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Sasha hurried through the lobby and shot up the stairs to her office. Her goal was to make it to her desk chair without being seen and assess the damage to her face in private.
She charged past Lettie’s desk at a near-run and didn’t stop when Flora called her name. Once inside her office, she slammed the door shut and pulled out her makeup mirror for a look. It was about as bad as she had imagined.
Her split and swollen lip would be back to its normal size within a day or two, and she could cover the break with lipstick. But the bruises on her check would last longer on her pale skin. Much longer, probably. They would fade to green, then linger for a while as pale yellow smudges. Finally, they would turn brown and then disappear. She’d have to put her makeup on with a trowel if she wanted to cover those.
She worked her way down. There were distinct finger-shaped marks, already black, on her throat near her collarbone.
The intercom on the desk phone beeped, interrupting her survey of her injuries.
She jabbed the speaker button with a finger. “Yes?”
“Uh, Sasha? An Agent Connelly called four times for you while you were gone. He said to call him as soon as you got in. He sounded kinda mad.”
“Anything else?”
“Um, Naya Andrews called and said to please let her know when you were back. So I just did that, okay?”
“Sure. Fine. Is that it?”
“Everyone left messages. I put them by your phone.”
Sasha glanced down at her desk. There was a thick stack of pink message slips beside the phone’s base. But no overnight package.
“Did the mailroom come around with deliveries yet?”
“Um, I think so? But, nothing came for you.”
“Are you sure?”
Sasha could hear her shuffling through papers. “I’m sure. The only thing here is a bunch of legal journals.”
“Okay. If anything comes in later, bring it right in, please.”
“Will do. Uh, do you mind if I take off a little early for lunch? Janet should be back in about twenty minutes. I can forward your phone to reception.”
“That’s fine.” The only thing she really trusted Flora to do was to bring her mail in. Since she apparently hadn’t gotten any, she had no immediate need for the fill-in secretary.
She hit the button to disconnect harder than she needed to.
Where was Warner’s package? And where was Connelly?
She picked up the phone to try him again. Put it right back down because there were two quick raps on her door.
Without waiting for an answer, Naya plowed into the office and pulled the door shut.
“Mac, how’d it go with...oh, sweet lord, what happened to you?” Naya’s hand flew up to her throat.
“I was attacked in the stairwell at the courthouse.”
“What!?”
“You should see the other guys.”
Naya didn’t laugh. “Mac, are you okay? Did you call the police?”
“I’m fine, Naya, really. And I have a call into a federal agent.”
What the hell’s going on, Mac?”
Sasha rubbed her eyes. They burned from lack of sleep. Maybe also from the tears that had threatened to escape all day. She yawned, and the motion stretched the skin on her lip, breaking open the wound. She tasted blood.
“Shit.” She found a napkin from her takeout order the night before and held it to her lip while she considered how much to tell Naya. She waited for the bleeding to slow.
“Okay. This is between us,” she said. She folded the napkin in half, then in half again, and pressed it back against her lip.
Naya nodded her agreement.
“The plane crash wasn’t an accident. Someone overrode the controls and deliberately flew that plane into the mountain.”
“What? Terrorism?” Naya asked.
“No, I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t know, but I think it’s just about money.”
Naya waited for Sasha to convince her.
“It’s crazy that Mickey didn’t contact Calvaruso’s widow, right?”
“Beyond crazy. She’s like a guaranteed payday. Very sympathetic class rep.”
“Right. So, why would any plaintiff’s attorney, let alone one as savvy as Mickey Collins, pass her up?”
“Maybe he didn’t know about her, Mac.”
“I have it on authority that he knew about Mrs. Calvaruso within hours of the crash.”
Naya thought hard. “The only reason he wouldn’t use her as his representative would be if it was somehow more lucrative to him not to.”
“Right.”
“But, how could that be?”
“I’m not sure on the details, but here’s the way I think it works: Patriotech—the company that hired Calvaruso as a consultant—developed an application that would allow someone to remotely control the flight computer. They tried to sell it to the government, but the feds passed. So, the CEO and Mickey Collins hatched a plan to crash a plane, then sue the airline. Hemisphere Air settles; and I guess Mickey splits his attorney’s fee with Patriotech.”
“But, it’s a violation of the ethics rules to share fees with a non-attorney.”
“Really, Naya? You think Mickey would conspire to commit mass murder, but the ethical prohibition on fee splitting would stop him?”
Naya laughed. Sasha joined her. Gallows humor. Employees of a big law firm almost universally found it funny.
Their laughter died as quickly as it started.
“Anyway, I think Calvaruso was a patsy. Or maybe he was in on it. I don’t know. Patriotech used him to crash the plane. And, I think they might do it again.”
“Why?”
“Because Noah is dead. Patriotech’s human resource director agreed to send me Calvaruso’s personnel file, and he’s dead, too. And the two goons who beat me up this morning were looking for the file. I mean, it’s possible they’re just covering their tracks, but why not keep crashing planes and holding up airlines until you run out of people willing to do it for you?”
