Authors: William Bernhardt
“Think you can get in?”
Jones wriggled his fingers. “Let’s find out.” He sat down before the terminal and turned on the CPU. “It boots directly into a Wordperfect database. Let me review these files and see if there’s anything that might’ve interested Hamel.”
Jones reached for the keyboard—then realized that it was locked in a wooden case. “Uh-oh,” he said. “Someone doesn’t want unauthorized personnel playing with the computer.”
“Does this prove they have something to hide?” Ben asked.
“Not necessarily. Corporations are notorious for going to great lengths to keep secrets. After all, if their records were open to any hacker in town, they’d soon have no secrets at all.”
Ben examined the rectangular pine box. “It’s locked up tight. I don’t see how we’re going to get in without a key.”
“Allow me,” Loving said. “This is where you need some muscle.” Loving extended his fingers, concentrated, then brought his hand down hard on the top of the box.
“Owww!”
he cried out. “That smarts.”
“Have you ever studied karate?” Ben asked.
“No. But that’s how those guys do it in the movies.”
“Ah. Jones, did he do any damage?”
“Well, not to the box.”
“Blast,” Ben said. “We’re never going to get in there. All this risk, all this sneaking around, all for nothing.”
“Don’t give up yet, o intrepid adventurer,” Christina said.
“Why not?”
“Look what I found.” She dangled a single key hooked around a brass ring.
“Where’d you get that?”
“From the back of the storage cabinet. That’s where they keep the spare.”
“How’d you know that?”
“Well…” Christina glanced at the ceiling. “I just happened to invite Marilyn from Bookkeeping out to lunch today, and we got to talking about the Apollo computer system, and one thing led to another….”
“You sly dog,” Ben said. “You were way ahead of us.”
“What else is new? I thought our plan should be more detailed than, ‘Let’s sneak in and see what happens.’ ”
“Thank goodness you were here.” Ben unlocked the box and withdrew the keyboard. Jones took control and began punching buttons.
“Great,” Jones said. “Every file is identified and listed in alphabetical order. I’ll just scan them and see if there’s anything that might’ve gotten Hamel killed.”
Christina gazed over his shoulder. “There are hundreds of files in there.”
“True,” Jones said. “Maybe you’d better have a seat.”
An hour and a half later, Ben and Christina were still sitting on the floor watching Jones’s fingers fly over the keyboard. Not exactly the most stimulating way to pass the early hours of the morning. Ben had to fight to keep his eyes open. Loving had posted himself outside the door, to “keep an eye out for trouble.”
“Seen anything interesting?” Ben asked.
“To tell you the truth,” Jones said, “I’m more interested in what I can’t see. All the files on this system are subject to easy access, except one. That one file is locked up tight; you can’t get in without a password.”
Ben scrutinized the computer terminal. “Think you can break in?”
“Only if we figure out the password. I’m not equipped to generate random letter combos or do any serious hacking.”
“What can we do?”
“I’ve been trying obvious possible passwords, but so far, I haven’t had any luck. I tried
Apollo
,
Consortium
,
Howard Hamel
, and several others.”
“Try
Crichton
,” Ben suggested. The man was just egotistical enough to use his own name.
Jones typed it onto the screen. Nothing happened.
“What about
Herbert
? Or, if he was feeling romantic, perhaps
Candice
.”
Jones tried both. Still no results.
“What about something more generic,” Christina suggested. “Try
Lawyer
. Or
Legal
. Or
Murder
.”
Jones tried all her suggestions, and several others that followed, but nothing cracked open the file.
“Wait a minute,” Ben said, snapping his fingers. “Try
Kindergarten Club
.”
Jones gave him a strange look, but obediently typed the words onto the screen.
A split second after Jones hit the Enter button, the screen faded. A blue blip was followed by page one of a new document.
“It worked!” Jones said jubilantly. “Great work, Boss.”
“Lucky guess.” He scanned the document. It appeared to be an address list containing about fifteen names.
“They’re all Apollo employees. See?” Christina pointed to the screen. “It identifies their departments and phone extensions.”
“But look here,” Jones said. “Up at the top. See the empty space? Someone has deleted a name.”
