Chasing the Wind

by Pamela Binnings Ewen

  Amalise stared at the blinking light that was Richard Murray. She picked up the receiver and pressed the button.

  "This is Amalise Catoir," she said in the coolest tone she could manufacture.

  The answering voice was clipped, impatient. "Richard Murray here, Morgan Klemp on the Murdoch deal. We need your comments on the loan documents, and we need them yesterday."

  "Ah."

  She could hear rustling over the line, the sound of papers being shuffled on a desk.

  "All right," he said. "Let's start with the bank Loan Agreement. We'll go page by page. You summarize the changes made over the weekend on the drafts, and I'll take notes."

  "Hold it."

  "Now," the voice snapped.

  "Look." Amalise swiveled the chair, looking out the window. "I don't have time for this. The agreements will be revised today, and changes will be sent to you this evening by fax."

  There was a pause. "We're leaving for LaGuardia at six, five your time. Flight's at seven thirty. Tom Hannigan and I are coming down there. I need the proposed changes immediately. We're not walking blind into that meeting tomorrow."

  Amalise swallowed. Who was this guy? She did a quick calculation. With enough help . . . she took a deep breath. "It'll take a minimum of eight hours to work through the revisions and have the documents revised. I'll send them over to your hotel tonight."

  "No good. Tom's going to want to talk them over on the plane. I need everything by five p.m." He snorted. "As in post-menopausal."

  She straightened, set her jaw, but decided to ignore the remark. "Sorry, but that can't be done."

  There was a long pause. "Maybe you're not the girl for the job, Amalise. Did I pronounce the name right. Amalise?"

  "You sure did, Dick."

  "Richard." A yawn drifted through the phone. "Look, this isn't your bridge club. My notebook is empty right now. You're going to fill it. If Tom's not briefed, it will be your fault, and he won't be happy." He laughed. Snap. Pop. "So I'll hold."

  Gum. He was chewing gum. She looked at the phone and contemplated hanging up. On the other hand, Richard was working with Tom, and Tom Hannigan and Bingham Murdoch were the lead investors on this deal. So instead she slammed the hold button down as if it were Richard Murray himself and stared at the blinking light. She now had only eight hours.

  Heart racing, she rose and walked to the door of her office, working to hide her anger. Coffee. She'd had only three hours sleep after working till two in the morning, so the first order of business was to locate a cup of coffee. A glance back over her shoulder as she reached the door confirmed that Richard Murray was still on hold. Ashley Elizabeth looked up as she trudged past her secretary's desk.

  "Amalise." She halted and turned. "Did you know you've left a call on hold?"

  "Yes." She gritted her teeth and walked on.

  She found Rebecca in the coffee room at a table near the windows. Outside the clear, bright November light was tempting. For an instant Amalise wondered what would happen if she just left that call on hold and went out for the day. She filled a Styrofoam cup with coffee and sat down.

  "What's wrong?" Rebecca asked as she pulled out a chair and sat. "You look grim."

  Amalise shook her head. "You're not going to believe this."

  Rebecca's eyes grew wide as Amalise repeated her conversation with Richard Murray. "And he's still holding?"

  Amalise took a sip of the hot coffee and nodded. "He says he'll hold until he gets a summary of the revisions to the seven documents the banks negotiated over the weekend. We finished the session last night, and I took notes."

  Rebecca grimaced. "He wants you to tutor him?" She sipped her own coffee and looked at Amalise over the rim of the cup. "It's a setup—winning through intimidation. You'll spend all day bringing him up to speed, and then while he's sleeping on the plane, you'll be working all night to get the documents revised for the morning meeting."

  Amalise nodded. "Otherwise, he'll stroll into the conference room tomorrow without the information, and Tom Hannigan will blame me."

  Rebecca gazed into her coffee, turning the cup slowly in circles with the tips of her fingers. Then she looked up, smiling. "Two can play that game. How about this?"

  Amalise leaned forward, listening. When Rebecca had finished, they looked at each other and laughed.

