Текст книги "Gray Mountain"

Автор книги: John Grisham

Соавторы: John Grisham
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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

“Do y’all do that?” Jonah asked.

All three lawyers recoiled in horror at the notion of representing these people. Annette managed to speak first, “Oh, no, we can’t because we prepared the will.”

“But it’s pretty routine stuff,” Mattie added quickly. “Almost any lawyer along Main Street can do it.”

Euna Faye actually smiled and said, “Well, thanks.”

Lonnie asked, “And we split it five ways, right?”

Mattie said, “That’s the law, but you need to check with your lawyer.” Lonnie was shifty-eyed to begin with, and he was already looking around the room. They would be fighting before they left Brady. And there were relatives waiting outside, ready to pounce on all that coal money.

They left in peace, and when the front door closed behind the last one, the three lawyers felt like celebrating. They locked the door, kicked off their shoes, and piled into the conference room for a late afternoon sip of wine and a lot of laughs. Annette attempted to describe the scene of the first one home, rummaging through the house in a desperate search for that damned will. Then the second, then the third. Their mother was on the slab at the funeral home and they were knocking over furniture and dumping out drawers in a frantic search. If they found it, they certainly burned it.

Not one of the three lawyers believed Francine actually destroyed her will.

And they were right. The original arrived in the mail the following day, with a note from Francine asking Samantha to please protect it.

The Crumps would be back after all.

30

For the third year in a row, Karen Kofer spent Christmas in New York City with her daughter. She had a close friend from college whose third husband was an aging industrialist, now sidelined by dementia and tucked away in a plush retirement home in Great Neck. Their rambling apartment on Fifth Avenue overlooked Central Park and was practically deserted. Karen was given her own suite for the week and treated like a queen. Samantha was offered one too, but chose instead to stay with Blythe in their apartment in SoHo. The lease expired on December 31, and she needed to pack her things and make arrangements to store furniture. Blythe, still hanging on at the world’s fourth-largest law firm, was moving in with two friends in Chelsea.

After three months in Brady, Samantha felt liberated in the city. She shopped with her mother in midtown, battling the crowds but enjoying the frenetic energy. She had late afternoon drinks with friends in all the right, trendy bars, and, while enjoying the scene, found herself bored with the conversation. Careers, real estate, and the Great Recession. Karen sprang for two tickets to a Broadway musical, a rage that was nothing more than a made-for-tourists rip-off. They left at intermission and got a table at Orso. Samantha had brunch with an old Georgetown pal at Balthazar, where the friend almost squealed as she pointed out a famous TV actor Samantha had never seen nor heard of. She took long, solitary walks through lower Manhattan. Christmas dinner was a feast at the Fifth Avenue apartment with a bunch of strangers, though after a lot of wine the conversation loosened up and an ordeal became a riot that went on for hours. Samantha slept in a spare bedroom, one bigger than her apartment, and woke up with a mild hangover. A uniformed maid brought her orange juice, coffee, and ibuprofen. She had lunch with Henry, who had been pestering her, and realized they had nothing in common. He was assuming she would be back in the city in the near future and was eager to rekindle something. She tried to explain that she wasn’t sure when she would return. There was no job waiting for her, and now no apartment. Her future was uncertain, as was his. He’d given up on acting and was considering an entry into the exciting world of hedge fund management. An odd choice these days, she thought. Aren’t those guys bleeding cash and dodging indictments? His undergraduate degree from Cornell was in Arabic. He was headed to nowhere and she would not waste another minute with him.

Two days after Christmas, she was sitting in a coffee bar in SoHo when a phone buzzed. At first she didn’t recognize the noise deep in her purse, then realized it was the prepaid phone Jeff had given her. She found it just in time and said hello. “Happy New Year,” he said. “Where are you?”

“Same to you. I’m in the city. Where are you?”

“In the city. I’d like to see you. Got time for some coffee?”

For a moment, she thought he was joking. She couldn’t imagine Jeff Gray walking the streets of Manhattan, but then, why not? The city attracted all types from everywhere. “Sure, in fact I’m having coffee right now. Alone.”

“What’s the address?”

While she waited, she became amused at her thought process. Her initial reaction was one of surprise, which was immediately followed by one of pure lust. How could she get him into her apartment and avoid Blythe? Not that Blythe would really care, but she didn’t want a lot of questions. Where was he staying? A nice hotel; that would work. Was he alone? Or sharing a room with a friend?

Settle down girl, she told herself. He walked in twenty minutes later and they kissed on the lips. As they waited on double espressos, she asked him the obvious. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been here before,” he said. “I’m moving around these days, and I wanted to see you.”

