He put his finger to his lips, imploring her to be quiet. Taking his camera phone out of his pocket, he held it up to show her. She frowned in curiosity and poked her head a little more out of the doorway. He aimed the camera in her direction, focusing his attention on holding it steady. His hands were shaking as he pressed the button to take the picture. The camera flashed, and he held the digital display close to his face to make sure he had the image.
She was there, sure enough, and his heart pounded with satisfaction. He had the evidence he needed. With the picture and Salazar’s story, they might actually have a chance.
As he knelt there, looking at the little girl in the picture—the little girl who might very well hold the key to his client’s freedom—he noticed something odd. In the split second it had taken him to snap the picture, her expression had changed. It was no longer a look of muted curiosity but one of abject terror. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth was open, as though she was witnessing something too terrible for words.
As he looked more closely, he noticed something else that struck him as odd: Her eyes no longer seemed focused on the camera. Instead, she was gaping at something else. Something above the camera, off behind it—behind him. The revelation hit him so hard he almost fell over. He thought to turn around, but he never got the chance. He took one last look at the image on the tiny phone screen. Then everything went black.
Chapter Twelv
e
Monday, December 17, 2007
“It’s your show, Mr. Finn,” Dumonds said. “You called for this meeting.”
Finn sat on one side of a large table in a respectfully ornate conference room in Dumonds’s firm’s offices. They were high above the city on the fortieth floor of a glass and steel monstrosity. Dumonds had demanded that any meeting take place in his offices, and Finn understood why. Dumonds wanted the benefit of the home court advantage. Many lawyers swore by it and fought tooth and nail to maintain the psychological advantage that came with waging skirmishes on their own home turf. It gave them a sense of control.
Finn was fine with that. Growing up an orphan, he’d never really had a home, and as a result, he never felt particularly intimidated by the home court advantage. Every game was an away game to him. But there was something satisfying about away games—if you beat someone in his own house, you owned him forever.
He was flanked by Kozlowski and Lissa. Across from him sat Dumonds and Slocum. Slocum seemed surprised by how healthy Finn presented, though unsurprised by the fact that Finn had sought a settlement conference. He had the smug look of a man who thought he couldn’t be touched. Finn was about to touch him.
“Yes,” Finn began. “I wanted to talk with you and your client about our settlement offer. We’ve reevaluated the situation, and we would like to amend our previous offer.”
A broad grin broke across Slocum’s face.
“We’ll obviously listen to any offer that’s reasonable,” Dumonds commented, his voice oozing condescension.
“Of course you will,” Finn agreed. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. He placed it flat on the table, covering it with his palm. Then he pushed it across the table toward Slocum.
Slocum’s smiled continued to grow as he reached for the envelope. Finn wondered whether it might swallow his entire face.
Slocum picked up the envelope and shot Dumonds a look that said,
See, I told you I could handle this, you useless fucking suit
. He held it up like a trophy and then tore it open.
Finn had trouble not laughing as he watched the man’s face. The grin morphed, showing the transition from shock to confusion to anger, until it was the scowl of an angry troll who’d been trifled with. “What the fuck is this?” Slocum demanded, slapping the paper back down on the table.
“Our latest settlement offer,” Finn replied. “Was I unclear?”
Dumonds, still left out of the loop, lunged for the paper, picking it up and reading it. “I don’t understand,” he said after a moment.
“I think your client does.”
Dumonds flipped the paper around to show it to Finn, almost as though he suspected that Finn had accidentally given him the wrong sheet of paper. “Mr. Finn, your last offer of settlement was for eight million dollars. This appears to be an offer for eight million six hundred and fifty-two dollars.”
“And thirty-two cents,” Finn added.
Dumonds looked back at the paper. “Yes, I see. And thirty-two cents.” He looked up, bewildered. “Can you give me an explanation, please?”
“Sure. I had a contractor over yesterday. Six hundred and fifty-two dollars and thirty-two cents is how much it’s going to cost to fix the mess in my office.”
“Pardon me?” Dumonds said.
“You slimy little shit,” Slocum said. “You think I can’t reach you?”
“Of course you can reach me,” Finn replied. “I’ve even got an ad in the Yellow Pages. What you can’t do is intimidate me.”
