Forty Acres: A Thriller (2 page)

CHAPTER 4

T
he party filled the Jamaica, Queens, storefront law offices of Grey and Grossman. For nearly three years, Martin and his partner, Glen Grossman, had shared the cramped space with the two clerks they employed. With all the file cabinets and stacks of file boxes piled ceiling-high, there was never enough room, but on that glorious night, Martin’s friends, family, and colleagues drank champagne and danced around the tiny space as if they were inside a ballroom.

Printed headlines from law blogs and news websites papered the peeling walls.

“Autostone Defeated in Key Race Discrimination Case.”

“Autostone to Pay 25.5 Million for Civil Rights Violation.”

“Storefront Attorney Slays Corporate Giant.”

Martin, nursing a beer, stood back from the festivities in a fog of disbelief that had persisted since he watched the jury deliver the verdict. Martin had always believed he could win, but considering his legendary opponent, there had inevitably been a cloud of doubt. Still, Martin had pulled it out. He’d outfoxed the fox in front of the whole world and now nothing would be the same. His voicemail was already full with dozens of requests for television interviews. The publicity would attract bigger clients, not only for him but for Glen as well. Yes, sir, Martin thought, the clouds had cleared and now he could see forever. And forever looked pretty good.

“Why are you hiding in the corner?”

Martin turned and saw Glen Grossman approaching with his wife, Lisa, in tow. Both were holding drinks and were a little tipsy.

“This is all for you, amigo,” Glen said. “You should be out there celebrating.”

“I’m just taking it all in. You know, savoring the moment. Besides, this party isn’t just for me.” Martin wrapped an arm around Glen. “This is for us, partner. This is going to blow up Grey and Grossman, big-time. I hope you’re ready.”

Lisa chuckled. “Oh, he’s ready all right. I just caught him at his computer searching for new office space on Craigslist.”

Martin laughed. Yeah, that was Glen all right. Big dreams and an endless supply of energy to turn them into reality. Martin had met Glen while attending the NYU School of Law. Martin was an African American fresh out of Syracuse University. Glen was a New York Jew with an NYU undergraduate degree. They had differences too numerous to count, but one common thread shared by both their families was all that mattered.

In the sixties, Jewish lawyers played an invaluable role in the civil rights movement, and Glen’s grandfather had been one of the most dedicated. On a few occasions he had even worked directly with Reverend King, a fact that Glen often found cause to mention.

Martin’s grandfather owned a family bakery in Harlem but he had also been one of the movement’s top leaders in the Northeast. When he wasn’t pounding dough, he pounded the streets to organize marches and rallies. He was known not only for rallying protestors but for helping to feed them as well. It was at the famous ’63 March on Washington that Martin’s grandparents first met.

Trading stories about their ancestors’ bit parts in history soon transformed roommates into great friends. After graduating, they clerked at the ACLU’s New York office during the day and studied together for the bar exam at night. Just three years after they passed the bar, it was Glen’s crazy idea for them to team up and hang their own shingle. Martin had concerns that they weren’t ready, but Glen’s answer to that was, “We’ll get ready.” How could Martin argue with that?

The first year and a half had been tough, but with hard work and lots of hustle, cases started coming in, and soon they were making a respectable living specializing in civil rights cases.

Then the Autostone case walked in off the street along with the great Damon Darrell and suddenly the world was at their door.

“Hey, what’s Anna doing?” Lisa pointed across the room.

Martin turned and to his astonishment spotted his wife, Anna, climbing onto a desk, clutching a slip of paper.

“Stop the music,” Anna shouted over the din. “I have something to read.”

Martin watched, puzzled, as the radio died and everyone turned to face her. Even in the simplest of dresses Anna looked stunning. Every time Martin looked at her, he still couldn’t believe that Anna was his wife.

Anna held up the slip of paper and addressed the crowd. “I just printed this from the home page of Law Watch. It’s about Martin.”

Everyone applauded. Law Watch was the number one legal website in the world. Anna flashed a smile across the room at Martin, then began to read.