“A call would’ve been nice.” Faded jeans, black T-shirt, wool sports coat, chukka boots, three days’ growth, hair just slightly untamed. He was definitely not one of the Wall Street clones, but in SoHo no one would suspect him of being from backwater Appalachia. And who would care? In reality, he looked more like an unemployed actor than Henry.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“Okay. I’m surprised. How did you get here?”

“A private jet. It’s a long story.”

“I’m so tired of long stories. Where are you staying?”

“The Hilton, midtown. Alone. Where are you staying?”

“My apartment, for a few more days anyway. Then the lease is up.”

The barista said their coffee was ready and Jeff grabbed the two cups. He poured in a pack of sugar and stirred slowly. She passed on the sugar. They huddled closer together as the coffee bar became crowded. She said, “So, can we get back to this private jet matter. Care to elaborate?”

“I’m here for two reasons. First, I want to see you and maybe spend a little time together. Perhaps we could hike, you know, around the city and then find a fireplace somewhere. If not, maybe just a nice warm bed. That’s what I’d like, but I understand if you’re too busy. I’m not crashing your private time, okay?”

“You can forget the fireplace.”

“Got it. I’m available from this moment on.”

“I’m sure we’ll find time. And what about the other reason?”

“Well, the jet is owned by a trial lawyer named Jarrett London, from Louisville. You may have heard of him by now.”

“And how would I know a lawyer from Louisville?”

“Anyway, he and Donovan were very close, in fact Jarrett was at the funeral. Tall guy, about sixty, with long gray hair and a salt-and-pepper beard. Donovan considered him to be his mentor, almost his hero. His law firm is one of the other three who sued Krull Mining in the Hammer Valley case. They got raided the same day the FBI raided our office. Needless to say, a guy like London doesn’t appreciate such Gestapo tactics, and he’s spitting fire. Big ego, typical of the breed.”

She was nodding. “My father.”

“Yes, of course. In fact, London says he met your father years ago at some trial lawyer shindig. Anyway, London has a new girlfriend, a real dingbat, and she wanted to see the city. I hitched a ride.”

“How convenient.”

“He also wants to meet you, say hello, and talk about the documents.”

“What documents? Come on, Jeff, I’m already in too deep. Where is this going?”

“You gotta help me here, Samantha. My brother is gone and I need someone to talk to, someone who knows the law and can give me advice.”

Her spine stiffened and she pulled back. She glared at him and wanted to lash out. Instead, she glanced around, swallowed hard, and said, “You are deliberately sucking me into a conspiracy that can land me in serious trouble. The FBI is all over this, yet you want me to get involved. You’re as reckless as your brother and you don’t care what happens to me. Look, who says I’m even going back to Brady, Virginia? I feel incredibly safe right now. This is my home; it’s where I belong.”

His lanky frame seemed to shrink by inches as his chin dropped. He looked lost and helpless. “I do care about you, Samantha, and I care what happens to you. I just need help right now.”

“Jeff, we had a wonderful time a couple of weeks ago at Gray Mountain. I’ve thought about it a lot, but what I don’t understand is why you took me to that cave, or whatever the hell it’s called, and showed me the documents. At that—”

“No one will ever know.”

“At that point I became an accessory of some sort. I realize the documents are valuable and damaging and all that, but it doesn’t change the fact that they’re stolen.”

“Someone has to know where they are, Samantha, in case something happens to me.”

“Let Vic handle it.”

“I told you. Vic is gone, checked out. His girlfriend is pregnant and he’s a changed man. He’s not risking anything. He will not answer the phone.”

“He’s smart.”

The espresso was getting cold. Jeff noticed his and took a sip. Samantha ignored him and studied the crowd. Finally, Jeff said, “Can we get out of here?”

They found a bench in Washington Square Park. All the benches were empty because the wind was howling and the temperature was just below freezing. “How much does this London guy know about me?” she asked.

“He knows you have the Ryzer case, at least the black lung part. He knows you discovered the fraud and cover-up by the lawyers for Lonerock Coal. He’s really impressed by that. He knows that I trust you and that Donovan trusted you. He knows that Donovan told you about the documents.”

“Does he know I’ve seen them?”

“No. I told you, Samantha, no one will ever know that. I was wrong to take you there.”

“Thank you.”

“Let’s at least meet with the guy and see what he says. Please. There’s no harm in that, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do know. There is nothing even remotely out-of-bounds in meeting with Jarrett London. It will be extremely confidential, plus he’s an interesting guy.”

“When does he want to meet?”

