Authors: Roger Olivieri
4
Laura Greene would sit back and wait. She would put up with the non-stop media torment. She would have her phones disconnected. She would ignore the vulture like reporters who camped out in front of her tiny Manhattan apartment waiting for a comment. If necessary, Laura would live the life of a hermit until someone finally offered her a financial package she could not turn down. Her asking price was in excess of three million dollars.
She also knew that the FBI would be beating her door in soon, probably within forty-eight hours. She assumed it would take some processing of some legal paperwork and then they would appear in grandiose fashion. She could already predict it. They would likely have four or five agents, all dressed in suits with the same dark glasses. They may even tip off the media to get their faces on the tube. The FBI was more than just a government agency serving to protect the country, it seemed. Its members always appeared hungry for the so-called fifteen minutes of fame, and grabbed for it whenever they got a chance. Laura, however, fully expected to receive an offer from some major media outlet before the government got involved.
It was at the law offices of Hart and Hart, in Sleepy Hollow, a small suburb of New York City, where the most wanted woman in America showed up. G. McFarland Hart, III had always been a damn good attorney. He seemed like a rock solid man. She had always admired him. When she had worked in the mortgage business almost twelve years ago, he was a dream come true. He helped her out of jam after jam because he must have valued her business.
When she walked in the door, the poor office clerk's jaw almost fell off of his frail frame. He, too, was probably listening to the radio and watching the television and had just seen her face on Channel Five about two minutes ago. Her attractive frame and long brown hair were unmistakable. Her hair was one long natural flow that could not decide if it wanted to curl or not. Her lips were also unmistakable. They were thicker than most women’s, and there was a sense of urgency to them. Their thickness was sexy. Her eyebrows were perfect with no manicuring needed. One eyebrow always seemed cocked. This made her look deviant which added to her attractiveness.
Michael the office clerk was a Democrat, she could tell by the bumper sticker tacked up behind him that read, Connely For Congress. He found the strength to whisper. “Can I help you ma'am?”
He acted as if he did not know her. He was obviously trying to not make her more nervous than she seemingly already was. Her fidgeting as she walked through the door was evident.
“I need to see McFarland now, not five minutes from now, but now.” Her index finger pointed on the counter separating them.
Michael the office clerk left immediately. Thirty seconds later McFarland emerged from his office. His hair was much shorter than Laura remembered but it was still black and thick. She always thought it meshed well with the Caribbean tan that he seemed to have all year long. He had gained weight, but was not yet obese because he was so tall. There was always a five o'clock shadow on his face, regardless of how recently he had shaved. All in all, however, she thought he was really a teddy bear that looked like a panther. He must have used this to his advantage in the courtroom. His smile still warmed Laura as he came towards her.
“Laura? I thought that was you on the television. Jeez, it must be ten years. How are...”
She interrupted. “G-Mac I need you in your office with the door shut.... NOW!”
“Okay, Laura, I know you're in trouble. Let's go talk.” He opened the door to his office, held his hand out to invite her in, and walked in behind her. She walked to a black leather sofa, and sat down. He took a seat in his executive style chair, covered in matching black leather, behind his desk
“So what's up Laura? I know you're pretty popular right now.” Mac smiled through obvious curiosity.
Laura took a deep breath and began, “I am going to retire in the next two days, and then I am going to move somewhere far, far away. You will retire very soon, too. Where you go is up to you. I have over three hundred pieces of paper here that everyone in the world wants. I need you to get me a deal. I need you to deal with all the media outlets, I need you to do everything in a legal fashion, and I need it fast. I just became your only client and your last client. Agreed?”
McFarland raised his eyebrows and countered, “You being 'my only client' is not that big a deal, but my last client? I need to look at this stuff before I say that you are my
last
client. Agreed?”
Laura shot back, “Agreed.” She paused for a few seconds before saying. “I need a nap. I'm absolutely exhausted. I've been awake for three days. Please tell me you have a couch here somewhere.” This tired, scared woman was pleading.
Michael showed Laura the old couch in the break room. McFarland slept here on occasion when he was engulfed in his work. He found a pillow and a blanket for her, turned off the lights, moved silently and quickly across the floor, and slowly shut the door behind him.
**********************
McFarland sat in his office reading. Soon his jaw went slack. The reading got better by the second. Every line was more revealing than the one before it. This woman had kept a highly detailed journal about the President of the United States for two consecutive years. It was nothing less than stunning. A huge bomb was about to be dropped on the American people and they had no idea.
In spite of his excitement over being the man to drop the bomb, he was also deathly afraid. He called his wife, told her to fly to his mother's house in Cleveland, and stay there until further notice. He did not offer much of an explanation, but made it clear that their safety was at risk. Mr. and Mrs. McFarland Hart had been trying to have children for seven years now and had gotten frustrated over the years. At that moment, however, he was very glad there were no children to worry about. McFarland was about to move into first place on the Most Wanted list at every media outlet in the world. While he was thinking of this, Kathy Hart packed her things and sped to the airport. His tone and determination was enough to convince anyone that this was no joke. Knowing that she would be safe in Cleveland did not put McFarland’s mind completely at ease. He still feared for his life.
He had over one hundred questions he could ask right now. He learned in law school to schedule your questions accordingly. Too many questions during the first meeting could scare off a prospective client.
Michael was hanging up the phone when McFarland almost exploded through his office door and headed straight for him. “Michael, my boy, my new favorite client and I need lunch. Buy some for yourself also. Put it on the tab at Pat’s Deli and then get ready to earn all that money I've been paying you,” ordered G-Mac.
****************************
Two hours into what seemed like the best nap of her life, McFarland's voice broke the silence. Laura sprang up. The tone in his voice was serious. “Laura, my dear, is all of this true? Do you
know
this is true? Can you prove this is true? We're talking about my career. I've always respected you and I expect you to respect the position you are putting me in.”