“Curiouser and curiouser.” Most of the names were unfamiliar to Ben. “What do they have in common?” he wondered aloud.
“Apparently,” Christina said, “they’re all members of the Kindergarten Club.”
“Yes,” he said, nodding his head thoughtfully. “But what in God’s name is that?”
L
ATER THAT AFTERNOON, AS
Ben struggled to keep his eyelids open, he was relieved to see Christina walk into his office. Not only was he desperately sleepy—he was bored. While the Nelson case was pending, he’d been in constant motion. Now that the case was over, he had nothing to do. He had assumed he would get another case, but so far, nothing.
“Have you heard anything about Crichton?” Ben asked.
“I heard he’s going to be released from the hospital soon. Knowing him, he’ll probably be back in the office the next day.”
“Probably right.” Ben pressed a finger against his lips. “Isn’t it funny? Since you and I came here, we’ve been on two of these macho corporate outings, and both times Crichton has managed to get hurt.”
“I was thinking the same thing myself,” Christina said.
“Almost as if someone was out to get him, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Almost.”
“Had any luck with the Kindergarten list?”
She shook her head no.
“Blast. Tomorrow’s my deadline with Chief Blackwell. If I don’t have something concrete for him, he’s going to bury me so deep you won’t be able to visit me without a warrant.”
“I’m doing everything I can,” Christina said. “I pulled the personnel files on the fifteen employees on the list. They’re in different departments, answering to different bosses, doing all different kinds of work. I can’t find any connection among them, other than that they’re all Apollo employees, most of them at a fairly high level.”
Ben slapped his palm on his desk. “Hell. Maybe we should just
ask
them what the Kindergarten Club is.”
“Right. That’s likely to produce results. ‘Excuse me, we’ve uncovered evidence that you’re involved in some kind of weird organization linked to the mutilation-death of four teenage girls and possibly Howard Hamel. Would you mind talking about it?’ And then we could just sit back and watch the attorneys congregate.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Your problem, Ben, is that you’re just too honest. Instead of making some gigantic frontal assault, let’s try something with a bit more élan. Something more…surreptitious.”
“I’m not breaking into any more offices!”
“I’m not saying you should. All I’m suggesting is that you take a profitable walk down the hallway.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Look, everything we’ve learned about this case points right here, inside the legal department. All our best suspects are just down the hall. Hamel seems to have known something that someone else did not want to get out. If Hamel had some sensitive information pertaining to this Kindergarten Club, maybe some of the other lawyers do, too.”
“Makes a certain twisted sense,” Ben admitted. “But I don’t see how it gets me a course of action.”
“Go forth and investigate,” she whispered. “Search their offices.”
“During office hours?”
“Well, as we’ve discovered, these offices are never entirely vacated. And it will be considerably more suspicious if you get caught rummaging through someone’s office at two in the morning.”
“This is true.” Ben thought for a moment. “But I can’t just go wandering around, poking into desks and file cabinets. I need some kind of excuse.”
“Easily contrived. What are you working on right now?”
“Well, actually, nothing.”
“Nothing at all? Have you talked to Rob? He’s acting as Crichton’s messenger.”
“Crichton hasn’t given me an assignment since the Nelson case ended.”
A deep furrow crossed Christina’s brow. “Is that a fact? Well, all the better. Since we came here Crichton’s been griping that he can’t tell what cases are pending and what cases aren’t. I think you, the bright hardworking young lawyer, should seize the initiative and compile a litigation calendar.”
“A litigation calendar?”
“Sure. Identify pending cases, list any pressing deadlines, future plans, that sort of thing. Of course, you’ll have to get information from the other lawyers about their cases. And if they’re not in their offices at the time…you might have to hunt around a bit to get what you need.”
“And if they
are
in their office?”
“Make sure they aren’t.”
“I dunno, Christina. Sounds dangerous.”
“True, this is a risk. But Chief Blackwell is a certainty unless you come up with something in the next twenty-four hours.”
“Well, since you put it like that…let’s get to work on the calendar.”
