Equivocal Death (2 page)

Then, without warning, it was gone, and he was spinning, spin-25

ning down a cold black chute.

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No. Make it stop.

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He pressed his teeth together, already knowing what would 28

come. Dizzy, he grasped the table’s edge. A sour sweat leaked 29

through his pores. The smell of fear. The smell of death.

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I’m moving as fast as I can.

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He tried to fight back, to win a reprieve. But it was no use. He 32

was already tumbling back. Back to where it all began.

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A dark room. And everywhere the scent of fear.

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She’s sprawled across the floor. He looks down at her from above. It
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feels strange to look down. He’s always looked up at her face, her beau-1

tiful, smiling face.

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It’s so dark. For a long time, now. Why is she lying so still?

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He sleeps.

4

And then it’s light. She’s still there, sprawled and broken in ways that
5

he can’t comprehend. She’s floating in a sea of red.

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He wants to get up, to go to her. But he can’t stand up, can’t seem to
7

move at all.

8

He cries out, but there’s something in his mouth.

9

At first, he thinks she’s asleep. But not really. Really, he knows that
10

she’s dead.

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He’s hungry. He’s thirsty.

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And, even then, he knows that she’s dead.

13

She’s dead, and it’s all his fault.

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And then it was over. Slowly, the vision faded. Still trembling, 15

he stared at the wall. He felt weak, depleted, as if he could sleep for 16

days. But he couldn’t give in to these feelings. Not with success so 17

close. He had to think of the plan.
He had to think of the plan.
Soon, 18

it would all be over.

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And he was finally ready to begin.

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Monday, January 4

2

3

Monday morning. 7:05 a.m. A gray fog hung over the ice-glazed 4

spires of Manhattan. Pulling her red cashmere cape tight against 5

the winter air, twenty-six-year-old Kate Paine walked purposefully 6

across Fifth Avenue. The snow-dusted sidewalks were still sparsely 7

populated. A good two hours remained until the explosion of rush 8

hour, with its shrieking horns and screeching tires. In the relative 9

quiet of the morning, lulled by the city’s dull roar, Kate clutched 10

her cape close and smiled.

11

The holidays were behind her. She was home.

12

Approaching the plate-glass doors of Samson & Mills, Kate felt 13

a swell of excitement. After more than a year at Samson, she still 14

could hardly believe that she’d been hired as an attorney at this 15

legendary firm. That of all the thousands of law school graduates 16

who poured into the workforce each year, she’d been one of the ort 17

chosen few. Just out of Harvard Law, and she’d already worked on reg 18

cases that most lawyers only dreamed about, cases that routinely 9858_01_003-152_r5hb.qxd 9/28/00 3:57 PM Page 9

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figured on the front pages of the
Wall Street Journal
and the
New
1

York Times.
Fascinating cases of first impression that stretched the 2

limits of the law. And even more important, she had the chance to 3

hone her skills with the nation’s most formidable attorneys.

4

Kate passed through the revolving doors and into an enormous 5

lobby. Tossing off greetings to the security guards, she slipped her 6

card key through an electronic scanner. Then she moved toward 7

the elevator, high heels clicking on the marble floor.

8

Four days into the new year, the lobby was already stripped of 9

holiday decoration. The scarlet poinsettias, with their incongruous 10

shock of color, had been whisked away. As had the majestic 11

Douglas fir and the electric menorah. Once again, the stately entry 12

stood sober and unadorned. Kate relaxed into the familiar space, 13

felt its timeless weight enfold her.

14

Thank God, the holidays were over.

15

The elevator was already waiting. Kate stepped on, and the 16

doors slid shut. Twenty. Thirty. The floors flashed by. As she’d 17

hoped, Kate was the first person to arrive on fifty-one. Making her 18

way down the deeply carpeted hall, past a row of identical doors, 19

she flipped on lights as she passed. Her own closed door was the 20

next to last. As she rummaged in her purse for the key, she studied 21

a small brass plate.
Katharine T. Paine.
The
T
stood for Trace, her 22

mother’s maiden name. On impulse, she ran a finger across the en-23

graving, the metal cold to her touch. Then she turned the key and 24

pushed open the door.

25

Stepping into the office, Kate inhaled its familiar smells, furni-26

ture wax mingled with Chanel No. 19, a fragrance she sometimes 27

wore. She cast an approving eye around her ordered domain, with 28

its panoramic views of the Hudson River and beyond. Even in the 29

morning haze, she could make out the Statue of Liberty in the dis-30

tance, a tiny, brave figure engulfed in mist. The room was just as 31

she’d left it. Neat stacks of paper lined her desk. Cartons of docu-32

ments were stacked against the wall. The preholiday cleanup.

33

She’d try to enjoy it while it lasted.

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Kate pulled off her cape and hung it in her office closet. Before 35 re

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closing the door, she paused to take stock in a mirror affixed to its 2

back. She looked healthy and rested, her skin lightly browned from 3

a week of sun. She quickly ran a comb through her dark brown 4

hair, cut in the jaw-length bob favored by Samson’s female lawyers, 5

then straightened her horn-rimmed glasses. The glasses were a re-6

cent addition, acquired when she started work. Studying her face 7

in the mirror, Kate decided that she liked the effect. Professional.

8

In control. A woman to be reckoned with.

