Disclosure (31 page)

The phone turned itself back on, the little screen flashing LEWYN and Mark's home number.

“There wasn't any message when I got home.”

Ì talked to your answering machine, about six-fifteen.”

Ì never got a message. “

Sanders was sure that he had cal ed Lewyn and had talked to his answering machine. He remembered a man's voice saying the standard message, “Leave a message when you hear the tone.”

Standing there with the phone in his hand, staring at Lewyn's phone number, he pressed the SEND button. A moment later, the answering machine picked up. A woman's voice said, “Hi, you've reached Mark and Adele at home. We're not able to come to the phone right now, but if you leave a message, we'l cal you back.”

Beep.

That was a different message.

He hadn't cal ed Mark Lewyn that night.

Which could only mean he hadn't pressed L-E-W that night. Nervous in Meredith's office, he must have pressed something else. He had gotten somebody else's answering machine.

And his phone had gone dead.

Because . . .

Forget that phone.

`Jesus Christ,” he said. He suddenly put it together. He knew exactly what had happened. And it meant that there was the chance that

“Tom, are you al right?” Fernandez said.

“I'm fine,” he said. “Just give me a minute. I think I've got something important.”

He hadn't pressed L-E-W.

He had pressed something else. Something very close, probably one letter off: With fumbling fingers, Sanders pushed L-E-L. The screen stayed blank: he had no number stored for that combination. L-E-M. No number stored. L-E-S. No number stored. L-E-V.

Bingo.

Printed across the little screen was:

LEVIN

And a phone number for John Levin.

Sanders had cal ed John Levin's answering machine that night.

John Levin called. He said it was important.

I'l bet he did, Sanders thought.

He remembered now, with sudden clarity, the exact sequence of events in Meredith's office. He had been talking on the phone and she said, “Forget that phone,” and pushed his hand down as she started kissing him. He had dropped the phone on the windowsil as they kissed, and left it there.

Later on, when he left Meredith's office, buttoning his shirt, he had picked up the cel ular phone from the sil , but by then it was dead. Which could only mean that it had remained constantly on for almost an hour. It had remained on during the entire incident with Meredith.

In the car, when Adele finished the call, .she hung the phone back in the cradle, She didn't press the END button, so the phone line stayed open, and their entire conversation was recorded on the personal answering machine. Fifteen minutes of jokes and personal commentary, all recorded on his answering machine.

And Sanders's phone had been dead because the line stayed open. The whole conversation had been recorded.

Standing in the parking lot, he quickly dialed John Levin's number. Fernandez got out of the car and came over to him. “What's going on?” Fernandez said. “Are we going to lunch, or what?”

`Just a minute.”

The cal went through. A click of the pickup, then a man's voice: `John Levin.”

`John, it's Tom Sanders.”

“Wel , hey there, Tom boy!” Levin burst out laughing. “My man! Are you having a red-hot sex life these days, or what? I tel you, Tom, my ears were burning.”

Sanders said, “Was it recorded?”

`Jesus Christ, Tom, you better believe it. I came in Tuesday morning to check my messages, and I tel you, it went on for half an hour, I mean-”

“John-”

“Whoever said married life was dul -”

“John. Listen. Did you keep it?”

There was a pause. Levin stopped laughing. “Tom, what do you think I am, a pervert? Of course I kept it. I played it for the whole office. They loved it!”

“John. Seriously.”

Levin sighed. “Yeah. I kept it. It sounded like you might be having a little trouble, and . . . I don't know. Anyway, I kept it.”

“Good. Where is it?”

“Right here on my desk,” Levin said.

“John, I want that tape. Now listen to me: this is what I want you to do.

Driving in the car, Fernandez said, “I'm waiting.”

Sanders said, “There's a tape of the whole meeting with Meredith. It was al recorded.”

“How?” “It was an accident. I was talking to an answering machine,” he said, “and when Meredith started kissing me, I put the phone down but didn't end the cal .

So the phone stayed connected to the answering machine. And everything we said went right onto the answering machine.”

“Hot damn,” Alan said, slapping the steering wheel as he drove.

═”This is an audio tape?” Fernandez said.

═”Yes.” “Good quality?”

“I don't know. We'l see. John's bringing it to lunch.”

Fernandez rubbed her hands together. “I feel better already.” “Yes?”

“Yes,” she said. “Because if it's any good at al , we can real y draw blood.”