Lawyers on both sides of the
Watson v. Autostone
race discrimination trial on Thursday delivered their closing arguments to eight jurors, capping two weeks of testimony in the highly publicized courtroom battle. Defending Autostone, the esteemed Damon Darrell was in his usual impeccable form. He delivered a ninety-minute point-by-point closing. But in a surprising turn the opposing attorney, Martin Grey, delivered his closing in less than two minutes: a daring appeal to the jury’s common sense that brought down Darrell’s case like a collapsing circus tent. Less than twenty minutes after the lunch recess, the jury returned a verdict in the prosecution’s favor: $250,000 in compensatory and $25.5 million in punitive damages. The verdict is certain to be appealed but this David v. Goliath tale is already the break-room hot topic in every law firm in the land. With one keen swing of his slingshot, Martin Grey has thrust his tiny Queens firm of Grey and Grossman into the legal spotlight.

When Anna finished, her eyes were filled with tears and Martin was standing directly below her. The room erupted with applause. Martin eased Anna down from the table and into his arms.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” Anna whispered. Then Martin and Anna kissed as if they were the only two people in the room. A familiar voice suddenly boomed over the fading applause. “Martin, I had no idea your wife was so beautiful.”

Everyone turned and stared at the sharply dressed man standing in the doorway holding two bottles of Dom Pérignon and wearing the biggest smile ever.

A puzzled Anna whispered to Martin, “Who invited him?”

CHAPTER 5

D
amon Darrell was the last person Martin expected to show up at the party, but of course, the man had a knack for doing the unexpected.

The crowd parted instinctively as Damon crossed the room to Martin. If Damon noticed the effect that his arrival had on those present, he never let it show. Damon handed Martin the two bottles of champagne, wearing a seemingly genuine smile. “I just wanted to stop by and convey my congratulations.”

Martin did his best to conceal his surprise and thanked him for the gesture.

“Not at all,” Damon said. “What happens during the trial is all business, right? Nothing personal. I’m here as a fellow attorney who admires your work. You’re one hell of a trial lawyer.”

“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

Damon laughed and Martin was relieved that he did. This was still Damon Darrell. Sure, Martin had just beaten him, but the list of important cases Damon had won was long and impressive. Hey, even Hank Aaron struck out sometimes.

Before Martin had a chance to do the honors, Damon introduced himself to Anna. Damon didn’t hide the fact that he was taken by Anna’s beauty. He shook Anna’s hand with a seducer’s smile, then turned to Martin. “Mr. Grey, if I had known that you possessed the verbal skills to persuade a woman this beautiful to marry you, I never would have underestimated you.”

Martin was surprised to see Anna blush at the remark. She was usually a tougher audience than that.

When Glen marched over, Martin grew a little tense. Throughout the trial Glen had made plenty of critical remarks about Damon. He respected Damon’s skills as a litigator, but he couldn’t get past the idea of the most powerful black attorney siding with the racists that ran Autostone. He was convinced Damon was only in it for the money.

Glen stuck out his hand. “I’m Martin’s partner, Glen—”

Damon grabbed Glen’s hand. “Glen Grossman. Of course. Nice to finally meet the other half of the dream team. You were on that class action against Texaco last year, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, that was me,” Glen said, surprised. Texaco had been the firm’s biggest case before Autostone surfaced. They settled for five million and Glen was proud of every penny.

“You did a great job,” Damon said. “Nice settlement. I doubt I could have done any better.”

“Yeah, right.” Glen chuckled. “I’m sure you would have squeezed twice that out of them.”

Martin couldn’t believe it. First Damon charmed Anna, and now Glen?

After Glen’s introduction of Lisa and a few more minutes of conversation, Damon said he had to run off to some meeting, but there was one more reason he had crashed the party.

“My wife and I are hosting a little dinner party Friday night,” he said to Martin. “And we would love for you and Anna to come. Fair warning, it’s ridiculously formal, but the upside is my wife is an amazing hostess.”

Surprised, Martin turned to Anna. He could see the excitement in her eyes as well. Darrell’s great wealth and circle of celebrity friends were well documented in the tabloids. A chance to mingle in those circles, even for one night, sounded like great fun.

Damon said to Glen, “Really wish I could invite you and your lovely wife as well. Unfortunately, my wife plans these gatherings down to the smallest detail. I’m only able to squeeze them in because of a last-minute cancellation. Sorry.”

“No, that’s okay,” Glen said, wrapping an arm around Lisa. They both hid their disappointment behind pleasant smiles. “Maybe next time.”

Damon turned back to Martin. “So, shall I give my wife your RSVP?”

Anna glanced at Martin. She wasn’t happy about it, but she understood what her husband had to do.

