Corridor Man 6: Exit Strategy

by Nick James

  “I’m so not the tech type,” Bobby said.

  “Oh really,” she said then winked.

  “Can you take care of that stuff?”

  “Take care of it?”

  “Yeah, get someone up here to put in that hallway security system, get some sort of client-friendly furniture out here in the reception area, call whoever it is you call to get the phone system set up, probably get six computers, the ones you suggested. Those were all good ideas, Erin.”

  She smiled at that, clicked a couple of keys on her laptop and said, “I’ll get right on it.”

  “Anything else?” Bobby asked.

  “Not right now,” she said, then sat down at the receptionist counter and started clicking her keyboard.

  Bobby delved back into the Montcreff file he’d been working on. A few hours later Erin called his name as she came down the hall. “Sorry, didn’t want to make you jump. If it’s okay, I’ve got things pretty well wound up for the day, so I think I’ll head home.”

  “Not a problem, thanks for your help today. I suppose it would make sense to get your social security number, address and phone number so we can get you paid.”

  She smiled. “I filled out a form online, I’ll print it off at home. Oh, I ordered printers too, along with the computers, they’ll be installed day after tomorrow. Anything else?”

  “No, you’ve been a really big help.”

  She smiled at that, said, “See you tomorrow, nine o’clock?”

  “Nine it is,” Bobby said.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bobby put his fork down and looked over at Maria. “Excellent, very good, but I can’t take another bite. I’m stuffed right up to here,” he said running a finger across his bottom lip.

  “Chicken Picante,” she said just as Miguel slid his plate over and scooped up two more hefty spoonfuls from the casserole dish. “In honor of your first day. It was a success?”

  “It was indeed. Miguel will tell you, once his mouth isn’t full, that the office suite is beautiful.” Miguel shoveled another forkful into his mouth and nodded. “And, Luis sent someone over who will be our receptionist, Erin Alvarez. Do you know her?”

  Miguel nodded and shoveled another forkful of food into his mouth.

  Maria nodded, but didn’t give anything away by her expression. Bobby waited and eventually she said, “Her husband was killed, last year, in the shootout. I know his death affected her.”

  “How so?”

  “Nothing bad. What I mean is they had been married for what, only a year, Miguel?”

  “Less than a year, maybe nine or ten months.”

  “Of course, she was heartbroken and newly pregnant. With the stress of his death she lost the child, miscarried. It was a very difficult time. She is, how do you say, enfacado,” she asked Miguel.

  He seemed to think about that for a moment, shoved another forkful of food into his mouth, and replied, “Focused,” spitting bits of rice in the process.

  Maria rolled her eyes at Miguel, then said, “She is very focused.”

  “She’s American, yes.”

  “Yes, she is. Her father was in your military. She lived in Spain and France. I think he was for a year in Cuba, Guantanamo. Of course, he couldn’t have his family with him.”

  Miguel said something in Spanish, laughed said “Hoo-hoo-hoo,” and made a movement with his hands, maybe signifying the figure of a woman. Maria rolled her eyes and shot back a comment that immediately wiped the smile off his face. She seemed to recover and said, “Erin has not had an easy life. Some of her own doing and some from our heavenly father.”

  Miguel kept his head down, focused on his plate.

  “She told me about losing her husband, I didn’t know about the baby.”

  “She would not have anyone know, it is a very personal pain. Not only did she lose her husband, but the child they had created. She was…” Maria seemed to search for the right word. “She was lost, she lost her soul.”

  Bobby’s phone rang. Both Maria and Miguel gave one another a quick look, Bobby never received phone calls. He looked at the number hoping it would be Sawyer and he could just let the call drop into his message center. He didn’t recognize the number although it was a local area code.

  “Bobby Custer,” he answered pushing his chair back and standing up from the table.

  “Hi, Mr. Custer, this is Brad Wengler. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  “I guess that depends on what this is about,” Bobby said stepping into the living room.

  “I’m with your former firm, Denton, Allen, Sawyer and Hinz.”

