"You bet they did. Especially after they found out about the bucks Steven Page had."
"Ed Page have an alibi?"
"A pretty damn good one. As you know, he was a police officer back then. He was working a drug bust with a squad of officers on the Lower East Side when his little brother was dying."
"The police ask Ed Page about the earlier phone conversation?"
"He said his brother was distraught. Steven told him about having HIV. Ed Page said his brother sounded like he had already been drinking."
"He didn't try to go see him?"
"He said he wanted to, but his brother wanted no part of that. Finally hung up on him. Ed Page tried calling back, but there was no answer. He had to go on duty at nine. He said he'd thought he'd let his brother alone for the night and then try to talk to him the next day. He didn't get off duty until ten A.M. He grabbed a few hours' sleep and then went to his brother's office downtown around three.
When he found out Steven had never come to work, he went directly over to his brother's apartment. He got there about the time the police did."
"Jesus. I bet he was feeling some heavy-duty guilt."
"If that had been my little brother..." Jackson said. "Damn.
Anyway, they ruled it a suicide. All the facts sure point that way."
Sawyer rose and started pacing. "And yet with all that, Ed Page didn't think it was suicide. I wonder why."
Jackson shrugged. "Wishful thinking. Maybe he was really feeling guilty and made himself think that so he'd feel better. Who knows? NYPD didn't find any evidence of foul play, and looking at this report, neither do I."
Sawyer didn't answer. He was in deep thought.
Jackson took the report on Steven Page and put it back in the file.
He looked over at Sawyer. "Find anything at Page's office?"
Sawyer focused absently on his partner. "No. But I did find something interesting at his house." He put a hand inside his suit pocket and extracted the photograph labeled "Stevie." He handed the photograph to Jackson. "Interesting, because it was kind of hidden behind some other photo. I'm pretty sure it's a picture of Steven Page."
As soon as Jackson's eyes came to rest on the photo, his mouth dropped open. "Oh, my God!" He rose from his chair. "Oh, my God!" he said again, his voice rising, his hands violently shaking as they clasped the photo. "This can't be--it's not possible."
Sawyer grabbed his shoulder. "Ray, Ray? What the hell is it?"
Jackson ran to another table in the room. He frantically grabbed files, scanned them before tossing them down and snatching up others, his movements becoming more and more frenetic. Finally he stopped, a file open in his hand, his eyes glued to something in the mass of papers within.
Sawyer was beside him in an instant. "Dammit, Ray, what is it?"
he said fiercely.
In response, Jackson handed over to his partner an object from the file. Sawyer stared down at the photo in disbelief. In a different pose, the too-handsome face of Steven Page looked back at him.
Sawyer grabbed the photo he had taken from Ed Page's apartment off the table where Jackson had dropped it and looked at the picture again. His eyes swung back to the file photo. There was no doubt, it was the same man in both photos.
A wide-eyed Sawyer looked at Jackson. "Where did you get this photo, Ray?" he asked very slowly, his voice hardly above a whisper.
Jackson licked his lips nervously; his head swayed from side to side. "I can't believe this."
"Where, Ray, where?"
"Arthur Lieberman's apartment."
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Subj: Fwd: Not me.
Date: 95-11-26 08:41:52 EST
From: ArchieJW2 To: ArchieJW2 Dear Other Archie: Watch your typing. By the way do you often send mail to yourself? Message a little melodramatic but a nice password nonetheless. Maybe we can talk encryption techniques. Heard one of the best around is the Secret Service's racal-milgo. See you in Cyberspace. Ciao.
Forwarded Message:
Subj: Not me Date: 95-11-19 10:30:06 PST
From: ArchieJW2 To: ArchieKW2 sid all wrong all backwards/disk in mai1099121.19822.
29629.295111.39614 seattlewarehouse-get help hurry! Sidney stared at the computer screen; her mind alternated between racing out of control and threatening to shut down. She had been right, though. Jason had mistyped, had hit the k instead of the j.
Thank you, ArchieKW2, whoever you are. Fisher had also been right about the password--almost thirty characters long. She assumed that's what the numbers represented: the password.
Her heart sank as she looked at the date of the original message.
Her husband had implored her to hurry. There was nothing she could have done about it, and yet she had an overwhelming sense of having let him down. She printed out the single page and put it in her pocket. At least she would finally be able to read what was on the disk. Her adrenaline soared with the thought.
It abruptly went even higher as the sound of someone entering the library reached her ears. She carefully exited the program and turned off the computer. Her hands were shaking as she put the disk back in her purse. She waited for additional sounds, her breath coming in shallow bursts, one hand on the butt of her pistol.
