More Than Courage (12 page)

When she reached the bathroom, Diana could see that her suspicions had been correct. There on the floor before Alex's tiny potty chair was the discarded diaper that she had put on him before laying him down for his nap. As she sniffed the air the pungent odor of urine caused her nose to wrinkle. At least Alex had MORE THAN COURAGE

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made it to the bathroom and spared her the chore of changing the bed sheets.

That little courtesy on his part did nothing to mitigate the unpleasantness that fishing out whatever Alex had deposited in the toilet would evoke. To assist in his transition from diapers to training pants as well as making it easier for her to clean out her son's tiny potty, the small nonmechanical commode was located right next to the fully functional adult version. Unfortunately the proximity of the smooth, gleaming white throne to his small plastic pot created a compelling air of mystery. The convenience of this standing body of water was a temptation he was unable to resist, resulting in a proclivity for depositing inorganic odds and ends in the toilet. Despite her efforts to curb this behavior, Diana was forced to post a sign on the toilet tank reminding guests to look inside the toilet before they used it.

Diana was pleasantly surprised to find that today's offerings were a floating group of tiny Fisher-Price people, merrily bobbing up and down in the potty water with fixed smiles. Sometimes one of the figures would bump against the side of the bowl, then bounce back to join the other beaming members of its clan.

"Well," Diana said, as she slowly knelt, "at least you guys seem to be having fun."

She was in the process of scooping out the figures when she heard the squawking doorbell that announced someone was at the

/front door. Diana hoped that whoever was at the door would be patient enough to wait until she finished so she wouldn't have to get up and down from the bathroom floor twice. She had removed two more happy little people when the doorbell rang again.

Alex seized on this opportunity to ingratiate himself with his mother by helping her. In a flash he was out of his bedroom and scampering down the hall like the U.S. Cavalry coming to the rescue, shouting as he went, "I get it!"

Diana caught a glimpse of her bare-assed son as he raced for the front door. "No, Alex! Wait."

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Undeterred, he repeated his battle cry. "I get it, Mama. I get it."

As she endeavored to get up, she could hear Alex struggling to turn the doorknob. Her hope that his effort would take longer than hers did was dashed when she heard the door slowly squeak open and a male voice ask, "Is your mommy home?"

Diana was emerging from the bathroom just as Alex was scampering back down the hall to inform his mother that she had visitors. The collision between his head and her belly sent Alex sprawling to the floor and caused Diana to recoil from the sudden pain as her baby twisted and recoiled within her. Fighting back tears, Diana waddled to where her son was sitting, howling as if he had been beaten to a pulp. Despite the pain and difficulty, she gathered Alex in her arms.

Having been greeted by a naked child and hearing the sudden outburst, the caller at the door hesitantly called out, "Mrs.

Burman?"

A frustrated Diana, fighting back her own tears, replied as best she could, "Just a minute, please." The unseen visitor waited silently as Diana soothed Alex until his sobs had receded to a tolerable level. Putting him down and asking him to stay there until she returned, the pregnant Army wife waddled to the front door and finished opening it.

They were all there. In the forefront was Doug Flanders, a captain from the same Special Forces group to which her husband was assigned. Behind him stood another, more senior officer in dress greens. She didn't recognize him but saw from his unit crests that he was assigned to the post's staff. The silver crosses on the collar of the third man marked him as a chaplain, telling her all she needed to know.

No one knows in advance how they will respond at times like this. While every woman married to a soldier knows the drill, none are prepared for the event. The already stressed Diana Burman snapped. She just couldn't deal this, not with a two-year-old MORE THAN COURAGE

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child and another in the offing. Diana yelled out a crisp, aNo!3> before slamming the door.

The grim trio stared at the closed door before them, wondering how best to carry out their painful assignment as they listened

to Diana waddling away as fast as her incredible burden allowed.

New York City

14:50 LOCAL (18:50 ZULU)

Every aspect of the offices belonging to the law firm of Atkins, Steinburg, and Silverman had been engineered to convey a regal aloofness. With the exception of select clients the partners, senior associates, receptionists, secretaries, and paralegals treated everyone with a cool indifference. This was especially true when it came to the young lawyers new to the firm. Until they had been at the firm five years or more and were entrusted with managing the legal affairs of a prominent client, freshman lawyers were merely tolerated.

None of this bothered Elizabeth Stanton, an ambitious young woman who had been with the firm for less than nine months.

During her time at the prestigious firm, in addition to doing her assigned work she had done all she could to hone those skills that would one day allow her to become part of the wealth and power of a city considered by many to be more than just the true mecca of capitalism, but a universe unto itself. To a true New Yorker all the cities, lands, and people that lay beyond the five boroughs of New York were little more than client states whose sole value was providing it with the raw material and cheap labor needed to keep it running.

Not being a native New Yorker was a handicap that Elizabeth

^tanton needed to overcome. In a city where one in four of its residents had not even been born in the United States and diver- S1ty was publicly proclaimed as a virtue, New York's dirty little Cret was that success did not automatically lead to acceptance by

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the city's elite. Such acceptance was very-difficult to achieve. Even those with the right name, impeccable pedigree, and high-level connections often did not become part of the city's patrician class.

Those who were not born to that rare breed had to successfully pass through a series of challenging gates set up to keep the blue blood of New York City pure.