John Levin, florid and jovial, pushed away his plate and drained the last of his beer. “Now that's what I cal a meal. Excellent halibut.” Levin weighed nearly three hundred pounds, and his bel y pressed up against the edge of the table.

They were sitting in a booth in the back room of McCormick and Schmick's on First Avenue. The restaurant was noisy, fil ed with the lunchtime business crowd.

Fernandez pressed the headphones to her ears as she listened to the tape on a Walkman. She had been listening intently for more than half an hour, making notes on a yel ow legal pad, her food stil uneaten. Final y she got up. “I have to make a cal .”

Levin glanced at Fernandez's plate. “Uh . . . do you want that?”

Fernandez shook her head, and walked away.

Levin grinned. “Waste not, want not,” he said, and pul ed the plate in front of him.

He began to eat. “So Tom, are you in shit or what?”

“Deep shit,” Sanders said. He stirred a cappuccino. He hadn't been able to eat lunch. He watched Levin wolf down great bites of mashed potatoes.

“I figured that,” Levin said. “Jack Kerry over at Aldus cal ed me this morning and said you were suing the company because you refused to jump some woman.

“Kerry is an asshole.”

“The worst,” Levin nodded. “The absolute worst. But what can you do? After Connie Walsh's column this morning, everybody's been trying to figure out who Mr. Piggy is.” Levin took another huge bite of food. “But how'd she get the story in the first place? I mean, she's the one who broke it.”

Sanders said, “Maybe you told her, John.”

“Are you kidding?” Levin said.

“You had the tape.”

Levin frowned. “You keep this up, Tom, you're going to piss me off” He shook his head. “No, you ask me, it was a woman who told her.”

“What woman knew? Only Meredith, and she wouldn't tel .”

“I'l bet you anything it'l turn out to be a woman,” Levin said. “If you ever find out-

which I doubt.” He chewed thoughtful y. “Swordfish is a little rubbery. I think we should tel the waiter.” He looked around the room. “Uh, Tom.”

“Yes?”

“There's a guy standing over there, hopping from one foot to the other. I think maybe you know him.”

Sanders looked over his shoulder. Bob Garvin was standing by the bar, looking at him expectantly. Phil Blackburn stood a few paces behind.

“Excuse me,” Sanders said, and he got up from the table.

Garvin shook hands with Sanders. “Tom. Good to see you. How are you holding up with al this?”

“I'm okay,” Sanders said.

“Good, good.” Garvin placed his hand in a fatherly way on Sanders's shoulder.

“It's nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you too, Bob.”

Garvin said, “There's a quiet place in the corner over there. I asked them for a couple of cappuccinos. We can talk for a minute. Is that okay?”

“That's fine,” Sanders said. He was wel acquainted with the profane, angry Garvin. This cautious, polite Garvin made him uneasy.

They sat in the corner of the bar. Garvin settled into his chair and faced him.

“Wel , Tom. We go way back, you and I”

“Yes, we do.”

“Those damn trips to Seoul, eating that crappy food, and your ass hurting like hel . You remember al that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Yeah, those were the days,” Garvin said. He was watching Sanders careful y.

“Anyway, Tom, we know each other, so I'm not going to bul shit you. Let me just put al the cards on the table,” Garvin said. “We've got a problem here, and it's got to be solved before it turns into a real mess for everybody. I want to appeal to your better judgment about how we proceed from here.”

“My better judgment?” Sanders said.

“Yes,” Garvin said. “I'd like to look at this thing from al sides.”

“How many sides are there?”

“There are at least two,” Garvin said, with a smile. “Look, Tom. I'm sure it's no secret that I've supported Meredith inside our company. I've always believed that she's got talent and the kind of executive vision that we want for the future. I've never seen her do anything before that would suggest otherwise. I know she's only human, but she's very talented and I support her.”

“Uh-huh . . .”

“Now perhaps in this case . . . perhaps it is true that she's made a mistake. I don't know.”

Sanders said nothing. He just waited, staring at Garvin's face. Garvin was doing a convincing impression of an open-minded man. Sanders didn't buy it.

“In fact, let's say she has,” Garvin said. “Let's say she did make a mistake.”

“She did, Bob,” Sanders said, firmly.

“Al right. Let's say she did. An error of judgment, let's cal it. An overstepping of bounds. The point is, Tom, faced with a situation like this, I stil strongly support her.”

