Mistress of Justice

McMillan was a company that did nothing but own other companies, which either manufactured obscure industrial parts or provided necessary though obscure services to other businesses or in turn owned other companies or portions of them. The vagaries of this structure and function, however, were not to suggest that Gliddick didn't know how to satisfy a market need when he saw one McMillan was consistently in the top twenty of the most profitable companies in the world.

At sixty-five, Gliddick was stooped and paunchy amidships. His ruddy skin was wrinkled from years of sun on golf courses and te

So he said to Simms, "Wendall didn't come down to see me. He sent you instead." Simms said nothing.

Gliddick held up a hand. "Which means only one thing. You're the muscle, right?"

Unsmiling, Simms folded his arms and watched Gliddick miss another easy putt. "Wendall wanted a little distance between himself and what I'm going to say to you."

"This's all about that fucking merger, isn't it?"

"I'd suggest we go inside," Simms said. "Somebody could have an ante

"I know."

Gliddick walked into the room, shut the window and drew the curtains. Simms mixed whiskey sours for them both. Gliddick wondered how this man, whom he'd never met, had known that this was his drink.

The chairman sipped the sweet concoction. "You know Donald Burdick's meeting with Steve Nordstrom right now."

"We know."

We.

"So what is it that you want, I mean, Wendall wants?"

"We want you to let it be known around the firms – ours and John Perelli's – that you want the merger to go through."

"Why would we not want it to go through?"

Simms said bluntly, "Donald and his cronies won't be there afterward."

"Ah!" Gliddick nodded. "I see."

"You might feel some loyalty to him," Simms said.

"Fuck, I do feel loyalty to him."

"Of course you do. You've been friends for years. But putting that aside for a moment, let's talk about why you would want the firms to merge," Simms said.

This is one slick boy – I like him, Gliddick thought, but immediately gave up the idea of trying to wrest him away from Hubbard, White to work for McMillan. Wendall Clayton was not somebody you stole employees from.

Simms continued, "We've gone over your billings, Ed Burdick's robbing you blind. Your legal costs are totally out of control. You're paying two hundred bucks an hour for first-year associates who know shit. You're paying for limo deliveries when messengers can take public transportation. You're paying premium bonuses for routine legal work. If you help the merger along we'll pare your expenses by an easy five million a year."

"Five?"

"Five. And if the merger goes through, Perelli can take over your labor law work. Right now you've got Mavern, Simpson handling it and, frankly, they're idiots. They didn't do shit to keep the unions out of your subs' Oregon and Washington State operations. Perelli's the toughest labor lawyer in New York. He'll fuck your unions in the ass."

Gliddick shook his head. "Donald was on our board for I don't know how long. He's got friends all over the company. There're a lot of people won't take it kindly that we've sold him out."

"'Kindly?" Simms said the word as if it were in a foreign language. "Well, loyalty's important. But it works both ways. I'd think you'd have to earn loyalty. And do you think a lawyer who misses a takeover plan against his client deserves it?"

"A. What're you talking about?"

"There's a rumor. Only a rumor but Wendall and I think it's valid."

"We're always hearing that. Hell, we beat projections every quarter last year. Everybody'd love to acquire us."

"But does everybody contact your institutional investors on the sly?"

Gliddick's glass froze halfway to his mouth. "Who?"

"GCI in Toronto."

"Wemraub, that fucking Jew prick." A glance to Simms to see if the young man was Semitic but the results of the scan came back reassuringly. Aryan. "I saw him just last week in London. He gave me the great stone face."

Simms continued, "We're thinking four months till a tender offer. If you wait you'll pay a takeover firm a million or two to defend. Perelli can preempt it for a quarter of that. And he can handle it in a way that your stockholders and key employees won't get nervous and bail out. That's what he does best."

"Donald doesn't know about it?"

"Nope. We found out through Perelli.

He finished his drink Simms poured another.

"Randy, I don't know. I can't argue with what you're saying, with the numbers. It's a moral decision. I don't like moral decisions. Maybe -"

There was a knock on the door. A young woman. Blond, about five-two, wearing a short leather miniskirt and tight white blouse, walked into the suite.

"Mr. Simms, I've got the file you asked for."

"Thank you, Jean." He took a thick manila folder. "Jean, this is Mr. Gliddick."

They shook hands Gliddick's eyes skimmed the white silk over her breasts, the lacy bra clearly visible beneath.

"Jean's an assistant with a firm we use down here occasionally."

"Nice to meet you, Jean."

Simms tapped the folder. "There's a lot of other material in there about how the merger'd be good for your company, Ed." He looked at his watch. "Say, I've got a conference call scheduled now. I'll make it from my room so I don't bother you. Look over that stuff, think about what I'm saying."

"Sure," Gliddick said, eyes still sca

"Say, Jean," Simms said, "you know Miami, right?

"Well, now, I've lived here all my life," came the lilting accent.

"Then maybe you could help Mr. Gliddick figure out a place where he and I could go listen to some music Jazz or Cuban or something."

"I'd be happy to." The young woman sat on the bed and picked up an entertainment guide. Her skirt hiked up high. "If that's all right with him."

"I'd appreciate your input," Gliddick said.

Simms said, "We're off-duty now, Jean, how 'bout you fix yourself a drink. And another one for Mr. Gliddick too."

"Thanks, Randy I believe I will."

"I'll be back in about an hour," Simms said.

"That'd be fine," Gliddick replied, setting the file on the table and watching Jean scoot pertly off the bed and walk to the bar. Somehow her shoes had come off in the process.

Moral decision

As Simms was about to step through the door, Gliddick said, "One thing, Randy?" The tall lawyer turned. "Maybe you could call first – before coming back to the room?"

"Not a problem, Ed."

At 10 P.M., as Reece was accelerating south onto the highway that would take them from Clayton's Co

She was listening to the moan of the transmission. The flabby suspension swayed her nearly to sleep. She'd told him about Clayton's blackmailing Dudley and then about the invoice she'd found.

"'Client-directed' security services?" Reece asked. Then he nodded. "A euphemism for industrial espionage. Good job, finding that. How much was it for?"

"Two thousand a month."

"That's pretty low for stealing a note. Maybe it's for spying on people for the merger."

'Did you hear the talk at the party? My God, these are first-year associates and all they were talking about was the merger. Wendall's out on a limb. If he doesn't get it through he's lost a lot of credibility."

Reece laughed. "Ha, if he doesn't get the merger through he's lost his job." He looked over and caught her in the midst of another huge yawn. "You okay?"