by L. J. Taylor
Steve smiled. “Don’t get too happy yet. Let’s see if it works first.”
CHAPTER VII
That evening, Kathy walked into O’Shaughnessy’s and headed straight for the bar. She needed a drink after the day she’d had. Roarke poured her a glass of pinot noir and set it down in front of her.
“Thanks,” she said. She picked up the wineglass and took a large sip.
“Rough day?” Roarke asked.
Kathy grimaced and set the glass back onto the bar. “You don’t know the half of it and I can’t tell you about it.” She smiled to take the sting out of the words.
Roarke shook his head. “If you ask me, that job is taking years off your life. Are you sure it’s worth it, lassie?”
“That’s a good question Roarke. Sometimes, I wonder about that myself,” she said.
“Wonder about what, chica?” Kathy’s partner and friend Marisela - a fiery Latina from Cuba - slid onto the barstool next to her. She looked as if she’d just stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine. Even though it was 9:00p.m., her suit looked crisp, as if she’d just put it on. She set her large designer purse onto the seat next to her and hooked the heels of her Christian Louboutin shoes onto the lower rung of the barstool.
Kathy glanced down at her boring gray pinstriped Jones New York pants suit and thought about going shopping that weekend. Maybe she could ask Marisela to help her pick out some new duds. “Roarke was just asking me whether the job is worth all the long hours and the stress.”
Marisela rolled her eyes and took a sip of the mojito Roarke set onto the bar in front of her. “Hell no it’s not worth it. But since we haven’t found rich husbands yet and like designer purses and shoes, we have to keep working. Besides, it’s a lot better than working for the government.”
Marisela was a prosecutor in a former life. She and Kathy liked each other immediately and became fast friends when she joined the law firm. They both had a mutual love of designer purses, living on South Beach, and African-American men.
Kathy’s stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. “Can we move to a table? I’m starving.”
“Good idea,” Marisela said.
They grabbed their drinks and headed over to their favorite table in the back.
“So, how are things going? I haven’t seen you much lately,” Kathy asked.
“I know. You haven’t been available for lunch much since you caught that new case. I haven’t even seen you in here since you brought that gorgeous man in last week,” Marisela said. She put a hand over her heart and fluttered her eyelashes dramatically. “Forget about me, how are things going with him?”
Kathy laughed. “Don’t you mean how are things going with the case? You know I can’t mess with him. I’d be breaking all kinds of rules.”
Marisela twisted her lips and waved a hand as if she were swatting away a fly. “Please. With a man that sexy, there are always exceptions. Besides, that pesky detail wouldn’t stop the men from trying to get close to a pretty female client.”
“Yeah right. Those ‘exceptions’ will get me disbarred. You know as well as I do that the rules are different for us than they are for them.”
Marisela snarled and muttered an oath in Spanish. “That doesn’t mean we have to accept it, chica. I do not. Besides, rules or not, I bet you find it pretty hard to concentrate on dry legal issues with that delicioso man around.”
Kathy sat back in her seat and grinned. “Girl, you don’t know the half of it. There are times when I stop thinking about him as a client. Like the day you saw us come in here. I was prepping him for deposition and I asked him about his marriage, his relationship with his wife, their sex life. You know, all those questions they like to ask in personal injury cases to figure out what the damages should be. When he told me that he and his wife used to have sex three or four times a week in their fifth year of marriage, I was done.” She fanned herself.
Marisela raised her eyebrows and leaned forward. “Wow. What else did he tell you? Did you ask their favorite position? Whether or not she had multiple orgasms? The size of his package?”
Kathy cracked up. “You are so crazy.”
Marisela looked innocent. “What? This is very important information. It could be relevant to the case.” She rolled her eyes when Kathy just sent her a bland look. “Fine.” She threw her hands up in defeat. “How’s the case going?”
