Disclosure (34 page)

“Ms. Johnson. The central and unavoidable fact is that you're Mr. Sanders's superior. And your behavior toward him was il egal. And it is in fact a federal case.”

There was a short silence.

Blackburn's assistant came into the room and handed him a note. Blackburn read the note and passed it to Hel er.

Murphy said, “Ms. Fernandez? Are you ready to explain what's going on to me now?”

“Yes, Your Honor. It turns out there is an audio tape of the meeting.”

“Real y? Have you heard it?”

“I have, Your Honor. It confirms Mr. Sanders's story.”

“Are you aware of this tape, Ms. Johnson?”

“No, I am not.”

“Perhaps Ms. Johnson and her attorney would like to hear it, too. Perhaps we should al hear it,” Murphy said, looking directly at Blackburn.

Hel er put the note in his pocket and said, “Your Honor, I'd like to request a ten-minute recess.”

“Very wel , Mr. Hel er. I'd say this development warrants it.”

Outside in the courtyard, black clouds hung low. It was threatening to rain again.

Over by the fountains, Johnson huddled with Hel er and Blackburn. Fernandez watched them. “I just don't understand this,” she said. “There they al are, talking again. What is there to talk about? Their client lied, and then changed her story.

There's no question that Johnson's guilty of sexual harassment. We have it recorded on tape. So what are they talking about?”

Fernandez stared for a moment, frowning. “You know, I have to admit it.

Johnson's a hel of a smart woman,” she said.

“Yes,” Sanders said.

“She's quick and she's cool.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Moved up the corporate ladder fast.”

“Yes.”

“So . . . how'd she let herself get into this situation?”

“What do you mean?” Sanders said.

“I mean, what's she doing coming on to you the very first day at work? And coming on so strongly? Leaving herself open to al these problems? She's too smart for that.”

Sanders shrugged.

“You think it's just because you're irresistible?” Fernandez said. “With al due respect, I doubt it.”

He found himself thinking of the time he first knew Meredith, when she was doing demos, and the way she used to cross her legs whenever she was asked a question she couldn't answer. “She could always use sex to distract people.

She's good at that.”

“I believe it,” Fernandez said. “So what is she distracting us from now?”

Sanders had no answer. But his instinct was that something else was going on.

“Who knows how people real y are in private?” he said. “I once knew this woman, she looked like an angel, but she liked bikers to beat her up.”

“Uh-huh,” Fernandez said. “That's fine. I'm not buying it for Johnson. Because Johnson strikes me as very control ed, and her behavior with you was not control ed.”

“You said it yourself, there's a pattern.”

“Yeah. Maybe. But why the first day? Why right away? I think she had another reason.”

Sanders said, “And what about me? Do you think I had another reason?”

“I assume you did,” she said, looking at him seriously. “But we'l talk about that later.”

Alan came up from the parking lot, shaking his head.

“What've you got?” Fernandez said.

“Nothing good. We're striking out everywhere,” he said. He flipped open his notepad. “Okay. Now, we've checked out that Internet address. The message originated in the Ù District.' And Àfriend' turns out to be Dr. Arthur A. Friend.

He's a professor of inorganic chemistry at the University of Washington. That name mean anything to you?”

“No,” Sanders said.

“I'm not surprised. At the moment, Professor Friend is in northern Nepal on a consulting job for the Nepalese government. He's been there for three weeks.

He's not expected back until late July. So it probably isn't him sending the messages anyway.”

“Somebody's using his Internet address?”

“His assistant says that's impossible. His office is locked while he's away, and nobody goes in there except her. So nobody has access to his computer terminal. The assistant says she goes in once a day and answers Dr. Friend's email, but otherwise the computer is off. And nobody knows the password but her.

So I don't know.”

“It's a message coming out of a locked office?” Sanders said, frowning.

“I don't know. We're stil working on it. But for the moment, it's a mystery.”

“Al right, fine,” Fernandez said. “What about Conrad Computer?”

“Conrad has taken a very hard position. They wil only release information to the hiring company, meaning DigiCom. Nothing to us. And they say that the hiring company has not requested it. When we pushed, Conrad cal ed DigiCom themselves, and DigiCom told them they weren't interested in any information Conrad might have.”

