Chasing the Wind (31 page)

Bingham nodded. "I think it works."

"Robert?"

"Yes." Robert fixed his eyes on Doug. "But we'll want the wiring memorandum to specify each step. Every detail."

"Amalise?"

Amalise just stopped herself from flinching. She leaned forward, looking down the table past Raymond and Preston to Doug. "Yes?"

"You'll prepare the wire transfer memorandum. We'll need to get wiring information from each investor and bank, get each step nailed down."

Amalise nodded.

"We'll give you what you need for the investors," Tom said.

Robert's voice came, cold, insinuating: "I'll want to approve it." His eyes flicked to Amalise and back to Doug. "And we'll want to see a draft right away."

"Not a problem." Doug looked at Frank Earl. "We'll have someone in your wire room on the closing day to confirm as each bank's transfer hits?"

"Yes. We'll leave the phone line open in here at that point."

Doug leaned forward, caught Amalise's eyes again and held them. "Got all that?"

"Yes. No problem." Why hadn't Rebecca mentioned this to her before the meeting? Immediately she checked the thought because she knew the answer: They were competitors now.

"Good. I want a first draft by tomorrow morning to circulate to the other side."

Again, Amalise nodded. "All right."

Frank Earl heaved a sigh, and a hum of conversation began. Chairs were pushed back from the table. People stood and stretched. Beside her, Raymond rose, scooping up his legal pad, and she did the same.

Rebecca pushed back her chair, looking past Amalise as Doug called her name. Standing, she sidestepped Amalise. Raymond's eyes followed her.

Preston walked up, bracing his hand on Raymond's arm, and Raymond snapped to. "Find her a good model for the wiring memo. The one we used in the Roustabout deal might work. Once we've got the wire transfer memo circulating, we'll need Amalise and Rebecca to start preparing those purchase agreements for the properties. Time's short and there are hundreds of those things."

Past Raymond and Preston, Amalise saw Frank Earl scoot his chair away from the table to make room for Rebecca. Rebecca sat and bent her head, listening to Doug, with Frank Earl looking over her shoulder.

Amalise's suddenly realized there were no longer
two
Silver Girls in the room.

Tom and Adam had returned to their hotel to call the other investors. Bingham and Robert were in the small conference room down the hall on eighteen. Robert lay the investigator's latest report down on the table between them.

"What've you got?" Bingham felt tense, short-tempered after the events of the day. The closing loomed and nothing could be allowed to interfere. He looked down at the report Robert had placed before him and turned the pages.

"Amalise Catoir left the building for a couple hours today. After we broke up the meeting this morning."

"So?"

"She went to a bank on Carrollton Avenue."

Bingham spread his hands and arched his brows.

Robert's eyes went flat. "The investigator says she was there for . . ." he reached over to the report, turned it and read, then returned it to Bingham, "two hours and thirty-five minutes."

Bingham looked at the wall across from him. "That's a long time," he said at last. Too long for making a deposit or cashing a check. He turned to Robert. "Anything new with that family in the Marigny?" Robert's face turned dark. "Or the kid?"

"No."

Amalise Catoir was drafting the wire transfer memorandum, which was crucial to his deal. Doug had assigned her to the work, and Bingham knew that he couldn't interfere without solid grounds. But a woman worried about souls and trees currently inhabiting a money spot could be trouble. Put that woman together with those kids on Kerlerec Street, and that spelled big trouble.

"Find out what she's up to. Now."

Robert nodded and rose. "I'll take care of it."

Robert had given her one of his murderous looks when she'd entered the conference room earlier. But returning to her office with orders to prepare the wire transfer memorandum, she told herself that Preston wouldn't have assigned the work to her if Robert or Bingham had already complained about her. And she welcomed the thought of drafting this document. Hard, challenging work, bearing down on one thing, would absorb all of her attention. After one important phone call, she'd let nothing more distract her.

At ten minutes to five she picked up the phone and dialed the number of the Whitney Bank. "Mr. Stephenson, please," she said. "Amalise Catoir. Yes. Thanks, I'll hold."

Cradling the phone in the crook of her neck, she continued marking up the memorandum. A minute ticked by and then a cheerful voice came on the line. Amalise dropped her pencil and grabbed the telephone.

"Hello, Edward. This is Amalise Catoir. Have you received a confirmation yet?"

"Just got it, Amalise." She relaxed, hearing the smile in his voice. "We're all set."

Adrenaline shot through her. Suddenly this was real. She took a deep breath. All she had to do now was make it to the closing next Wednesday without discovery.

"So we're set for the day after tomorrow?"

"Yes. Friday. How about noon? Just bring them to my office when you get here. I'll have everything ready to sign."

Gripping the phone, she looked around her office. Would she lose all of this? "All right," she said, struggling to remain calm. "That's good. I'll see you Friday at noon. And . . . thanks, Edward." When she turned to place the phone on its cradle, the room spun.
Hold on, Amalise,
she whispered to herself.
You're going for a ride.