Initiation into the law firm of Atkins, Steinburg, and Silverman was similarly cruel and unforgiving. On her first day at the firm, Elizabeth had been told by Mr. Steinburg himself that the firm was not anyone's best friend. The practice of corporate law was as uncompromising as it was demanding. He pointed out that mistakes with the business of major clients had consequences beyond the loss of billions or tens of billions of dollars. It meant the wholesale slaughter of a company's senior management, the destruction of carefully crafted careers, and, most important, damage to the firm's prestige. "Every minute of every day someone in this town is making or losing a fortune. That's what this city is all about. But a reputation is different. It's invaluable, almost priceless. Damage done to it is irreparable. It takes a lifetime of hard work and dedication to build one. This firm has invested decades achieving its current acclaim and recognition. A lawyer in this firm is a force to be reckoned with. If you have what it takes, you will become part of this great institution. Your rewards will be more than money. You will have earned the right to walk with giants. If on the other hand you are not up to our high standards, I suggest you save us both a great deal of bother and leave now."

Elizabeth had not left. The prospect of a six-digit annual income before her thirtieth birthday was a minor factor. The challenge and opportunity to earn the status and power that Mr. Silverman had described were what motivated her. These were the magic keys that would unlock all the right doors and open up a future that was truly boundless.

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job her entire life. Her father was a lawyer who had made his fortune defending the interests of several tobacco companies during the great assault on that industry in the late '90s. While not winning every case, he had legendary talents and skills for negotiating pretrial deals that saved his clients while allowing the other side to create the public perception that it had achieved an overwhelming victory. When Elizabeth began practicing corporate law at the firm she had a huge head start on all the other freshman lawyers.

As her father liked to brag, being a corporate lawyer was in Elizabeth's genes.

Returning from lunch with a distinguished client whose business she was courting with promising progress, she purposefully strode through the maze of narrow corridors to her small windowless cubbyhole. Along the way Elizabeth lowered her eyes and nodded when she passed a senior associate, or lifted her chin haughtily when she saw an underling. Upon reaching her desk, she immediately turned on her computer. Like most modern businesses the firm made extensive use of e-mail for a wide range of communication from routine to transfer of vital documents.

E-mail meant that anyone could send a message at any time from their midtown Manhattan office, a bedroom in the Hamptons, or during lunch at the Four Seasons. Never knowing what messages would be waiting for her when she returned to her desk, she made a habit of checking her e-mails before settling down to work in case there was something that demanded a sudden re prioritization of her schedule.

An e-mail from one of the firm's senior partners leaped out at her. Except for a quick introduction after their final interview, tirst-year associates had no dealings with the partners. Even at social gatherings they did not speak to Messrs. Atkins, Steinburg, or Silverman unless they were spoken to first by one of them. So the message from Ira Steinburg troubled the young lawyer, especially since she was not working on any case that he was even remotely connected with.

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Elizabeth clicked open the message and read the five words.

"Please see me at once." The "please" did little to take the edge off the unexpected order from the partner who handled the firm's important personnel actions. This unexpected meeting had nothing to do with any of her cases. Junior associates received all instructions and assignments from the senior associate they assisted. Nor could it involve any upward or lateral moves within the firm. Such news was delivered to the person via a letter, always written in hard copy form for diplomatic and political reasons, as well as to make the news legally bulletproof.

Like many New Yorkers who believed that their careers were forever in the balance, and could be undone by their use of a single ill-chosen word, the young lawyer assumed the worst. Because he had said, "at once," and Elizabeth always confronted any problem or obstacle head-on without hesitation she took off for Mr. Stein burg's suite of offices with her usual stylish and forceful stride.

A hush fell over Mr. Steinburg's small staff as Elizabeth entered the outer office. His executive secretary looked up. "Go right in. He's expecting you."

Pausing at the threshold of Steinburg's office only long ¦: j; enough to straighten her skirt

and jacket, Elizabeth entered.

¦|l!i

Steinberg was in his late fifties. His full head of hair was tinted to just the right amount of gray for a man of his age, wisdom, and stature. His well-tanned complexion indicated that these days he spent more time conducting business on the links than in his office. Golfing and a demanding fitness regimen gave Ira Stein burg a physique that filled his tailor-made pinstriped suit in all the right places. When his eyes rose to meet Elizabeth's he threw out his chest like a peacock during mating season.

"Elizabeth, please, take a seat."

Moving to the indicated chair, Elizabeth Stanton sat down and braced herself for whatever he had in store for her.

Stepping from behind his massive desk, Ira Steinburg moved to a chair near the one where Elizabeth sat. "I was not aware that you were married."

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Concealing her surprise that her secret had somehow been betrayed, Elizabeth launched into immediate damage control mode. "We were married shortly after graduation. We were both young, and perhaps a bit foolish, thinking that love would conquer all. Unfortunately, things didn't turn out the way we would have liked."

"Are you divorced?"

"No. After we married I went on to law school and he--"

"Reported to Fort Benning. Yes, I know."

Elizabeth nodded, stunned that he knew so much about a subject that she had done so much to bury like yesterday's trash.

"Ken and I met in high school. We dated on and off while I was going to college and he was at the Academy. We always tried to spend the holidays together. During our senior years, we decided to get married during June Week at West Point."

"A military wedding. I imagine there is still a certain allure to that sort of thing even these days." Steinburg paused before continuing. uMs. Stanton, I do wish you would have been a little

more forthcoming, even if you and your husband were estranged.

It would have saved us both a great deal of embarrassment."

Embarassment? Bewildered, Elizabeth found herself becoming fearful. Having no idea where he was going with this she was having a difficult time looking directly into Steinburg's steel gray eyes as she waited for what might come next. She knew that there was a strong antimilitary sentiment in the legal profession and in this firm in particular, but she'd never thought that being married to an officer could be grounds for dismissal. Her concealment of her marriage when filling out the firm's various application forms, however, was probably sufficient justification in itself for termination.

The only saving grace she saw at the moment was that Stein burg might buy in to her defense that her marriage was strained, that she and her husband had been informally separated for good reason as implied by his use of "estranged."