Kathy rewarded her with a wan smile. “Not so great. Peachtree played the national security card and tried to block our discovery. The Court ordered them to produce the documents we requested but it also entered a confidentiality order. Peachtree responded by trying to bury us in paper and designating each and every document ‘attorneys eyes only.’ The client is pissed because that means he can’t see the documents. From what I’ve seen so far, he’s not missing much. Peachtree redacted the documents so heavily, I can’t make heads or tails of them.”
“Cabrones,” Marisela said. “You should drag their sorry asses back into court and seek sanctions against them for discovery abuses.”
Kathy nodded. “Yeah, that’s the plan. But, believe it or not, the discovery abuses are the least of our problems. They’re playing hardball now. They got the federal government to put pressure on our other clients to put pressure on us to settle the case.” She told Marisela about her conversation with Bill. “Did you ever run into this when you were a federal prosecutor?
Marisela nodded. “I was afraid you’d run into something like this when I heard you were going up against Peachtree Consulting. They work for a lot of government agencies and have contacts and allies everywhere.”
“So what do I do? The client has no interest in settling this case. These people killed his wife. He doesn’t just want money. He wants his day in court. How do I get the federal government to back off? Any suggestions?”
Marisela picked up a French fry, dragged it through a mound of ketchup, shoved it into her mouth, tipped back in her chair and chewed it thoughtfully. The French fries looked good. While Marisela ruminated, Kathy reached over and snagged one off her friend’s plate. The fact that Marisela didn’t protest or tease Kathy mercilessly for eating junk food – something she hardly ever did – was a testament to how deep in thought she was. After a moment, Kathy heard a thunk. Marisela’s chair legs had reconnected with the floor.
“Okay,” she said. “The way I see it, the only way you’re going to get the government to stop helping Peachtree is if you make Peachtree look so bad the government will want to kick them to the curb.”
“How do I do that? “ Kathy asked.
Marisela reached across the table and slapped the back of Kathy’s hand. “How do you think? You dig, girl! A fancy defense contractor like that has to have a few skeletons in its closet. Get some investigators on that. Look for lawsuits filed against them, subpoenas served by government agencies like the S.E.C. or the I.R.S. Talk to employees they fired, former spouses of senior executives, executives who left to join their competitors - people like that. They want to play hardball, you play too. If you find enough dirt, they’ll become a liability and the government won’t protect them. But be careful. Defense contractors don’t always play by the rules. If they see you as a threat to their operation, they might take it personally. I don’t want to hear you had a car accident or fell down a flight of stairs or worse.” She said what sounded like a quick prayer in Spanish and made the sign of a cross over her ample bosom.
Kathy sucked her teeth. “Yeah right. Stop that. You can be so dramatic sometimes.”
She relented when Marisela continued to study her, a worried frown creasing her brow.
“Fine, I’ll be careful. I’ll even hire security if I think it’s necessary. Thanks for the advice though. It will come in handy.” She raised her wineglass in a toast. “To kicking Peachtree’s ass.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Marisela said.
“You’ll drink to anything,” Kathy said.
Marisela lau
ghed. “That’s true.” She raised her glass, tapped it against Kathy’s and took a sip.
***
The next day, Kathy met with Charles to tell him about her conversation with Bill.
“Can the federal government do that? It’s tantamount to blackmail. Can’t you just sue them?” he asked.
Kathy shrugged. “Suing the federal government is a lot harder than you think and won’t really fix the problem. Sure, we might eventually get a ruling in our favor, but the lawsuit could drag on for a long time. With appeals, it go on for years.”
Charles leaned forward, rested his elbows onto the conference room table and rubbed his hands over his face. He sighed and sat back in his chair. “Maybe I should get another law firm to handle this. If I do that, then maybe Peachtree and the government will focus their efforts on me and my new counsel instead of Gold, Rome & Harris.”
