“So am I not supposed to notice that I’m being pulled off the Roth story?” Candace demanded. “This is how the Riis deal came into being. It has to be.”
“It’s also politics as usual.”
“And then there’s the dead security guard at Riis. I think his murder goes back to the Aurora. That’s what I should be looking into.”
“And you know this how?” Nugent said archly. “Women’s intuition?”
Candace gave her editor a look. “I don’t think people really say that anymore.”
“Whatever kind of hunch you have, that’s all it is. Simon Roth and Speaker Markowitz will still be part of the story. But let’s see the whole picture before we decide what it shows.”
58
I’VE SCARED you away, haven’t I?” Leah asked. Duncan shifted slightly on her couch, trying to come up with a smile.
“I’m being pulled in some conflicting directions, is what I would say,” he replied, taking a sip from the glass of white wine she had poured him.
He didn’t want to be here, but when Leah had e-mailed saying she had something to discuss with him, Duncan hadn’t felt he had any real choice. He suspected she wanted to talk about Jack Pellettieri’s having gone on the run. Pellettieri had apparently gotten out of the country, was somewhere in the Caribbean.
Duncan wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. It was likely the end of the criminal probe into the Aurora, which was good news for his clients. He wondered if the Roths had a role in Pellettieri’s flight. Of course, Pellettieri might not have needed any encouragement to run: he was likely facing serious jail time. But the risk of his cutting a deal and testifying had clearly been on Leah’s mind, and Duncan was fairly certain Pellettieri had something that could hurt the Roth family.
But he had no proof for his suspicions, and no reason to look for any. The smart thing was to just assume that Pellettieri had run on his own, and not ask any questions.
“I realize I’ve put you in a very difficult position,” Leah said. “Both in terms of your professional obligations and in terms of dealing with me. No sooner did we start seeing each other socially than I became the diva client from hell.”
“‘Diva’ isn’t the word I would use.”
“You don’t have to be polite about it,” Leah said.
“I wasn’t,” Duncan replied. “The word I would’ve used was much worse.”
This got a smile from Leah, although most of the tension remained. “That’s fair,” she said. “I’m honestly sorry, Duncan, that I’ve made things difficult for you.”
Duncan shrugged awkwardly. “Like you said, the Nazario thing wasn’t my decision to make.”
“If I made you betray a principle, I’m again sorry. But loyalty is rewarded.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning do you really want to spend the rest of your life working at a law firm?”
Duncan was surprised by the question. “As compared to?”
“Surely you realize by now that even a lawyer like Steven Blake is little more than a captain in the army. The generals are people like me—the clients, the businesspeople. How many cases have you worked on that were heading to trial, you’ve spent two months working twenty hours a day getting ready; then it settles on the courthouse steps?”
“Happens at least once a year,” Duncan replied.
“Because all that work you’re doing, all that gearing up for battle, it’s just a feint. A maneuver. You’re just a foot soldier on one flank. You’re only seeing a small part of what’s happening.”
“That’s certainly all true,” Duncan said, picking up his wineglass. “But it’s probably a little late for me to drop out of law school.”
“A law degree has plenty of uses outside a law firm. You’ve met Roger, haven’t you, our GC?”
Duncan wondered if Leah was going where he thought she was. “We’ve met, but only to say hello,” he said.
“Roger is pretty exclusively focused on the transactional side of things, not litigation. That’s why I end up having a role in looking over your cases. But it’s not really my skill set, and frankly it’s also a distraction from my real work. I think a full-time in-house lawyer to oversee all of our litigation would be very useful.”
“Is that so,” Duncan said neutrally.
“The position would report to Roger, but it would carry a VP title. Our bonus payments to people at the VP level are quite generous.”
Duncan felt equal parts bemused and confused. If this was intended as his payoff for dropping Rafael, it made him think that Leah didn’t understand him very well. “You’re offering me a job?” he said.
“Are you interested in accepting if I am?”
“So instead of just being my client, you’d be my boss too. Doesn’t that just further complicate things?”
“I wouldn’t be your boss, except maybe in a technical sense.”
“The technical sense being that your family owns the company?” Duncan replied.
Leah smiled. “I guess maybe ‘technical’ wasn’t quite the right word.”
“I’m flattered, of course, that you would ask me, but I’m not seeing how it would bring clarity to our interactions.”
“It would make it clear that we were allies. Look, Duncan: the grown-up phase of my life started some time ago. I’m not in the habit of sleeping with someone without trying to build something out of it.”
Duncan could feel himself pulling away from Leah. His trust in her was broken, and he didn’t think it was coming back. “I don’t belong in your world, Leah,” he said.
“You’re a Harvard Law grad, for Christ’s sake. It’s not like you just got off the bus.”
“But my background and yours are pretty close to opposites,” Duncan said. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was heading with this.
“I told you when we met: I’m a merit snob, not an Upper East Side snob. I don’t give a shit whether somebody’s family came over on the Mayflower, or how old their money is. Those people weren’t letting my family into their clubs not that long ago. And we’re getting ahead of ourselves, don’t you think?”
