Authors: Martin Bodenham
“You touch her, and I’ll kill you.”
Rondell smirked. “What do you think we are here? Gangsters?” He sat upright. “We don’t need to harm her.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Has Caroline ever met the broad from Corton Zander, the one who gives you all your work?”
Michael wrinkled his nose. “Do you mean Amanda Etling?”
“That’s the one. Yeah, Etling.”
“What’s Amanda got to do with any of this?”
“I’ve seen her picture. She’s a looker, isn’t she? Don’t tell me you’ve never poked that ass?”
“I don’t know where this is going, but if you think I have something to hide, then say it.”
“We’ve been watching you. We’ve seen what you’re like around her, the suggestive conversation and the flirtatious e-mails.”
“None of that is serious. We’re just friends.” Michael paused while he digested what he was hearing. “How do you know what’s in my e-mails, anyway?”
“You don’t think you’re the only one who owes us at Dudek’s?”
Was it possible Rondell had someone else working for him on the inside at the firm? The thought had never occurred to Michael. If there was someone, did he or she already know he was feeding confidential client information to Rondell? How many more people knew about this?
“If you do have access to my e-mails, then you’ll know I have nothing to hide.”
“Come on, Danny Boy. Use your imagination. Caroline must have seen the lovely Amanda at some client party, or whatever you big-shots get up to. Plus, she knows how much time you spend with her. Did the two of you have separate rooms on that recent ‘business trip’? I bet you didn’t.” Rondell smiled. “Just between us friends. What was she like?”
“We’re not all like you. Some of us made it out of the swamp.”
“How much effort do you think it would take to make Caroline believe you’re playing hide the salami with sweet little Amanda? Not much, I can tell you. All we need is to play around with your e-mails some. Maybe one or two thanking her for the great time you had overseas and hoping you get the chance to do it all again real soon.” Rondell clicked his fingers. “Hell, they could go out to Caroline today.”
Michael sat in silence. There was nothing happening between him and Etling. The relationship was purely professional. But if Rondell really did have an insider at the firm, perhaps someone in IT, then he could make up an entire story. The truth wouldn’t matter then.
“Oh yeah, Danny Boy.” Rondell said, interrupting Michael’s thoughts. “There’s a whole bunch of fun we can have before we have to use our nuclear weapon. We can really fuck up your life before we destroy it.”
Chapter 37
S
TEVE
B
RADFORD
W
AS
P
LAYING
A
NGRY
B
IRDS
on his iPhone when Michael tapped on his office door.
“Are you busy?” Michael asked, trying to keep a straight face.
Bradford cringed. “Just finishing a text.” He put the phone face down on his desk. “It’s the only way to get ahold of some clients.” He rolled his eyes.
Bradford had been Michael’s protégé for many years, working with him on countless deals when he was an associate. Recently, he’d been promoted to salaried partner and was beginning to handle transactions of his own.
“I thought I’d buy you lunch.” Michael looked at the iPhone. “But only if you have the time.”
Bradford raised his palms. “Okay, so you caught me. The trouble is, it’s so addictive. Have you tried it?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Where we going? In or out?”
“Let’s go out. How about Italian?”
“Sounds good,” Bradford said, picking up his jacket.
Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in Casa Romana on East 49th, picking at the olives and dunking focaccia in a mixture of extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar. The place was heaving with expensive suits and loud voices.
Bradford scanned the menu. “Good thing we got here early.”
“I’ll try the penne arrabiata,” Michael said when the waiter came over to take their order.
“The striped bass for me,” Bradford said.
When the waiter left, Bradford leaned forward. “How’s it feel to be the firm’s golden boy?”
“Didn’t know I was.” Michael felt his cheeks warming.
“Yeah, right. Jenks has big plans for you from what I hear.”
“You shouldn’t listen to office rumors. They’re usually wrong.”
“Not this one. Everyone’s talking about the work you’re bringing in. I hear your billings hit a firm record last quarter. What’s the secret?”
“I don’t have one, Steve. Hard work, I guess.”
“That’s a pity. I was hoping I’d learn some of your tricks now that the pressure’s on.”
“What? Now you’re a partner, you mean?”
“You know what it’s like. One day, you go from working all hours for other partners. They bring in the work, and the troops do all the heavy lifting. Then they tell you you’ve made it to partner, and suddenly, you’re expected to have all these contacts bringing you work. How does that happen, when all you’ve had time for is work and sleep?”
“Don’t worry about it. We all faced the same challenge. It’ll come. Give it some time.”
“I hope so.”
“Believe me; you wouldn’t have been promoted if they didn’t think you had the potential to bring in work.”
“I’m glad you’re confident.”
“For me, what made a difference was learning how to push work down so I could free up time to go see clients for lunch or whatever. You just have to delegate and then make an effort to spread yourself about a little.”
“But where do you start?”
“Right here. Next time I’m going to lunch with some of the Corton Zander people, why don’t I take you with me and introduce you to them?”
“That would be great. You’d do that for me?”
Michael’s smile dropped. “Just so long as you don’t poach Etling from me.”
“Of course, buddy. I know she brings you a lot of work.” Bradford winked. “She’s attractive, too, from what I hear.”
Michael looked away.
The waiter brought over their food, saving Michael’s further blushes. Until his recent conversation with Rondell, he hadn’t realized how others might perceive his close relationship with Etling.