Laura, still half-asleep, murmured softly. “Yes Mac, I have proof at my apartment. I have pictures, I have video, I have whatever you need. I have everything.”
G-Mac cut in. “You have pictures and video? You actually
saw
this?”
She frowned. “Yes, almost every day for two years. Nobody ever knew I was there. I first started hearing things through the vent in my office, believe it or not. You'd think the White House had better soundproofing mechanisms. One day I was very curious, the vent was behind my little bookshelf. I hung a sign on my door that said, 'I'm on break, be back in fifteen minutes'. I moved the bookshelf, unhinged the vent, and crawled in there. Even though I felt silly for being a grown woman crawling through vents, I had never been so scared in my life. I had to crawl about twelve feet, but it seemed like twelve miles. I went very slowly, and I looked into his office through the vent in his wall.” Tears rolled slowly down Laura's cheek, yet she continued. “He was having sex with her. His back was to me but I know it was him. His physique and gray hair was a dead giveaway. I swear it looked like she was not enjoying it Mac. I know I'm not crazy. She was not enjoying it. That's rape isn't it? When they were done all he said was, 'You know how powerful I am, don't you?' Then she smiled as if she were giving into his power threats. She put her clothes back on, and said she'd be back after four o'clock.”
McFarland sat breathless.
Frowning, he whispered, “How could you leave these pictures and videos in your apartment after you went to the
Daily Reporter
? Are you absolutely, positively
sure
it's him? Oh yeah, also, why now? All this stuff took place a year ago or more. Why didn't you go then? Why were you canned? They obviously don't think you know anything if you're still alive.”
Laura, ashamed of her thoughtless miscues, answered. “Number one, the tapes and everything are in a very safe place at my house. I have a hole in the floor under my bed. You'd never know it was there. It's a very old apartment building and that is one of its shortcomings, but one that became an asset to me. I can't go home to get them though...you have to.” She pointed at Mac. “Number two, I waited until now because our government, our protective governing body, watched me for over a month. They watch anyone and everyone that spends more than one hour in the White House for at least a month, especially old employees after they quit. Number three, I was
not
canned, Mac. My mother died that year. I was very upset. They asked me if I needed to be released from my duties. Basically, that meant I could either resign or get fired. At the White House, unless you are one of those employees who can do no wrong, you either work or you lose your job. I decided to resign. I thought resigning would accomplish two things: First, I was not burning any bridges. Secondly, I needed to get out of there. It was my chance to leave without anyone suspecting me of anything.”
McFarland raised his eyebrows, “So, you got your name all over the papers, the United States Government is looking everywhere in the world for you and you want me to just stroll down to your apartment, unlock the door, poke around in your personal belongings, take a stack of pictures and videos with me when I walk out, and come back here? Are you crazy?”
Laura Greene still had not figured that one out yet. She stared at her feet, realizing it would be very difficult to get McFarland or anyone else in and out without notice. She was ashamed that she had not thought of a way to get the stuff out of there before going to anyone. “Damn,” she uttered. Then she looked up. “So what the hell are we going to do Mac? I came to you for help. I mean, it's my place, it's my stuff, and you are my lawyer. I can legally take my stuff from my place, can't I?”
Mac took a deep breath. “Yes, it is all legal, it is your stuff, but I'm worried about taking a bullet in the back of the head. That stuff does go on, you should know that, we are two little roaches to them. They can step on us whenever they want. We need to create some sort of a diversion. Mainly, we need for everyone to think you are somewhere else. The FBI, police, media, everyone will go there. Then I will go to your apartment. Anyway, by the time they figure out it was a false alarm, I'll be out, along with the evidence.”
Laura had seen a million movies with scenarios like this and often wondered how someone could make all these important decisions so quickly. The chips were down. This was no murder case in which McFarland could make a decision as the case wore on. He could not delay hearings.
Mac started speaking again. “Listen, I'll call my brother in Philadelphia. He is the most trusting soul on the planet...”
Laura interrupted, “
No
! This is between us. You call your brother, or
anyone
else and I swear, Mac, you will
never
see me again.”
Just then Michael came through the door with a stuffed bag bearing the logo of Pat's Deli. Laura told Mac to send Michael home for the rest of the week. No excuses, no alternative. Mac walked to the front desk, handed Michael all the money in his wallet, which amounted to four hundred and thirty two dollars, and told him to go home.
Mac made it quite clear that he was serious as he explained, “Mike, take the week. If I find out you tell anyone about my new client you will not have a job here, or anywhere else. On the other hand, if you keep your mouth shut, you will be the richest twenty-two-year-old college student in the country. Sounds like a no-brainer, doesn't it? I'll need you and I trust you'll enjoy being in the position you'll be in soon. But, for now, go home, buddy. Rest up. Take care of any personal business you can and spend time with your girlfriend. I have a feeling that neither of us will have much of a life outside this office for a while.”
Michael smiled, winked at Mac and said, “Sir, I love working with you. I'll do whatever you need me to do, whenever you need me to do it. Keep me posted.” He patted his boss on the right arm and walked out the door.
Mac told Laura that he admired Michael more than the young clerk knew. Michael was in his first year of law school, and Mac would give anything for his youth and exuberance. Michael's work habits were fantastic. He was a perfectionist; exactly what Mac needed in his office. He told her that he was honest, and therefore trusted. However, he continued, the level of responsibility that was about to be bestowed upon the young attorney-to-be scared Mac slightly. Mac had no choice. He really had no one else to do this work for him. Michael's age was a positive attribute, if anything. Mac knew younger people did not fear danger as much. Laura agreed. Young people would take the risks if given enough praise, or in this case, enough money.