“Oh, no? Where is that slut of a client of yours?”
“Careful whom you call a slut, Mr. Slocum, I have a full report of your encounter with Ms. Prudet in Las Vegas. I’m not sure that’s a character battle you want to take on,” Finn said. Slocum turned crimson with rage. “I thought it best if my client wasn’t here for today’s meeting, so we can discuss some issues more openly.”
Dumonds looked back and forth between Finn and his client. “Would someone please explain what’s going on here?”
Finn looked at Slocum. “Do you want to? Or would you prefer it if I did the honors?” Slocum sat silently, stewing in his rage. “Very well,” Finn said. “Last Friday I received a visit from one of Mr. Slocum’s employees. Charles O’Malley. He came to deliver Mr. Slocum’s response to our previous settlement offer.”
Dumonds’s face went white. He looked at his client. “Sal, you didn’t. Not after we talked—”
“Shut up, Marty,” Slocum snapped.
“See, that’s what I don’t get,” Finn said, looking at Slocum. “You pay your lawyer, what, six hundred dollars an hour for his advice? And then you don’t take it?” He shook his head. “This time it’s going to cost you.”
“Bullshit,” Slocum said, a shadow of his former grin returning. Now the grin wasn’t about victory; it was about revenge. “Fine. So you took care of O’Malley. You think that gets you something? That gets you shit. I’ll send someone else. And you’ll never prove I had anything to do with this in the first place. O’Malley will never back you up.”
“Actually, I think he will,” Finn said. He picked up his briefcase and put it on the table, opening it so that the top flipped up toward Slocum, blocking his view of its contents. Finn reached in and pulled out a five-page document. He looked it over and then handed it to Slocum. “This is an affidavit signed by Charles O’Malley, detailing the ‘work’ he’s done for you since you sponsored his parole. Paragraphs seven through fifteen deal directly with his instructions from you with respect to his visit to my offices last Friday.”
“I’ll fucking kill him,” Slocum growled.
“My client is speaking metaphorically,” Dumonds was quick to add. Slocum just glared.
“You won’t have to deal with Mr. O’Malley anymore, I assure you,” Finn continued. “My investigator, Mr. Kozlowski—I think you’ve met him before—is a retired police detective, and he’s arranged to find Mr. O’Malley a new job.”
“I’ll still fucking kill him.”
“Still metaphorically.” Dumonds seemed to be trying to keep up on the treadmill of his client’s unraveling life. He was failing.
Finn said to Slocum, “I understand your feelings.” He reached into his briefcase again and pulled out two more documents. “These are also affidavits. One is signed by Mr. Kozlowski, and the other is signed by me. In all respects, they corroborate the substance of Mr. O’Malley’s affidavit with respect to the events of last Friday.”
Slocum briefly looked them over, then threw them back across the table at Finn. “You think this scares me? The three of you? I deal with bigger problems than this every fucking day. You just signed your own death warrant.”
“May I have a moment with my client?” Dumonds pleaded. “Sal?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Finn went on. “You know, it occurred to me that this might not be enough to convince you, so I had Mr. Kozlowski spend some time this weekend talking to Mr. O’Malley—poking into your affairs, so to speak. It turns out you do wonderful work with the parole board. According to our count, your various companies employ twenty-seven individuals currently trying to straighten out their lives after various periods of incarceration. Very admirable. We contacted them all.”
Slocum’s face went white.
Finn continued. “Many of them—most, in fact—refused to speak with us. Six, though, were very cooperative.” He went back to his briefcase and took out four more documents. “These are the affidavits of Jerome Jefferson, Randall Hess, Timothy Monroe, and Salvatore Gonzales. While they are, of course, grateful for your help in meeting certain conditions of their parole, they are unsatisfied with many of the work assignments you have given them. They detail those assignments in the affidavits—activities ranging from extortion and gambling offenses to vandalism and assault. These gentlemen feel that they might be more productive in a different work atmosphere, and Mr. Kozlowski has already arranged with the parole board for new jobs.” Finn passed the affidavits over to Slocum, who was no longer capable of speaking.
