resumed speaking. "Jason Archer was working on a major project for me. Organizing all of Triton's financial records for the CyberCom deal. Guy's a friggin' computer genius. He had access to everything.
Everything!" Gamble slowly pointed a finger across the desk. Wharton nervously rubbed his hands together but kept silent. "Now, Henry, you know that CyberCom is a deal I have to have--at least everyone keeps telling me that."
"Absolutely brilliant matt," Wharton ventured.
"Something like that." Gamble pulled out a cigar and took a minute to light up. He blew smoke in Wharton's general direction.
"Anyway, on the one hand I've got Jason Archer privy to all my stuff, and on the other I've got Sidney Archer heading up my deal team. You following me?"
Wharton's brow collapsed in puzzlement. "I'm afraid, no, I'm--"
"There are other companies out there who want CyberCom as badly as I do. They'd pay a lot of money to get their hands on my deal terms. Then they'd come in and screw me. I don't like to get fucked, at least not that way. You understand?"
"Yes, certainly, Nathan. But how--"
"And you also know that one of the companies who'd like to get their hands on CyberCom is RTG."
"Nathan, if you're suggesting--"
"Your firm also represents RTG."
"Nathan, you know we've taken care of that. This firm is not rep resenting RTG on their bid for CyberCom in any way, shape or form."
"Philip Goldman's still a partner here, isn't he? And he's still RTG's top gun, isn't he?"
"Of course. We couldn't exactly ask him to leave. It was merely a client conflict and one that has been more than adequately compensated for. Philip Goldman is not working with RTG on its bid for CyberCom."
"You're sure?"
"Positive," Wharton said quickly.
Gamble smoothed down the front of his shirt. "Are you having Goldman followed twenty-four hours a day, his phone lines tapped, his mail read, his business associates shadowed?"
"No, of course not!"
"Then you can hardly be positive he's not working for RTG and against me, can you?"
"I have his word," Wharton said curtly. "And we have certain controls in place."
Gamble played with an elegantly shaped ring on one of his fingers.
"Much the same, you can't know what your other partners are really up to, including Sidney Archer, can you?"
"She has the highest integrity of anyone I've ever met, not to mention one of the sharpest minds." Wharton was bristling now.
"And yet she's completely ignorant of her own husband climbing on a plane to Los Angeles, where RTG happens to have its U.S.
headquarters. That's quite a coincidence, don't you think?"
"You can't blame her husband's actions on Sidney."
Gamble took the cigar out of his mouth and deliberately removed a bit of fuzz from his suit coat. "What are the Triton billings up to per year now, Henry? Twenty million? Forty million? I can get the exact number when I get back to the office. It's in that ballpark, wouldn't you say?" Gamble stood up. "Now, you and I go back a few years. You know my style. Somebody thinks they got the best of me, they're wrong. It may take me some time, but the knife comes back at you and cuts twice as deep as the hit I took." Gamble put the cigar on Wharton's desk, placed his hands palm down on the leather surface and leaned forward so that he was barely a foot from Wharton's face. "If I lose CyberCom because my own people sold me out, when I come back at the persons responsible it'll be like the big old Mississippi flooding its banks. A whole lot of potential victims out there, most of them entirely blameless, only I'm not going to take the time to sort them out. Do you understand me?" Gamble's tone was low and calm and yet it slammed into Wharton like a giant fist.
Wharton swallowed hard as he stared into the intense brown eyes of the Triton chief. "I believe I do, yes."
Gamble put on his overcoat and picked up his cigar stub. "Have a good day, Henry. When you talk to Sidney, tell her I said hello."
It was one o'clock in the afternoon when Sidney pulled the Ford out of the parking lot of the Boar's Head and quickly made her way back toward Route 29. She drove past the old Memorial Gymnasium where she had once grunted and sweated and hit tennis balls in between the rigors of law school. She pulled her car into a parking garage at the Corner, a favorite hangout of the college crowd, with its numerous bookstores, restaurants and bars.
She slipped into one of the cafes and purchased a cup of coffee and a copy of the day's Washington Post. She sat down at one of the small wooden tables and looked over the paper's headlines. She almost fell our of her chair.
The type was bold, thick and marched across the page with the urgency its contents deserved. FEDERAL RESERVE BOARD CHAIRMAN
ARTHUR Lieberman KILLED IN AIRPLANE CRASH. Next to the headline was a photo of Lieberman. Sidney was struck by the man's penetrating eyes.
Sidney quickly read the story. Lieberman had been a passenger on Flight 3223. He took regular monthly trips to Los Angeles to meet with the San Francisco Federal Reserve Bank president, Charles Tiedman, and the in-fated Western Airlines flight had been one of those regular excursions. Sixty-two years old, and divorced, Lieberman had headed the Federal Reserve for the last four years. The article devoted a great deal of space to Lieberman's illustrious financial career and the respect he commanded across the globe. Indeed, the official news of his death had not been reported until now, because the government was doing its best to prevent a panic in the financial community. Despite those efforts, the financial markets all over the world had begun to suffer. The story ended with a notice of a memorial service for Lieberman the following Sunday in Washing ton.
There was an additional story about the plane accident farther back in the front section. There were no new developments, only that the NTSB was still investigating. It could be over a year before the world knew why Flight 3223 had ended up in a farmer's plowed-under cornfield instead of on the tarmac at LAX. Weather, mechanical failure, sabotage and everything in between was being considered, but for now it was all just speculation.
Sidney finished her coffee, discarded the newspaper and pulled her portable phone out of her bag. She dialed her parents' house and spoke for some time to her daughter, coaxing a few words out of Amy; her daughter was still shy on the phone. Then Sidney spent a few minutes talking with her mother and father. She next called her answering machine. There were numerous messages, but one that plainly stood out from the rest: Henry Wharton. Tyler, Stone had generously allowed her all the time off she needed to deal with this personal catastrophe. Sidney was convinced that the rest of her life would not be long enough. Henry had sounded worried, nervous even. She knew what that meant: Nathan Gamble had paid him a visit.
She quickly dialed the familiar number and was put through to Wharton's office. She tried her best to steady her nerves while she waited for him to pick up. Wharton could be a holy terror or awe-inspiring mentor, depending on whether you were in favor or not.
He had always been one of Sidney's biggest supporters. But now?
She took a deep breath when he came on the line.
"Hello, Henry."
"Sid, how are you holding up?"
'Tm still numb, to tell you the truth."
"Maybe that's best. For now. You'll get through this. It might not seem like it, but you will. You're strong."
"Thanks for the support, Henry. I do feel bad for leaving you in the lurch. What with CyberCom and all."
"I know, Sidney. Don't worry about that."
"Who's taking the lead on it?" She wanted to avoid diving right into the Gamble issue.
Wharton didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was lower. "Sid, what do you think of Paul Brophy?"
The question caught her by surprise, but it brought some welcome relief. Perhaps she had been wrong about Gamble talking to Wharton. "I like Paul, Henry."
"Yes, yes, I know that. He's a pleasant enough fellow, talented rainmaker, talks a good game."
Sidney spoke slowly. "You want to. know whether he can head the CyberCom deal?"
"As you know, he's been involved up until now. But it's stepped up to another level. I want to keep the circle of attorneys with access as limited as possible. You know why. It's no secret about our potential problem with Goldman and his representation of RTG. I don't want even the hint of an impropriety. I also only want guns on that team that can contribute real substance to the process. I'd like your opinion on him under those circumstances."
"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.