“Does anyone accept responsibility?” Penelope asks.
Good question. Whoever takes the rap can probably say good-bye to a future in the aviation industry.
Cumming shrugs. “Given the mountain of evidence that is coming to light against them, it’s clear that R & B has to.”
Well, that explains what this is all about. AAA Avgas stays in business. Windy City, too… assuming the rich pricks want to keep playing around in the air-tourism business. Rick and Billy—the only defendants in the case who need the work and love aviation—will find themselves cast into the wilderness without a pot to piss in.
“So, you want to pin the whole mess on our client,” I say.
“Our clients can’t be shown to be liable,” Daniels blurts.
The implications of his statement escape me, at least until I sense Penelope tense at my side.
“Your clients?” she asks sharply while Cumming glares at Daniels. Then, with barely constrained venom, she adds, “and here we thought Senator Milton was your client in this matter. You’re representing AAA Avgas, as well? Or is it Windy City? Maybe both?”
Daniels is wearing a deer-in-the-headlights expression.
“Can we say conflict of interest?” Penelope asks sharply.
“Does the good senator even know about this conversation?” I ask Cumming. I’m having difficulty coming to terms with the notion that a firm as storied as Butterworth Cole could be involved in something so slimy—and I’ve developed a decidedly jaundiced view of the state of business ethics.
“Of course, he does!” Cumming splutters unconvincingly.
The snake!
Penelope wags an admonishing finger at the other end of the conference table while her eyes settle on Daniels. “I think that’s going to turn out to be a very damaging gaffe, Matty.”
I sense Daniels’s career flashing before his eyes as he reddens and shoots a terrified sideways glance at his boss. The murderous expression on Herbert Cumming’s face suggests that those fears are well placed. Daniels’s young colleagues look almost as frightened as he does. I meet his gaze and lift my water glass in a little toast before taking a sip.
Penelope slowly rises to her feet and, in a parody of Herbert Cumming’s earlier pretentious professorial performance, begins to pace slowly around our end of the table. “Another mistake you folks seem to be making is to assume that you’re the only people with sources inside the NTSB investigation and law enforcement.” Her eyes settle on Cumming. “Of course, to those of us who are familiar with Butterworth Cole’s leadership, that level of hubris isn’t unexpected.”
To my surprise, the possibility that we might have our own conduits of information seems to blindside Cumming and company. Although it might be working to our benefit at the moment, their lack of regard for the legal juggernaut known as Brooks and Valenti rankles. Penelope has stopped pacing and is glaring at Cumming as if she’s having the same thought.
I slap both palms down on the tabletop and fix what I hope is a shrewd smile on my face. “You’d just love to wish away any questions about how a novice pilot named Megan Walton happened to be at the controls of that aircraft on September eighth, wouldn’t you?”
Cumming looks as if he’s about to wet his pants, not exactly the expression one expects from an arrogant senior partner of a prestigious Chicago law firm.
I channel Ben Larose. “Poor Megan was marginally rated in that aircraft—perhaps not even that. Her instructor is a pretty sketchy guy, so who knows how that rating came about, huh? Then there’s the apparent nepotism involved in her landing the gig at Uncle Jonathan’s company to consider. What does Senator Milton make of that?”
“Probably nothing,” Penelope sneers. “His attorneys probably haven’t told him about any of this.”
“Unless he has sources that are keeping him apprised of the NTSB investigation,” I say, tag teaming with my partner while my eyes bore into Cumming. “Think that’s a possibility, what with him being a senator and all?”
Penelope fixes Cumming in her sights and once again demonstrates a mastery of the law and legal research that I can only aspire to. “Did you put in the time and effort to do a deep dive into the corporate structure of your client?” Before he can answer, she adds, with exquisite sarcasm, “Oh, I’m sorry, I should have specified which of your clients I’m referencing. I’m talking about Windy City Sky Tours.”
Cumming seems to have recovered his poker face as he stares back at her without uttering a word. His young flunkies are going to have to work on perfecting their poker faces. With the exception of Matty Daniels, their wide eyes and surprised little O-shaped mouths suggest they can’t believe what their fearless leader has been up to. Daniels appears to be the only one who knew.
“There’s that hubris again, Herbert,” Penelope scoffs with a smile that is anything but a pleasant expression. Her eyes track between him and his acolytes. “None of you remembers the dangers of hubris from Greek mythology?”
Nobody replies. Cumming is staring at her with open hostility. The others are simply afraid. I stifle a chuckle. She is so kicking their asses.
Penelope braces her hands on the edge of the conference table and stares hard at our cowed adversaries. “Your friends, clients, or whatever they are—Jonathan Walton, Caitlyn Tyson, and Oliver Franklin—were pretty clever in their bid to shield their personal assets from any legal jeopardy arising out of the operations of Windy City. I imagine that’s why Walton is cocky enough to trust that his lawyers have succeeded in erecting an impenetrable force shield around him and his pals, huh?” She pauses while a thought seems to occur to her. “There’s that hubris thing again. Hmmm. Maybe that’s why you’re all in bed together? Shared hubris.”
I’m not sure exactly where she’s
