She was going to find out anyway. Still, he hesitated, then decided it would be impossible to soften it. 'They're saying he killed some people.'
'That's the stupidest thing I ever heard. John wouldn't ever kill anybody. He couldn't!'
'I don't think so either.'
'And what you do mean, some?'
'Four.'
'Four? Dad, come on.'
'It's not me, Beck. I don't think he killed anybody, either. But they found some evidence in his house…' He stopped, reached out, and put a hand over hers. 'Look. Beck. I'm going to talk to him today; then I'll have a better idea where we stand. But I didn't want you guys to see the paper this morning, okay? Two of the-'
But her temper was up, and she cut him off. 'What are they saying he did?'
'Well, that's just it. You don't want to know. Not right now.'
'Yes I do!' Suddenly, she pushed back from the table. Her chair fell over and she was on her feet. 'He's my friend, too. You can't censor us like that.'
Hardy knew he sounded like a pathetic adult. Still, he couldn't stop himself. 'It's not censoring, it's…'
'It is, too. Where is it? I want to see.'
'Beck…' He was up, too. 'Please don't…'
But she ran by him, through the kitchen and out to the little anteroom in the back where they stored their recyclables. By the time he got to her, she'd already dug it out from where he'd buried it. She was emitting little whimpering noises, as an injured puppy might. Finally, she turned to him with her hand over her mouth, her eyes overflowing. 'Oh God!' she said. 'Oh God!'
Then Vincent was standing behind them. 'What? What's going on?'
Most of an hour got killed while Hardy dropped his rental and picked up his own car with its new windshield. Again he stopped at the hospital. Again David had not improved.
When he finally arrived at S utter Street, it was close to nine o'clock, normally a bustling hour, but the office had an extremely subdued feel. The reception desk, Phyllis's domain, sat empty. As he stood there, one of the phones started ringing. He just let it go.
The lights in the lobby had yet to be turned on. The door to the office at the far end of the lobby that housed Norma, the office manager, was closed and through the blinds he could see Phyllis in there. She seemed to be wiping at her eyes. The Solarium was empty. No secretaries were gossiping by the coffee machine/Xerox area. Hardy took a few steps so he could see down the hallway, and was relieved to see people-secretaries and paralegals-at their desks, but most of the doors to the associates' cubicles seemed to be closed. People were hunkering down, lying low.
One of the doors was open in the long hallway on the main floor, and he walked down to it and looked inside. Amy Wu was at her desk, scribbling furiously on a yellow legal pad. Hardy knocked on the door and she looked up, smiling feebly out of politeness. 'Hi. How's David?'
'The same, I'm sorry to report. It's pretty quiet out here.'
'Is it? I haven't noticed. Jon-my paralegal?-he called in sick so I've been running pages to word processing all morning. I've got this memo that needs to be filed today, so-' Suddenly she stopped, put her pencil all the way down. 'I'm sorry. Who cares, right? How are you doing? What happened to your hand?'
He held it up. 'Stupid accident. Me, I'm trying to get motivated to go upstairs and face some work.'
'Join the club. I think I'm the only one down here who's been able to get going on anything, and that's only because I'd fire myself if I was late on this filing after all the work I've already done.' She motioned with her head. 'Everybody else… well, you noticed.'
He nodded. 'I can't blame anybody. I feel the same way.' He paused, took a breath, came out with it. 'But I wonder if I could ask you a favor.'
'Then you'll owe me one, but sure. What is it?'
'Could you could keep an eye out down here, give me a call when people start coming out their door, getting back to work?' At her questioning look, he added, 'I was hoping I could tap some of the talent down here. I need some people in a hurry if we want to keep up with depositions on Panos. We're talking megahours.'
Something was going on in Wu's brain. Her eyes narrowed; then she nodded. 'Sure. First sign of life, I'll buzz you.'
'Thanks. In fact, after you're done with your memo, maybe…'
But she was shaking her head no. 'I can't, Diz. I'm overwhelmed, especially if David's out for a while. I've got to call Jon at home though. It just occurred to me, if he's not really sick, if he just decided this was a sinking ship…' She stopped and sighed heavily. 'If he dies, then what? Is all this keeping up with his work just me being stupid?'
'He's still got clients, Amy. They're still going to need good lawyers. That's what David's been training you for, isn't it? It's why I need a few bodies around here. David or no David, Panos is going to be huge.'
'So you're really going ahead on that?'
'I really am.' He narrowed his eyes. 'Of course I am. Why would you even ask that?'
'No reason, really.' But after wrestling with herself for a minute, she came out with it. 'I've just heard some rumors around here that that's why David got beat up, that it had to do with Panos, with scaring him off. Evidently, David himself mentioned something about it to Graham, talking about his bullet-proof self of course. Now, with this-everybody's heard it by now-so even if you're assigning billable hours, people might be a little reluctant, especially with you not really in the firm.'
This was the first time Hardy had run up against this question. He'd always considered his irregular status vis-a-vis Freeman amp; Associates an unalloyed good thing. He was merely the upstairs tenant and friend of the firm's owner, and as such was neither fish nor fowl-not associate, not partner, not even Of Counsel, and a bit of a loose cannon at that. He loved the freedom of it, the independence. When David threw him work, he was often happy to take it.
But now he wondered if he could successfully assign it back to the formal associates, who in David's long- term absence (to say nothing of his death) might be out pounding the pavement for work before too long.
Among the associates, Hardy thought he could count on Graham Russo, who had once been his client and with whom he still had a good personal relationship. And maybe, in a week or more-after she worked down her current load-he might be able to use Amy. But other help from among David's legions was problematic at best. And if David died, the ancillary support-Norma and Phyllis and the secretaries and paralegals who worked with the other associates-would all dry up overnight. With his limited resources, Hardy wouldn't stand a chance.
He could promise all the billable hours in the world, but none of the associates would be laboring under any illusion. Since it was a contingency lawsuit, if they didn't win, those hours would be written off. And what could he pay them in the meanwhile? Hardy couldn't float an island of suits, betting on the come, the way Freeman could.
The Panos lawsuit would be over before it began.
It was a morning of first revelations. Aside from his realization about the tenuousness of his position among the associates, for the first time it struck him how effective the violence against Freeman had been. Was. Especially if he didn't survive. Far from being the blunt instrument it had first appeared to be, the mugging was effectively a scalpel that separated him both from the lawsuit and the other associates.
For the sad truth was that Hardy alone had no power in the Panos matter. The plaintiffs were all the clients of David Freeman, not Dismas Hardy. Some he hadn't even met. Hardy wasn't any kind of real player, any kind of significant danger or threat to Panos, but merely a fly to be flicked away without a second thought. The realization washed over him like an acid bath. He must have shown it.
'Diz? Are you all right?'
He flashed a false grin. 'Fine,' he said. 'I'm fine. I'm just thinking about how to do all I've got today. If Norma comes out of her office, would you ask her to please give me a call?'
Hardy's office was one flight up from the lobby, the only occupied room on the third floor. He took the stairs two at a time. His office door was closed, but a light shone under it from within. He stopped short of the opening, heard a quiet and dull but unmistakable thud, then after a moment, another one-someone was pounding something
