Mistress of Justice

"I don't mean that," she whispered ominously. "Listen up. If Donald Burdick doesn't know you were Clayton's spy yet, he will in about a day or two."

He gazed at her uneasily. "What're you talking about?"

"I'm talking about this. Pack up your stuff and get out of here I'd recommend leaving town."

"Who the hell're you to -"

"You think Clayton was vindictive, you ain't seen nothing yet. Donald'll sue your ass for every pe

"Fuck you. What money?"

"That you've got hidden under your stinky mattress."

He blinked in shock. He started to ask how she knew this but he gave up. "I was just -"

"And one more thing. Leave Carrie Mason alone. She's too good for you."

The kid tried to look angry but mostly he was scared. He grabbed his papers and scurned off down the corridor. Taylor returned to her cubicle. She'd just sat down and begun to check phone messages when she heard someone coming up behind her. She spun around fast, alarmed.

Thom Sebastian stood in the doorway, hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Hey," he said, "only me Mr. Party Animal. Didn't mean to spook you."

"Thom…"

"I was mega-freaked when I heard you were sick. They wouldn't let me in to see you. Did you get my flowers?"

"I might have. I was pretty out of it I couldn't read half the cards."

"Well, I was worried. I'm glad you're okay. You lost weight."

She nodded and said nothing.

A dense, awkward moment. His voice quavered as he said, "So."

"So." He said, "Anyway, I just wanted to let you know. Looks like I'm leaving."

"The firm?"

He nodded. "What I was telling you about, that new firm I'm starting with Bosk? It's going to happen. Tomorrow's my last day here. I've got ten associates from Hubbard, White coming with me. And a bunch of clients too. We've already got fifteen retainer agreements. St Agnes, McMillan, New Amsterdam, RFC, a bunch of others."

Taylor laughed. "You're kidding!" These were Hubbard, White's biggest clients. They represented close to one third of the firm's revenues.

Thom said, "We're going to do the same work Hubbard, White did but charge them about half. They were ready to leave anyway. Most of the presidents and CEOs I talked to said everybody here was paying too much attention to the merger and firm politics and not enough to the legal work. They said the other associates and I were the only ones who gave a shit about them."

"That's probably true."

"The fu

"Congratulations, Thom."

She started to turn back to her desk. But he stepped forward nervously and touched her arm. "The thing is, Taylor." He swallowed uneasily. "The thing is, I have to say something." He looked around, his eyes dark and troubled. "I've spent a lot of time." He swallowed. "I've spent a lot of time thinking about you and checking you out. What you found in my office, my notes about you? I shouldn't've done that, I know. But I just couldn't get you out of my head."

Taylor stood up, glanced at her arm. He removed his hand from it and stepped back. "What're you saying?" she asked.

"I'm saying I learned some things about you that're a problem for me."

She looked at him steadily. "Yes?"

"I've learned that you're the sort of person I don't think I'll ever meet again. Who I think I could spend the rest of my life with." He looked away. "I guess I'm saying that I think I love you."

She was too surprised even to laugh.

He held up a pudgy hand. "I know you think I'm goofy and crude. But I don't have to be that way. I can't be that way at my new firm. I'm giving up the drugs. That's what I was meeting with Magaly about the night she was killed – the night you got me out of jail. I wasn't going to score anything – I was going to tell her I wasn't going to buy from her anymore. I was doing that for you. Then, that night at the Blue Devil, I was going to ask if you maybe wanted to go out with me – kind of, I guess, steady." He shook his head at the old-fashioned word. "I had it all pla

She began to speak but he took a deep breath. "No, no, no, don't say anything yet. Please, Taylor. Just think about what I said. Will you do that? I'll have the firm, I'll have money I can give you whatever you want. If you want to go to law school, fine. You want to play music, fine. You want to have a dozen babies, fine."

"Thom…"

"Please," he begged, "don't say yes and don't say no. Just think about it." He took a deep breath and seemed on the verge of tears. "Jesus, I'm the world's greatest fucking negotiator and here I am breaking all my rules. Look, everything's in there." He handed her a large white envelope.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I did kind of a deal memo."

Now, she couldn't help but laugh. "Deal memo?"

He gri

"Phase four?"

"We'll take it nice and easy. Please, just read it and let the idea sit for a while."

"I'll read it," she said.

Then, unable to resist, he threw his arms around her and hugged her hard. He retreated before she could say anything more.

Don't get too interested in her Sebastian's comment to Bosk. It was a warning from a jealous lover, not a potential killer.

Taylor lowered her face to her hands and laughed softly. Thinking I guess it's safe to say, What a night.

Her desk was a mess, Vera Burdick's ransacking hadn't left it in very good shape. When she'd called Burdick about Reece earlier in the evening she'd asked him bluntly why his wife was searching through her things.

"Vera doesn't trust anybody," Burdick had said, laughing. "Samuel Lockwood's daughter? She thought for sure you were working with Clayton, helping him push the merger through – or, after he died, sabotaging me. You should consider it a compliment."

The way a fly should feel complimented that he's a spiders first choice for di

Taylor noticed a blinking red light on her phone She lifted the receiver and pressed the play button.

"Hey, counselor."

Hello, Dad.

"Listen, hope you're feeling better 'Cause I've made some plans for us tomorrow. I get into La Guardia in the morning How 'bout you come pick me up? I've made lunch reservations at the Four Seasons. There's somebody from Skadden I want you to meet. A senior partner. He said they're looking for people like my little overachiever. Now, get a pen. My plane gets in at -"

Click Taylor Lockwood hit a button.

A woman's electronic voice reported. "Your message has been deleted."

She hung up the receiver.

Taylor pulled on her raincoat and walked through the half-lit corridors. The Slavic cleaning women in their blue uniforms moved from office to office with their wheeled carts. Taylor could hear the whine of vacuums coming from different directions. She imagined she could smell sour gunpowder, as if Reece had in fact fired real bullets from the heavy pistol. But she realized, as she passed a conference room littered with a thousand papers, that the smell was only the residue of cigar smoke. Earlier in the evening a deal had perhaps closed here. Or maybe it'd fallen apart. Or maybe negotiations had been postponed till tomorrow or the next day. In any case the participants had abandoned the room for the time being, leaving behind only the pungent aroma of tobacco as the evidence of that success or failure or uncertainty.