Martin frowned at Damon. “I really appreciate the invitation, but I think we’ll wait for the next—”

“No, no, no,” Glen said. “Don’t be silly. You two go and have a great time. It’s all right. Really.”

“You guys have to go,” Lisa added. “Then you can tell us all about it. Every detail.”

“Good. Then it’s settled,” Damon said. He slapped Martin on the arm. “I’ll have someone email you the information. See you Friday.”

As Damon Darrell made a quick exit, Martin noticed the troubled look on Anna’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“He said the party was formal.”

Martin rolled his eyes. “Let me guess. You have nothing to wear.”

“Not just me,” Anna said. “What about you? All you have are those old suits you wear every day.”

“Have you two forgotten why we’re celebrating?” Glen said as he grabbed a bottle of champagne from Martin. “The law firm of Grey and Grossman is about to receive a big, fat contingency check. I’m sure you two can afford to do a little shopping.”

They all laughed as,
pop!
Glen freed the cork and let the champagne flow.

CHAPTER 6

B
ehind the wheel of his Jeep Grand Cherokee, Glen double-checked his rearview mirror, then turned to Lisa. His voice was urgent. “This is going to sound nuts but I think we’re being followed.”

“What?”

“That van behind us. I think he’s following us.”

Lisa turned in her seat and peered out the back window. She spotted the battered black van in the lane behind them. The van was two car lengths back, which seemed about right for the speed they were traveling, and nothing seemed menacing about the way it was being driven. Lisa turned back to Glen. “What makes you think it’s following us?”

“It’s been right behind us ever since we left the party.”

Glen and Lisa had slipped out early because Lisa had a flight to catch the next morning. Lisa ran a small decorating business and was headed to Vegas to attend a big home show. From the moment they drove off, Glen had noticed that black van trailing them. At first he didn’t pay much attention to it. Just another pair of headlights in the dark streets of New York City. But after traveling fifteen minutes on the Long Island Expressway, crossing the Midtown Tunnel, and heading downtown on Second Avenue, the same route he took home every night, that black van was still behind them.

Lisa sighed. “Are you sure it’s even the same van?”

Glen glanced in the rearview mirror. The van’s front bumper had an Obama sticker on it. He’d noticed the sticker the first time he spotted the van. “Yeah, it’s definitely the same van.”

“Glen, I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”

“For a few blocks maybe, but every single turn for the last fifteen minutes? Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”

“Okay, it’s a
weird
coincidence. But it’s still just a coincidence.”

Glen shot his wife a look. He knew he had a tendency to see a conspiracy in every shadow—his nightly weed smoking didn’t exactly help his paranoid tendencies either—but this was different. This was real.

“I’m telling you,” Glen said. “That guy is following us.”

“Glen, why would anyone be following us?”

“I don’t know. Maybe to carjack us.”

“For this old piece of junk? Be for real.”

Then it struck Glen. It was so obvious that he was surprised he hadn’t realized it before. “Of course.”

Lisa could see the fear building in Glen’s eyes. “What? What’s wrong?”

“My law firm just beat one of the biggest corporations in the country out of $26 million. Maybe they want revenge. Huge companies like Autostone kill people all the time. They have hit men on the payroll to take care of anyone who gets in their way. Eliminate the competition. How do you think they get so big in the first place?”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Do you even hear yourself?”

“Yes. And it makes perfect sense. Martin is probably being followed too. Shit! I better warn him.”

Glen reached for the cell phone on the dash, but Lisa grabbed it first. “That’s it, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There’s only one way to settle this craziness,” Lisa said. “Pull over and see what happens.”

“Are you serious? What if I’m right?”

“Glen, if you don’t stop this car right now, I’m going to scream. I swear.”

Glen frowned, then swung the Grand Cherokee over to the curb and pulled to a stop. They watched in silence as the black van sped by, continued down the dark street, and disappeared around the corner.

Glen looked almost disappointed to see the van drive off without incident.

“You see?” Lisa couldn’t help rubbing it in a bit. “No corporate boogeymen. Can we go home now?”

Glen frowned as he shifted the SUV into drive and pulled away from the curb. “I still think they were following us.”

“I know. That’s the sad part. I keep telling you to cut back on that stuff.”

If Glen had been watching the road instead of glaring at his wife, he might have spotted the black van parked just around the nearest corner. Idling in the shadows. Headlights off. Its occupants watching as the Grand Cherokee zoomed by.