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“Thank you,” he said. “Now which way do I go?”

  “Keep straight on this street and then follow the bend around until you see the entrance to Poinciana Towers on the left about a block up.”

  He whistled. “Poinciana Towers? The law business must be treating you well.”

  She laughed. “Don’t get too excited. I don’t own the unit. I’m renting.”

  “Renting? Girl, don’t you know you’re just paying someone else’s mortgage? Why are you renting instead of owning?”

  She shrugged. “I used to own a big house in Miami Shores but, after my divorce, I guess I just wanted to be footloose and fancy free. The thought of being tied down to one place and having a mortgage just didn’t appeal to me. And then the real estate market crashed.”

  “All the more reason for you to scoop up a place now. You can get a good price on it. Before, they were way overpriced,” he said.

  “I know. I know,” she said. “Bill tells me the same thing all the time. I’ll buy when I’m ready to. Here we are. Just drive up to the entrance over there.”

  They pulled up to the entrance of her building. Charles unlocked the doors. A valet attendant opened Kathy’s door. “Hello, Mrs. Brooks,” he said in a heavy Cuban accent.

  “Hello Ruben. Thank you.” She climbed out.

  Charles got out of the car and walked over to her side. Ruben turned to him. “You want me to park the car for you Sir?”

  Charles shook his head. “No, I’m just saying good night to the lady.”

  “Okay.” Ruben headed into the valet shack.

  Kathy turned to Charles. “Thanks for dinner. I had a good time.”

  “I did too.” He paused and looked into her eyes. She lowered her gaze and found herself staring at his lips. He leaned forward. For a second, she thought he was going to kiss her on the lips. He kissed her cheek instead. She felt her pulse jump at the brief contact.

  “Good night,” he said.

  “Good night.” Her voice was a little breathless.

  CHAPTER VI

  On Saturday afternoon, Donald Peachtree waited for his contact at TY Park in Fort Lauderdale. He had left his wife and children at a birthday party at a nearby cabana and wandered off to a bench next to the lake. He sat there watching ducks frolic as he tried to figure out what to say to Manning. A former Army Ranger who’d seen more than his share of combat, Peachtree wasn’t afraid of anyone. But something about Manning gave him the creeps. Maybe it was his quiet way of talking or his Zen-like calm manner. He didn’t know. He just knew that if he didn’t want to lose his government contracts, he had to find a way to end this mess as soon as possible.

  He felt the hairs prick up on the back of his neck. He turned his head. Manning was standing behind him. “I keep telling you not to sneak up on me like that, Manning. One day, you might get yourself killed.”

  Manning, an unremarkable, clean cut, dark-haired guy of average height and build wearing jeans and a polo shirt, smiled. He walked around the bench, sat down next to Peachtree and looked straight ahead. “You let me worry about that, old chap.”

  Peachtree wondered how a Brit came to be an American spook. He should have been in MI-5 or something – not some secret government agency in the U.S. They sat there in silence. As it drew on, Peachtree shifted on the bench. He looked over at Manning who sat there watching the ducks. He never liked spooks. They tended to be odd birds who couldn’t be trusted or controlled. “Look, I’ve got to get back to my family or they’re going to wonder where I’ve gone. You’re the one who called this meeting. What do you want?”

  Manning watched the ducks for a moment more then turned his gaze to Peachtree. “It should be fairly obvious what we want to talk to you about, old chap. We want to know what you’re doing to make that lawsuit go away. We’ve been watching the news coverage and following the progress of the case and we don’t like it. Pay the man whatever he wants. This is not the time to be penny wise and pound foolish.”

  Peachtree’s face reddened. “What? Is this my first day on the job? We’re doing everything possible to make this lawsuit go away. We’ve already told him to make us an offer. The guy just won’t settle. He’s one of those cowboys out for revenge or something. We’ve already moved on to plan B.”

  “And what, exactly, is plan B?” Manning asked.

