Total Control (17 page)

"This conversation is confidential?"

"Absolutely."

Sidney spoke with authority, grateful to be analyzing, for the moment, something other than her personal loss. "Henry, you know as well as I do that deals as complex as this one are like chess games.

You have to see five or ten moves ahead. And you don't get second chances. Paul has a bright future at the firm, but he does not possess the breadth of vision for the deal, or attention to detail. He does not belong on the final negotiation team for the CyberCom acquisition."

"Thank you, Sidney, those were my thoughts precisely."

"Henry, I don't think my comments are exactly earth-shattering news to you. Why was he being considered?"

"Let's just say he expressed a very strong interest in heading the deal. Not hard to see why; it would be a lucrative feather in anyone's cap."

"I see."

"I'm going to put Roger Egert in charge."

"He's a first-rate transaction attorney."

"He was very complimentary of your work on the matter thus far.

'Perfectly positioned,' I think were his words." Wharton paused for a moment. "I hate to ask this, Sidney, I really do."

"What, Henry?"

She heard him let out a long breath. "Well, I promised myself I wouldn't do this--it's just that you're so damn indispensable." He paused again.

"Henry, please, what is it?"

"Could you take a moment to talk to Egert? He's almost up to speed, but a few minutes with you on the strategic and tactical issues would be invaluable. I know that it would. I certainly wouldn't ask it, Sidney, if it weren't vitally important. In any event, you'll also have to provide him with the pass code for the master computer file."

Sidney covered the phone and sighed. She knew Henry meant well, but business always came first with him. "I'll call him today, Henry."

"I won't forget, Sidney."

Her cellular was drowning in static. Sidney walked out of the cafe to get better reception. Outside, Henry Wharton's tone had changed slightly.

"I received a visit from Nathan Gamble this morning."

Sidney stopped walking and leaned up against the brick wall of the cafe. She closed her eyes and grit her teeth until they hurt. "I'm surprised he waited so long, Henry."

"He was a little distraught, Sid, to say the least. He firmly believes you lied to him."

"Henry, I know this looks bad." She hesitated and then decided to come clean. "Jason told me he had a job interview in Los Angeles.

He obviously didn't want Triton to know. He swore me to secrecy.

That's why I didn't tell Gamble."

"Sid, you're Triton's lawyer. There are no secrets--"

"Come on, Henry, this is my husband we're talking about. His taking another job isn't going to damage Triton. And he doesn't have a noncompete."

"Still, Sidney, it hurts me to say this, but I'm not sure you exercised the best judgment in the matter. Gamble suggested quite strongly to me that he suspected Jason of stealing corporate secrets."

"Jason would never do that!"

"That's not the point. It's how the client perceives it. Your having lied to Nathan Gamble does not help matters. Do you know what would happen to the firm if he were to pull the Triton account?

And don't think he wouldn't." Wharton's voice was rising steadily.

"Henry, when Gamble wanted to teleconference Jason in, I had maybe two seconds to think about it:"

"Well, for God's sake why didn't you tell Gamble the truth? As you said, he wouldn't care."

"Because a few seconds later I found out my husband was dead!"

Neither one said anything for a moment; however, immense friction was clearly present. "Some time has passed now," Wharton reminded her. "If you didn't want to tell them, you could have confided in me. I would've taken care of it for you. Now, I believe I can still patch things up. Gamble can't hold it against us that your husband wanted to change jobs. I'm not sure Gamble will be too excited about your working on his matters in the future, Sidney. Perhaps it's good you're taking some time off. It'll pass over, though.

I'll call him right now."

When she spoke, Sidney's voice was barely audible. It felt as though a large fist was wedged down her esophagus. "You can't tell Gamble about the job interview, Henry."

"Excuse me?"

"You can't do it."

"Would you mind telling me why not?"

"Because I found out that Jason wasn't interviewing with any other company. Apparently..." She paused and forced back a sob.

"Apparently he lied to me."

