~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Back in the office, Sasha checked in with the team. She noted Parker had joined them in the work room.
Finally, she sat at her desk and wolfed down her sushi. She quieted her mind and drank a glass of water, then she closed her office blinds against the dark. The view from her window, although not as stunning as that from the Frick, was pretty—especially at night, when the lights on the surrounding office buildings glittered in the Monongahela River below. She closed the blinds even though she enjoyed the view, because she did not like the way she felt sitting in her brightly lit office at night: like she was on display in an illuminated box.
Before turning to the memos, she tried Peterson’s cell phone again. Once again, the call went straight to voicemail. She was just about to call his home number when she noticed the message light on her phone was blinking.
Hoping it was Peterson and not the air marshal, Sasha tapped in her voicemail code and waited. The call had come in at 7:22 p.m., while she’d been walking over to Sushi & Rolls. She didn’t recognize the number, but the 202 area code was D.C.
Um, hi, Ms. McCandless. I wanted to let you know ... oh, uh, this is Tim. Tim Warner from Patriotech. I wanted to let you know that I put that package in the mail this evening and, also, I plan to be in Pittsburgh to attend Mr. Calvaruso’s funeral, whenever that is. I was thinking maybe it would be helpful to meet ... You know, in case you have any questions about the files or just to have a cup of . . .
Sasha could hear faint knocking in the background.
Okay, there’s someone at my door. Anyway, this is my cell phone number, 202-555-0808. Call any time. Coming!
The knocking grew louder, then Warner was opening the door, but he hadn’t ended the call.
Yes? Can I help . . .. Hey! What do you think ... You guys can’t just barge in here!
Another voice, rough and deep, broke in. Sasha could make out muffled words.
You Warner? You stole something of Mr. Irwin’s and he wants it back.
Then Warner again.
Irwin? I work for Mr. Irwin. You must be confused.
You can give us those files or we can take them. Your choice.
Files? What, wait ... I’m,. . . I’m the Human Resources Director.
A sound like a door slamming shut filled Sasha’s office through her phone’s speaker box. Then, Warner’s quavering voice gave way to shouting that she could not decipher. She strained to listen, but what followed was a cacophony: grunts, moaning, and a whimper. The cell phone clattered like it had hit the floor and picked up some banging noises. The noise continued until the message reached the voicemail system’s time limit.
Sasha’s mouth was dry. She picked up the handset and replayed the message, hoping to hear something different this time. She did not.
She pressed 9 to save the message and tried to slow her heartbeat before dialing Warner’s cell phone number. It rang and rang. Warner didn’t pick up. Neither did his voicemail.
She called Peterson’s home number. No answer. She left a message, apologizing for bothering him at home and saying it was urgent that she speak to him.
Sasha put the receiver back in its cradle. She stood and started pacing in front of her window. She opened the blinds to look out at the night skyline, but did not see it.
She closed her office door and thought hard.
She could fairly assume that something bad was happening or had happened to Warner because he copied Calvaruso’s files for her. The situation he was in was her responsibility.
Her current marching orders from Hemisphere Air were not to divulge the existence of the RAGS program. Because she hadn’t heard from Peterson, she had to assume that position has not changed.
She couldn’t call the police or the feds. There was no way to involve the authorities without breaching her obligation to maintain the attorney-client privilege and protect Hemisphere Air’s confidential information.
Ethically, she could do nothing that would lead to the discovery of the RAGS program. Morally, she had to do something to help Warner.
That left only one course of action.
Irreparable Harm (A Legal Thriller) Page 17