Kathy stared at him. She couldn’t help but be impressed by his desire to protect her and GRH. Most clients didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything but themselves. She was momentarily tempted to take him up on his offer as that would allow both her and GRH an easy way out of this mess; however, the moment passed. She’d never been a quitter and she’d be damned if she’d become one now. She shook her head. “No. We are not quitting. If you really don’t think settling the lawsuit is in your best interests then we’ll just have to go to Plan B.”
He looked up at her. “What’s plan B?”
“We don’t file a lawsuit against the federal government. We just make it think we will. It’s an election year. The government’s not going to want the negative publicity a lawsuit would bring. The threat should get it to back off for a bit, giving us time to find some sort of leverage against Peachtree in the hopes of driving a wedge between them. If we can make Peachtree look bad enough, maybe the government will cut ties with the company instead of protecting it.”
Charles nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. “That just might work. Of course, Plan B is entirely dependent upon us finding something to use as leverage against Peachtree. How do you plan to do that?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t worked that part out yet. We haven’t finished reviewing the documents they produced and what we’ve seen so far doesn’t help us. But a company like Peachtree is bound to have a few skeletons in its closet. I plan to put my associate and the firm’s investigator on finding them.”
“Let’s hope they have enough time,” he said. “Look, if Plan B doesn’t work, I’ll find new counsel. I don’t want to be the cause of harm to you or your law firm.” He put his hand over hers.
The warmth of his words and his hand felt like a hug to Kathy who couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out why the gesture touched her so deeply. She needed to stop this. She couldn’t afford to develop feelings for a client – especially this one. She withdrew her hand from his. “Thank you, Charles. We’ll cross that road when we come to it. In the meantime, we have some work to do.”
***
Later that day, Kathy sat at her desk poring over Peachtree’s answers to interrogatories. They were filled with objections and evasive answers and didn’t provide much information at all. She’d already filed a motion to compel better answers, but the motion wouldn’t be decided for at least another two weeks.
Peachtree had gone overboard with the objections as far as she was concerned. It had even objected to standard questions concerning lawsuits filed against the company in the past five years. Magistrate Judge Jacobs would surely slam them for that.
She wondered why Peachtree had refused to answer the question since lawsuits were public record. She could easily search for lawsuits filed against Peachtree via the Web. In fact, she often did that as a matter of course at the start of a new case. She liked to see if similar cases had been filed against a defendant she was suing or against her client if she was defending. She hadn’t done that in this case because she’d been too busy. Now that she was lead counsel, she needed to learn how to delegate some of the tasks she normally handled while she handled the tasks Steve normally did.
She knew she should delegate the task of researching prior lawsuits to an associate; however, being the control freak that she was, she couldn’t resist doing a quick search to see what she could find. She turned to her computer, pulled up Google and typed “Peachtree Consulting wrongful death” into the search box. Her eyes widened when several articles came up. She trawled through the ones pertaining to Charles’ case and stopped when she got to an article about a case filed against Peachtree in New York. According to the article, a woman filed a wrongful death suit in state court against Peachtree when her husband was killed by a stray bullet during a shootout involving a Peachtree employee. The article reported that the matter was ‘amicably resolved’ and the lawsuit was dismissed. She printed it out and made a call.
A few minutes later, Erin - an African-American associate who had joined the firm two years ago - stepped into Kathy’s office. Law was her second career. She’d worked for several years as an engineer in a prior life. She and Kathy were close in age and had similar interests in novels, movies and music. With so much in common, it was almost inevitable that they’d become friends.
“Hey girl, what’s up?” Erin plopped down in one of Kathy’s visitor’s chairs.
“How much do you know about the new case I’m working on?” Kathy asked.
Erin smiled. “Well Annette told me about the tall, dark, and handsome widow you’re representing. Office gossip and news coverage told me the rest.”
“I’m going to bring you in,” Kathy said.
Erin’s smile grew wider. She rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “Yes! Working with you on such an exciting case and for such a fine client – what else can a girl ask for?”