  “I’m sorry have we met? I’m having trouble putting a face with the name.”

  “No, sir, we haven’t met. I know who you are, know you did work for just one client. I wonder if you might have a moment we could chat.”

  “Chat?”

  “They made the announcement that you left the firm. Charlie Sawyer told us at an informal meeting this morning and they sent around a two-sentence email. Said the same thing, that you left and, well, then they wished you all success. It’s just that with the nightmare scenario of Mr. Hinz’s departure and then you, the only guy who had the balls to try and stop him from taking his life. It doesn’t seem to add up to some of us and Mr. Sawyer seemed more vague than usual.” He paused a moment then said, “Look,I got two little kids and another one on the way. I don't need, hell, I can’t afford, to be on a sinking ship.”

  “I’m not sure how I could help. What’d you say your name was, Brad?”

  “Yes, sir, Brad Wengler.”

  “Brad, please, just call me Bobby. I’m called a lot worse than that before nine o’clock on any given morning.”

  That seemed to bring a chuckle. “Would you have a few minutes to talk?”

  Not on the phone, Bobby thought. “I really can’t this evening. As you can probably imagine things are a bit hectic on my end right now.” He looked over just as Maria topped up his wine glass then stepped to the side of the table to where Miguel couldn’t see her expression. She looked at Bobby, raised her eyebrows, and ran a tongue back and forth across her lips.

  “It wouldn’t take too long. I’m just trying to figure out what in the hell to do next and I…”

  “What time are you in the office tomorrow morning?”

  “In the office? About eight-thirty, but I don’t know that we should have the conversation there. Only because…”

  “I get that. What I was thinking is if we could meet for an early breakfast…”

  “I could do that, you just tell me where.”

  “You know the Woodfire Grill, about a block past Cossetta’s on the same side of West Seventh?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been there before.”

  “I could meet you there at seven.”

  “I’ll be there, thanks Mr. Cus…, ummm, Bobby. I really appreciate this.”

  “I’ll see you there,” Bobby said and hung up.

  Maria filled his wine glass up three more times then took him by the hand and led him to his bedroom. “You’re tense, I can feel it,” she said. “Really feel it,” she said as she rubbed his shoulder. “Let me relax you.”

  She’d been on top of him, rubbing his shoulders and back until he was almost asleep when she whispered, “Roll over.” He did, and then became aware of her slipping beneath the sheet and working her way further down.

  Chapter Twenty

  Bobby and Miguel took the elevator down to the parking level the following morning. They didn’t speak until the door opened on the parking level. “Wait here and give me a few minutes to make sure it’s safe. Don’t come out until I’m in front of the door. I’ll honk twice,” Miguel said.

  A few minutes later, Bobby heard the car horn and hurried out the door. He climbed in the back seat and buckled up as Miguel drove up the ramp and out, onto the street. At just before seven in the morning it was a relatively fast trip. In no time at all Miguel was pulling alongside the curb in front of the Woodfire grill on West S
eventh, just six minutes later, that, after waiting for two red lights and a homeless man pushing a grocery cart.

  “No need to hang around, Miguel. It’s a nice morning, I think I’ll just walk to the office after I’ve finished meeting with this guy. I can use the exercise,” Bobby said.

  Miguel looked at him in the rearview mirror. “You sure? It’s no problem if I wait.”

  “No, I think I can feel me gaining a pound a week with Maria’s cooking. Don’t worry, it’s only four or five blocks from here, the walk will do me good. Besides, I don’t know how long this meeting is going to last. I’ll give you a call at the end of the day.”

  “Okay, you’re sure?”

  “Yeah, really, I need the exercise.”

  “Okay, thanks. I’ll see you tonight,” Miguel said as Bobby climbed out of the back seat.

  He’d been at the Woodfire often enough that he referred to it as Moe’s, after the owner’s name. He was on a personal basis with the maitre d' named Ben. The moment he stepped into the place Ben came around the corner with his hand extended. “Mr. Custer, nice to see you again. The gentleman you’re meeting is already here, he just arrived a couple of minutes ago, and is seated in that booth way in the back.”

