property-”
He paused for a split second, looking at my suit jacket. He’d spotted the holster. In his line of work, he had to be aware of things like that.
“I said get out.”
“By court order you are also required to surrender to Katherine Boyer the deed to your residence on Old Post Road. By court order you are required to transfer to the bank account listed in these papers an amount of no less than twenty million dollars for Katherine Boyer’s expenses while the divorce settlement is negotiated. By court order you are prohibited from any communication with the following people-Jacob Rosenberg, Nathan Kern, Stanley Morton, or any employees or agents of those individuals or organizations they are associated with. By court order-”
“Get out or I will kill you.”
He shrugged. There was a limit to his tenacity, and he’d said enough. He turned and walked out.
Pamela was beside herself.
“I’m so sorry, Jason. I couldn’t do anything.”
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”
I didn’t have time for the rage. I soothed Pamela and then called Jacob Rosenberg.
“What do the court orders say?” He was incredulous.
I read them again.
“Who’s the judge?”
“Walter Willis.”
“Okay, no problem,” he said. “That’s Harry Bright’s cousin. It’s twelve thirty… I’ll have them all struck down by one o’clock- except the first one about selling or liquidating. Your wife has a right to that injunction.”
“Find a judge who’ll cancel it anyway,” I said. “Are any of your cousins judges?”
“Two of my uncles are, actually, but they’re both in Boston. They couldn’t make it stick anyway. It would get immediately reinstated.”
“I was joking.”
33
Some amount of time passed. I only knew that because the sun was at a different angle than it had been. I could only think about Katie, and they were thoughts that couldn’t be put into words. Only that we’d each made our decision and we had not chosen each other.
“Jason,” Pamela said. “I’m sorry. Stan Morton just offered me five thousand dollars if I could get you to talk to him.”
“Take it,” I said.
“I didn’t mean… I just thought I should tell you how desperate he was.”
“Then we’ll split it. I’ll talk to him.” I picked up my phone.
“Stan.”
“Jason. Tell me this is not true. Your wife is filing for divorce?”
“It’s true.”
“No.”
This was how the fox would feel with the hounds everywhere. “I’m not allowed to talk to you anyway.”
“The court already overturned that order.”
Right. It was one thirty. “I said I’ll talk to you tomorrow. It sounds like you know everything anyway.”
“The world is going to know by this evening. What is going on?”
“I don’t know anymore.” And I hung up.
It was the dog’s day. Pamela was at the door again. “Jacob Rosen-berg is on hold.”
“Okay.”
I left him on hold while I put my head down in my hands. What had I been expecting anyway? That everyone would just smile and give me a hug? What was I doing here?
“This is Jason Boyer.”
“We’re stopped. There are five lawsuits against you so far.”
“What lawsuits?”
“By stockholders. They claim you’re devaluing their stock by your attacks on the governor. We can’t do anything with your stock until they’re thrown out.”
“Then get them thrown out.”
“It’ll take time, and I’ve only got so many people here.”
“If you need more people, get them.”
“Yes, sir. And your wife’s injunction against selling or liquidating is still in force. Whoever is advising her knows they have the trump card.”
“Do whatever it takes.”
I hung up. What had I been reading weeks ago? It had been Bleak House by Charles Dickens, where there are so many lawsuits over a dead man’s estate that the whole thing is eaten up by the lawyers’ fees. The villain in that book was a lawyer.
“I’m still not here,” I said to Pamela, “and I will be gone for a few minutes.”
Down twelve floors.
I’d missed the first part of the thug’s attack on my office, the part where he pushed past the secretary. So at Fred’s office, I reenacted it.
His secretary looked up from her desk as I came through the outer door and she reacted fast, pushing buttons and scrambling out of her chair.
“Mr. Spellman is with clients,” she said and planted herself between me and the inner door, so I would have to physically shove her aside to get to it. No problem. I got to it and threw it open.
There they were-what a spectacle.
Katie was in the big chair. I only saw her shoulder and brown hair, which I’d recognize anywhere. She was wearing a dark purple-and-black dress I remembered from the day we’d looked through the new house. No pearls. She didn’t turn.
Eric did. He was on the sofa and he started, guilty as Benedict Arnold, his eyes and mouth wide open.
“Jason…” he said.
But my attention was on Fred at his desk, the source of all evil.
“Stop it,” I said.
“I am stopping you. And you are intruding.”
“And you are fat,” I said.
“And you are an imbecile. Now get out.”
“That’s what I said when your man came to my office a few hours ago, but he wouldn’t. He just kept talking. ‘The court orders you to give her money,”’ I mimicked the man’s voice, right into her ear. “‘The court orders you to give her the house.’ I might have given you the house to get it over with, but not now.”
“Jenny,” Fred said into his intercom, “call the police.” To me, “I know better than to ask you to negotiate. You’ve proven you can’t, one of your many flaws.”
“And you,” I said to Katie. She didn’t turn. “Three years we’ve been married, and one day is all it takes?”
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She was shaking, staring ahead into space.
“Get out,” Fred said.
I was back to Fred. “I’m not ready yet. As corrupt and rotten as you are, it’s not enough. You have to pull them in and destroy them, too.”
“As long as your wife’s divorce suit against you stands, you are prevented from doing further damage,” Fred said. “Fortunately she understands the importance of that.”
“And she understands the importance of money. How much did he promise you, dear?”
