The Insider (9 page)

“What were they doing at your apartment this morning? Did they know that I was there?”

“No. They came to see me because I want to quit my job at Equilon. Yuri had recommended me, and he thought it would make him look bad if I quit. That was one of the things that Nikolai and I talked about when you were outside.”

“Should I be afraid of them?”

“Yes, if they think that you have something that will help them. They would do anything to prove themselves to the lowlifes that they hang out with.”

“What else did Nikolai say to you this morning when I was out in the hall?”

A few yards away, a skater's board shot out from under him, and he landed with a thump on the concrete.

“He asked me if I knew anything else about your ‘bigtime deals.' I told him that you had just mentioned Jupiter and that was it.” She paused and frowned.

Will waited for her to continue.

“He said he didn't believe me,” Katya said flatly. “He punched me in the stomach. And he wouldn't stop. He pulled me up by my hair and started twisting my wrist.” She paused and looked around the plaza, as if for help.

Will wondered why he hadn't heard her scream when Nikolai struck her. The only thing that had separated them had been a thin wooden door.

“We need to go to the police. Next time, he could kill you.”

“Don't worry about me. I don't have anything that they want now. It's you we should be worrying about. Nikolai and Yuri will want more information about Jupiter. I am afraid of what might happen if you don't give it to them.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

She jingled her bracelet with the charms shaped like Cyrillic letters. “How bad can it be for you to tell them a few things?”

Here it comes,
Will thought, but he continued to play along. “Katya, when I told you this morning about Jupiter, I made a very big mistake. I'm not supposed to share that information with anyone. First, it violates attorney-client privilege. Second, it's insider trading if anyone buys Jupiter stock based on what I said.” He paused. “If you buy Jupiter stock, it's insider trading and you could go to jail.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“And if anyone, an agent from the SEC or anywhere else, asks you about what happened, you will have to tell them the truth about everything. If you don't, you could go to jail for that, too.”

Katya crossed her arms on her chest, as if she were trying to muffle an explosion.

“Did Nikolai say anything about what he intended to do with the information?”

Katya pulled a pair of sunglasses out of her purse and put them on. “He let go of my wrist and smiled. Then he said, ‘I told Yuri that you were a worthless bitch, but perhaps you are not so worthless after all.'”

“That sounds pretty articulate for Nikolai.”

“He said it in Russian.”

“Was that it?”

“He wanted to know if that was everything I knew about Jupiter. Then he asked me if he needed to ‘hold my hand' again. I said that I'd told him everything. He seemed satisfied and said that he'd get the rest of the information from you. That's when he opened the door.”

Katya and Will walked slowly across the plaza to the busy thoroughfare of the Embarcadero. They crossed the Embarcadero in front of the Ferry Building and went past the hangarlike pier buildings. A family of tourists emerged from the shadows of a pier, fresh from their cruise ship, and huddled on the sidewalk with their roller bags, squinting at them from under baseball caps.

After walking in silence for a while, Will and Katya arrived at Pier 39, which had more to do with tourism than shipping. The wooden pier was jammed with T-shirt shops, ice cream stands, and video arcades. Will detested tourist traps, but it was comforting to be absorbed into the sneakered, T-shirted throng.

A rank, fishy smell grew stronger as they reached the end of the pier and the spot for viewing the sea lions. Dozens of them were lying on abandoned docks beside the pier. They came in every shade of brown, from the mud brown of the sleepers that scratched themselves with webbed flippers to the dark chocolate of the ones that emerged, dripping and indignant, from the water to bark and bump chests in territorial scuffles.

“You know,” Will said, “they're all males.”

“This does not surprise me,” Katya replied.

“They should be off mating somewhere. But instead they come here for the food. It's one big, stinky bachelor pad.”

“What is bachelor pad?”

“Never mind.”

Will studied Katya as she leaned on the wooden railing, surrounded by tourists snapping photos. She still wore her dark glasses, her face impassive.

It was likely that Katya was lying to him. There were still too many questions, too many of what the litigators at his firm would call “bad facts.” She had already admitted to dating, and accepting a job recommendation from, a would-be Russian gangster. If she was working with Yuri and Nikolai, then that would explain the appearance of the two thugs at her apartment that morning. It would also provide a plausible explanation for why she was so quick to volunteer the information about the Jupiter deal. And he still had to believe that Nikolai, Yuri, and perhaps Katya had some connection to Ben's death, which had led them to him when he took over the Jupiter negotiations from Ben. On the other hand, if Katya was telling the truth about the pummeling she had received from Nikolai, then he felt like a jerk for doubting her.

Katya looked up at Will as she made room for two little girls crowding to the railing to get a better look at the sea lions. She extended her hand, and he took it.

Then Will lifted Katya's hand and examined her wrist where Nikolai had grabbed her. There was no bruising, no marks at all. By itself, it was not decisive, but it was enough to tip the scales.

“I think you've been lying to me,” he said.

“Why would you say that?”

“There are no bruises on your wrist.”

“Maybe I don't bruise so easy.”

“No, it's not just that. It's everything. I just don't buy it. I think you're working with Yuri and Nikolai. I think you knew they were coming to your apartment this morning. It was all an act for my benefit.”

“So it's all about you, is it?” Katya said. “That sounds a little paranoid, doesn't it?”

Will simply stared at her. Katya stared back at him from behind her sunglasses for a long moment.

“Okay, you're right,” she finally said with a shrug of her shoulders. “I do work with Nikolai and Yuri. But everything that I told you about them is true.”

“Why should I believe a word that you say? You want me to be scared of them.”

“Obviously, it's your decision, Will.”

Still adjusting to his newly revised vision of Katya, Will was silent.