  Bobby looked over Ben’s shoulder and recognized Brad Wengler. If he’d ever talked to him, he couldn’t remember, but he recognized him as someone he’d passed in the firm’s hallway with a friendly nod and occasionally saw him seated with a group of people in the break room. As he looked, Wengler gave a wave of his hand.

  Bobby nodded and said, “Thanks Ben, I see him back there. You have good day.”

  “Yeah, you, too. Mr. Custer.”

  As Bobby approached, Wengler slid out of the booth, smiled, and held out his hand. “Thanks for meeting with me, Mr. Custer, I really appreciate you making the time this morning.”

  “My pleasure, Brad. Please, call me Bobby.” He smiled and thought he planned to get more out this meeting than Wengler hoped to get.

  “Coffee, Mr. Custer?” a server asked, she was blonde, slight, and had her hair pulled back in a bun. She held two coffee pots, one decaf the other regular.

  “Just black, please,” Bobby said as he slid into the booth.

  She filled his cup, then topped up Wengler’s.

  “You been waiting long?” Bobby asked.

  “About three minutes. I was probably just sitting down when you pulled up in front. I really can’t thank you enough for taking the time. To say things have been crazy would be an understatement.”

  Music to Bobby’s ears. “So how are things at Denton, Allen, Sawyer and Hinz?” Bobby said, he took a sip from his coffee mug, and silently prayed the report would be catastrophic.

  “Does the term cluster-fuck have any connotation?” Wengler said and shook his head. “Fortunately, Mr. Hinz didn’t have a very large client list so that hasn’t been much of an issue. But, Mr. Sawyer is, well let’s just say, he’s not a very happy individual, ever, let alone right now. Personally, I think he’s doing more harm than good. More than a few people were upset to learn that you had resigned your position. After what happened with Mr. Hinz, I mean we get it, you did more than anyone else to try and save him, going in there when he was waving a gun around, but…”

  “Wait a minute, Brad. Resigned?”

  “Yeah, we had a meeting, got the word.”

  “I didn’t resign.”

  “But they said you did. I mean the memo they sent out said you had resigned to follow another pursuit. In fact, the meeting, Mr. Sawyer and Mr. Allen had us all assembled in the break room, almost everyone was there and Mr. Sawyer said the exact same thing at the meeting. Said you’d resigned and he knew we all wished you well.”

  “No, believe me, I didn’t resign.”

  “We all sort of figured that under the circumstances, I mean you know and well…you always seemed to get along so great with Mr. Hinz. Certainly a hell of a lot better than those other two so called partners do, or I guess, did. It just struck us all as strange that…”

  “No, believe me, I didn’t resign. Far from it actually, told them I wanted to help the firm, begged them to let me stay. They had called me in the following day, told me my services were no longer needed, kind of laughed it up like it was all a big joke. Then Sawyer escorted me to my office, watched me clean out my desk take some personal items. It only took about three minutes. He kept telling me to hurry up. Then he walked me to the elevator, he was actually humming a little song on the way, like he didn’t have a care in the world. I gotta tell you I wanted to punch the bastard.”

  “Are you shitting me?”

  Bobby shook his head, and said, “No. In fact, like I said, Sawyer escorted me to the elevator. Told me he’d enjoyed the meeting because he got to tell me they no longer needed my services. Said he was happy he’d never have to deal with me again. Then he laughed, gave this stupid little wave,” Bobby mimicked the wave Sawyer gave him. “Prick’s parting words were, ‘Bye, bye,’ like it had all been a big joke. Honest to God, I wanted to attack, wanted to strangle the guy. To say he was a giant prick doesn’t do it justice. I’ll never forget it as long as I live. It was pretty bad.”

  “He said that? Said he was happy to never have to deal with you again?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Why in the hell would he do that? Why would they do that? It doesn’t make any sense, there’s bound to be a question on the Montcreff stuff. What the hell are they thinking?”

