Part 14 (2/2)

He'd given her a list of contacts in case anything happened to him. Noelle DeRicci. Bartholomew Nyquist. Even her mother's old attorney, Celestine Gonzalez.

But none of them were good enough to handle a crisis of this magnitude. ”I think,” he said after a moment, ”that we both need to be responsible for our own safety. If you feel better hiring someone, go ahead.”

”What are you going to do?” Van Alen asked.

”Until I know that we're targets,” he said, ”I'm going to take care of myself.”

”And Talia?”

”For now, I'll keep her with me.” He didn't know what else to do. ”And if it turns out that someone is after us, too?” Van Alen asked.

”I don't know,” he said. He needed time to think about that. He supposed all the options that he had once presented to Ki Bowles were now on his table.

He could hire guards. Or he could Disappear. Or he could find some kind of compromise-if he believed a compromise possible.

”Let me do the research,” he said. ”Well, I'm going to act like I could die at any moment,” Van Alen said. ”That's probably sensible,” he said. He would do the same. And he would tell Talia about the risks. For now, that was the best he could do.

19.

Sixty-five client contacts so far, and those were just the ones Justinian Wagner knew about. Of those sixty-five, three had pulled their business from Wagner, Stuart, and Xendor, threatening to sue the law firm if they weren't allowed to leave.

Six more had demanded copies of their confidential files sent over a secure link. Once they received those files, he knew, they would demand that the firm destroy the copies they held. It was a smarter, more organized way to fire WSX.

He remained at his desk, handling the most important cases from there. So far he had cajoled twenty of their top clients to remain.

He even had a speech: At this point, it's just innuendo and speculation. We've already filed an injunction against Ki Bowles and Upstart Productions. They won't be able to run any more stories. We'll be going after her in court. Even if she has access to confidential material-and frankly, I have no idea how she could-then we shall get it back from her, whatever that takes, and enjoin her from ever speaking about it. At this point, it's just innuendo and speculation. We've already filed an injunction against Ki Bowles and Upstart Productions. They won't be able to run any more stories. We'll be going after her in court. Even if she has access to confidential material-and frankly, I have no idea how she could-then we shall get it back from her, whatever that takes, and enjoin her from ever speaking about it.

And if that didn't pacify the client, he added this: No court is going to allow a law firm's confidential files to remain in the hands of a reporter. The attorney-client privilege is a sacrosanct premise of law throughout the Earth Alliance. No court is going to allow that to be violated, no matter how the violation happened.

A few clients hadn't been satisfied with that, and for them, he played part of Bowles's report. The part where she promised but did not deliver on what she would show.

She probably got some of that from disgruntled former employees who, by talking with her, have bankrupted themselves. She will get no more information, and we can only a.s.sume that what she has is gossip and innuendo. Reporters always magnify the importance of their evidence to make their stories seem even more important. This reporter was fired from her last position for improperly handling evidence on a high-level story. She nearly brought down the Chief of Security for the United Domes of the Moon at a time that would have threatened the Moon's security just by doing so. This reporter is a loose cannon. No one will believe anything she says.

Except, so far, nine of his important clients, and probably more who hadn't even contacted him yet. Wagner put his head in his hands. The partners wanted a meeting to figure out how to handle the crisis. He didn't. Not yet. He was hoping he could cajole clients out of their anger and fear. Of course, to do that, he would have to cajole himself first.

If Bowles did have access to the kind of confidential material that she claimed to have, then she knew a lot of harmful secrets-not just for his clients, but for WSX as well. And no matter what he said about the woman, she was good at her work.

He stood, his stomach queasy. The damage to his firm had just begun. The sixty-five clients were merely the first to respond. He had no idea how clients of the subsidiary firms in the rest of the known universe were responding to this story-or how they would respond to future stories.

The cost to WSX's reputation was phenomenal, but the financial cost would be even worse. And then there was the malpractice vulnerabilities, particularly with some of the cases his parents had handled.

Not to mention the criminal liability on dozens, maybe hundreds of cases. He made himself breathe. He hadn't lied to his clients. He could quash this.

WSX could survive rumors so long as they remained only that-rumors. His biggest worry was that in the public mind the rumors would become fact.

And once that happened, his firm would lose all of the power that it had ever had.

20.

Fifteen minutes with her sons. That was all Romey had managed. She'd gotten home long enough to program a meal, serve it, take a bite, and leave.

Her sons were used to it. She doubted she would ever be.

She would have found another fifteen minutes if it weren't for Gumiela's apologetic message on her links.

I'm going to have to put another lead on your case. Seems your case might be tied to another, and he's already well under way in that investigation. Please brief him when he arrives at the scene.

Not only was the message vague; it was cowardly. Gumiela could have contacted Romey directly. Instead, she chose to leave the message-without the name of the new lead detective on the case. Now anyone could come in and claim Romey's case and she would have no say in it.

She had saved the message and scurried back to the scene, fortunately arriving before the new lead detective had.

The techs still weren't finished. Before Romey left, they had established that Whitford's was the only dead body in the house. No one knew yet whether Whitford lived alone or whether he had family.

She had planned to run an information feed on him while she ate and listened to her sons' tales of school, but she hadn't had time for that. And she didn't want the feed still running when she got back to the crime scene.

Tech vehicles littered the long drive leading to the Whitford estate. A few street cops guarded the scene, mostly shooing gogglers and the occasional reporter away from the area.

She got out of her own air car and trudged down the long path that twisted and turned its way into the estate. She already had the techs check out the path, knowing that everyone who visited this place would have to use it.

One squad, parked near the front gate, had a person in it. The employee who had let the techs inside. She felt a lurch in her stomach. In her haste to get home to the boys, she had forgotten her only witness. And she wanted to interview this employee before the new lead detective came on the scene. She opened the door on the front pa.s.senger side and sat down. A see-through screen rose between her and the witness, a young man with frightened eyes and blotchy skin.

”My links don't work in here,” he said somewhat tearfully, which surprised her. ”Can I at least let my boss know where I am so I don't get fired?”

He didn't just look young; he was was young. Romey almost smiled. But she didn't dare. She didn't want to lose control of this interview before it really started. young. Romey almost smiled. But she didn't dare. She didn't want to lose control of this interview before it really started.

”I thought that was your boss inside the house,” she said.

”Technically.” The boy-she couldn't quite think of him as a man, even though he probably had ten years on her fourteen-year-old-sniffled. ”I mean, he's the boss of the whole company, but I've never met him before.”

He ran a hand over his nose. At that moment, she decided to play this one motherly. She reached into her pocket and removed some tissue. Then she shut off the screen for just a moment and handed the tissue across.

He took it without touching her or reaching through the screen. That almost convinced her to keep the screen down.

Almost. ”What's your name, son?” she asked. He sniffled again. ”Parthalan Gimble.”

She almost smiled again. The name was too much for such a sorry creature. ”And what do they call you, Parthalan?”

”Lan,” he said.

Of course. Maybe he was as hapless as he seemed. ”Okay, Lan. Tell me why you're here.” ”They put me in the squad and told me to wait. I've been here at least ninety minutes and no one's even checked up on me-”

”I know,” she said soothingly. ”I'm sorry. We've been dealing with the crime scene. We should have talked with you earlier. Do you need some food or a bathroom?”

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