  Peachtree grinned. “Plan B is to encourage him to settle. We find his pressure points and squeeze until he’d be happy to accept cash in lieu of revenge. My man is already working on that angle and we’ve come up with a few ideas.”

  Manning frowned. “Don’t underestimate him Peachtree. He worked with some of our people on a few missions while he served in the Marines. He’s smart and as tough as they come. He can also be ruthless. He once broke out of an Indonesian prison camp taking out nine guards in the process. If you press the bloke too hard, you might bite off more than you can chew.”

  Peachtree waved a hand. “My man McAllister can handle him. We can be pretty ruthless too. That’s why you people hired us in the first place. By the way, McAllister brought me some pictures recently suggesting that Mr. Morgan and that lady lawyer of his might be engaged in more than an attorney/client relationship. We might be able to use that to encourage him to settle.”

  Manning nodded. “If your plan B doesn’t work, we’re going to plan C. There’s too much at stake here to let Morgan find out too much. And another thing - someone at the F.B.I. has pulled your file. While there is no mention of your work for us in the official file, the last thing we need is for sister agencies to start poking around and discovering things by accident. We’d have a bit of cleanup to do then.”

  Peachtree was silent. Manning didn’t have to say any more to convey the message. He knew what cleanup meant. It meant erasing the entire problem. If it came to that, he’d have to be ready to leave the country in a hurry.

  He straightened his shoulders and looked Manning in the eye. “The only cleanup taking place here will be of Charles Morgan, Jr. if he can’t be persuaded to settle. But don’t worry. He will. Every man has his price. Sometimes it’s just not money.”

  Manning nodded. “Glad to hear it, old chap.” He stood up and turned to face Peachtree. “Enjoy the rest of the day with Melissa and little Amy. You’ll be hearing from me soon.” He strolled off.

  Peachtree balled his hands into fists. How dare that bastard even mention his family? He hadn’t risen through the ranks of the military allowing runts like that to shake him. He’d just have to do a little clean-up of his own when all was said and done. He took a few deep breaths and let the rage pass out of him. It was a little trick he’d learned during his work in the Far East. An angry man made mistakes. In his line of business, you couldn’t afford to be angry. That, as far as he was concerned, would be Morgan’s downfall. After he regained his equilibrium, he got up to join his wife and daughter at the party.

  ***

  Later that afternoon Charles walked into an Internet café on Washington Avenue. He stopped just inside the entrance and scanned the room. People of all ages and types were huddled at computers doing everything from checking their e-mail to fixing their resumes to surfing the web. Others milled about chatting while they sipped lattes, cappuccinos and iced coffee from Styrofoam cups. Some were dressed in business suits. Others wore t-shirts and shorts. Smooth jazz blared from the speakers. The place had an almost party-like atmosphere.

  One young woman wearing a pair of headphones typed furiously into what appeared to be a Word document, her face scrunched in concentration. A steaming mug sat next to the keyboard. Charles smiled, remembering the early days when he worked in Internet cafes and wore a similar expression. She was probably writing a novel.

  He spotted his contact, Darryl, sitting at a table in a corner at the back of the café. Good. They’d have a little privacy. Darryl’s dreadlocks were tied back with a leather strap. His eyes were glued to the monitor of his laptop as his fingers worked their magic on the keyboard. Charles wondered what he was doing. The mo
nitor went dark as he approached the table preventing him from getting a glimpse. Darryl looked up at him.

  “Ras clot!” he said. The irritated expression on his face did not clear when he saw that it was Charles who had interrupted him. He snatched up his cell phone and glanced at the time. “Chuh. You come early Mon and mess up me ting. I was only a minute away from success.”

  “Success, huh? Big word for you. What were you working on anyway?” Charles asked.

  Darryl looked around to make sure no one was listening. “Let’s just say that I was doing a little fundraising for the cause.”

  Charles raised his eyebrows. “I see. Well maybe I can help you with that.” He looked around the café. “Is there somewhere more private where we can talk?”

