I think she ought to tell you what she has in mind,” said Tom as Su Ling returned from the kitchen.
“Why don’t we invite Julia to join the board?” asked Nat, “and put her in charge of our property division. That would free me up to spend more time concentrating on the banking side.”
“I think you’ll find she considered that scenario at least six months ago,” said Tom.
“Did you by any chance offer her a directorship if she agreed to marry you?” asked Nat.
“Yes, I did originally, and she turned both down. But now I’ve convinced her to marry me, I’ll leave it to you to persuade her to join the board because I have a feeling she has other plans.”
37
Fletcher was on the floor of the chamber listening to a speech on subsidized housing when the proceedings were interrupted. He’d been checking through his notes, as he was due to speak next. A uniformed officer entered the chamber and passed a slip of paper to the presiding member, who read it, and then read it again, banged his gavel and rose from his place. “I apologize to my colleague for interrupting proceedings, but a gunman is holding a group of children hostage at Hartford Elementary. I am sure Senator Davenport will need to leave, and, given the circumstances, I believe it would be appropriate to adjourn for the day.”
Fletcher was on his feet immediately and had reached the door of the chamber even before the presiding member had closed the proceedings. He ran all the way to his office, trying to think on the move. The school was in the middle of his district, Lucy was a pupil and Annie was head of the PTA. He prayed that Lucy wasn’t among the hostages. The whole of the State House seemed to be on the move. Fletcher was relieved to find Sally standing by the door to his office, notebook in hand. “Cancel all of today’s appointments, call my wife and ask her to join me at the school, and please stay by the phone.”
Fletcher grabbed his car keys and joined the flood of people hurrying out of the building. As he drove out of the members’ parking lot, a police car shot in front of him. Fletcher pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator and swung into the police car’s slipstream as they headed toward the school. The line of cars became longer and longer, with parents making their way to pick up their offspring, some looking frantic after hearing the news on their car radios, others still blissfully unaware.
Fletcher kept his foot on the accelerator, staying only a few feet away from the rear bumper in front of him, as the police car shot down the wrong side of the road, lights blinking, sirens blaring. The policeman in the passenger seat used his loudspeaker to warn the pursuing vehicle to drop back, but Fletcher ignored the ultimatum, knowing they wouldn’t stop. Seven minutes later both came to a screeching halt at a police barrier outside the school; where a group of hysterical parents was trying to find out what was going on. The policeman in the passenger seat leaped out of his car and ran toward Fletcher as he slammed his door closed. The officer drew his pistol and shouted, “Put your hands on the roof.” The driver, who was only a yard behind his colleague, said, “Sorry, Senator, we didn’t realize it was you.”
Fletcher ran to the barrier. “Where will I find the chief?”
“He’s set up headquarters in the principal’s office. I’ll get someone to take you there, Senator.”
“No need,” said Fletcher, “I know my way.”
“Senator…” said the policeman, but it was too late.
Fletcher ran down the path toward the school, unaware that th
e building was surrounded by military guards, their rifles all aimed in one direction. It surprised him to see how quickly the public stood to one side the moment they saw him. A strange way to be reminded that he was their representative.
“Who the hell’s that?” asked the chief of police as a lone figure came running across the yard toward them.
“I think you’ll find it’s Senator Davenport,” said Alan Shepherd, the school’s principal, looking through the window.
“That’s all I need,” said Don Culver. A moment later Fletcher came charging into the room. The chief looked up from behind the desk, trying to hide his “that’s all I need” look, as the senator came to a halt in front of him.
“Good afternoon, Senator.”
“Good afternoon, chief,” Fletcher replied, slightly out of breath. Despite the wary look, he rather admired the paunchy, cigarsmoking chief of police, who wasn’t known for running his force by the book.
Fletcher gave a nod to Alan Shepherd, and then turned his attention back to the chief. “Can you bring me up to speed?” he asked as he caught his breath.
“We’ve got a lone gunman out there. It looks as if he strolled up the main path in broad daylight a few minutes before school was due to come out.” The chief turned to a makeshift ground-floor plan taped to the wall, and pointed to a little square with ART ROOM printed across it. “There appears to be no rhyme or reason why he chose Miss Hudson’s class, other than it was the first door he came to.”
“How many children in there?” Fletcher asked, turning his attention back to the principal.
“Thirty-one,” replied Alan Shepherd, “and Lucy isn’t one of them.”
Fletcher tried not to show his relief. “And the gunman, do we know anything about him?”
“Not a lot,” said the chief, “but we’re finding out more by the minute. His name is Billy Bates. We’re told his wife left him about a month ago, soon after he lost his job as the night watchman at Pearl’s. Seems he was caught drinking on duty once too often. He’s been thrown out of several bars during the past few weeks, and, according to our records, even ended up spending a night in one of our cells.”
Sons of Fortune Page 33