Just Dreams Read online

  ***

  Kathy sat on a bar stool at the Cuban coffee shop across the street from the Miami-Dade County courthouse waiting for Weisman. She’d asked to meet him there on the pretense of discussing the documents Peachtree produced. In reality, the meeting was part of her plan to get the government to back off her law firm. She ordered a cortadito – a sugar-laden Cuban style espresso cut with cream – and knocked it back. She put the cup back onto the counter and watched the comings and goings on Flagler Street as she waited.

  Lawyers, male and female, wearing suits and carrying briefcases mixed with hapless beggars, haggard looking parties, court reporters, court personnel and shopkeepers on the busy street. Cars moved slowly by to accommodate the throng of people crossing the street.

  Stewart Weisman strolled toward her looking as distinguished as ever. He arrived at the stool next to her and set his briefcase upon it. “Counselor.” He extended a hand.

  Kathy shook it. “Stewart. Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.”

  “No problem. It’s always a pleasure to enjoy coffee with a colleague. Can I order anything for you?” he asked.

  Kathy shook her head. “No thanks.” She put a hand over her heart. “I just had a cortadito and I think I’m having heart palpitations.”

  Stewart laughed. “Yes, they do make them strong here. They’re not for the faint of heart.”

  She chuckled. “I think I can handle it.”

  He looked at her. “Yes, I’m sure you can.” He ordered an espresso. It came quickly. He knocked it back in a single gulp. “So, what are we discussing today?”

  “I asked you here to talk about Peachtree’s discovery responses and objections. You objected to almost every interrogatory – even some of the standard ones - on grounds of relevance and national security. Is your client willing to drop some of its objections and provide amended interrogatory answers?”

  He grimaced. “Did you really ask me to come all the way down here to talk about discovery issues? We could have done that over the telephone. I must confess that, when you asked to meet me here in person, I was hoping your client had finally come to his senses and was willing to enter into settlement negotiations.”

  Kathy smiled ruefully and shook her head. “No such luck, I’m afraid. And believe me, I wish he would consider settlement. This case is getting more costly to the firm by the minute. Would you believe that some of our clients have threatened to fire the firm if he doesn’t settle this case? The nerve of those people!”

  Stewart raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

  Watching him feign innocence when she knew damned well he had engineered the entire thing made her want to punch him. But she had to keep her head in the game. “Yes, really. I had no idea the government would play so dirty in this case. Apparently, certain government agencies are putting pressure on the trustees and receivers we represent to get new counsel in the event this case doesn’t go away.” She frowned. “Are you sure you’re not behind this?”

  Stewart shook his head, his face the picture of innocence. “I assure you, Ms. Brooks, we have absolutely nothing to do with this. This is the first I’ve heard about it. I’ll have to have a little chat with my client.”

  “You do that,” Kathy said, “because we’re thinking about bringing a lawsuit against the federal government for violation of our constitutional rights. And if we find any proof that your law firm is involved, we will not hesitate to bring a Bar complaint against you and seek sanctions against Peachtree in front of Judge McCarthy.”

  Stewart scowled. “Now look here, young lady, there’s no need to make threats. We didn’t have anything to do with this, but I’m not shocked that it’s happening. I told you the first time we spoke that the government was likely to take measures to protect against exposure of information vital to national security interests. Your client needs to end this before the government takes even stronger measures and we’re blamed for the consequences of his being pig-headed.”

  Kathy stared at him. No he didn’t just threaten them and call Charles pig-headed when his client’s actions had destroyed the man’s life. She silently counted to ten. It was one thing to feign outrage. It was another thing to lose her cool altogether. She narrowed her eyes. “Stewart, I’m going to do you a big favor and pretend I didn’t hear that. You just be sure to give your client the message that if GRH loses a single client over this madness, we fully intend to seek very public legal recourse against the government, your client, you personally and your law firm. The time for games is over.”

  She picked up her Blackberry and shoved it into her purse. She’d gotten the message across. There was no need to continue this charade for a second longer. She slung her purse over her arm and looked at him. His face was red and his lips were pressed together so tightly they had almost disappeared.

  “I’ll have my associate call yours to try and work out the discovery issues. You have a nice day now,” she said. With that, she walked away.

  On her way back to the office, Kathy felt her heart pound in her chest. Her hands clenched the steering wheel. She couldn’t tell if it was a rush of adrenaline from the confrontation with Weisman, the Cuban coffee, or both.

  CHAPTER IX

  Kathy met Charles for dinner at O’Shaughnessy’s a few days later. She had called him earlier that day to discuss new developments in the case. He’d cut her off mid-sentence and insisted that they meet in person.

  She arrived at the bar early and secured a table in the back where they would have a little privacy. She was sitting there, sipping a glass of pinot noir, when Charles walked in.

  “Hello counselor,” he said.

  She raised her eyebrows at the formality of the greeting. “Hello client.” She smiled at him.

  He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. They took their seats. She felt a little flustered at the contact. She had other clients who greeted her by kissing her on the cheek. It was especially common with clients of certain cultures; however, never before had she had such a reaction to the simple pleasantry.