When a sound came from her right, she slipped out of the chair, bent low and proceeded to move quietly to her left. She rounded a corner and stopped. Staring her in the face was a bookshelf of volumes she had spent much of law school and her first years in practice poring over. She looked through a gap in their ranks at the man in the shadows. She could not make out his face. She didn't dare move farther for fear of making any noise. Then the man started to come directly toward her. Her grip tightened on the Smith & Wesson; her index finger clicked off the safety. She pulled it from the holster as she backed away. Crouching low, she made her way behind a partition, her ears straining for any sound as she desperately tried to think of a way out. The problem was there was only one doorway leading into the library. Her only chance was to circle around, trying to keep a little ahead of whoever was out there until she reached the doorway and could run like hell. A bank of elevators was right down the hallway. If she could make it.
She proceeded to move a few feet and wait, then repeated the process. She had to assume she was making enough noise for the man to hear her but not in a manner, she felt, for him to gauge her strategy. The footsteps from behind matched her maneuvers almost perfectly. That should have been enough to set off alarm bells in her head. She was almost at the doorway and could actually see the frosted glass in the dim light. She gathered her strength and nerve to take a few more steps, and then she would make her run. Five more feet. Now she was almost at the exit. Flattened against the wall, she slowly began to count to three.
She never made it past one.
The bright lights blinded her. By the time she refocused, the man was right next to her. Pupils dilating, she instinctively swung the pistol in his direction.
"My God, have you lost your mind?" Philip Goldman blinked rapidly to adjust to the new level of brightness.
Sidney gaped at him.
"What the devil do you mean, sneaking in here like this? With a gun, no less?"
Sidney stopped shaking and straightened up. "I'm a partner in this firm, Philip. I have every right to be here." Her voice was trembling, but she met his gaze forcefully.
Goldman's voice was sneering. "Not for long, though." He withdrew an envelope from his inner pocket. "Actually, this will save the firm the cost of a messenger." He held out the envelope to Sidney.
"Your termination from the firm. If you would kindly just sign it now, it would save everyone a great deal of trouble and rid the firm of an enormous embarrassment."
Sidney did not take the envelope but kept her eyes and the pistol on Goldman.
Goldman fingered the envelope before glancing at the pistol.
"Would you mind putting away that gun before you add additional crimes to your resume?"
"I haven't done a damn thing, and you know it." She spat the words out.
Goldman rolled his eyes. "Of course. I'm sure you were entirely ignorant of your loving husband's nefarious schemes."
"Jason hasn't done anything wrong either."
"Well, I'm not going to argue with you while you have a firearm pointed at me. Would you please put it away?"
Finally Sidney began to lower the 9mm. Then something occurred to her. Who had turned on the lights? Goldman hadn't been anywhere near a switch.
Before she had time to react, a strong hand gripped her arm and the pistol was violently jerked from her. A powerful force slammed into her and she was thrown up against a wall. She sank down to the floor, her head splitting with pain from the impact. When she looked up, a burly man dressed in a black chauffeur's uniform stood over her, pointing her own pistol at her head. From behind the gunman, another man appeared.
"Hello, Sid. Gotten anymore phone calls from dead husbands lately?" Paul Brophy laughed.
Shaking, Sidney managed to stand up and lean against the wall while she tried to get her breath back.
Goldman looked over at the burly man. "Good work, Parker. You can go get the car. We'll be down in a few minutes."
Parker nodded and put Sidney's pistol in his coat pocket. She noted that he carried a holstered gun of his own. Much to her dismay, he picked up her purse from the floor where it had fallen during the brief struggle and strode off.
"You've been following me!"
"I like to know the after-hours comings and goings at the firm: an electronic tap on the entry system to the building. I was quite pleased when I saw your name come over the log at one-thirty ^.M."
He looked at the shelves of legal tomes. "Doing some legal research, or perhaps following your husband's example and trying to steal some secrets?" Sidney would have hit Goldman flush in the face with her fist if Paul Brophy hadn't been too quick for her.
Goldman was unruffled. "Perhaps now we can get down to business." Sidney made a move to lunge through the doorway; Brophy blocked her way, however, pushing her back into the library. Sidney stared a hole through him. "Going from partner in a major firm to burglary in a New Orleans hotel is a big swing, Paul." Brophy's smile disappeared.
Sidney looked over at Goldman. "If I scream right now, someone might hear me."
Goldman responded coolly. "Actually, Sidney, you may have forgotten, but all attorneys and paraleagls left earlier today for the firm's annual conference in Florida. They won't be back for several days. Unfortunately, I was called away on unexpected business and have to take an early morning flight down. Paul had a similar predicament. Everyone else is in attendance." He glanced at his watch. "Thus you can scream all you want. However, actually you have every reason to work with us."
Her eyes turned to slits, Sidney looked at both men. "What are you talking about?"
"This conversation might best be carried on in my office." Goldman motioned toward the door and then produced a small-caliber revolver of his own to reinforce the request.
