by Carsen Taite
The minute she was in her car, she sent a text to Abby. Group meeting. Conference room. Stat.
Be right there.
Grace smiled at Abby’s swift reply. She loved that she could count on her friends to drop whatever they were doing whenever one of them needed the superpower that came from marshaling their resources. A little over a year ago, she and her law school pals, Campbell and Abby, ditched their careers in big law to form their very own boutique law firm. Starting from scratch had been hard work, but it was also very rewarding, and a year out, they’d managed to build a nice book of business with the added bonus of being their own bosses. She instructed her car phone to call the office.
“Clark, Keane, and Maldonado, how may I assist you?” Graham, the firm’s office manager, answered, his tone a balance of pleasant and professional.
“Graham, I’m headed back to the office for a meeting with Campbell and Abby. Put us on do not disturb for the next hour. Also, I’m sending you a list of potential mediators for the Leighton case. Please locate an online bio for each of these names along with any other pertinent info you can find and get it to me by the end of the day.”
“Yes, Grace. I shall commence the search posthaste upon receipt of the document you are transmitting.”
Grace smiled at his strange formality of their office manager and rattled off a few more things she needed. She stopped at the light ahead and took a quick photo of the paper she’d taken from Leonard and texted it to Graham who was serving as the jack-of-all-trades at the firm. They’d been meaning to hire a full-time paralegal for a while, but they’d been too busy to buckle down on the search. As the managing partner of the firm, the duty fell to her, and she made a mental note to resume looking.
With business firmly squared away, she spent the rest of the drive wondering what could be wrong with Perry, Campbell’s little sister. She shook her head. She knew Perry wasn’t a little girl anymore—she’d recently graduated from law school, passed the bar, and was working overseas for a civil rights NGO, but the only image Grace could conjure up was that of a gangly young girl, spying on them when they were up late talking and trying to sneak a swig of the bottle of wine they’d swiped from Campbell and Perry’s parents’ liquor cabinet. It had been years since she’d seen Perry, and she had no clue what kind of trouble could have happened to cause Campbell to summon them all to meet.
She spotted Abby pulling in as she parked her SUV, and stood nearby, waiting before going inside. Campbell’s Audi was already in the lot.
“What’s the nine-one-one?” Abby called out as she approached. She pointed at Campbell’s car. “I thought she and Wynne were at Leaderboard’s offices all day today for trial prep.”
“Good point. It’s something to do with Perry, but I don’t know what,” Grace said, leading the way into the office. As they cleared the door, Graham leapt to his feet and motioned toward the conference room with a flourish.
“Campbell has requested the pleasure of your company for an urgent matter. She is waiting for you in there.”
“Thanks, Graham. Hold all of our calls.” Grace pushed through the door to the conference room. Campbell was on her cell and held up a finger to signal she’d be a minute.
“I understand,” Campbell said to whoever was on the other end of the phone line, “but it’s still not acceptable. She needs to get home as soon as possible, and I want to know what I need to do to make that happen. Call me when you have some answers.” She disconnected the call and turned to face them. “Short version—Perry’s NGO got booted out of Crimea last night without warning. They didn’t have a chance to pack, and apparently, she and the other two lawyers she’s been working with had to sneak out of town in the back of a truck. I have no idea how, but they made it to the UK and Perry doesn’t have her passport or any of her visa papers so she’s stuck there for now. Right now, she’s staying with a contact of her boss in London.” She pointed at the phone. “I called this guy I used to work with at Hart and Dunn. He did an internship at the state department and was always bragging that he had an inside track.”
“She should go to the embassy,” Grace said. “They can help her get a new passport. Your contact at Hart might be good, but I’ve got a pal who actually works for the state department and guess where he’s stationed?”
“Really? I’ve got her birth certificate and a copy of her passport. I could overnight them to her in London, but…” Campbell’s excitement faded.
“What is it?” Abby asked.