  Darryl nodded. He packed up his laptop, grabbed his cell phone and led Charles out of the back door of the café. They crossed a parking lot and then the street behind it and headed into a small West Indian bakery. The smell of curry and other exotic spices permeated the air. An older woman manned the counter. Darryl nodded at her. She nodded back and watched them stroll through a door at the back of the shop. They walked down a short hall and made a left into Darryl’s lair.

  Computers, printers, scanners, cameras and other high-tech equipment were strewn throughout the space which looked as if it belonged in a lab instead of the back of a Caribbean bakery. Darryl put an index finger to his lips, took a seat behind a huge u-shaped console, and flipped a switch underneath it. A red light appeared on the console that soon turned green. Darryl looked up at Charles and gestured toward a seat in front of the desk.

  “We’re clean now, mon,” he said.

  Charles sat down. “I need your help.”

  “It’s been a long time since ya’ come here seeking my assistance. I thought you were out of the game,” Darryl said.

  Charles nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Officially, I am out of the game. But I still require your assistance. Is that a problem?”

  Darryl grinned. “Nah mon. In my book that makes you a better client. I don’t have to give you the government discount anymore.”

  Charles grinned. “Still enterprising I see. No. I don’t qualify anymore for the government discount, but maybe you could cut me a little break for old time’s sake.”

  Darryl nodded. “What ya’ need?”

  “I need to break into a law firm computer system and download documents kept in a database there. You probably heard about the lawsuit I brought against Peachtree Consulting, right?”

  “Yah mon. It’s all over the news.”

  “Well, Peachtree got a confidentiality order entered and produced documents to my attorney on an ‘attorneys eyes only’ basis. That means she can’t show them to me. I need to see those documents. Her law firm keeps them in a database using a program called Concordance.” Charles reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He extracted a card and handed it to Darryl.

  “Here’s the name of her law firm and her e-mail address. She’s able to access the database by signing onto her law firm’s network via the Internet. I’ve written the web address she used to access the network on the back of the card.”

  Darryl glanced down at the card and then looked up at Charles, his mouth twisted in a sneer. “That’s all you need? This will be a piece of cake.”

  “They can’t even suspect you’ve taken this information,” Charles said. “That would put my attorney in a tight spot with the Florida Bar ethics committee.”

  Darryl nodded. “In that case, I might have to plan a little diversion.” He put the card down on the desk. “This will cost you ten.”

  “Agreed. Shall we do a dead drop like the good old days?”

  Darryl grinned. “Yes, just like the old days.”

  “I’m going to need instructions on how to use the Concordance database and a copy of the program,” Charles said.

  Darryl waved a hand. “I’ll throw that in at no extra charge.”

  Charles blew out a breath. “Thank you, man. I knew you’d be able to help with this.”

  Darryl stood up, came around his desk and shook Charles’ hand. “It’s good to see you, mon. Don’t be a stranger.”

  “Okay,” Charles said.

  They walked out of the office and into the bakery. The smell of the food and spices made Charles’ stomach rumble. He turned to Darryl. “Can you hook a brother up with a beef patty and some coco bread?”

  ***

  Kathy sat at her desk reviewing the index her paralegal had prepared of the documents produced by Peachtree Consulting. She would still have to review the documents themselves, but, from what she could see, Peachtree had failed to provide a single document describing the work Wilkes was engaged in at the time of the accident. She’d have to file a motion to get the Court to order the company to provide better discovery responses. Sighing, she put down the index, turned to her computer, typed in her password and pulled up a similar motion she had recently drafted in another case. There was no need to reinvent the wheel.

  She had just started writing the introduction section when her telephone rang. It was Bill. What did he want? Kathy frowned and hit the line button. “Hello?”

  “Kathy, I’m glad I caught you. Do you have a moment to stop by?”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll be right over.” She hung up, saved her document and headed over to Bill’s office. When she got there, his door was open. She hesitated before entering since Royce Evans, one of the law firm’s banking lawyers, was seated in one of the chairs in front of Bill’s desk. The two men appeared to be having a heated discussion. Royce’s face was flushed. Bill didn’t look too pleased himself.

