The Encounter (6 page)

              He looked at his desk. "You finished it?" He walked around his desk, depositing the briefcase in the chair.

              She watched him. "My notes are in the folder beside the files."

              He opened her folder. There were dozens of pages. "How could you possibly...”?

              He started flipping through them. She watched. In some cases she had supplied several precedence to support a single point. There were endnotes and footnotes.

              She watched him flip through page after page. "I included some comments. I hope that was alright?"

              "Alright... this is..." She was one surprise after another. "I don't know what to say."

              She smiled. "Say it's okay so I can go home."

              He put down the folder. "Go home. I'll need to stay and look it over." He looked at his watch. "Let me walk you out."

              She picked up her bag from the other chair. "That's okay, I'm close to the elevator." She walked toward the door.

              He started around his desk. "Really, it's no trouble."

              She looked back. "Nonsense, at this rate you'll be here all night. I'm a big girl."

              Protection was just an excuse. He wanted to go with her, but she obviously didn't want the company. "Well, then, I guess it's good night. I'll see you tomorrow... Thanks."

              "I'll check with you tomorrow." She stepped into the hallway, and then looked back. "Thanks for offering to walk me out."

              "You're welcome"

              Again their eyes were fixed on one another, and then she turned away and left. He stood, watching the doorway, hoping she'd change her mind. After a few moments it was obvious she wasn't going to. He went back to his chair, sat and started with the top page of her notes.

              She walked to the elevator lobby and pressed the Down Button. Her heart rate was up and there was a knot in the middle of her stomach. Otherwise, she felt she had it under control.

                                                         ***

              The elevator door opened on the fifth floor of the garage. Her car was parked at the far end of the building directly in front of her. There were still several cars parked here and there. She left the elevator. Her footsteps echoed off the concrete. As she walked toward her car she felt for her keys inside her bag.

All of her senses peaked at once. The light evening breeze filled her nose with human scent. This one stank, even by human standards. Footsteps approached quickly from behind. Her mind flipped back to the conversation she'd listened in on that morning. She removed her hand from her bag. She walked up to the driver's side door. They were close. She was ready. A hand covered her mouth and a steel blade touched her throat.

              The man's mouth was against her ear. "Not a sound bitch. Unlock your fuckin' car."

              She suddenly became the aggressor. The bag fell to the floor. She took his knife hand by the wrist and pulled it away from her throat. He pulled against her grip, and then drove his other fist into her back. She felt the impact, but he was much too weak to hurt her. In one move, she ducked under his arm and wrenched it behind him. There was a loud pop and his arm and shoulder separated. He screamed and went limp in her hands. The knife was still tight in his fist. She took it from him. With a hand full of his hair, she pulled him away from the car and swung him around. He screamed again. It was all he could do to stand up. He was helpless. She held the knife in front of his face, snapped off the blade with her thumb, and then shoved him away from her. He traveled several feet through the air and tumbled along the concrete. She tossed the broken knife away, then stood and watched as he struggled to his feet. His pants and shirt were torn and bloody where he hit the cement. His arm was hanging, dead at his side.

              "Goddamn..." He caught his breath. " Son-of-a-bitch,
what
the fuck
are
you?"

              The connotation bitch, and son-of-a-bitch, didn't bother her so much, but she hated being called a “what” and had no desire to continue this conversation. She made a deliberate move in his direction. He panicked and ran off holding his shoulder and favoring his right leg. She watched until he disappeared down the ramp. What she'd done wasn't going to make the little red head feel any better. She would have to enjoy it for both of them.

              She retrieved her bag. With any luck, she might even get a chance to run over the little bastard.

CHAPTER THREE

It was another clear morning and
still
no word from the Council. The drive in wasn't much different from the day before. She tried leaving a half an hour earlier. The traffic all but erased her head start. She wound up parking on the sixth floor. There had to be a solution. The people parked on the five floors below her knew what it was.

              Margaret walked into her shared office space. Two of the girls were sitting together discussing somebody named Gary from the mailroom. They all exchanged good mornings and the other two went back to their conversation.

              She sat at her desk. She half expected to find her notes with his comments. They weren't there. Another girl walked in carrying a cup of coffee. She thought about her little box. She'd left it in his office the night before. That shouldn't have happened. She'd remembered it on the freeway and almost turned around. It was a very special gift. Maybe, in the back of her mind, she just wanted another reason to see him again. She picked up her bag and left the room.

              Lawrence had not gotten home until very late the night before. He'd read through her notes, all thirty-one pages. Philip had laid out the plan of attack. He'd pulled the outline of the case together and now she'd provided the legal precedence to support it. Then she'd gone on to explore two more possibilities and make them work as well. Who the hell was she? What was she doing? He knew the requirements for a Research Assistant. She had too much snap to be satisfied doing a job like that. There had to be something else.