They looked at each other.
“Well, shit.” Naya said.
That about summed it up.
Sasha jumped, as her office door swung and Connelly stormed in, already yelling.
“I thought I made myself clear. Ass in seat. Remember? Stay in your damn office?” He stopped when he saw the damage to Sasha’s face.
He walked around behind her desk and cupped her chin in his good hand to get a better look. He tilted her face toward the light. His hand was warm.
“What happened to you?”
Naya got up and closed the office door, clearing her throat.
Connelly’s hand dropped from Sasha’s chin, and he turned and focused on Naya for the first time.
“I’m Special Agent Leo Connelly, Internal Affairs, Department of Homeland Security.” He raised his bad hand and waved at her in lieu of shaking her hand.
“Nice to meet you, Agent Connelly. I’m Naya Andrews. I’m Sasha’s legal assistant. What happened to you?”
“I got on your boss’s bad side.”
Naya arched an eyebrow. She was one of the few people at Prescott who knew about Sash’s Krav Maga training. “Nice work, Mac.”
Connelly turned back to Sasha. “Why did you leave your office?”
“I have a job, Connelly. I had to cover an argument Noah had scheduled in federal court.”
Sasha moved to the other side of the room to put some space between them. Her anger scared her. She felt like it might take control of her.
Connelly frowned but said nothing more about their deal. “So, you got beat up in court?”
“The stairwell. Two big guys. They were asking about Irwin’s files. But I remember seeing them here in the lobby, talking to the security guards.”
Naya’s eyes flashed. “Right after we talked this morning?”
“Yeah.”
She leaned forward, tense with energy. “Okay, I went out for a
smoke break right after we talked. Don’t even say anything, Mac. With my mother, I need a stress reliever. I know, okay? So, I was on the side of the building facing the lot by the Frick Building and these two linebackers got out of a silver car in the lot and went into the building. When I came back in, they were standing at the security station talking to that pervy security guard—you know the one.”
Connelly went to the window. “Can you see the lot from here?”
“No, other side of the building. You don’t think the car’s still there, do you?”
“I don’t know. How badly did you hurt them?”
Sasha considered the question. “The first guy, pretty bad. I figured I had to incapacitate him to deal with the second guy. I definitely shattered his cheekbone. Might have broken his jaw. Knocked him unconscious. The second guy took a tumble down the stairs while he was chasing me. I imagine he’s banged up, but nothing too serious.”
Naya’s expression was a mixture of awe and disgust.
Connelly nodded, satisfied. He said, “If I’m them, I don’t go to a hospital in town. But that first guy, he’s pretty much out of commission. I bet they check into the closest hotel. The first guy holes up and the second guy comes looking for you.”
“Gregor. The first guy called the other one Gregor.”
“Here’s what we’re going to do. You are going to stay here.” He pointed at Sasha. “You,” he said, pointing at Naya, “are going to make sure she stays here. I’m going to check and see if the car is still in the lot across the street.”
Connelly headed for the door. Sasha remembered the widow.
“Wait, did you talk to Mrs. Calvaruso?”
“I did. She doesn’t know much. Her husband met someone at the Hillman Cancer Center who gave him and another man jobs at Patriotech.”
“The Cancer Center? Did he have—?”
“Yeah. It was terminal, from the sounds of it.”
“So, Patriotech hired a man who knew he was dying? And, who they likely knew was dying?”
“Yep.”
“Did she give you a name?”
Connelly shook his head. “All she knows is he was a single guy with cancer. That should narrow it down, right?” His laugh was short and bitter.
“They hired two men,” Naya said.
They’re going to crash another plane, thought Sasha. Now, she could tell Connelly about RAGS. Ethically.
“I think you better sit down, Leo. I have a story to tell you before you go.”
Connelly gave her a look and took the guest chair next to Naya. “Let’s hear it,” he said.
She started at the beginning, with Metz’s revelation about the RAGS link. Then she told him how Peterson was supposed to get Hemisphere to agree to tell the NTSB. How she believed that Peterson’s car ended up wrapped around a tree, not because he’d finally run out of drunk driving luck, but because he knew about the RAGS link and was going to go to the authorities.
Connelly voice was tight with anger. “Do you know how much time we’ve wasted because you didn’t tell me this last night?”
“I couldn’t. I had an obligation.”
He exploded. “Your obligation to save your client money was more important than saving lives?” He slammed a hand down on her desk.
She stood and stepped back, assumed a defensive posture but kept her voice calm. “Lower your voice. And step back.” Her tone conveyed the rest of the message.
Naya’s eyes widened.
Connelly ran his hand through his hair, leaving a trail of black spikes in its wake.
“I was out of line. Sorry about that.” His voice was soft.
She relaxed her stance. “Apology accepted. I think everyone’s under pressure.”
He cracked a small grin. “You think?”