Paradise: The Masters of The Order Novel Two (41 page)

Getting a read on his son was more difficult. Blake was handsome - tall, wavy light brown hair, pale blue eyes - and soft spoken, but she didn’t trust him either. Not with his reputation. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Blake was known for his wild side. Nothing was denied a man like him and he felt no compunction about indulging. Good looks, charm and trouble with a capital “T,” a guy like him may be appealing to many, but she preferred something a bit more tame.

“Good morning, gentlemen.”

Blake smiled. Joe Lee shifted his eyes without expression.

“You can proceed as planned, Alex. Joe Lee, Blake and I had another matter to discuss earlier and they decided to stay rather than go back to the hotel before our afternoon session.” Buddy Rae gave her a pointed stare as if to say,
Don’t ask
.

She didn’t.

“That’s right, just ignore lil’ ole me. I dare ya,” Blake chimed in with playful mirth.

“I never lose a dare, Mr. Hartnell,” she replied with a touch a coy and turned her eyes deliberately away from him.

Was she above using feminine wiles? With a guy like Blake Hartnell?
Can y’all say, “hell no.”

“We will be going over Dr. Raffle’s testimony, but please feel free to lend your thoughts as we go.” Alessandra laid her files on the table and turned to Dr. Raffle, JLH’s top petroleum engineer and the inventor of the intellectual property that was central to this case. “Dr. Raffle, if you wouldn’t mind running through your opening presentation for us.”

Dr. Raffle shifted forward and eased his glasses off his face before launching into the speech Alessandra had written for him. A brilliant man with mind for science and not law, he recited her words robotically and she mouthed them along with him.

When he finished, Alessandra said, “Thank you, Doctor,” and scanned Buddy Rae’s face for a reaction. He seemed to approve so she moved on. “I apologize in advance, Dr. Raffle, but I want you to treat me as you would opposing counsel and I will treat you as I expect they will.”

“I understand, Ms. Girardi. Give me your worst, killer.”

Despite his attempt at humor, Dr. Raffle was clearly intimidated by the entire process, but it would do no good to coddle him. Opposing counsel certainly wouldn’t. Alessandra leaned forward and looked at him with skeptical eyes.

“You claim your research was stolen, Dr. Raffle. When did you first reach this opinion?”

“Opinion? Oh yes, opposing counsel doesn’t believe…” Dr. Raffle cleared his throat. “I suspected foul play after the government approvals for World Energy’s facility in New Mexico became public. When I reviewed the documents presented in response to our first interrogatories, I knew for sure.”

“For sure. That’s a strong statement, Doctor.”

“Not really. The documents are exact copies of my research reports, right down to the typos. My electronic notes are gone, of course, but the pages are identical.” Dr. Raffle shook his head as if bewildered and reached for his glasses. “I always kept the electronic files on a drive in my office safe. Never on the corporate hard drives. I still don’t understand how World Energy obtained the data. I am the only one with the combination.”

Alessandra didn’t miss the fact that Dr. Raffle’s hands shook as he put his glasses back on and folded them on top of the table. Despite Joe Lee’s assurances that Dr. Raffle wouldn’t be blamed for the theft of his research, the man was scared.

“You're a scientist, Dr. Raffle. You cannot be expected to have expertise in corporate espionage. You took reasonable precautions. Don’t give opposing counsel the opportunity to second-guess you and don’t offer anything about security measures unless they specifically ask,” she said feeling compelled to defend, more than advise, the scientist. “Did you bring an electronic copy with your notes today?”

“I did.”

“May I have the drive?”

Buddy Rae cut her off. “I have it, Alex, locked in my desk. No need to circulate Dr. Raffle’s files. You have a printed copy.”

But not a copy with Dr. Raffle’s notes and that isn’t good enough
. “Of course, Buddy, but Timonen’s lawyers are going to require us to provide the electronic data, including Dr. Raffle’s notes, and I should review it before they do,” she said, pointing out the obvious.