              The coffee maker filled the pot. Lawrence sat behind his desk daydreaming and staring into one of the framed pictures from the credenza. He glanced up. Margaret smiled back at him.

              He sat the picture on his desk and leaned back. "Well, looks like you made it out all right last night."

              "More or less. I hope my notes didn't keep you here too late. My handwriting can be a little difficult."

              "Your handwriting's fine." He pointed to a chair. "Sit down, please."

              She walked to the chair and sat. "I forgot to ask, how’d your depositions go?"

              "Got what I needed. I'm going with your notes the way you gave 'em to me. There was really nothing much I could do to improve on them, but I think we'll stick with Philip's original plan." He paused, watched her, and then realized he was staring and blinked. "Sorry... You mind if I ask you something?"

              "No. What?"

              "Why do you want to do this?"

              "Do what?"

              "This...What you're doing."

              She smiled. "You're gonna have to be a
little
more specific than that."

              "What you did yesterday was nothing short of amazing. I've never seen anything like it."

              "I just did what you asked."

              He leaned back. "You did a lot more than what I asked. You explored two completely new perspectives." He leaned toward his desk. "Are you thinking about law school?"

              She really didn't want to get into this conversation. "No. Looking up something in a book is a long way from selling it in a court. I'm just good with books. I remember most of what I read."

              "It's not all that difficult." He said. "If you go in with your facts straight and cover your back side."

              "If it's that easy, why aren't
you
pleading the cases instead of doing...
this
?"

              He picked up the picture off the desk and motioned around the room with it. "
This
is what I wanta do." She looked at him and did a “palms up”. He conceded. "Okay, okay... You made your point."

              She looked past him to the credenza. "Did you take them all yourself?"

              He glanced around at the credenza, "They're all mine”, and then back. “And, thanks to you, in two days I'm gonna be standing in the middle of this one." He turned the picture toward her. It was a view from a mountaintop. The mist in the valley was rising and the sun was making it glisten.

              "It's very pretty. But what do you mean, thanks to me?"

              "As soon as your notes are typed, I'm outta here for two weeks."

              She wasn't sure what he meant. "Two weeks?"

              "Yeah, two weeks in the mountains. I've been planning six months for this vacation."

              She knew what a vacation was. She felt both sorry and glad at the same time. "When do you leave?"

              "My truck's packed and waiting for me in the garage. If everything gets done, I'll be outta here this afternoon."

              She took a deep breath. "Well, I hope you enjoy your vacation. The other reason I dropped by. Did you find a small, metal box? I left it in here last night."

              He slid open his middle desk drawer and took out the curious little box. He closed the drawer and set the box forward on his desk. "What's the stuff in it?"

              She reached and picked it up. "It's an herb tea." She stood with her bag and dropped the box inside. "Well, I guess I'd better get started on those notes."

              He stood up. “First things first. Mr. Ward wants to discuss something with you this morning."

              "Why, what's going on?"

              "I called him at home last night. He wants to see you."

              "That's not an answer."

              "I learned a long time ago not to steal somebody else's thunder.
Especially
the boss'."

              She was confused. What did the weather have to do with anything? "Thunder? What are you talking about?"

              He ignored the question. "Will you have lunch with me?"

              She noticed, but let it go. "I thought you were leaving?"

              "I'm gonna be driving all afternoon and most of the night. I'm not gonna start on an empty stomach. How about it?"

              She hesitated, this time not for appearances sake. She wanted to, but...

              Her hesitation scared him. She was going to say no. He wouldn't give her the chance. "Look, it's
just
my way of saying thanks for getting me outta here almost a week early. What do you say?"

              She knew better, but what the hell. " Okay, the cafeteria across the street. They say they have a cheesecake to kill for."

              "You mean,
die for
."

              "Whatever. I'll meet you in the lobby at noon."

              "Great..."

              She walked to the door. "I'm glad what I did turned out okay."

              His eyes followed her. He was thinking. God, you're beautiful. "See you later." He said.

              She smiled and left his office. It was for the best. In two weeks, what she was feeling would pass.

              He had second thoughts about leaving for two weeks.

                                                        ***

              Her meeting with Philip Ward created an interesting turn of events. He was so impressed with what she had done, that after the short interview, he offered her the chance to fill in for Lawrence while he was gone. Lawrence had even approved the use of his office.

              From what she knew of
office politics
, being shown this kind of favoritism could cause problems with the other workers. The smart thing to do was relocate to somewhere else. Leaving would solve her other problem as well. It was the smart thing to do... She accepted his offer.