“Hmmm.”

“Next, the husband,” Alan said. “I talked to someone who worked in his company, CoStar. Says the husband hates her, has lots of bad things to say about her. But he's in Mexico on vacation with his new girlfriend until next week.”

“Too bad.”

“Novel ,” Alan said. “They keep only the last five years current. Prior to that, records are in cold storage at headquarters in Utah. They have no idea what they'l show, but they're wil ing to get them out if we'l pay for it. It'l take two weeks.”

Fernandez shook her head. “Not good.”

“No.■

“I have a strong feeling that Conrad Computer is sitting on something,”

Fernandez said.

“Maybe, but we'l have to sue to get it. And there's no time.” Alan looked across the courtyard at the others. “What's happening now?”

“Nothing. They're hanging tough.”

“Stil ?”

“Yeah.”

`Jesus,” Alan said. “Who's she got behind her?”

“I'd love to know,” Fernandez said.

Sanders flipped open his cel ular phone and checked in with his office. “Cindy, any messages?”

`Just two, Tom. Stephanie Kaplan asked if she could meet with you today.”

“She say why?”

“No. But she said it wasn't important. And Mary Anne has come by twice, looking for you.”

“Probably wants to skin me,” Sanders said.

“I don't think so, Tom. She's about the only one who-she's very concerned about you, I think.”

“Okay. I'l cal her.”

He started to dial Mary Anne's number when Fernandez nudged him in the ribs.

He looked over and saw a slender, middle-aged woman walking up from the parking lot toward them. “Buckle up,” Fernandez said. “Why? Who's that?” “That,”

Fernandez said, “is Connie Walsh.”

Connie Walsh was about forty-five years old, with gray hair and a sour expression. “Are you Tom Sanders?”

“That's right.”

She pul ed out a tape recorder. “Connie Walsh, from the Post Intel igencer. Can we talk for a moment?”

“Absolutely not,” Fernandez said.

Walsh looked over at her.

“I'm Mr. Sanders's attorney.”

“I know who you are,” Walsh said, and turned back to Sanders. “Mr. Sanders, our paper's going with a story on this discrimination suit at DigiCom. My sources tel me that you are accusing Meredith Johnson of sex discrimination, is that correct?”

“He has no comment,” Fernandez said, stepping between Walsh and Sanders.

Walsh looked past her shoulder and said, “Mr. Sanders, is it also true that you and she are old lovers, and that your accusation is a way to even the score?”

“He has no comment,” Fernandez said.

“It looks to me like he does,” Walsh said. “Mr. Sanders, you don't have to listen to her. You can say something if you want to. And I real y think you should take this opportunity to defend yourself. Because my sources are also saying that you physical y abused Ms. Johnson in the course of your meeting. These are very serious charges people are making against you, and I imagine you'l want to respond. What do you have to say to her al egations? Did you physical y abuse her?”

Sanders started to speak, but Fernandez shot him a warning glance, and put her hand on his chest. She said to Walsh, “Has Ms. Johnson made these al egations to you? Because she was the only other one besides Mr. Sanders who was there.”

“I'm not free to say. I have the story from very wel -informed sources.”

“Inside or outside the company?”

“I real y can't say.”

“Ms. Walsh,” Fernandez said, “I am going to forbid Mr. Sanders to talk to you.

And you better check with the P-I counsel before you run any of these unsubstantiated al egations.”

“They're not unsubstantiated, I have very reliable”

“If there is any question in your counsel's mind, you might have her cal Mr.

Blackburn and he wil explain what your legal position is in this matter.”

Walsh smiled bleakly. “Mr. Sanders, do you want to make a comment?”

Fernandez said, `Just check with your counsel, Ms. Walsh.”

“I wil , but it won't matter. You can't squash this. Mr. Blackburn can't squash this.

And speaking personal y, I have to say I don't know how you can defend a case like this.”

Fernandez leaned close to her, smiled, and said, “Why don't you step over here with me, and I'l explain something to you.”

She walked with Walsh a few yards away, across the courtyard.

Alan and Sanders remained where they were. Alan sighed. He said, “Wouldn't you give anything to know what they were saying right now?”