When Wharton again spoke, his tone was one of barely sup pressed anger. "I cannot tell you the irreparable damage that this situation may cause and may well already have caused."

"Henry, I don't know what's going on. All I'm telling you is what I know, which isn't much."

"What exactly am I supposed to tell Gamble? He's expecting an answer."

"Put the onus on me, Henry. Tell him I can't be reached. I'm not returning calls. You're working on it and I won't be back at the office until you get to the bottom of the matter."

Wharton thought that over for a moment. "I guess that might work. At least temporarily. I appreciate your taking responsibility for the situation, Sidney. I know it's not of your making, but the firm certainly shouldn't suffer. That's my chief concern."

"I understand, Henry. In the meantime, I'll do my best to find out what was going on."

"You sure you're up to that?" Under the circumstances, Wharton felt compelled to ask the question, although he was certain of the answer.

"Do I have a choice, Henry?"

"Our prayers are with you, Sidney. Call if you need anything.

We're a family at Tyler, Stone. We take care of each other."

Sidney clicked off her phone and put it away. Wharton's words had hurt her deeply, but maybe she was just being naive. She and Henry were professional colleagues and friends, to a point. Their phone conversation had underscored to her just how superficial most professional relationships are. As long as you were productive, didn't cause waves, kept the sum of the whole thriving, you had nothing to worry about. Now, suddenly a single mom, she had to be careful that her legal career didn't abruptly vanish. She would have to pile that one next to all the other problems she currently had.

She took the brick walkway, cut across Ivy Road and headed over to the university's famed Rotunda building. She made her way through the equally famous Lawn portion of the campus grounds, where the university's elite students lived in one-room quarters that had changed little from Thomas Jefferson's time, with fireplaces the only source of heat. The simple beauty of the campus had enthralled her whenever she had visited before. Now, framed against a pristine late-fall morning, it was barely noticed. She had many questions, and it was time she started getting some answers. She sat down on the steps of the Rotunda and once again pulled her phone from her purse. She punched in the required numbers. The phone rang twice.

"Triton Global."

"Kay?" Sidney asked.

"Sid?" Kay Vincent was Jason's secretary. A plump woman in her fifties, she had adored Jason and had even served as a babysitter for Amy on several occasions. Sidney had liked her from the start, both sharing common perspectives on motherhood, work and men.

"Kay, how are you? I'm sorry I haven't called before."

"How am I? Oh, Lord, Sid, I am so sorry. So damn sorry."

Sidney could hear the tears welling up in the older woman's voice.

"I know, Kay. I know. It's all been so sudden. So..." Sidney's voice trailed off, then she steeled herself. She had to know some things, and Kay Vincent was the most honest source she could think of. "Kay, you know that Jason took some time off from the office."

"Right. He said he was going to paint the kitchen and fix up the garage. He'd been talking about it for a week."

"He never mentioned the trip to Los Angeles to you?"

"No. I was shocked to hear he was on that plane."

"Has anyone been in to talk to you about Jason?"

"Lots of people. Everyone's devastated."

"How about Quentin Rowe?"

"He's been by several times." Kay paused and then said, "Sid, why all these questions?"

"Kay, this needs to be kept between us, okay?"

"All right." She sounded very reluctant.

"I thought Jason was going to L.A. for a job interview with another company because that's what he told me. I recently found out that that wasn't true."

"My God!"

While Kay slowly digested the news, Sidney ventured another question. "Kay, is there any reason you could think of why Jason would have lied about that? Was he acting strange at work?"

There was a considerable pause now. "Kay?" Sidney fidgeted on the steps. The cold from the bricks had begun to chill her. She abruptly stood up.

"Sid, we have really strict rules about discussing any of the company's business. I don't want to get into trouble."

"I know that, Kay. I'm one of Triton's attorneys, remember?"

"Well, this is a little bit different." Kay's voice abruptly disappeared from the line. Sidney wondered if she had hung up, but then the voice reappeared. "Can you call me later tonight? I don't really want to talk on company time about this. I'll be home around eight.