  The hold light on the telephone was still blinking when Amalise returned to her office. Glancing down at her watch, Amalise walked to the desk, turned her back to the phone as she pulled out the chair, took a deep breath, and sat down. Then she called Ashley Elizabeth and asked her to come in. She would need two people in the typing pool assigned to work exclusively with her. And proofreaders.

  And Ashley Elizabeth's help.

  Ashley Elizabeth obtained the New York fax number they would need from the transaction distribution list. As Amalise worked to complete the revision of each document, Ashley Elizabeth shuffled them from the office to the typing pool, from the typists to the proofers, and after all corrections were made, back to Amalise for final review.

  Then on to the fax room.

  Amalise worked quickly, efficiently, and Ashley Elizabeth held all calls. Still the hold light blinked. Once in a while she'd pick up the phone and say, "Still there?" Richard would say, "Yep," and she'd put him back on hold.

  Once, Raymond stuck his head into her office.

  Amalise looked up. Set down the pencil and flexed her fingers. "Do you know someone named Richard Murray?"

  Raymond wrinkled his brow, eyeing the blinking light behind her. "Did you know you have a call on hold?"

  "Yes. What's Richard's position?"

  "He's in corporate finance, an associate, I think. Two, maybe three years. He's coming in tomorrow with Tom Hannigan." He gave her a quizzical look. "Why?"

  "Just wondered."

  Around two o'clock Amalise turned to the credenza and punched the blinking light, listening. She heard voices in the background. "Convertible debt . . . No, we want the equity, the equity!" A drawer slammed. A curse. She placed the call on hold again.

  As the light blinked and Ashley Elizabeth trekked in and out of her office, Amalise kept an eye on her watch. Three o'clock, then four. What was Einstein's theory? The faster you move, the slower time passes? Or was it the reverse?

  At 4:30 in the afternoon Ashley Elizabeth rushed in. "Here you go." She waved a thick document and her eyes shone.

  Amalise looked up. "How are we doing?"

  Ashley Elizabeth brushed back her hair and dropped the document on Amalise's desk. "This is number six."

  "All faxed to New York?"

  "Yes."

  Amalise smiled. "Here's the last one." She held it out, and Ashley Elizabeth took it with a glance at the blinking light.

  Ashley Elizabeth headed for the door. "Your handwriting's getting worse," she said. "Typing's starting to grumble."

  When she had gone, Amalise dropped her throbbing head into her hands.

  "Richard's still waiting?" Rebecca's voice roused her.

  Amalise lifted her head and nodded with the beginning of a smile. She straightened as Rebecca dropped into the chair in front of her desk. "You're just in time."

  High-heeled shoes clicked double-time down the hallway, and Ashley Elizabeth burst in. With a quick nod, she gave Amalise thumbs up.

  Amalise placed her hands on the desk before her, sitting in what Jude would have called the launch position. "We have a fax confirmation for the last one?"

  Ashley Elizabeth smiled and did a little jig.

  Rebecca rose, walked to the window. "Showtime." With a cat-like smile, she folded her arms and leaned back against the window frame. "Wish I had a movie camera. At least use the speaker, so we can hear."

  Ashley Elizabeth took the chair. Amalise held
up one finger. Swiveling to the telephone, she pressed the button and placed Richard Murray's call on the speaker. "Richard," she said. A crackling sound answered, plastic paper—potato chips, she'd bet. She leaned close to the speaker.

  Louder now: "Richard!"

  Ashley Elizabeth stifled a choking sound.

  There was the sound of shuffling shoes, a slow, heavy walk coming close. The squeak and groan of a chair. "Yeah." He sounded fatigued.

  "We're all set." Amalise's tone was bright, cheerful.

  "We leave for the airport in thirty minutes. You're dead." His voice came through harsh but clear. "You've played Russian roulette and lost. And don't think this won't be a subject for discussion tomorrow."

  "There must be some mistake, Richard." Amalise's voice was silk. She turned her head, watching Ashley Elizabeth, who nodded. "Since this morning we've been faxing each agreement to your office as I completed the revisions. You've had plenty of time to read them." Leaning back in the chair, she curled her fingers and studied her nails. "We were hoping you'd be ready with some preliminary thoughts on the changes before you leave for the airport."