“Why?”

“Because she's a woman.”

“What does that have to do with it?”

“Wel , women in business have traditional y been excluded from executive positions, Tom.”

“Meredith hasn't been excluded,” Sanders said.

“And after al ,” Garvin said, “she's young.”

“She's not that young,” Sanders said.

“Sure she is. She's practical y a col ege kid. She just got her MBA a couple of years ago.”

“Bob,” Sanders said. “Meredith Johnson's thirty-five. She's not a kid at al .”

Garvin did not seem to hear that. He looked at Sanders sympathetical y. “Tom, I can understand that you were disappointed about the job,” he said. “And I can understand that in your eyes, Meredith made a mistake in the way she approached you.”

“She didn't approach me, Bob. She jumped me.”

Garvin showed a flash of irritation. “You're no kid either, you know.”

“That's right, I'm not,” Sanders said. “But I am her employee.”

“And I know she holds you in the highest regard,” Garvin said, settling back in his chair. “As does everybody in the company, Tom. You're vital to our future. You know it, I know it. I want to keep our team together. And I keep coming back to the idea that we have to make al owances for women. We have to cut them a little slack.”

“But we're not talking about women,” Sanders said. “We're talking about one particular woman.”

“Tom-”

“And if a man had done what she did, you wouldn't be talking about cutting him slack. You'd fire him, and throw him out on his ass.”

“Possibly so.”

“Wel , that's the problem,” Sanders said.

Garvin said, “I'm not sure I fol ow you there, Tom.” His tone carried a warning: Garvin didn't like being disagreed with. Over the years, as his company grew in wealth and success, Garvin had grown accustomed to deference. Now, approaching retirement, he expected obedience and agreement. “We have an obligation to attain equality,” Garvin said.

“Fine. But equality means no special breaks,” Sanders said. “Equality means treating people the same. You're asking for inequality toward Meredith, because you won't do what you would do to a man-fire him.”

Garvin sighed. “If it was a clear case, Tom, I would. But I understand this particular situation isn't so clear.”

Sanders considered tel ing him about the tape. Something made him hold back.

He said, “I think it is.”

“But there are always differences of opinion on these matters,” Garvin said, leaning across the bar. “That's a fact, isn't it? Always a difference of opinion.

Tom. Look: what did she do that was so bad? I mean, real y. She made a pass?

Fine. You could have decided it was flattering. She's a beautiful woman, after al .

There are worse things that could happen. A beautiful woman puts her hand on your knee. Or you could have just said, no thank you. You could have handled it any number of ways. You're a grown-up. But this . . . vindictiveness. Tom. I have to tel you. I'm surprised at you.”

Sanders said, “Bob, she broke the law.”

“That real y remains to be seen, doesn't it?” Garvin said. “You can throw open your personal life for a jury to inspect, if that's what you want to do. I wouldn't want to do it, myself. And I don't see that it helps anybody to take this into court.

It's a no-win situation, al around.”

“What're you saying?”

“You don't want to go to court, Tom.” Garvin's eyes were narrow, dangerous.

“Why not?”

“You just don't.” Garvin took a deep breath. “Look. Let's stay on track here. I've talked to Meredith. She feels as I do, that this thing has gotten out of hand.”

“Uh-huh . . .”

“And I'm talking to you now, too. Because my hope, Tom, is that we can put this to rest, and go back to the way things were now hear me out, please go back to the way things were, before this unfortunate misunderstanding happened. You stay at your job, Meredith stays at hers. You two continue to work together like civilized adults. You move forward and build the company, take it public, and everybody makes a pile of money a year down the line. What's wrong with that?”

Sanders felt something like relief, and a sense of normalcy returning. He longed to escape from the lawyers and from the tension of the last three days. To sink back into the way things were seemed as appealing as a warm bath.

“I mean, look at it this way, Tom. Right after this thing happened on Monday night, nobody blew the whistle. You didn't cal anybody. Meredith didn't cal anybody. I think you both wanted this thing to go away. Then there was an unfortunate mix-up the next day, and an argument that needn't have happened. If you'd been on time for the meeting, if you and Meredith had been in sync on the story, none of this would have happened. You two would stil be working together, and whatever happened between you would remain your private business. Instead, we have this. It's al a big mistake, real y. So why not just forget it and go forward? And get rich. Tom? What's wrong with that?”