Finn went into his briefcase one last time. “I also have affidavits from two of the other individuals we spoke to. They are perfectly happy to continue working at their current positions. However, they are no longer willing to undertake illegal activities—activities that they have also detailed in their affidavits—at your direction.” He took these affidavits and slipped them into a manila envelope, sealing it and putting it back in his briefcase. “I will not reveal the identities of these last two individuals. Understand, though, that if you force any of the ex-convicts currently working for you to engage in illegal conduct, you may be dealing with one of these individuals, and he will report you.”
There was silence in the room. “I don’t understand,” Dumonds said cautiously. “You are not going to report this to the police?”
Finn looked shocked. “Of course not.”
Dumonds and Slocum exchanged confused looks.
“Have I not made myself clear?” Finn asked. “I represent each of these individuals. I am their lawyer. They have retained me to resolve their employment issues, as well as to represent them in dealing with the parole board. The information in these affidavits discloses illegal conduct engaged in by my clients, albeit under duress, that I have learned about in connection with my representation of them. As I’m sure you’ve explained to your client on numerous occasions, Mr. Dumonds, that means this information is covered under the attorney-client privilege. I am not at liberty to disclose the nature of what I’ve learned to the authorities without their permission.”
“So what happens now?” Slocum asked.
“Now copies of all of these affidavits have been placed in a safe-deposit box, which is controlled by an attorney I have retained. If anything happens to me, or to Mr. Kozlowski, or to any of the others who have sworn out affidavits, that attorney has been instructed to deliver the entire package to the police. Oh, and by the way, I’ve also included an affidavit from Ms. Prudet detailing the nature of your encounter with her in Las Vegas. There’s nothing against the law about the activities described in that, unless we’re talking about the laws of nature, but it makes for some fascinating reading.”
Slocum thought about this for several minutes. Finn continued to stare across the table at him. “And what happens to me?” Slocum asked at last.
“You, Mr. Slocum, now have the opportunity to clean up your business practices in the future. I suggest you make the most of it.” Finn closed his briefcase, stood up, and walked to the door. Kozlowski and Lissa followed his lead.
“That’s it?” Slocum was incredulous.
Finn turned around and looked at Slocum again. “No, that’s not it,” he said. “You also settle this divorce case for eight million six hundred and fifty-two dollars and thirty-two cents. Today.”
z
“That was just about the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” Lissa choked through her laughter. They were back at Finn’s office. Three sandwiches and a couple of bags of chips were spread out on the long table against the wall. It was time to celebrate. “I mean, holy shit, did you see his face?”
Finn beamed. “I did.”
“God, for a second there, I thought he wasn’t going to go for it. I really thought he was going to throw all that shit back in your face. What would you have done then?”
Finn shook his head. “He couldn’t. He had no choice. He might have been able to deal with a couple of us, but there’s just no way he could have taken out the number of people who were involved without it getting too messy. Besides, he’s getting off cheap. We’ve been able to account for over twenty-two million in his assets, and if we’d started a full investigation, I’m sure we would have found a lot more. Most of it hidden and unreported. Even coughing up eight million, he’s still got plenty to keep himself going. Ultimately, we gave him no choice.”
Kozlowski cleared his throat. “That’s always the key to extortion, isn’t it,” he said. It wasn’t a question; it was an observation.
Finn looked at him. “Is that how you look at this? Extortion? We went around and around on this for days. This was the only way. We didn’t have enough to go to the police with anyway, not without the cooperation of the parolees. And they weren’t about to cooperate if it meant copping to the stuff they’d done for Slocum. That would’ve put them right back in jail. I wasn’t going to sit around waiting for Slocum to take another shot at me, was I?”
Kozlowski nodded. “It was the right thing to do,” he agreed. “But it’s extortion all the same. I’m just calling it what it is.”
Finn shook his head and turned to Lissa. “You believe Mr. Sunshine over here? We have the best day in the short history of this little firm, and all he can do is bitch. We got seven clients out from under Slocum; we put a serious dent in his ability to keep up with his illegal activities; we took away a major risk to my own personal safety, and, oh yeah, we settled a case for one of our clients for over eight million dollars, and he still can’t be happy.”