Step one was complete.

Abba, are you with me? Am I right?

Thursday morning, six days before the
closing, Ashley Elizabeth hand-delivered copies of the wire transfer memorandum that Amalise had prepared to each member of the team. She reported back that Bingham Murdoch's group was already closeted in the small conference room on eighteen, reading it. Amalise breathed a sigh of relief and thanked her.

She looked down at her desk. Ashley Elizabeth had made one hundred and eighty-six copies of the form purchase agreements, each one to be competed with individual property descriptions, the names of the buyer and sellers, and other pertinent information. Preston had instructed Rebecca and Amalise to split this work. Ninety-three agreements each.

Just looking at her allotment made her yawn. Amalise had worked on the wire transfer memorandum most of the night and had managed only a couple of hours' sleep. A sudden restless feeling made her stand up and walk over to the window, to move, to stir her blood, before she began the arduous work.

"Don't jump." She started and turned to see Rebecca.

"Hey." The smile came on its own. "Good thinking, yesterday."

"Thanks." Rebecca strolled in, eyeing the forms on Amalise's desk. She waved her hand over them. "I've got the other half. They're already putting me to sleep."

Amalise grimaced. "I think they may be reproducing." She went back to the chair behind her desk and dropped into it, arms flung out over the armrests. Rebecca lifted her hair and let it fall as she sat facing her. For a beat Amalise sensed an invisible barrier between them that hadn't existed before. She took in Rebecca's shining eyes, her glowing skin, the hair tumbling around her shoulders and told herself it was no wonder Jude loved this girl. She was smart as well as beautiful. Smart enough to have figured out an elegant solution to the chicken-and-egg problem.

"Is Jude back from Pilottown?" Amalise picked up a pencil, balancing it between the tips of her fingers, staring at the number-two yellow as if the pencil was the most intriguing thing she'd seen in a while.

"Yes. He got in last Sunday." Rebecca smiled. "My parents are having us over for Thanksgiving dinner. I came to see if you could join us."

Amalise dropped her eyes. She'd rather work on these purchase agreements for the next six months than accept that invitation. The telephone buzzed. Amalise held up a finger as if to say,
One moment,
and picked up the phone. Raymond was on the line. She breathed a sigh of relief. They were needed in the conference room
tout suite
. Both Rebecca's invitation and the purchase agreements would have to wait.

During a break in the morning session, Bingham Murdoch walked into the small conference room where Robert had been meeting with Dominick Costa, the general contractor for Black Diamond. They were going over blueprints spread across the table before them.

Robert sat with his back to the door. Bingham walked around the table to shake hands with Costa. "Good to see you again, Dominick. Robert says you're making good progress."

Dominick nodded. "We are. In fact, I was with Mayor Moon last week and showed him the plans. He's excited about this. Said to give you his best."

Bingham stuck his hands in his pockets and jingled some change. "Good man. He's a good man."

Robert glanced up at Bingham. "We've had a productive morning."

Dominick began rolling up the blueprints. "The necessary permits are all approved. We'll start demolition as soon as the properties are nailed down."

"Or when we've purchased the majority of them, anyway." Robert stuck a cigarette between his lips, bent, and lit it. Inhaling, he straightened and exhaled smoke. "After that it won't hurt for holdouts to see bulldozers arriving. Give them some incentive."

When the door closed behind Dominick, Bingham looked at Robert. "We were lucky to get him. I heard he turned down a big job over in Texas to work with us. But I've worked with him before, so I'd have been surprised if he'd turned us down."

"Yes. He seems to know all the right people." Robert snapped open his briefcase. Just then the door behind him opened and Tom walked in. He took a seat at the head of the table.

Robert pulled three sheets of paper, stapled together, from his briefcase, shut it again, and slid it across the table. Another report, Bingham saw. He picked it up and looked at Robert, then at Tom.

Tom said, "I've read it."

"Well, what's it say?"

Cigarette clamped between his teeth, Robert threw his arm over the back of the chair. "Miss Catoir's been busy. Take a look."

Bingham sat back, glanced at the first page and immediately looked up. "What is this?"

"It's a deed."

"I can see that." Bingham ran his eyes down the first page and flipped through the other two. "But why am I looking at a deed?" He dropped the document on the table in front of him. "Give me the short version."

"Amalise Catoir has purchased one of the properties on our list."

Bingham blinked. "In the Marigny?"

Robert nodded.

A sharp pain shot down his forehead, between his eyes. Massaging the place with his thumb, he picked up the report and scanned the deed. Sure enough, Amalise Catoir was the named purchaser. The property purchased was the wood-framed, two-storied home on Kerlerec Street, old-growth oak included. "How did this happen?"

Robert gave him a sour look. "Quick and dirty."

"This seller listed here," he thumped the page, "is he the owner listed on our survey?"