Duncan nodded emphatically: he felt very uncomfortable having this conversation. He decided to shift back to the job. “And in terms of work, I’ve never really aspired to going in-house—the trenches are where I’m happy.”
“You could be as hands-on as you wanted to be.”
Duncan finished his wine, put the glass down on the coffee table. They were starting to talk in circles without really addressing the issue at hand. He thought it past time for a blunt question. “Why are you offering this now?”
Leah’s look soured. “You think this is a bribe? For what? Your silence? I already have that, don’t I?”
“Yes, you do, and no, I wasn’t suggesting this was a bribe, as such.”
“What’s wrong with a simple recognition of your abilities?”
“Nothing whatsoever,” Duncan said. “Only I don’t quite think that’s what this is.”
“If you want to give it some thought, maybe set up a meeting with Roger, we can take it a step at a time.”
“Sure,” Duncan said, standing. “I’ll sleep on it. I should get going, though—I’ve got a nine-o’clock conference call.”
Leah looked up at him, her cool facade cracking a little. “You can stay if you’d like.”
“I think it’s better if we let the dust settle a little.”
“Have I totally driven you away for good?” Leah asked.
“Not at all,” Duncan said. He tried to put something in it, not because it was true, but because he was scared of what Leah might do if she realized it wasn’t.
59
WHAT’S GOING on with your favorite lawyer?” Costello asked Candace.
“I didn’t know I had one,” Candace replied, looking up from her computer screen. She’d spent the last two hours combing through campaign finance records for corporate donations, so a break was welcome. She’d hoped that Pellettieri’s g
oing on the lam would give her a renewed license on the Aurora, but it’d ended up being a one-day story. There was a money trail suggesting that Pellettieri had made his way to the Cayman Islands by way of Mexico. The authorities were searching for him, but so far it didn’t seem like his capture was imminent. Candace had feelers out, hoping the story would grow legs, that it would extend into some clear connection with the other goings-on at the Aurora, but for now she wasn’t pursuing it until something broke.
“I was referring to Duncan Riley.”
“What’s going on with him?”
“That’s what I just asked you.”
“Yeah, but you’re the only one of us who knows what it is you’re talking about.”
“He’s dropped the Nazario case.”
Candace was taken aback: while she still wasn’t sure if she fully trusted Duncan, she couldn’t see him quitting a case, especially one where he was doing so well. Unless, she thought, his doing so well was the problem. “First I’ve heard of it. How’d you find out he’d quit?”
“There was a court appearance today, just a regular status conference. But lo and behold, Steven Blake himself shows up. Blake immediately asks to speak to the judge in chambers regarding some sealed motion. Off they go, and when they came back an hour later the judge announced that the case was being continued over until a new defense lawyer could be found.”
“That does seem weird,” Candace said, having no idea what to make of it. “You try to talk to Blake?”
“He gave me the dirt-off-the-shoulder treatment. Wasn’t your whole thing before that Riley had taken the Nazario case to do Roth’s bidding somehow?”
“Something like that, yeah, though I never put it all together,” Candace said.
“You’ve spoken to Riley a lot more than I have. Think he’d talk to you now? I’ve called three times and can’t get past his secretary.”
“If he’s not taking your calls, what makes you think he’ll take mine?”
“Guys feel like they have to call a girl back,” Costello said. “It’s just one of those things.”
“I’ll reach out, let you know.”
“Cool; thanks. And, hey, congrats on Serran’s resignation. Big scalp.”
Candace felt a little awkward accepting congratulations for Serran’s resignation, part of a plea agreement with the AG’s office to avoid jail time. Not that Candace thought Serran had been railroaded: it seemed clear that she’d laundered money through the ACCC into her campaign chest. But Candace suspected it was little more than the tip of the iceberg of the corruption connected to changes at Jacob Riis. “Thanks,” she said. “Hey, while I’ve got you: ever hear anything linking Fowler to the accident at the Aurora?”
“Nada, why?” Costello said, looking surprised by the question. It wasn’t the sort of thing Candace normally would have shared, but she figured since she was at a dead end with it there was nothing to lose.
“I’ve heard rumblings that he might have been involved in the embezzling that went on there.”
“This is solid?” Costello asked.
“Can I get it in the paper? No. Do I believe it? Yes.”
“Any reason to think it connects to his murder?”
“That’s where I was hoping you might have heard something.”
Costello shook his head. “I’m not really working the story, other than following the court proceedings a little. I figured it was pretty much dead.”
Candace shrugged. Perhaps it was, she thought.
BUT AFTER Costello had left and Candace was facing the prospect of spending the rest of her day cross-checking campaign finance documents, she found her mind drawn back to Fowler and the Aurora. She’d obeyed orders and put it off to the side in order to focus on the political story, but now Candace brooded over her conversation with Leah Roth, how Leah had not only known what Nelson had told her but seemed confident he would retract it. Candace decided she needed to find out if Leah was right.