“I’ll call him. I’m freezing. Do you live around here?”

“Not far, but the apartment is a mess. We’re packing up.”

“I don’t care.”

Two hours later, Samantha walked into the lobby of the Peninsula hotel on Fifty-Fifth Street in midtown. She took the stairs to her left, climbed one floor, and saw Jeff sitting at the bar, as expected. Without a word, he handed her a scrap of paper with the message “Room 1926.” He watched her turn around and leave, then stood by the stairs to see if anyone else noticed. She took the elevator to the nineteenth floor and pressed the buzzer to the room. A tall man with far too much gray hair opened the door within seconds and said, “Hello, Ms. Kofer, it’s an honor. I’m Jarrett London.”

Number 1926 was a huge suite with an entire den at one end. There was no sign of the girlfriend. Minutes after Samantha arrived, Jeff buzzed the door. They sat in the den and went through the required pleasantries. London mentioned something to drink, but everyone declined. He brought up her work in the Ryzer case and gushed on about how brilliant it was. He and Donovan had discussed it at length. London and his partners were still debating whether their firm should jump in the lawsuit with Donovan when he went ahead and filed the damned thing. “Much too premature,” London said. “But then, that was Donovan.”

He, London, was still considering the litigation. It’s not every day you catch a major law firm like Casper Slate committing fraud red-handed, you know? The case could have enormous jury appeal, and so on. He went on and on about the beauty of the case, as if Samantha had never realized this. She’d heard it before, from Donovan and from her father. Now, on to Krull Mining. With Donovan out of the picture, London was now lead counsel for the plaintiffs. The lawsuit had been filed on October 29. Krull had been granted additional time to respond and file an answer. In early January, London and his team were expecting Krull to file a serious motion to dismiss, and the war would commence at full throttle. Soon, very soon, they would need the documents.

“How much do you know about them?” Samantha asked.

London exhaled loudly, as if the question was so loaded he had no idea where to begin, then he stood and walked to the minibar. “Beer, anyone?” Jeff and Samantha declined, again. He opened a Heineken and walked to a window. He took a long swig and said, “About a year ago, we had our first meeting, in Charleston, offices of Gordie Mace, one of our gang. Donovan had summoned all of us there to pitch the Hammer Valley lawsuit. He said he had possession of some documents, and the possession had not come about through the usual methods. We didn’t ask; he didn’t offer. Said there were over twenty thousand pages of highly incriminating stuff. Krull Mining knew about the contamination, knew it was leaking into the groundwater up and down the valley, knew people were still drinking the water, knew people were suffering and dying, knew it should clean up the site, but also knew it was less expensive to just screw the people and keep the money. He did not have the documents with him, but he had extensive notes, notes he destroyed after the meeting. He described about twenty of the documents, the most damaging ones, and, frankly, we were blown away. Stunned. Outraged. We signed on immediately and geared up for the lawsuit. Donovan was careful not to refer to the documents as stolen, and he kept them away from us. If he had given us the documents at any point during the past year, all of us, in all likelihood, would have been arrested earlier this month by the FBI.”

“So how do you take possession of the documents now and avoid being arrested?” she asked.

“That’s the great question. We’re having indirect talks with one of the trial judge’s law clerks, real back-channel stuff that’s highly sensitive and highly unusual. We think we’ll be able to take the documents, immediately tender them to the court, and have them locked away by the judge. We will then ask him to lean on the U.S. Attorney to back off the criminal investigation until the documents are reviewed. Let’s face it, the person who stole the documents is dead. We’ve consulted with our criminal defense attorneys, and they agree that our exposure will be minimal. We are willing to take the risks. The danger is what might happen to the documents before they reach the court. Krull Mining will do anything to destroy them, and right now they have the FBI on their side. It’s dangerous out there.”

Samantha gave Jeff a look that could kill.

London sat near Samantha and looked deep into her eyes. “We could use some help in Washington.”

“Uh, I’m sorry.”

“The Attorney General has three people in his inner circle. One is Leonna Kent. I’m sure you know her.”

Reeling, Samantha said, “I’ve, uh, met her years back.”

“She and your mother started at Justice at the same time, thirty years ago. Your mother is highly regarded and has seniority. She also has some pull.”

“But not in areas like this.”

“Oh, yes, Samantha. A word or two from Karen Kofer to Leonna Kent, and from Leonna Kent to the Attorney General, and from the AG to the U.S. Attorney in Kentucky, and we could see the FBI back off. That would leave us with only the Krull thugs to worry about.”

“Is that what this meeting is about? My mother?”