Michael pushed his tie to one side. “You watch me. I never fail to splash tomato sauce on my clothing.”
Bradford pointed his fork toward the plate in front of him. “You don’t have that trouble with fish.”
After a few minutes talking about football and who was sleeping with whom among the associates, Michael said, “What are you working on right now?” His tone was casual, almost disinterested. He was just making idle conversation. At least, that’s what he told himself.
“A refinancing for one of my private equity clients. They’re trying to re-leverage one of their portfolio companies so they can pay out a big dividend.”
“Good luck with that one. Getting the banks to lend for a cash-out deal is almost impossible today.”
Bradford shrugged. “That’s what I told them, but they seem happy to pay the fee, so…”
“Much else on?”
“Yeah. Rubin has me working on one of his clients—well, his biggest, actually.”
“Sounds like GrafChem.”
Bradford nodded. “They’re about to be acquired by a foreign group.”
“I heard about that. Rubin won’t be happy once they go.”
“He seems remarkably relaxed. I guess he’s only a couple of years away from retirement.”
“That helps. He won’t have to worry about replacing the fee income.” Michael pushed his half-eaten plate of pasta away.
“He’s not worried at all.”
“The market’s toppy right now. I guess the bidder will be paying quite some premium.”
Bradford looked over his shoulder then leaned in toward Michael and mouthed, “Fifty percent.”
Michael broke eye contact. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
Bradford finished the last piece of fish on his plate. “That was good. I’d have it again.”
“The food is good here. Listen, why don’t we wait until that deal’s out of the way before we arrange the lunch with Corton Zander?”
“That suits me.”
“What’s your rough timing?”
“It should be completed in ten days. I’ll have quite a free schedule after that.”
“Send me an e-mail with some dates when you can make lunch, and I’ll see if one of them works for Corton’s.”
“I appreciate that, Michael. I can’t think of many partners who’d be so selfless.”
Michael turned his head and pretended he was looking for the waiter. “Let’s get the check and head back,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket. “I’ll get this.”
Once he was back at his office, Michael closed the door and made a few notes of what he’d learned of the GrafChem deal. This one looked promising, just so long as the deal hadn’t already leaked out into the market. He Googled the company and found no mention or rumor of an imminent bid. Then he went onto Bloomberg and tracked the GrafChem stock price for the last twelve months. Today it was $14.13 with a fifty-two-week range of $12.20 to $15.37. Nothing there to suggest the takeover deal had leaked into the pricing. Provided Bradford was right about the overseas bidder—and he ought to know, if he was handling most of the deal—this would be ideal for Rondell. A fifty percent profit uplift on the deal ought to keep him quiet for a while.
But it wasn’t a reason to celebrate. Michael was about to cross another Rubicon. Law firms operated on the basis that everything discussed between partners and staff relating to client matters stayed confidential. Bradford would have known that as he shared what he was working on over lunch. Not for one moment would he have doubted the security of the information he was openly divulging to Michael. The ability to trust colleagues was paramount, and Michael was about to break this golden rule. What made it worse was the shameful way Michael had made Bradford feel he was trying to help him and that the lunch had been a social meeting between old friends. That was unforgivable behavior.
He picked up the telephone to call Rondell.
“Got something for me, Danny Boy?” Rondell said, taking the call on his cell phone.
“I think so.”
“Good man.”
“It’s not one of my own.”
“I’m sure it’s good if you’ve been through it.”
“There’s no guarantee on this. You may want to wait.”
“There’s no time to wait. Meet me tomorrow—noon, usual place.”
A heavy cloud of disgrace weighed over Michael when he finished the call. What had he allowed himself to become? He couldn’t go on living like this, betraying his clients and now his partners and friends. He was much better than this. He had to do something to make it stop.
He stared out of the window. The idea had been percolating in his mind for a couple of weeks now, but it carried a massive risk. Opening Outlook on his PC, he scrolled through his private contacts until he found the name he was looking for. It was a name that had not crossed his lips for almost twenty years. Was he even alive and, if he was, would he still be available on this number? He had to be. There was no one else he could think of who would know how to access what he needed.
Michael looked across the room to make sure his door was still closed. The last thing he wanted was Rachel standing there again, overhearing this conversation. The last time that happened, he got away with it, but it was embarrassing all the same. She’d never heard him speak to anyone the way he’d spoken to Rondell that day.
He read the number from the screen and then punched it into his cell. The phone at the other end rang for at least a minute, but Michael kept holding and hoping.
“Yeah,” said the gruff voice at the other end when the call was answered.
“Is that Neil?”
“Who’s asking?”
Michael thought for a moment. Every fiber in his body screamed at him to terminate the call. “Neil, this is Danny.”
“Who the fuck is this?”
“Danny Seifert.”
There was a long silence at the other end. “Man, I thought you were dead a long time ago.”
Chapter 38
M
ICHAEL
P
ASSED
F
OUR
I
NDRIYA
C
APSULES
—his favorite coffee from India—through the Nespresso machine as the milk frother whirred on the kitchen counter. Then, sitting at the table, he sipped his skinny latte and waded through the overnight e-mails on his iPad. The digital clock on the front of the oven read 4:08 a.m., which meant he should be away by four thirty, in plenty of time to avoid the worst of the traffic going into New York. In the last few months, he’d taken the car into the office more times than in the whole of the previous decade. The mileage was now clocking up on the new Lexus, something the old Honda Accord would have struggled with.