Buddy’s cold eyes glared across the table. “Don’t presume, Alex. They haven’t asked and until they do, those files remain locked away. Even if they do ask, we’re going to contest. No one will be given anything today,” he declared, shutting down any further discussion of the matter.

“Understood.”
Ouch
.

Probably not the brightest idea to challenge the boss in front of his biggest clients. She cleared her throat and returned to the list of technical questions she had prepared for Dr. Raffle. The next two hours consisted of a textbook discussion of petroleum engineering and Dr. Raffle’s advancements in the area of clean fuels.

When they finished, Alessandra turned to the other men. “Opposing counsel will start the meeting this afternoon with Dr. Raffle’s testimony, which you have just heard. I have prepared a similar list of technical questions for their expert, Dr. Rinaldo. Each of you has a copy of the questions in your folder. At the end, we will question Mr. Timonen about the alleged theft.”

“Nothing alleged about it,” Blake cut in.

“Agreed, but we have to indulge their position, at least for now,” she answered.

“Afraid to poke the hornets’ nest?” he asked.

“No,” she replied stiffly.

“Didn’t think so. I know your reputation, Alex. Watch out. Timonen and his lawyers should be shakin’ in their boots.” Blake sat back with a decisive nod.

Alessandra could tell Blake didn’t really doubt her, only wanted to have a little fun at her expense. If she were a guy, he wouldn’t have done that, but she wasn’t a guy and Blake was a flirt. Playing to her professional prowess was a shrewd approach to a woman like her and the boyish charm was sort of cute. She wondered if it meant something or whether finding inroads with women was just his habit.

“We will get to poking the hornets’ nest after the doctors finish. I am more than anxious to see Mr. Timonen’s reaction to being questioned.”

“And what do you expect to see, Ms. Girardi?”

Despite the long table between them, Joe Lee’s slow drawl seemed to crawl across her skin. These were the first words he’d ever spoken to her and the importance of his opinion was not lost on her.

“I would prefer to answer your question after our meeting, Mr. Hartnell.”

“Why?”

“I was raised by a cop and studied psychology at Penn before law school. It would be foolish to let expectations cloud an open mind.”

“Then answer this. Can you spot a liar when you see one, Ms. Girardi?”

Yeah, I’m looking at one right now
. “Yes, I believe I can.”

“Am I a liar?”

“An honest answer to that question, Mr. Hartnell, may well cost me my job,” she quipped, pulling out a bit of her coy again to avoid having to say anything more.

Joe Lee barked a laugh. “Right answer, little lady. Timonen is a shifty bastard. You watch him close and then we’ll talk.” Turning to Buddy, he said, “We can proceed with this one. She’ll do just fine.”

This one
didn’t realize today was a test.

Good thing she always aced her tests.

*****

“What do you mean we aren’t going to file criminal charges? They stole our damn property. It’s our quickest route to ending this fiasco of a lawsuit,” Jacques sneered. “Dragging things out is costing us dearly.”

“Money, honey, is that all ya think about?” Sabin drawled, knowing full well the southern charm would get him nowhere. His partner was the money guy and he was not on board with Sabin’s plan.

“Call me ‘honey’ again, cowboy, and it’s going to cost you,” Jacques snapped. “Nobody benefits from this lawsuit. With the exception of those bloodsuckers who call themselves our lawyers. I say we just lay our cards on the table and end it.”

Jacques Meszaros was nobody’s fool and he had a point. One key fact, a fact that the opposition had conveniently overlooked, could end the lawsuit, but Sabin wasn’t deterred as he engaged Jacques for the umpteenth time.

“I disagree. Let them dig their own graves. The farther we go with this litigation, the deeper they dig. Then we’ll step it up. By the time I’m through with Joe Lee and Blake…”

Jacques cut him off. “You’re letting this get too personal, brother.”

“It is personal, Jacques, damn personal. The day they hurt Lily, they made it personal. That bastard and his bastard son called down the thunder and now they’re in for a real shit storm.”