“Professionally, Samantha, not personally, you understand. Have you discussed this with your mother?”

“No, of course not. In fact, I haven’t even thought about discussing it with her. This is out of her league, okay?”

“I don’t think so. We have serious contacts in D.C. and they believe Karen Kofer could help us.”

Samantha was bewildered and at a loss. She looked at Jeff and asked, “Is this why you came to New York? To get my mother involved?”

He quickly replied, “No, this is the first I’ve heard of it. I didn’t even know where your mother worked.” He was as sincere as a little boy being falsely accused, and she believed him.

“I didn’t discuss it with him, Samantha,” London said. “This is coming from our insiders in D.C.”

“Your lobbyists.”

“Yes, of course. Don’t we all have lobbyists? Love ’em or hate ’em, but they know the landscape. I’m afraid you’re taking this too personally. We’re not asking you to ask your mother to get directly involved in a federal investigation, but at the same time we understand how things work. People are people, friends are friends, a quiet word here and there and things can happen. Just think about it, okay?”

Samantha took a deep breath and said, “I’ll consider thinking about it.”

“Thank you.” He stood and stretched his legs again. She glared at Jeff, who was studying his boots. Rather awkwardly, London said, “Now, Jeff, can we discuss the delivery of the documents?”

Samantha jumped to her feet and said, “I’ll see you guys later.”

Jeff grabbed her arm, gently, and said, “Please, Samantha, don’t go. I need your input here.”

She shook free and said, “I’m not a part of your little conspiracy. You boys chat all you want to. You don’t need me. It’s been a pleasure.” She yanked open the door and disappeared.

Jeff caught her in the lobby and they left the hotel together. He apologized, and she assured him she was not upset. She didn’t know Jarrett London, certainly didn’t trust him as a stranger, and wasn’t about to discuss sensitive issues in his presence. They drifted up Fifth Avenue, lost in the crowd, and managed to move the conversation away from anything related to coal. She pointed out the building where her mother was currently living in luxury. She was expected at yet another dinner party there later in the evening, but she had already canceled. She had promised the night to Jeff.

Suspecting that he might not appreciate a three-hour marathon in a four-star restaurant, she avoided the fancy places and got a table at Mas in the West Village. On a frigid night it was the perfect choice—warm and cozy with the ambience of a real French farmhouse. The menu changed daily and was not extensive. Jeff read through it once and confessed he didn’t recognize any of the dishes. A waiter suggested the four-course fixed-price offering for $68, and Samantha agreed. Jeff was appalled at the price, but soon impressed with the food. Shrimp crusted with spaghetti squash, pork and apple sausage, wild striped bass with leek fondue, and a chocolate torte. They drank a bottle of Syrah from the Rhône Valley. When the cheese cart rolled by Jeff almost chased it. Samantha called the waiter over and explained that they would like to add a cheese course, with more wine.

As they waited for the cart, Jeff leaned closer and said, “Will you think about something?”

“I’m not promising anything. I’m not sure I trust you.”

“Thanks. Look, this may sound crazy, and I’ve really struggled with the idea of even mentioning this to you. So, I’m still struggling, but here it is.”

For one horrible split second, Samantha thought he was going to propose marriage. They weren’t even a couple! And she had no plans to get serious. So far they had put sex before any hint of love. Surely, this somewhat rustic mountain boy wasn’t smitten enough to stumble into a proposal.

He wasn’t, but his idea was almost as unsettling. He said, “I own the office building, or I will at some point after probate. I’m also the executor of Donovan’s estate, so I’m in charge of his business. Me, Mattie, and the judge, I guess. You’ve seen the list of his cases; he left a lot of work behind. Mattie will take a few cases, but not many. Her desk is busy enough and it’s not her type of work. What we need is for someone to take over the firm. The estate has the money to hire a lawyer to finish Donovan’s business. Frankly, there’s no one else in the county that we would even consider.”

She was holding her breath, fearing a clumsy proposal, hearing a bizarre suggestion, and when he paused she finally exhaled and said, “Oh boy.”

“You would work closely with Mattie and Annette, and I’ll always be around.”

It wasn’t a complete shock. At least twice Mattie had vaguely broached the idea of hiring a lawyer to wrap up Donovan’s cases. On both occasions, the words sort of hung in the air, but Samantha felt as though they were tossed at her.

She said, “I can think of at least ten reasons why that won’t work.”

“I can think of eleven why it will work,” he shot back with a grin. The cheese cart stopped at the table, its pungent aromas and odors engulfing them. Samantha selected three. Jeff preferred sharp cheddar from the dairy case, but quickly caught on and said he’d take the same ones as Samantha. When the cart rolled away, he said, “You go first. Give me your best reason, and I’ll match it.”