“I want her to come home. This is the second time she’s been caught in a dangerous situation, but I know her. If I send her what she needs, she’ll be back in some hot spot within twenty-four hours.”
Campbell tapped the marble tabletop with her pen in a steady beat that Grace recognized as her stress mode. “Let me guess. You already talked to her about it and she shot you down.”
“I barely got the words out before she started listing all the reasons she needs to get back to work,” Campbell said. “I don’t get it. I mean it’s not like they’re going to be able to go back to Crimea anytime soon, but she’s talking about returning to Afghanistan now, and I just can’t even. The minute I send her what she needs to get her new passport, I lose any leverage I have.”
“What about asking Justin to talk to her?” Abby asked, referring to Campbell and Perry’s older brother.
“He’s at an off the grid retreat for work. I’m sure I could muscle someone into getting a message to him, but it’s too late. She’ll know we’re tag-teaming her, and she’s not going to respond any better to him than me.”
“You’re probably right about that,” Grace said, remembering how Perry had rebelled against their older brother’s attempt to fulfill the dad role after their parents died.
“I’d fly over there myself if I didn’t have this damn trial starting in the morning. Judge Danzinger wouldn’t grant a continuance if we showed up with the measles.”
Campbell started the tapping thing again and Grace reached over and gently placed her hand on Campbell’s to stop the drumbeat, while her brain started whirring toward a solution. “You sure you have all the paperwork Perry needs to get her passport?”
“Yes.”
“Then give it to me. I’ll take it to her and make the case for her to come home.” Campbell started to protest, but Grace cut her off. “You’re starting trial, and Perry is more likely to react to a friendly face than a phone call. My trial got continued, and since I’d cleared my schedule for the rest of the week, I’ve got the time. Besides, I can work on the plane.” She stood to signal the matter was settled. “I’m going home to pack.”
Campbell sighed. “I have to admit I’m relieved. I’ll get Graham to book you a flight with an open return for you and Perry. First class, my treat.” She held up a hand when Grace started to protest. “Don’t argue with me.”
It was Grace’s turn to sigh. Campbell was trust fund wealthy, but she’d never gotten used to her easy generosity, evidence of which was scattered around the office, from the expensive, hand-carved marble conference room table to the fancy espresso machine in the kitchen. Grace usually drew the line at personal largess, preferring to pay her own way, but she supposed she could accept her generosity seeing as how she was doing Campbell a favor. “Okay, fine.”
Campbell shook her hand to seal the deal. “And promise me you’ll do something fun. You’re the only one of us who hasn’t taken a real vacation yet. It’s London, baby—live it up!”
Grace laughed. She’d never be as carefree as Campbell, but maybe she could make this into a mini-vacay of sorts. She’d never been to London or anywhere outside of the US beyond a quick trip over the border with her parents to go shopping when she was young. She wasn’t going to go wild, but perhaps she could find time to have a little bit of an adventure.
* * *
The voice was faint at first but grew louder as it became more persistent. Perry put a hand over her ear and rolled over in bed, hoping whoever it was
would go away so she could get back to the hazy, but delicious dream about the hot blond lifeguard.
“Perry, wake up.”
Ugh. She looked up to find her boss, Tom Dorsey, looming over her. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she could see his hair poking out in a dozen different directions, and he glanced around furtively, clearly agitated. She rubbed her face, trying desperately to wake up, but everything was fuzzy. She could’ve sworn she’d been sound asleep in her room, not dozing at her desk, but why would Tom be in her bedroom, and why did he look so frantic? “What’s going on?”
“Get dressed,” he whispered, his tone urgent. “We have to go. Right now.”
His words still didn’t make sense, but other details started to fall into focus. She could see through the slats of the window blinds that it was still dark outside. She looked over at the other bed in the room for Linda, the other lawyer who worked with her at Lawyers for Change, but it was empty. “What’s going on?” she asked again, but before Tom answered, Linda appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, fully dressed.
“It’s all yours, P,” Linda said. “Tom, give us a sec?”