9

How different she looked now from two years ago, when she’d 10

roamed the Harvard campus in ratty jeans and a backpack. Yet one 11

thing remained the same. Her reflected image inspired the same 12

sense of dislocation that it had since she was a child.
Who is that
13

woman? Me but not me.
She didn’t dislike what she saw. To the 14

contrary, she knew she was pretty. Clear skin, high cheekbones, a 15

fine straight nose. Her eyes were a deep shade of blue. “Stormy,”

16

her mother used to call them. A full-length mirror would have 17

gone on to show the strong but delicate form: shoulders broad 18

enough that she always cut the pads out of her suit jackets, a sweep 19

of breast not entirely concealed by her black-and-gray Tahari suit, 20

narrow hips tapering to long, slim legs.

21

So why couldn’t she see this person as
herself ?

22

It was an old question, one that she’d long tired of considering.

23

She shut the closet door and turned toward her desk.

24

I’m proud of myself,
Kate thought, surveying the well-appointed 25

office.
I did this all on my own. I could have fallen apart. But I didn’t.

26

In the end, Michael did me a favor. . . .

27

But Michael belonged to the past; he had nothing to do with 28

her new life. Pushing the memories aside, Kate sat down and 29

turned on her computer. The screen flashed on. Responding to 30

computer prompts, Kate quickly typed in her user ID followed by 31

the word password. Then it was on to e-mail. Among the usual 32

clutter of junk e-mails — a paralegal looking for a downtown sub-33

let, a secretary with free kittens, an associate seeking a financial ort 34

planner — she culled the few messages that demanded immediate reg 35

attention. From Justin Daniels, her old friend and Harvard class-9858_01_003-152_r5hb.qxd 9/28/00 3:57 PM Page 11

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mate: “Welcome back! We missed you and we
know
you missed us.

1

Let’s shoot for drinks later this week. Cheers. J. D.” From Andrea 2

Lee, her friend and comrade on countless late nights: “Can’t wait 3

to catch up. Call me ASAP.” There was also a plaintive note from 4

Jonathan Kurtz, a Harvard classmate who’d occupied the office two 5

doors down until a few months back, when he’d been shipped off 6

to Kansas for a trial. “I fully believe that I will be here in Wichita 7

from now until the end of time. I will never perform any task other 8

than the preparation of cross-examination books that will never be 9

used at trial or anywhere else. I will never see any of my friends or 10

family again. On the upside, I will never have to pay for another 11

meal as long as I live.”

12

Kate laughed. Again, she felt a glow of pleasure, happy to be 13

precisely where she was. But the sense of satisfaction was short-14

lived. Soon, she sat staring at an e-mail from Peyton Winslow, a 15

senior associate at the firm. “Greetings. I hope that you enjoyed 16

your vacation. Please prepare for a meeting this morning at 10 a.m.

17

with Carter Mills regarding a new matter. The Complaint (which 18

we believe will be served on January 13) and related papers are in 19

distribution. Please review and be ready to discuss.”

20

Kate glanced at her watch. Already after eight. Quickly, she 21

thumbed through the mountain of mail that had piled up during 22

her vacation. “Will someone just shoot me?” she muttered. Still, 23

beneath the anxiety, she felt a burgeoning excitement.
A new case.

24

And a matter significant enough to involve the illustrious Carter 25

Mills. To get in on a case like this at the very start — what a coup!

26

So many of Samson’s massive cases had been gathering dust for 27

decades. There would be nothing for years and then a brief flurry of 28

activity when the current crop of Samson underlings would try to 29

make sense of what their predecessors had done. The work often 30

seemed more archaeological than legal. Now she’d be in on things 31

from the start, positioned to watch the strategies unfold.

32

The phone rang, but Kate let voice mail pick up as she contin-33

ued to search through the mail. She finally found what she was 34 sh

looking for. The complaint, stamped “Draft” across every page, was 35 re

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captioned for the Southern District of New York, the federal trial 2

court of Manhattan. The plaintiff’s attorneys must have sent over 3

a draft in hopes of an early settlement. It was often done, the draft 4

complaint serving as leverage, proof of the seriousness of plaintiffs’

5

intent and the prima facie strength of their case.

6

The draft complaint was twenty-three pages. Kate quickly 7

skimmed its contents, trying to get the gist of the claims.

8

And then paused to let it all sink in.

9

This was, in no uncertain terms, a sexual harassment suit charg-10

ing Chuck Thorpe and WideWorld Media with violations of both 11

state and federal law.

12

Chuck Thorpe.

13

WideWorld Media.

14

Kate grappled with the implications.

15

WideWorld was one of Samson’s largest clients, a sprawling 16

communications behemoth with a seemingly insatiable appetite 17

for new acquisitions. Its recent purchase of
Catch —
a “relentlessly 18

provocative” men’s magazine edited by Thorpe — had sparked a 19

firestorm of protest among stockholders. If they had been upset be-20

fore, this would send them over the edge. While the controversy 21

might be good for circulation — further enhancing Thorpe’s status 22

as publishing’s reigning enfant terrible — it would not play well 23

with the board of directors.

24

A tentative knock on the door broke into her thoughts.

25

“Come in!”

26

“Hi, Kate. Welcome back!” In the doorway stood Jennifer Torri-27

celli, her unflappable nineteen-year-old secretary. Jennifer’s dark 28

fantasia of a hairstyle gave new meaning to the phrase “big hair,”

29

but there the stereotype ended. She typed ninety words a minute, 30

kept flawless tabs on Kate’s ever-changing calendar, and managed 31