“I’m not qualified.”

“You’re smart as hell and you’re learning fast. With Mattie’s help, you can handle anything. Next.”

“I might be gone in a few months.”

“But you can leave when you want to. There’s no contract requiring you to return here in twelve months. You said yourself that the legal market is saturated and depressed and there are no jobs. Next.”

“I’m not a litigator. Donovan’s firm was all about litigation.”

“You’re twenty-nine years old and you can learn anything. Mattie told me you’re very quick on your feet and already better than most local yokels in the courtroom.”

“Did she really say that?”

“Would I lie?”

“Oh yes.”

“I’m not lying. Next reason.”

“I’ve never handled an appeal, much less an appeal with a big verdict.”

“The lamest one yet. Appeals are all research and paperwork. Piece of cake. Next.”

“I’m a city girl, Jeff. Look around you. This is my life. I can’t survive in Brady.”

“Okay, good point. But who says you have to stay there forever? Give it a go for two or three years, help us get his cases closed and the fees collected. There’s some money out there that I don’t want to lose. Next.”

“Some of his cases could drag on for years. I can’t make that commitment.”

“Then commit to the Tate appeal. That’s eighteen months max. It’ll fly by and we’ll figure out what to do next. Along the way, you can pick and choose other cases that look promising. I’ll help. I’m a pretty good ambulance chaser. Next.”

“I don’t want to deal with Donovan’s widow.”

“You won’t have to, I promise. Mattie and I will take care of Judy. Next.”

She smeared some Camembert on a crostini and took a bite. Chewing, she said, “I don’t want people following me. I don’t like guns.”

“You can practice law without a gun. Look at Mattie. They’re afraid of her. And, like I said, I’ll be close and I’ll protect you. Next.”

She swallowed and took a sip of port. “Okay, here’s one you can’t handle, and there’s no way to say it without being blunt. You and Donovan played by different rules. You stole documents in the Krull Mining case, and I’m sure you’ve cut corners in other cases. I get the feeling that some of the files in that office are, shall we say, contaminated. I want no part of them. The FBI has raided the place once. I’m not going to be there when they raid it again.” “It’s not going to happen, I swear. There’s nothing, other than Krull, to worry about. And I will not jeopardize you or the office. I promise.”

“I don’t completely trust you.”

“Thanks. I’ll earn your trust.”

Another bite of cheese, another sip of port. He was eating too, and waiting. He counted with his fingers and said, “That’s only nine reasons, all of which I have just brilliantly shot down.”

She said, “Okay, number ten, I’m not sure I would get much work done with you around.”

“Good point. You want me to keep my hands off.”

“I didn’t say that. Look at me, Jeff. I’m not in the market for romance, okay? Period. We can fool around all we want, but it’s just for fun. The moment things turn serious, then we’ll have problems.”

He smiled and chuckled and said, “So, let me get this straight. You want to engage in all manner of sexual behavior but without the slightest twinge of commitment. Gee. That’s a tough one. It’s a deal. You win. Look, Samantha, I’m a thirty-two-year-old bachelor and I love being single. You need to understand that Donovan and I were scarred when we were very young. Our parents were miserable and couldn’t stand the sight of each other. It was a war and we were the casualties. To us ‘marriage’ was a dirty word. There’s a reason Donovan and Judy split.”

“Annette said he was quite the tomcat.”

“She should know.”

“I suspected them. For a long time?”

“Who keeps records? And he didn’t tell me everything. Donovan was very private, as you know. Did he put the move on you?”

“No.”

“And if he had?”

“It would have been difficult to say no, I’ll admit.”

“Very few women said no to Donovan, including Annette.”

“Does Mattie know?”

He took a sip of port and glanced around the dining room. “I doubt it. She doesn’t miss much in Brady, but I’m guessing Donovan and Annette were very discreet. If Mattie found out, there would have been complications. She adores Judy and considers Haley a grandchild.”

The waiter stopped by and she asked for the check. Jeff offered to pay for dinner, but she insisted on treating. “You can buy dinner in Brady,” she said. “I’ll pay in New York.”

“Not a bad deal.”

The cheese was gone and the port was disappearing. For a long time they sat and listened to the conversations around them, some in different languages. Jeff smiled and said, “Brady is far away, isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is. Another world, and it’s not mine. I gave you ten reasons, Jeff, and I’m sure I can think of ten more. I won’t be there long, so please try and understand.”

“I understand, Samantha, and I don’t blame you.”