Reminding Jacques of what happened to Lily always tipped the scales in Sabin’s favor. Both of them were hard wired to protect the people they cared about and they both cared about her. Were duty bound by the honor code of the Order to care about her actually. Lily was the innocent victim in their war with the Hartnells. Hell, Lily was an innocent victim. Period.

“I’ve got your back, Sabin, in everything, but you don’t always have to be the champion.”

Really?

Sabin didn’t see it that way. It was too easy for people to ignore the evil in the world, wrap themselves in their sugarcoated illusions and pretend the boogieman would magically go away. Somebody had to fight the good fight. Somebody had to stand up. And his mama raised him to be one of those somebodies.

That’s why he launched his crusade against the oil industry. “Gonna save the planet,” had become his mantra and the harder those fat cats down in Texas fought him, the harder he fought back. In the beginning, it wasn’t personal, only his brand of fun and games, but when Blake Hartnell threatened Lily, it became more than personal.

It became a war.

Jacques’s voice broke the trail of his thoughts. “We’re revisiting this plan after tomorrow’s meeting,” he begrudgingly agreed, “but don’t lose sight of the big picture here, Sabin. The longer we dawdle in litigation, the longer operations are shut down. Getting the New Mexico facility up and running is the best revenge.”

“I want more than revenge, Jacques. A judgment in our favor. A smear campaign in the press. Their company in bankruptcy. I’m gonna take it all from them. Mark my words, the Hartnells will have nothing, do you hear me, nothing, when I’m through.”

“And what will you have then, Sabin?”

Well that question was unexpected. Not.

Of course Jacques would pull the papa routine. There was genuine concern in his voice, but Sabin was in no mood to have this conversation again. So what if he hadn’t found his paradise the way Jacques had. He wasn’t looking for love. He already had more than his share of people to take care of and, damnation if no one believed this, he did not need someone to take care of him. He was doing just fine on his own, thank y’all very much.

“I’ll have everything I need, Jacques,” Sabin said, shutting down the discussion of his love life or lack thereof.

“That’s exactly what worries me, brother. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

After he hung up, Sabin turned back to the business at hand.

“Alice, can you bring Rosehill’s files….”

Before he finished the sentence, a manila folder appeared in his sight line as if his assistant had been standing there the entire time.

Sabin opened the private investigator’s file and scanned its contents. Big cigars, overstuffed shirts, everybody sucking off the Hartnell tit. Nothing he didn’t already know about Buddy Rae Simmons and his partners. In fact, he could add a few things his PI had missed. These men were nothing more than dirty deeds plotted in back rooms cloaked behind the cigar smoke of southern society.

“Anything else?”

“One more, sir.” Alice handed him another folder marked, Doctor Marcus Raffle. “Oh and the lead associate will be Mr. Alex Girardi, but we don’t have a file on him yet.”

“I thought that new partner, Brad Somebody, was handling this.”

“It appears that he’s been replaced. Mr. Rosehill said he will get you a file on Mr. Girardi as soon as he can, but Mr. Simmons only notified us of the change an hour ago. He said there was an illness.”

Sabin raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Change lead counsel two hours before the first show down?”

“Apparently.”

“I don’t think so, Alice. We're talkin' about Buddy Rae Simmons here. If that man's mouth is movin', he's lyin'.”

Alice’s cheeks flamed when she recognized her naiveté. “I’ll call Mr. Rosehill and tell him you would like to expedite his investigation of Mr. Girardi.”

“Thank you, Alice.”

Sabin was tempted to call Alice “Moneypenny” like he usually did, but he swallowed the joke. She was in no mood to flirt. Alice held herself to very high standards and even though her quick read of the situation impressed him, she was annoyed with herself at having missed the strategic ruse.

The men he was dealing with may be dirty, but that didn’t mean they were stupid. Staying one step ahead of them was a challenge, even for him, and Sabin combed his thoughts for the reason they’d made this supposed last minute change. It certainly wasn’t because Brad Somebody had the flu. There was a motive, one that was formulated long before today, and it wasn’t a good one.