  “I asked you to meet with me so that I can bring you up to date on recent developments,” she said. “I met with Weisman last week and threatened him with a Bar complaint and sanctions,” she said. “He didn’t take that too kindly.”

  Charles chuckled. “I bet he didn’t.”

  “He denied any involvement but, in the same breath, had the nerve to say that if we didn’t settle this case we could expect the government to take even stronger action. Can you believe that?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Charles said, his voice quiet. “In fact, while I was in the military, I helped the government take some of those stronger measures. I served in the Special Ops division of the Corps.”

  “I know that you are an ex-Marine-,” she said.

  “There’s no such thing as ex-Marine.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Excuse me. I knew that you had served in the Marines, but I didn’t know you were in Special Ops. What was that like?”

  He shrugged. “That’s a broad question. How would you answer if I asked you what it’s like to be a civil trial attorney? It was boring at times, exciting at times - sometimes a little too exciting - and always dangerous. I was a sniper. We sometimes teamed up with operatives in other government agencies for missions.”

  “A sniper?” she asked. “You didn’t have a problem with that?”

  He took a sip of his beer, swallowed and shook his head. “No.”

  He’d killed people. She didn’t know how she felt about that. It was one thing to be a soldier fighting a war and defending the country. It was another thing to be an operative sent out to target and kill specific individuals. He probably saw both situations the same way.

  “When you said you helped the government take some of those stronger measures,” she raised her hands and crooked two fingers on each hand to form quotation marks, “what did you mean?”

  “Well, without getting into specifics, because I can’t, the C.I.A. guys I worked with di
d everything from turning people against each other to taking them out,” he said.

  A chill went down Kathy’s spine. “Are you telling me there’s a possibility the government might take you or me out just to end this case? That’s right out of a Tom Clancy novel.”

  “More like a Robert Ludlum or Jon Land novel. The government, like any other large organization, is filled with a mix of people - some who are willing to uphold and respect citizens’ rights and others who just don’t give a damn about those things unless it’s a means to an end. But don’t worry. Taking you out wouldn’t make any sense. I could always find another attorney.”

  She made a face. “Thanks. That makes me feel so much better.”

  He smiled. “It should make you feel safe. Peachtree and the government are much more likely to try and take me out.”

  “And you don’t have a problem with that?”

  “No.” He took another swig of his Heineken.

  How could he just sit there drinking his beer and talking about his own demise as if it weren’t a big deal?

  “And the thought of them trying to take you out doesn’t make you the tiniest bit nervous?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “We’ve all got to go sometime.”

  Kathy stared at him. He returned her stare with a bland look. He had to be pulling her leg. No-one would be that blasé about the possibility of becoming the target of a government hit squad.

  “Right,” she said. “Well, all this talk of government hit squads almost made me forget the main reason I asked to meet with you tonight. Our research uncovered three other wrongful death suits filed against Peachtree. My associate tracked down a witness from one of those cases who is willing to meet with us.”

  Charles straightened in his chair. “Really? When can we meet with them?”

  “Wait a minute. No-one said anything about you meeting with the witness. She’s already scared out of her wits. Erin had to beg her to meet with me.”

  “Oh no,” he said. “If you’re going to meet with the witness, I am too. Besides, I know what questions to ask.”

  “Oh really? And I don’t? ”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I only meant that I know what questions I want to ask.”

  “Why don’t you just give me a list?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “You know it’s not the same as being there.”

  She studied him for a moment. Maybe this trip would give her more insight into him. She sensed there was something he wasn’t telling her. If this case was as potentially dangerous as he would have her believe, she needed to learn the truth. All of it.

  “Fine,” she said. “The witness is in New York. I plan to fly out there on Thursday morning, meet with her in our New York office and then try to meet another witness the next day.”

  “We can charter a private jet,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at your condo at 6:00 a.m.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Well excuse me. I guess I’ll just tell Annette to cancel my flight reservations.”

  He laughed. “You do that. Where are we staying?”

  “Is the Ritz-Carlton good enough for you? ABA members get good corporate rates there,” she said.

  He sighed. “It’ll have to do.”

  It was her turn to laugh. “Alright then. That’s that. Let’s order some food.”

  “Okay, but only if you’re off the clock, Counselor.”

  “The office is officially closed,” she said.

  They had dinner and enjoyed pleasant conversation. He had a way of making her laugh. She didn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed a man’s company as much.

  He dropped her off at her condo and kissed her cheek goodnight. That night, she dreamed of him kissing her in other places.

  ***

  The next day, Charles entered a gun range on Biscayne Boulevard in North Miami carrying a gun case. He headed upstairs to a private soundproof booth. Darryl was already there shooting at a target. Charles watched him empty his .44 Magnum. When he was done, he put the gun down and nodded at Charles. “Hey mon.” He pushed the button on the side of the window to bring the target forward.

  “Hey yourself.” Charles stepped up to take a look. There was a tight grouping of bullets in the center mass of the target. “Nice shooting.”

  Darryl sucked his teeth. “What you expect? Me come from yard. Me must know how to shoot or die.”