B
EN DECIDED TO START
with Shelby’s office. His first choice had been Doug’s, but Doug was poised squarely behind his computer and appeared unlikely to move unless a power shortage blanketed Tulsa. Shelly was much easier—she was out of her office, and probably wouldn’t cause trouble in any event.
Ben picked up a small framed photo on Shelly’s desk. The picture was of a cute, chubby-cheeked redheaded infant, perhaps three months old. Must be Shelly’s daughter, Angie. Ben could see the resemblance. Very cute. He scanned Shelly’s desktop calendar and saw the usual appointments and deadline ticklers. No references to a Kindergarten Club—not even a cryptic
K
.
C
. She did have an unusually high number of doctor’s appointments, but that could probably be explained by the fact that she had so recently given birth.
He checked the hallway. Still no sign of Shelly. He opened her desk drawer. Pencils, pens, rubber bands, paper clips—so what? He closed the desk and opened the top drawer of her credenza. It was cluttered with files going two different directions; organization was obviously not Shelly’s strong point. He found a half-empty box of Snickers bars tucked away in one corner and more baby pictures in another. Ben thumbed through the baby pictures, and to his surprise, found a wallet-size photo of Howard Hamel.
He held the Hamel photo next to one of Angie. Come to think of it, there was some resemblance there, too.
He returned both photos and began rifling through her files. Nothing caught his eye—until he spotted one labeled
Nelson
. He pulled it out. Sure enough—it was the same Nelson case Ben had just managed to win.
“Are you looking for something in particular?”
Ben jumped a foot into the air. He slammed the drawer shut.
Shelly was standing in the doorway.
“I…er…I was just looking for…”
“Yes?”
“I just happened to notice that you had a file pertaining to the Nelson case. I’ve been trying to close out the case but I noticed some of the pleadings were missing. When I saw this file, I thought maybe you had them.”
She relaxed a bit. “I was involved during the preliminary negotiations, before the lawsuit was filed. I don’t have any pleadings.”
“So I see. Sorry about that.” Ben stepped away from her desk. “How did you get strong-armed into that case?”
“I was just back from maternity leave. Crichton dumped the case in my lap the day I returned, then took it back the very next day. Apparently Chuck told him I didn’t have my head together yet.”
“I thought Rob worked on that case before I came.”
“Oh, Rob was only assigned to the case a day or two before you arrived. The case was originally assigned to Howard Hamel.”
“Hamel?”
“Yeah. Crichton added me when he saw how much work would be involved. Then Chuck got me kicked off the case, and when you were hired, Howard got kicked off me case. And you and Rob were put on.”
“Huh.” Ben pointed to the picture on her desk. “By the way, adorable baby.”
For the first time, Ben actually saw her smile. “Yeah, she is, isn’t she?” She picked up the photo.
“Shelly!
I thought I gave you something to do!”
Chuck was hovering just outside the door.
Shelly dropped the photo like a hot potato. “You did, Chuck. It was five minutes ago, remember?”
“Yes, and I expected you to get to work, not to screw around with baby pictures.”
“I was not—” She shifted from one foot to the other. “I was just helping Ben with his case.”
“That’s not how it looked to me. Damn it, I don’t know why Crichton hires women on the mommy track who pretend to want to be attorneys.”
“That’s not fair—”
“Maybe we should all just throw away our cases and hold a great big baby shower!”
“Chuck…” Ben said softly, “…I really think you should clam up.”
“Butt out, Kincaid. This is none of your business.”
“I disagree. I’m an attorney representing the Apollo Consortium, and I feel duty-bound to prevent you from engaging in any activities that could subject this corporation to liability.”
“Shove off.”
“You are engaging in classic Title VII sex discrimination and sexual harassment, federal offenses for which Apollo could be held liable for hundreds of thousands of dollars, especially if a pattern of discriminatory conduct is discovered. If that happens, you’ll be the biggest pariah in the company. Frankly, I think Shelly already has more than enough ammunition to file suit.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“Oh, but I do. I know the Supreme Court held back in 1986 that sexual harassment claims fall under Title VII of the 1964 Civil Rights Act. I’m familiar with the EEOC guidelines on sexual harassment and sex discrimination, and I’ve seen you violate about ninety percent of them!”