Brophy closed and locked the office door. Goldman handed the gun to him and sat down behind his desk. He motioned for Sidney to sit across from him. "It's certainly been an exciting month for you, Sidney." He produced the termination letter again. "However, I'm afraid your recent excesses have resulted in your tenure at this firm coming to an end. I wouldn't be surprised if the firm and Triton Global instituted civil litigation against you. Possibly criminal action as well."
Sidney's eyes now bored in on Goldman. "You're holding me against my will at gunpoint and you're telling me to worry about criminal action?"
"Paul and I, both partners in this firm, observe someone, an intruder, in the firm's library doing God knows what. We attempt to apprehend said suspect and what does she do? She pulls a gun on us.
We're able to wrestle the gun away, fortunately, before anyone is hurt, and now we are detaining that intruder until the police arrive."
"Police?"
"Oh, that's right, I haven't called the police yet, have I? How absentminded of me." Goldman reached for the phone, lifted the receiver and then sat back in his chair without dialing. "Oh, now I remember why I haven't called them." His tone was goading.
"Would you like to know the reason?" Sidney didn't answer. "You're a deal lawyer, Sidney. Well, what if I were to propose a deal to you?
A way for you to not only remain at liberty but also derive some economic gain, since you now happen to be unemployed."
"Tyler, Stone isn't the only firm in town, Phil."
Goldman winced at the abbreviation of his name. "Well, actually, in your case that's not quite correct. You see, as far as you're concerned, there are no firms left. Not here, not anywhere in this country, perhaps the world."
Sidney's face betrayed her confusion.
"Let's be rational, Sid." Goldman's eyes gleamed momentarily as he
returned the verbal joust. "Your husband is suspected of sabotaging a plane, resulting in the murder of almost two hundred people.
On top of that it's clear he stole money and secrets worth hundreds of millions of dollars from a client of this firm. Obviously these crimes were planned over a long period of time."
"I haven't heard you mention my name yet in this ridiculous scenario."
"You had high-level access to Triton Global's most important records, perhaps records to which even your husband wasn't privy."
"That was part of my job. That doesn't make it criminal."
"As they are fond of saying in legal circles, and as is embodied in the Canon of Ethics, even the 'appearance of an impropriety' must be avoided. I think that you long ago overstepped that boundary."
"How? By losing my husband? By being railroaded out of my job without a scintilla of proof? Why don't we talk about lawsuits for a minute? Like Sidney Archer versus Tyler, Stone for wrongful termination?"
Goldman looked over at Brophy and nodded slightly. Sidney turned her head to look at him. Her chin began to tremble when she saw the minicassette recorder emerge from his pocket.
"These things come in so handy, Sid," said Brophy. "Record so clear it's as if you were right there in the same room." He hit the play button.
After a minute of listening to her conversation with her husband, Sidney whirled back around to face Goldman. "What the hell do you want?"
"Well, let's see. I suppose we must first establish market price.
What is that tape worth? It establishes that you lied to the FBI. A felony in itself. Then there's aiding and abetting a felon. Accessory after the fact. Another nasty one. The list goes on from there. Neither of us is a criminal lawyer, but I think you get the picture. Father gone, mother in jail. Your little girl is how old? Tragic." He shook his head in mock sympathy.
Sidney jumped out of her chair. "Fuck you, Goldman. Fuck you both." Sidney screamed the words in uncontrollable fury. Then she lunged across the desk, gripped Goldman's throat with both hands and would have done him serious damage had Brophy not come once again to the older man's rescue.
Goldman, coughing and gagging, looked furiously at Sidney as soon as she was pulled off. "You ever touch me again, you'll rot in jail," he sputtered.
Breathing hard, Sidney stared wildly at the man. She flung off Brophy's restraining hand but did not move as he kept the gun trained on her. Goldman smoothed down his tie and ruffled shirt and reassumed his confident tone. "Despite your crude reaction, I am actually prepared to be quite generous with you. If you would look at the matter rationally, you would be compelled to accept the offer I'm about to make to you." He cocked his head at her and glanced down at the chair.
Shaking and breathing irregularly, Sidney finally sat back down.
"Good. Now, as succinctly as possible, here is the situation: I know that you have spoken with Roger Egert, who is now in charge of the CyberCom matter. You are privy to Triton's latest proposal regarding the CyberCom acquisition. This I also know to be fact. Now you are also still in possession of the password to the master computer file for the CyberCom transaction." Sidney looked dully at Goldman as her thoughts jumped ahead of his words. "I want both the latest terms of the proposal and the password to the computer file, just in case there are any last-minute changes in Triton's negotiation position."
Sidney's tone was slow, deliberate, her breathing now returned to normal. "RTG must really want CyberCom if they're paying you something other than your hourly rate to violate attorney-client privilege, not to mention stealing corporate secrets."
Goldman merely continued: "In return we are prepared to pay you