Kathy frowned. “I wouldn’t be so excited if I were you. I’m bringing you in on a limited basis for discrete assignments only. This case might be a career ender, not to mention dangerous.”
It was Erin’s turn to frown. “What’s going on?”
“Peachtree Consulting and the government are putting all kinds of pressure on GRH to get the client to settle the case. He has no interest in settling – not for any amount of money,” Kathy said.
Erin let out a low whistle. “That’s a bit of a problem.”
“You bet. As your friend and mentor, I want to keep your name out of this mess as much as possible. You don’t want to be associated with this case if we can’t find anything to get the government to back off. It could become very unpopular – especially if it causes the firm to lose business. The backlash could affect you too.”
Erin sat quietly for a moment. “Given everything you just said, why are you asking me to do any work on the case?”
“Because I need someone I can trust. Peachtree and the government have unlimited resources. If they can put pressure on the law firm like this, they could easily bribe an associate to leak information or worse yet, sabotage the case,” Kathy said.
“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t step in to help you when you so obviously need it? I’m in. But I’m not coming into this case half-assed. If I’m in, then I’m in all the way or not at all. Damn the consequences,” Erin said.
“Okay, but I don’t want to hear about it if you and I are out on our behinds looking for jobs as a result of this damned case.”
Erin just smiled. “What do you need?”
“I need for you to run down any information you can find on this wrongful death suit filed against Peachtree in New York,” Kathy said. She picked up the printouts of the articles and handed them to Erin. “Work with the investigator to track down potential witnesses and see if Jim can get copies of pleadings, depositions, affidavits, etc. from the court file or the opposing counsel. Also, see if there were any other lawsuits filed against Peachtree anywhere in the country. You know the drill.”
Erin nodded. She jotted a few notes onto the legal pad she had brought with her. “Yes indeed. When do you need this by?�
�
“I need it yesterday. I don’t know how much time we have before the firm starts losing clients. In that event, Bill might shut us down and force me to file a motion to withdraw from the case,” Kathy said. “Plus, the end of the discovery period is coming up soon and we have a lot to do. This case is going to be all consuming. You’re going to have to clear the decks.”
“I’ll get on this right away. Luckily, my other cases aren’t so busy right now.”
“Thanks,” Kathy said.
CHAPTER VIII
Charles parked his car and walked into Elaine Gordon Park on 135th street. The park was an oasis from its decidedly urban surroundings. Men, women and children rode bicycles on the bike paths, unmolested by the cars that usually threatened to run them over. A young couple enjoyed a picnic under the shade of an oak tree. They seemed more interested in sampling each other than any food contained in the picnic basket sitting next to them on the blanket.
Charles appeared to stroll aimlessly through the park. In reality, he was looking for any signs of surveillance. He spotted a young guy with dark hair, sunglasses and a mustache walking behind him. He looked familiar. Charles stopped abruptly at a water fountain and took a drink. The guy pretended to head in another direction. Charles sauntered off. When he had put enough distance between himself and the operative, he ducked into a maintenance shack. He saw the operative pass by through a small window in the rusty metal door. He waited a moment breathing in the fumes of the noxious cleaning liquids to see if any other members of a surveillance team appeared. Seeing none, he slipped out of the shack and headed in the opposite direction from the operative.
When he was sure that he was no longer being watched, he headed toward an empty bench, shrugged off the backpack and sat down. He extracted a newspaper and opened it up. After a moment, he lifted his gaze and checked to see if anyone was paying him any attention. Seeing nothing untoward, he reached down with his left hand and slid it along the underside of the bench until he encountered what felt like a thick padded envelope. He pulled the envelope free and tucked it into his backpack. He folded the newspaper, donned the backpack and headed toward the park entrance. He passed a garbage can next to the playground and dropped the newspaper inside. He then strode out of the park and headed toward his car. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the operative heading toward him, faced flushed, breathing heavily. Charles caught the younger man’s eye, nodded and sent him a cocky smile. The operative’s flush deepened as he hurried past.