Finding Nelson’s home number proved easy: she knew he lived near McGee’s, and there was a listed number for a Thomas Nelson on West Fifty-second Street. Sure enough, Nelson picked up on the second ring.
“Tommy, hi, it’s Candace Snow from the Journal. Listen, I heard you were off the Aurora for medical reasons, and I—”
“I can’t talk to you,” Nelson interrupted.
“I just had one quick—”
“I can’t talk to you. They know we talked.”
“The Roths?” Candace said, wanting to keep Nelson on the phone. She figured it was a good sign that he hadn’t hung up on her.
“I told you before, my career’s over if I cross someone like them,” Nelson said. “I may be blackballed already.”
“Completely off the record, Tommy. Just tell me what’s going on.”
Nelson sighed into the phone, Candace feeling her heart pound as she waited. “Couple of guys paid me a visit after we spoke. I pegged them for cops at first—before they beat the shit out of me.”
“You go to the police?”
Nelson laughed harshly. “Right. That’s not how things work.”
“Why not?”
Nelson ignored the question. “They claimed to have seen the two of us at McGee’s. I can’t imagine they were watching me; any chance they were watching you?”
Candace hesitated before replying. “Actually I’ve been feeling a little weird out on the street lately. And my apartment was broken into recently.”
Nelson offered a faint snort. “You start hearing alarm bells in your head, believe them,” he suggested. “No offense, darling, but this is the last time we’re going to speak.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
“If they’d wanted to kill me, I’d already be dead. But I’m not going to give them any reason to think twice about it. Good-bye, Candace. Watch yourself.”
Candace sat for a moment listening to the dial tone, her heart still racing, wondering what the hell she’d gotten herself into.
60
EVER HAVING been followed before, Candace didn’t know how to go about losing a tail. She decided a good place to start was sneaking out of work: instead of leaving by the front entrance, she went to the rear of the building, where the delivery trucks loaded up from their basement printing press, and out onto a gritty stretch of Tenth Avenue. From there she walked over to Macy’s, spent a few minutes zigzagging around the store, which was both enormous and quite crowded, exiting a block away from where she’d come in. She then jumped into the first free cab she saw. Comfortable that she’d done everything she could to escape detection, Candace made her way to Duncan Riley’s apartment.
She’d gotten hold of Duncan at his office a couple of hours earlier, asking if they could talk after work. Candace had expected resistance, but instead Duncan had readily agreed. “Is there someplace private we can meet?” she’d asked. “It’s a long story, but you don’t want to be seen in public with me right now.”
“That’s truer than you know,” Duncan had replied.
His apartment was in a high-rise in the West Fifties. The doorman called up for her, Duncan standing in his doorway when she got off the elevator. He’d obviously changed clothes since work: he was dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, and his hair looked damp from a shower.
“Can I get you a beer or something?” Duncan asked, after showing her in.
“If you’re having one,” Candace replied. Duncan nodded and stepped into the kitchen.
Candace took the opportunity to scope out his apartment. It was new and stylish, with the accoutrements of a guy who had more money than he quite knew what to do with. There was a fifty-inch flat-screen hanging on a wall, home theater speakers arrayed around the room.
“Nice place,” Candace said as Duncan returned, handing her a Bass ale.
“Thanks,” Duncan said. “Here’s hoping I make partner so I can actually afford it.”
“How’s that looking?”
“I try not to think about it,” Duncan said w
ith a shrug. He gestured Candace to the couch as he settled into the living room’s lone chair. “The things I can’t change, and all that.”
“You must have a good shot, being a Blake protégé and all.”
Duncan clearly didn’t want to discuss it. “Things have been a little complicated on that front lately.”
“Does that have to do with why you’re off the Nazario case?”
“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?” Duncan said. Having Candace in his apartment was making him uncomfortable; he wasn’t quite sure how to settle in with her. There was inevitably something intimate about her drinking a beer on his couch, regardless of what they were talking about.
“You told me that there was nothing strange going on with you representing him. Can I assume that assurance is no longer operative?”
Duncan forced a smile. “I can’t tell you anything other than that the firm had a conflict. Not even off the record.”
“Does it have to do with Simon Roth?” Candace pressed.
“You’re not expecting an answer, are you?”
“Hope springs eternal. Nobody would know it came from you.”
Duncan found that good for a laugh. “I may not be the ideal target audience for your assurances of anonymity,” he said, before taking a swig of beer.
“I’ve never burned a source, and the only time one has been outed is when you did it. Worried you’d have to go hunting for yourself?”
Duncan shrugged, looking away. “I don’t even know the full story, anyway.”
“I have to say, conflict or no conflict, I’m surprised you’d go along with dropping Nazario’s case.”
Duncan wondered if Candace was trying to butter him up. “You think I got a vote?”
“Was the conflict something you found in representing Nazario?”
“I can’t answer that.”
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