  Kathy knocked on the door. Royce closed his mouth into a thin line and tried to glare a hole into her.

  Bill looked up and waved her in. “Kathy, come on in here and have a seat.” He turned to Royce. “You and I will talk about this later.” When Royce opened his mouth to speak, Bill held up an index finger to stop him. “Later.” He inclined his head toward the door. Royce closed his mouth, rose from his seat, aimed another malevolent glare in Kathy’s direction and stalked out of the office.

  Kathy looked at Bill with wide eyes. “What? Why does Royce, with whom I’ve exchanged no more than pleasantries, suddenly hate me?”

  Bill’s face was grim. “Because he just got a call from a receiver he’s representing in the Banco Superior bankruptcy who told him that he’d find another law firm to represent him if we didn’t find a way to settle that Peachtree Consulting case you’re working on,. Apparently, the receiver’s getting pressure from the federal government on this one.”

  “But that’s outrageous! They can’t do that. It’s completely unethical, not to mention unconstitutional. A party has the right to the counsel of their choice,” Kathy said.

  Bill looked at her the way parents look at children when they first learn the world isn’t fair. “They just did.” His voice was matter-of-fact. “And that’s not all. I’ve received similar calls from attorneys in our D.C. and Tallahassee offices.

  “But –.”

  Bill shook his head. “Where are we on the Peachtree case? Have they made any settlement offers yet? Have we?”

  Kathy swallowed her protests. “They offered us a million dollars to walk away. Charles rejected the offer outright and refused to make a counteroffer. He told me that he has no interest in settling the case. He wants his day in court and he wants to inflict as much pain as possible on Peachtree in the interim. He seems more interested in revenge than money. Even though the lawyer in me knows that’s not rational, I can’t say I blame him, Bill. I mean, they did kill his wife.”

  Bill stared at her for a moment before speaking. Kathy squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. Now that this case was going to cost the firm some clients, he was probably regretting his decision not to assign someone with more experience to handle it.

  “Kathy, we don’t have time for you to be going soft on the man. We need to get that case resolved, quick, fast a
nd in a hurry or we’re going to start losing substantial business. That’s not something we can afford. Comprende? I need for you to get the client to settle the case. Do whatever you have to do. In the meantime, I’ll check with the general counsel’s office and see what our options are. Any solution he comes up with though will not be optimal for you. Do I make myself clear?”

  Kathy nodded and stood up. “Very clear.” Her tone was curt. “I’ll see what I can do.” She headed out of his office.

  “You do that.”

  Kathy entered her office, slammed the door shut, stalked over to her desk and kicked it. She cursed when the pain set in. She’d forgotten she was wearing peep toe pumps.

  She limped over to her chair and sat down. It was easy to blame Bill and Royce for her current predicament; but they were just the messengers. It was Peachtree and the government turning up the heat. She just needed to find a way to cool things down. The most obvious route was to get Charles to settle the case. But it would be unethical for her to coerce a client into a settlement he didn’t really want.

  What were her other alternatives? Did she have any? She wondered if Steve had ever run into a similar situation. With all his years of practice and his penchant for representing the underdog, he probably had. She turned to the telephone and dialed his number. He picked up on the first ring.

  “Hey, Kiddo, what’s up?” he asked.

  “I need your help,” she said.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Kathy hung up the telephone and sat there staring into space. Steve found her like that a few minutes later when he stepped into her office.

  “Close the door behind you, take a seat and put on your mentor hat,” she said.

  Steve smiled, closed the door and eased into one of her visitor’s chairs.

  “That’s my favorite one to wear. What’s going on?”

  Kathy told him about her conversation with Bill and brought him up to speed. When she finished, he let out a long, low whistle and shook his head. “You’ve got a hot one there, Kiddo.”

  Kathy grimaced. “I know. Any ideas?”