  "I don't know what you're talking about. You say you've sent them?"

  "Of course."

  There was a long silence on the other end. She turned to Ashley Elizabeth, held out her hand, and took the final fax confirmation. "Everything was faxed to this number." She read it out loud.

  "That's Tom Hannigan's fax, not mine!"

  "It was addressed to both of you. Don't you work together?"

  "What the—"

  She leaned toward the speaker, elbows on the credenza, chin in her hands. "Richard, we're wasting time." She had to work to force a hint of compassion into her voice. "There are seven agreements in all. Tom will have them. He's probably already looked at them—the changes are black-lined for you. Ask his secretary to give you copies. I'm sure he'll fill you in on the plane."

  "You—"

  "The meeting's tomorrow at nine. Plenty of time to catch up."

  With a smile, she clicked off the phone in the middle of his splutter.

  "That was delicious," Rebecca said, laughing.

  Ashley Elizabeth stood, straightened her skirt, and headed for the door. "I'm off to tennis. See you ladies in the morning."

  "Hey."

  Ashley Elizabeth turned.

  "Thanks."

  Ashley Elizabeth grinned, linked her hands over her head, and executed an excellent stroll right out the door.

  Raymond backed into the room, eyes following Ashley Elizabeth's trail.

  Brows up, he turned to Amalise and Rebecca. "What's going on?"

  Amalise opened her mouth, but Raymond interrupted, pointing to the stack of papers on her desk. "Amalise, when you finish those revisions—"

  "They're done."

  "Good. Distribute them to the group. And Preston's waiting."

  He turned and disappeared.

  Amalise stared at the empty doorway and shook her head.

  "Huh," Rebecca, sauntered to the door and stood, hands on her hips, looking after Raymond. After a moment she turned back to Amalise. "I get the feeling that if we both walked buck naked down that hallway after him, no one around here would even look up."

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Richard Murray dragged into the conference room with Tom Hannigan the next morning, red-eyed and ill-tempered. Tom shut him down immediately when he groused about receiving the documents two minutes before they left for the airport the night before. Doug had given her a knowing smile. Raymond must have spilled the beans.

  After a long morning Bingham Murdoch insisted on taking the New Yorkers to Antoine's for lunch. When the meeting broke up, Amalise excused herself, not a difficult task for an overworked associate. Now she sat in her quiet office, summarizing the most pertinent points to be covered in the next round of negotiations.

  A rapid succession of knocks on the door roused her. She looked up to see Rebecca standing there, lips curled, bright eyes flashing. "How'd it go? What's Richard Murray like?" Without waiting for an answer, she strolled into the office and fell into the client chair.

  Amalise smiled. "Dick? He's just what we expected."

  "Was he sufficiently intimidated?"

  "I don't think so."

  Rebecca slid down in the chair, resting her head on the back, studying the ceiling. "Do you want to get a quick lunch? I need a break."

  Amalise glanced at her watch. It was only one fifteen, plenty of time. "All right." She stood and stretched.

  "Mother's, for po' boys?"

  "Takes too long. How about downstairs?"

  Rebecca sighed. "That'll do." They walked past Ashley Elizabeth's desk on the way to the elevator. "Back in a half hour," Amalise said, and Ashley Elizabeth nodded without looking up.

  "She works hard," Rebecca murmured.

  Amalise pressed the button for the elevator. "Until five o'clock. That's our deal. I find temps for evenings and weekends."

  "Do you blame her? This isn't her life. For her, it's just a job."

  "I don't blame her a bit."

  The coffee shop just off the lobby was small but bright, and except for the cleaning woman and a young man behind the counter, it was empty.

  Amalise inspected the trays of tuna, egg salad, ham, turkey, and cheese in the glass display counter and ordered a turkey sandwich with lettuce, tomatoes, and spicy mustard. Rebecca ordered tuna. They stood waiting for the sandwiches and chatting, and through the whole conversation, Amalise braced herself for the news that Rebecca and Jude were to be married.

  Still, she prayed that for one more day Rebecca wouldn't raise the subject. Once the words were spoken, it would all be true. She'd have lost Jude forever. A small tremor ran through her.