You still have my home phone?"

"I've got it, Kay. Thanks."

Kay Vincent hung up without saying anything else.

Jason rarely discussed Triton's business with Sidney, although, as an attorney at Tyler, Stone, she was immersed in numerous matters for the company. Her husband took the ethical responsibilities of his position very seriously. He had always been careful not to put his wife in an awkward situation. At least until now. She Slowly walked back to the parking garage.

After paying the attendant, she started toward her car. Suddenly she turned, but by then the man had disappeared around the corner.

She walked rapidly back to the street next to the garage and peered down it. No one was in sight. There were numerous shops along there, though. Someone could have disappeared into any one of them in a few seconds. She had first noticed him looking at her while she was seated on the steps of the Rotunda. He had been standing behind one of the many trees sprinkled around the Lawn.

Busy talking to Kay, she had quickly dismissed him as some guy just checking her out for the obvious reason. He was tall, at least six feet, lean and dressed in a dark overcoat. His face had been partially covered by sunglasses and the overcoat's collar had been turned up, further hiding his features. A brown hat had covered his hair, although she had managed to note that it was light in color, reddish blond, perhaps. For a brief moment she wondered if paranoia had been added to her growing list of problems. She couldn't worry about it right now. She had to get home. Tomorrow she would pick up her daughter. She then remembered that her mother had mentioned a memorial service for Jason. The details of that would have to be gone over. Amid all the mystery surrounding her late husband's last day, the recollection of the memorial service had brought back the crushing knowledge that Jason was indeed dead. No matter how he had deceived her, or for what reason he had done so, he was gone. She headed back home.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Under drifting cloud cover that was quickly overtaking the razor-blue sky, a chilly wind whipped through the crash site. Armies of people walked the grounds, marking debris with red flags, forming a mass of crimson in the cornfield. Near the crater sat a crane with a dangling bucket large enough to hold two grown men. Another such crane hovered over the crater, its long cable and bucket disappearing into the depths of this shallow hell. Other cables connected to motorized winches set on flatbed trucks snaked down into the pit.

Heavy equipment was lumbering nearby in preparation for the final excavation of the impact crater. The most critical piece, the flight data recorder, had not yet been unearthed.

Outside the yellow barricades a number of tents had been raised.

They served as depositories of collected evidence for on-site analysis.

In one such tent George Kaplan was pouring hot coffee from his thermos into two cups. He briefly scanned the area. Luckily the snow had stopped as quickly as it had started. However, the temperature had remained cool and the weather forecast called for more precipitation. He knew that was not good. Snow would make a logistical nightmare even more daunting.

Kaplan handed one of the steaming cups to Lee Sawyer, who had followed the NTSB investigator's gaze around the crash site.

"That was a good call on the fuel tank, George. The evidence was very slight, but lab results show it was an old reliable: hydrochloric acid. Tests indicated that it would've eaten through the aluminum alloy in about two to four hours. Faster if the acid was heated. Doesn't look like it was accidental."

Kaplan grunted loudly. "Shit, like a mechanic would be walking around with acid and just accidentally smear it on the fuel tank."

"I never thought it was an accident, George."

Kaplan threw up his hand in apology. "And you can carry hydrochloric acid in a plastic container, could even use a squirt bottle with a modified tip so you can gauge how much you're applying.

Plastic won't trip a metal detector. It was a good choice." Kaplan's face twisted in disgust.

He looked out at the crash site for a few more seconds and then stirred, turning to Sawyer. "Nailing down the timing that close is good. Cuts down the list of possible suspects who would've had access."

Sawyer nodded in agreement. "We're following that up right now." He took a long sip of the coffee.

"You really think somebody blew up an entire planeload of people to take out one guy?"

"Maybe."

"Christ Almighty, I don't mean to sound callous, but if you want to kill the guy, who not just grab him off the street and put a bullet in his head? Why this?" He pointed at the crater and then slumped back in his seat, his eyes half closed, one hand rubbing viciously at his left temple.