“I may not be your friend, but I'm not your enemy, either,” Katya added. “Not really. I think you're a sweet guy—and a good lay. I'll try to help you if I can.” Katya turned and began to walk away.

Will grabbed her arm and turned her around. “Then I need you to tell me more. What do Nikolai and Yuri want from me?”

“Let go of my arm, Will. Yuri is following us, you know. Don't make me call him over here.” She pointed down the pier to an ice cream stand, where Yuri was eating an ice cream cone. Displeased at being discovered, Yuri tossed his ice cream into a trash can.

Will released Katya's arm, and she strode away through the crowd of tourists, leaving him standing at the railing as the sea lions filled the air with their groaning cries. Will realized that when Katya played with her bracelet, it had indeed been a tell, but not for nervousness. It meant she was lying.

Will's cell phone rang. It was a law firm extension, so he answered.

“Will, where are you?” It was Don, sounding impatient.

“I went out to get some fresh air. I'm just a couple of blocks from the office.”

“Well, get back here right now, will you? There are some people here to see you. It's important.”

Before Will could ask who the visitors were, Don hung up.

When Will returned to the office, he was greeted by Don, who was standing waiting for him in the lobby.

Will immediately suspected the worst. Was it possible that Nikolai had already purchased Jupiter stock and been linked to Will by the SEC? Or maybe Detective Kovach was waiting to escort him to a cell.

“There are some people in conference room C that I'd like you to meet.”

“Clients?”

“Something like that.”

Will followed Don down the hallway and past the reception desk. He noticed that the receptionist and office staff eyed them knowingly as they passed. Clearly, something was up.

Don held open the door to the conference room and motioned for Will to enter. Will put on his game face and stepped inside, ready for anything, even handcuffs.

In the conference room, the twenty-two San Francisco partners were clustered around the conference table, drinks in hand. A mild cheer went up, mingled with scattered exclamations of “Congratulations, partner!”

Will smiled with relief as a glass of champagne was thrust into his hand. “I could tell you bought it,” Don said, patting him on the back. “There's a career in acting for me yet.”

Will lifted his glass to the room and was relieved to see that no speech was expected of him. Everyone promptly resumed their conversations.

The office's other new partners were already there: Jay Spencer, his former classmate at Boalt Hall, UC Berkeley's law school; Jill Lewis, a litigator; Marc Tucci, a copyright attorney; and Norm Reynolds, a corporate attorney and grandson of one of the firm's venerable founders, Stewart Reynolds.

Will immediately realized that Rob Kramer, a senior associate in the technology group, was not among the new partners. Not so long ago, before the Internet bubble burst, he had appeared to be a shoo-in for partnership. During the dot-com mania, a kind of struggle had taken place for the soul of the law firm. Some partners wanted the firm to concentrate on the big money to be made taking Internet and tech companies public. Another faction felt that the firm was expanding too fast and ignoring its traditional mainstay practice areas, such as business litigation. Now that the technology sector had tanked, the old guard of the firm was once more in ascendancy, and the technology attorneys were like the zealots of a failed revolution, forced to bite their tongues and suffer the tired jokes about “dot bombs,” waiting until times changed or their penance was complete. Rob Kramer was a casualty of this internecine war, his principal sin that of being championed by the wrong people at the wrong time.

Will made a little small talk with Don about the Niners' chances for next season, then turned to the subject that he was really interested in.

“Don, I don't mean to spoil the party here, but I've got a question for you about Ben.”

Don's expression darkened. “Okay, if you must. Ask.”

“Was there any indication that he was suicidal?” Will still believed that Ben had been murdered, but he was hoping that something interesting might have come to light now that everyone in the firm had spent two days scouring their memories for anything out of the ordinary.

“No, no one could see it coming, even in hindsight. I hope you aren't thinking that there's something that we could have done.”

“No, that's not what I meant. I was just wondering if anyone saw any signs, or if there was a reason. . . . ”

“There's no understanding this thing with Ben, so you shouldn't even try. But something one of the detectives said gave me pause. When they examined Ben's body, there were burns on his chest and upper arms. Probably about a week or two old. Maybe it was some kinky sexual stuff, maybe someone tortured him. The police don't know . . . and I don't think I want to know.”

“Do the police have a theory?”

“How should I know?” Don snapped. “Take my advice, Will. Enjoy this moment. It's a milestone. It only comes around once. Now, pardon me, but I'm going to go find out where they're keeping the single malts around here.”

As Don walked away, Will speculated that the burns were probably administered by Yuri, Nikolai, or some other Russian thug—the same bunch that had now turned their attentions to him. But how did Katya know that he was the new lead attorney on the Jupiter merger? She must have been informed by someone at the firm, probably someone in the room at that moment. Will scanned the faces of the attorneys as they chattered over their drinks, trying to guess who might have betrayed him. Will's thoughts were interrupted when he saw Jay Spencer making his way across the room toward him, wiseguy smile firmly in place.

Jay was tall and loose-limbed, with a tan and a smile both a few shades too vivid to be real. He resembled a young golf pro who had been cut from the tour and found his true calling hustling duffers at the country club. Jay had one of the most facile minds in their law school class, but he never became the attorney he might have been because his moral flexibility was always just a little too apparent.

Will and Jay had been competing ever since they both ran for editor-in-chief of the
Boalt Law Review
. Jay had won the election and never ceased to amaze Will with the creative ways he found to introduce that fact into conversation. As they raced neck and neck toward partnership, it was clear that their competition was not going to end anytime soon.

Jay extended his hand. “Congratulations, man. You earned it. Not as much as me, but you earned it.”

“I think I'll take that as a compliment. Congratulations to you, too.”