Tom glanced between them, “Yeah, okay. But make it fast. They’ll be here any minute.” He stepped out of the room and shut the door.
“What’s going on?” Perry asked as she swung her legs out of bed.
“Our NGO permit has been revoked and we’ve got to be out of the country by dawn or we’ll be arrested.”
“Wait, what?” Perry shook her head. “They can’t do that.” The local Crimean government had been making noise about tossing them out for the past couple of weeks, but they’d written off the threats as propaganda and pressed on in their work with local counsel for Andre Numeroff, the journalist who had published a series of hard-hitting pieces decrying the injustices wrought by Russia’s annexation of the country.
Linda pointed at her clothes hanging over the back of one of the two chairs in the room. “Talk and dress at the same time. You want to be the one who explains why we’re still here to the police when they show up?”
Perry stood and picked up her jeans, shoving her legs into them at breakneck speed. She pulled a light sweater over her head and went to work lacing up her Docs. “What are we supposed to do?”
Linda shrugged. “We’ll figure it out once we get somewhere safe. Tom’s got a contact who’s going to help us out of here.”
“When are we coming back?” Perry asked, her mind firing in a dozen different directions, but still focused on the reason they were in Crimea in the first place. “Andre is counting on us.”
“You can’t defend rogue journalists if you’re in jail with them. Seriously, P, step it up, we gotta get out of here.” A loud knock on the door punctuated Linda’s assessment.
“On it,” Perry said, looking around the room for the rest of her belongings. She tried to ignore Tom’s insistent voice while she scooped up her stuff and shoved it into the same worn duffel bag she’d used on her last two assignments with Lawyers for Change. Since she’d started working with the NGO, she’d become an expert at packing everything she owned into a small bundle she could carry over one arm. She’d gathered her clothes and iPad and was looking for her wallet, when Tom burst into the room.
“They’re here. We have to go now.” He pointed to the window where tiny pinpricks of light were starting to peek through from the rising sun. “Does that open?”
Perry was still trying to process his words, but Linda dove toward the window and wrestled it open. Tom boosted her up, and when Linda disappeared from view, Tom motioned to her. “Come on,” he hissed.
“I need my wallet.” Perry reopened the drawers on the only other piece of furniture in the room. “I swear I put it here yesterday when I got back from the jail.”
Tom slammed his hand on the windowsill. “Now, Perry. Leave it.” Loud voices sounded from the far side of the office and Tom pointed toward the door. “They will arrest us.”
Shit. He was right. She’d always known there was a possibility of being arrested, but had never considered it might really happen. She slung her bag toward him and placed a hand on the windowsill. “Ready to roll.”
Tom tossed her bag out the window and lifted her to the ledge. She jumped the few feet down to where Linda was waiting and then looked back up to watch Tom follow. A few seconds later, they were running as fast as they could away from the building where the three of them had worked and lived for the past month. Perry gasped for air. She wasn’t out of shape, but she’d seen the local jail and the idea of being trapped on the other side of the bars for any length of time had her shaken up.
Tom dashed ahead and led them into a store, slowing his pace to a brisk walk once they crossed the threshold, which she and Linda matched. In the back of the store, he exchanged a few words with a man stocking shelves, and Perry was certain she witnessed Tom slip the guy a fistful of rubles. After the exchange, Tom led them out the rear door where a truck was waiting.
“Come on,” Tom said, opening the rear door of the truck. A tall, imposing woman with her face half covered by a scarf was waiting on the other side. She held out her hand and helped them each climb into the back of the vehicle. When they were all inside, she pointed to the bed of the truck and mimed pulling to Tom. He pried back the cutout to reveal a small crawl space, probably enough to hold two average-sized people. The idea of the three of them holing up in there sent Perry’s head spinning, and when Tom gestured for her to climb in, she shook her head. “I’m good.”
“You’ll be good once you get in there.” He scowled. “It’s not a request. We don’t have time to argue.”