  “He told me he’d already talked to Montcreff and he didn’t want to hear from me. I figured I better not try and contact him, I don’t need Sawyer or Allen suing me.”

  “He talked to Montcreff?”

  “That’s what he said. Funny thing is, he’s called me a half dozen times over the last two days with questions on the account. Then he wanted a phone number, said he couldn’t reach Montcreff and couldn’t leave a message. I really don’t know what to think.”

  “Just so I have it right, you’re talking about Morris account? Noah Denton’s client, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “There’s a lot of rumors floating around.”

  “Rumors?”

  The server approached and Wengler waved her off.

  “Apparently, and you just confirmed it, they can’t seem to make contact with Mr. Montcreff. Someone said they don’t even know where his office is. This is one of the bigger if not the biggest account the firm has and they don’t know where the damn office is?”

  And they never will. ‘Office’? Bobby had to suppress a laugh. “I gave them his phone number, in fact Sawyer called to double check it with me. I told them where the guy has had breakfast every morning for about the last twenty plus years. I don’t know what the problem is and then like I said Sawyer told me he’d talked with Montcreff and the guy didn’t want to hear from me, ever. Next thing I know they’re calling and sounding all nice and sweet and telling me the phone number doesn’t work. Hey, you fired my ass, you figure it out,” Bobby said then took a long sip of coffee.

  “Personally, if you ask me,” Wengler said, and shook his head in disgust. “They’re gonna lose that account sure as shit and there isn’t a damn thing the rest of us can do except stand on deck and watch the damn ship begin to sink beneath the waves. That’s if they haven’t lost the damn thing already.”

  “I wish I could tell you you’re wrong,” Bobby said.

  Three paralegals quit the day we came back after the Bennett Hinz incident. I got there early, before eight and they were on the way out. Just cleaned their desks out and were gone, not even a resignation letter. God. Since then four or five more paralegals have turned in their resignations. A bunch of the acquisition guys are ready to bolt, again. Couple of real estate folks have been talking behind closed doors, who the hell knows whats’s going on there?”

  “Unfortunately no real surprise,” Bobby said and took a sip of coffee watching Wengler mull things over.

  The server approached again and asked, �
�Would you like to order, gentlemen?”

  “I know what I’m going to have,” Bobby said and gave her his order.

  “I’ll have the same,” Wengler said, then watched her walk away for a moment before he looked back at Bobby. “So, let me ask, what would you do if you were me?”

  Bobby smiled inwardly, took a deep breath, and exhaled as if thinking about it for the first time. “To a large extent it really depends on what your book of business is.”

  “I’ve been building a pretty decent list of accounts for the past three or four years.”

  “Do your clients deal with you or are they hooked up with other folks at the firm?”

  “If you’re asking could I take them with me, the answer would be yes. Well, except for one, and to tell you the truth, it would be a blessing to leave him behind. Bastard never seems to be satisfied and bitches about my fees constantly. The time I spend dealing with his pain in the ass needs I could add three or four more clients and make five times the money.”

  “Then it would seem to me you might want to seriously put the word out, but do it quietly. Look for a younger firm, some place you could make partner in a year or two, or better yet see if you could come on board as a partner. That might be an option if you can bring a decent book of business. My sense is, if you remain where you are now, those two, Sawyer and Allen, are going to run the firm into the ground. They’re going to be watching over their own book of business and screw the rest of you. Especially now, from what you told me it sounds like you’re going to be short on paralegals, guess who’s going to get there attention? Sorry to say it’s not going to be you. Sawyer and Allen aren’t technologically current and that’s not going to change. On the information highway, those two are on the exit marked electric typewriter. As much as they may dislike the Montcreff and the type of business he brings in, it’s pays for most, if not all, of the overhead. Bennett Hinz didn’t work too hard, he never had to, but he ran the firm. Those two, Sawyer and Allen, they haven’t got a clue. They’ll run the firm all right, they’ll run it right into the ground. Mark my words, get out while you can.”