  Charles laughed. “I know that’s right.”

  He moved to the next stall, took out his weapon, and loaded a clip. He pushed the button next to the window to move the target as far back as it would go then he emptied his clip. He set the weapon down and brought the target back. It had a tight grouping of bullet holes dead smack in the center of the head of the target.

  Darryl peeked over his shoulder and let out a low whistle. “Where you come from? Beirut?”

  Charles cracked up. Darryl joined him. When the laughter died down, Charles turned to Darryl. “Were you followed here?”

  Darryl shook his head. “Nah Mon.”

  “Good,” Charles said.

  “Did you get what you need from the disk I made for you?” Darryl asked.

  “I got some useful information from the disk, but to get the rest, I need another favor. I need to get into Peachtree’s system.”

  Darryl let out a long, low whistle. “You want me to crawl into the belly of the beast. A defense firm like that must have levels of encryption on top of levels of encryption. Why don’t we just break into the C.I.A.’s database? It’s much easier.”

  “You’ve already done that,” Charles said.

  Darryl smiled. “True dat.”

  “You can do it, right? Break into Peachtree’s system and download some files for me?”

  Darryl looked insulted. “Yah mon. Of course.”

  “Can you do it without having the break-in traced to you?” Charles asked. “This is really dangerous stuff. Peachtree will stop at nothing to keep this information from leaking out. I mean nothing.”

  Darryl nodded. “It’s going to cost you, mon. I’m going to need some special equipment and to get a space they can’t trace to me. I’m also going to have to send me mother and children away for a while in case something goes wrong.”

  “You better hope nothing goes wrong. They’ll be scraping you off the walls somewhere. You have to get in and out without them knowing,” Charles said.

  “Chuh. No problem. What am I searching for?”

  “I need all of the files mentioning me and my wife. I need all of the files mentioning the name Wilkes that were edited around the time of their deaths and any files mentioning the name Manning.” Charles pulled a piece of paper from his pants pocket and handed it to Darryl. “Here. I wrote down what I’m looking for.”

  Darryl looked down at the piece of paper and squinted. “Ras-clot! With this chicken scratch, you should have been a doctor.”

  Charles laughed. “Let’s practice shooting for a little bit. We may be glad we did.”

  ***

  That afternoon, Charles met Tyler for lunch at a diner on Washington Avenue. He liked the spot because it was small, had limited access points and was heavily frequented by homosexual men. Any operative coming in to listen to their conversation would stick out like a sore thumb. Also, parking was very limited on Washington Avenue which made it difficult for anyone to keep a tail.

  Tyler walked into the diner. Charles stood up to greet him. They engaged in an elaborate handshake.

  “Hey man. It’s good to see you. Thanks for coming,” Charles said.

  “Good to see you too, my brother. You’ve been pretty scarce these days,” Tyler said.

  “I know. It’s been a little crazy with this lawsuit and all.”

  Tyler nodded. “I’ve been following it on the news. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m doing okay. Listen man, I have a favor to ask of you.”

  “A favor? What? Can’t a brother order lunch first?” Tyler asked.

&n
bsp; Charles laughed. “Yeah, come to think of it, I’m a little hungry myself.”

  They checked out the menu and ordered lunch. Charles ordered a cheeseburger with French fries, a shake and a slice of apple pie. Tyler raised his eyebrows before giving the waitress his order. “Damn bro. You really are hungry. I’ve never seen you order so much food before. When’s the last time you ate?”

  Charles raised his eyes toward the ceiling. “Last night at dinner,” he said. “I guess I had a few things on my mind and a couple of things to do today.”

  “I’d say. So what kind of favor do you need?”

  “I need for you to look up a guy named David Manning. I need to know whether he’s the same C.I.A. guy you and I worked with on that mission ten years ago.”

  “You mean that fool who almost got us all killed?” Tyler asked.

  “Yup,” Charles said. “That fool.”

  “Why are we looking him up?”

  “I ran across the name Manning in the documents Peachtree produced in my case,” Charles said.

  Tyler frowned. “Wait a minute. Weren’t those documents produced for the attorney’s eyes only?”

  Charles swore under his breath. He’d never been able to hide anything from Tyler. He looked around the restaurant to make sure their conversation was not being overheard. There were only two other patrons in the diner – a young couple sitting in a booth on the other side of the room. They were giggling and feeling each other up. He turned back to his friend. “Yes. My attorney doesn’t know I have them.”

  “How did you -?” Tyler shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. Did you see anything good in there?”

  “No. They were heavily redacted. I haven’t gotten through all of them yet, but, so far, the only thing I found is a report of the accident and Manning’s name.”

  Tyler looked down at the table then back up at him. Charles saw the serious look in his friend’s eyes and knew something was up. “What?”

  “I’ve got to talk to you about something man,” Tyler said.

  “Just spit it out.”

  “The Bureau is running its own investigation into Peachtree Consulting. We suspect them of conducting rogue operations, but we haven’t been able to prove it. They have friends in high places. Every time we get close, some government agency backs them up.”