Connie Walsh said, “It doesn't matter what you say. I won't give you my source.”

“I'm not asking for your source. I'm simply informing you that your story is wrong-”

“Of course you'd say that-”

“And that there's documentary evidence that it's wrong.”

Connie Walsh paused. She frowned. “Documentary evidence?”

Fernandez nodded slowly. “That's right.”

Walsh thought it over. “But there can't be,” she said. “You said it yourself. They were alone in the room. It's his word against hers. There's no documentary evidence.”

Fernandez shook her head, and said nothing.

“What is it? A tape?”

Fernandez smiled thinly. “I real y can't say.”

“Even if there is, what can it show? That she pinched his butt a little? She made a couple of jokes? What's the big deal? Men have been doing that for hundreds of years.”

“That's not the issue in this-”

“Give me a break. So this guy gets a little pinch, and he starts screaming bloody murder. That's not normal behavior in a man. This guy obviously hates and demeans women. That's clear, just to look at him. And there's no question: he hit her, in that meeting. The company had to cal a doctor to examine her for a concussion. And I have several reliable sources that tel me he's known to be physical y abusive. He and his wife have had trouble for years. In fact, she's left town with the kids and is going to file for divorce.” Walsh was watching Fernandez careful y as she said it.

Fernandez just shrugged.

“It's a fact. The wife has left town,” Walsh said flatly. “Unexpectedly. She took the kids. And nobody knows where she went. Now, you tel me what that means.”

Fernandez said, “Connie, al I can do is advise you in my capacity as Mr.

Sanders's attorney that documentary evidence contradicts your sources about this harassment charge.”

“Are you going to show me this evidence?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then how do I know it exists?”

“You don't. You only know I have informed you of its existence.” “And what if I don't believe you?”

Fernandez smiled. “These are the decisions a journalist must make.” “You're saying it'd be reckless disregard.”

“If you go with your story, yes.”

Walsh stepped back. “Look. Maybe you've got some kind of a technical legal case here, and maybe you don't. But as far as I'm concerned, you're just another minority woman trying to get ahead with the patriarchy by getting down on her knees. If you had any self-respect you wouldn't be doing their dirty work for them.”

“Actual y, Connie, the person who seems to be caught in the grip of the patriarchy is you.”

“That's a lot of crap,” Walsh said. “And let me tel you, you're not going to evade the facts here. He led her on, and then he beat her up. He's an ex-lover, he's resentful, and he's violent. He's a typical man. And let me tel you, before I'm through, he'l wish he had never been born.”

Ssanders said, “Is she going to run the story?”

“No,” Fernandez said. She stared across the courtyard at Johnson, Hel er, and Blackburn. Connie Walsh had gone over to Blackburn and was talking to him.

“Don't get distracted by this,” Fernandez said. “It's not important. The main issue is: what're they going to do about Johnson.”

A moment later, Hel er came toward them. He said, “We've been going over things on our side, Louise.”

“And?”

“We've concluded that we see no purpose to further mediation and are withdrawing, as of now. I've informed judge Murphy that we wil not continue.”

“Real y. And what about the tape?”

“Neither Ms. Johnson nor Mr. Sanders knew they were being taped. Under law, one party must know the interaction is being recorded. Therefore the tape is inadmissible.”

“But Ben-”

“We argue that the tape should be disal owed, both from this mediation and from any subsequent legal proceeding. We argue that Ms. Johnson's characterization of the meeting as a misunderstanding between consenting adults is the correct one, and that Mr. Sanders bears a responsibility for that misunderstanding. He was an active participant, Louise, no way around it. He took her panties off.

Nobody held a gun to his head. But since there was fault on both sides, the proper thing is for the two parties to shake hands, let go of al animosity, and return to work. Apparently Mr. Garvin has already proposed this to Mr. Sanders, and Mr. Sanders has refused. We believe that under the circumstances Mr.

Sanders is acting unreasonably and that if he does not reconsider in a timely manner, he should be fired for his refusal to show up for work.”

“Son of a bitch,” Sanders said.

Fernandez laid a restraining hand on his arm. “Ben,” she said calmly. “Is this a formal offer of reconciliation and return to the company?”