  Rebecca turned just then and handed her one sandwich plate and a napkin. "Are you all right?" she asked.

  "Just a little tired."

  To their right was the cooler. They retrieved two cans of Tab and chose a table.

  "How's the Murdoch deal going?"

  "It's barreling along. Raymond's in my office every ten minutes with new work. The investors are panting. They'll make a bundle."

  Suddenly, Rebecca set down her sandwich and leaned forward. Amalise blinked and swallowed. Rebecca lowered her voice, almost whispering. "I want to be on that deal, Amalise. Could you say something to Preston? Or maybe even Doug?"

  Amalise stared. A quick stab of envy washed through her. Rebecca had Jude, and now she wanted Black Diamond, too. But this deal was hers. If Rebecca was added to the team, Amalise knew exactly what would happen. She'd become lost in Rebecca's vortex, the swirl of attention she commanded every time she walked into a room.

  She hated herself when she thought this way. After all, they were friends.

  "Would you mind?" Rebecca's eyes held hers.

  "Of course not," Amalise replied a little too loud. She picked up her sandwich, glancing around. "It's a killer, though, I'll warn you. You're sure that's what you really want?"

  Rebecca's face lit. She settled back and nodded her head. "Sure! It would be fun to work together again."

  Of course, she had to try. They were friends, not really competitors. She nodded. "I'll talk to Preston as soon as the opportunity comes up. I've got to wait for the right time, but we could certainly use the help."

  Rebecca seemed satisfied. She folded her arms, ignoring her food. "What's Bingham Murdoch like? Everyone in the firm's talking about him."

  Amalise shrugged. "He's been a silent partner in several big developments. Recommended by Tom Hannigan at Morgan Klemp. Doug and Tom have been friends for years, so Tom's the connection, I guess." She smiled. "And he likes good food."

  Amalise washed down the last of her sandwich with the Tab and gla
nced at the clock on the wall. "Time to go." She pushed back her chair.

  Crossing the lobby, she said, "I came across an interesting article at the library when I was checking out Murdoch's background. Remember that airline hijacker a few years ago? D. B. Cooper?"

  "Sure. The hijacker that got away in 1971?" She shook her head. "What's he got to do with Murdoch?"

  "Nothing." Amalise's eyes twinkled. "I copied the story and brought it back for Raymond—he's such a nut on the subject. The detective handling the case said Cooper was a real lone ranger. Lone Ranger happens to be the name of Murdoch's company."

  "Hm. I wonder where he is."

  "Who?"

  Rebecca gave her a look. "D. B. Cooper."

  "That's what everyone wants to know."

  The elevator arrived empty and they stepped in. Amalise pressed sixteen and leaned against the wall beside Rebecca. "Raymond thinks he's on an island somewhere. But Cooper's not his real name. No one ever identified him."

  As they reached the sixteenth floor, Rebecca swept her hair from the nape of her neck, twisted it, and let it fall again. Her hair shone like a sunset, Jude had once remarked. Without thinking, Amalise tucked back her own short, dark hair.

  "Let me know what Preston says, will you?" Rebecca said as the doors opened and she stepped out ahead of Amalise.

  "Sure."

  Back in her office, Amalise stood in front of the window, looking out at the building next door and the cloudless stretch of sky over the city to her left. Rebecca hadn't mentioned Jude once. A sharp pain gripped her middle at the thought of Jude. She wrapped her arms across her waist, wondering how she would survive on the day that one of them, Jude or Rebecca, actually got around to telling her their good news.

  Days passed when the only sun Amalise saw glared through the windows of the hot, crowded conference room as the project working group negotiated the provisions of the documents page by page. She arrived at work before the sun came up and returned home well after dark.

  As always, Amalise sat beside Raymond near one end of the long table, noting revisions and disagreements between the parties as they progressed through the provisions. Revisions to the documents would be made later once solutions were reached. Raymond sat beside Preston, and Preston sat next to Doug, the partner in charge. Doug, the lead negotiator, occupied the center seat at the long table with the windows and sun at his back. On the other side of him was Frank Earl from First Merchant Bank.