“We won’t all fit.”
“You two will,” he said, motioning to her and Linda. Linda grabbed her arm and led her toward the space.
“We got this,” Linda told her, but Perry felt like the only thing she was getting was hives. She had two fears: small planes and small places. Otherwise, she faced life ready to kick ass and do whatever it took to right wrongs. Hell, if she could stand up to the Russian government and Crimean prosecutors, she could curl up in a hole for however long it took for them to get to safety. She stepped into the space, lay down, and tucked up as tight as she could without passing out. A moment later, Linda joined her in the big spoon position, and it was slightly comforting to feel the press of a familiar person. Tom leaned in and whispered, “Not a word. Marta will get you out of here. Don’t come out until she says it’s okay.”
He leaned back and started to put the cutout back in place, but Perry reached up and grabbed the plywood to stop him. “What about you?” she asked.
“I’ve got a different ride—chopper, but there’s only room for one. I’d switch with you—”
“No, I’m good.” Perry shuddered at the offer of a ride in a helicopter.
“Fair enough. This way’s better, I promise. I’ll beat you there and have all the arrangements in place when you arrive.”
Perry started to ask him where “there” was, but before she could get the words out, he faux saluted them and said, “See you at the airport. I’ve arranged for a charter.”
Perry groaned. They’d be checking off her entire list of dreaded things. Well, at least they were having an experience unlike any her law school classmates would ever see. She could imagine some of the big shots in her class sitting in a cushy law firm right now, making serious bank, but doing mindless work. Nope, none of that for her. Life was an adventure, and if you didn’t take advantage of all it had to offer, you’d die full of regrets.
She repeated the silent mantra over and over while Tom fixed the board in place and the truck pulled away from the building she’d begun to think of as home. As the truck bounced over the bumpy streets, she leaned into Linda and let out her pent up breath while she played Tom’s words back. All they had to do was make it to the airport and everything would be fine. Whatever happened, she was going to have a hell of a story to tell.
Chapter Two
Grace walked
onto the plane and matched the number of her pod with her ticket, silently singing Campbell’s praises as she settled into the large comfortable space. She’d flown plenty for work, but only on domestic flights and, as an associate, she’d always been relegated to coach, arriving at her destination tired and disheveled. She spent a moment playing with the seat adjustment, and after determining she’d be able to recline all the way into a horizontal sleeping position, she examined the bag of goodies tucked in the large side pocket. A full-sized blanket, not the thin scratchy kind airlines usually offered, a sleep mask, pajamas, and travel-sized toiletries.
“May I get you something to drink?”
Grace looked up from her plundering into the kind eyes of the male flight attendant. “I’d love a Manhattan, but I’ll settle for a bourbon neat.”
He grinned. “There will be no settling. I’ve got you covered. Is Bulleit Rye okay? It’s my fav.”
“It’s perfect.”
A few minutes later, he brought her drink and set it down with a few pieces of shortbread on a china plate. “This is my favorite flavor combo—bourbon and cookies. It’s just a little something to tide you over until dinner, which we’ll be serving as soon as we reach altitude. I’m Paul. Let me know if you need anything.” He zipped off and she sipped her drink, enjoying the warm rush of the whiskey. The shortbread was fabulous, and she made a note to pick up some of the genuine article to bring home if she had time while she was in the midst of Mission Bring Perry Back to Austin.
She hadn’t seen Perry since she’d attended their law school graduation six years ago. She’d been an idealistic, outspoken college student, hell-bent on saving the world from things like capitalism and big business. Apparently, her passions had only grown stronger since instead of the usual law firm internships, she’d opted to hook up with nonprofits focused on saving the world. Campbell had talked to Grace about her worries Perry would never move back to Austin and settle down, which Grace was certain stemmed from her wanting to keep what was left of her family close. She’d assured Campbell that Perry would eventually get the wanderlust out of her system, but she hadn’t spent much time with her in so long, she wasn’t entirely certain that was true.