The Third Twin (28 page)

“It wasn’t just unethical. It could ruin Genetico, financially.”

She looked excited. “That would explain a lot. But how could it ruin them?”

“It’s a tort—a civil wrong. We covered this last year in law school.” In the back of his mind he was thinking, Why the hell am I talking to her about torts—I want to tell her how much I love her. “If Genetico offered a woman hormone treatment, then deliberately impregnated her with someone else’s fetus without telling her, that’s a breach of implied contract by fraud.”

“But it happened so long ago. Isn’t there a statute of limitations?”

“Yes, but it runs from the time of
discovery
of the fraud.”

“I still don’t see how it would ruin the company.”

“This is an ideal case for punitive damages. That means the money is not just to compensate the victim, say for the cost of bringing up someone else’s child. It’s also to punish the people who did it, and make sure they and others are scared to commit the same wrong again.”

“How much?”

“Genetico knowingly abused a woman’s body for their own secret purposes—I’m sure any lawyer worth his salt would ask for a hundred million dollars.”

“According to that piece in
The Wall Street Journal
yesterday, the entire company is only worth a hundred and eighty million.”

“So they would be ruined.”

“It might take years to come to trial.”

“But don’t you see? Just the
threat
would sabotage the takeover!”

“How so?”

“The danger that Genetico may have to pay a fortune in damages reduces the value of the shares. The takeover would at least be postponed until Landsmann could assess the amount of the liability.”

“Wow. So it’s not just their reputations that are on the line. They could lose all that money, too.”

“Exactly.” Steve’s mind came back to his own problems. “None of this helps me,” he said, suddenly feeling gloomy again. “I need to be able to prove your theory of the third twin. The only way of doing that is to find him.” A thought struck him. “Could your computer search engine be used? Do you see what I mean?”

“Sure.”

He grew excited. “If one search threw up me and Dennis, another search might throw up me and the third, or Dennis and the third, or all three of us.”

“Yes.”

She was not as thrilled as she ought to be. “Can you do it?”

“After this bad publicity I’m going to have trouble getting anyone to let me use their database.”

“Damn!”

“But there is one possibility. I’ve already run a sweep of the FBI fingerprint file.”

Steve’s spirits rocketed again. “Dennis is sure to be on their files. If the third one has ever had his prints taken the sweep will have picked him up! This is great!”

“But the results are on a floppy disk in my office.”

“Oh, no! And you’ve been locked out!”

“Yes.”

“Hell, I’ll bust down the door. Let’s go there now, what are we waiting for?”

“You could end up back in jail. And there may be an easier way.”

With an effort Steve calmed down. “You’re right. There has to be another way of getting that disk.”

Jeannie picked up the phone. “I asked Lisa Hoxton to try to get into my office. Let’s see if she succeeded.” She dialed a number. “Hey, Lisa, how are you.…Me? Not too good. Listen, this is going to sound incredible to you.” She summarized what she had found out. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I can prove it if I can get my hands on that floppy disk.… You couldn’t get into my office? Shit.” Jeannie’s face fell. “Well, thanks for trying. I know you took a chance. I really appreciate it.…Yeah. Bye.”

She hung up and said: “Lisa tried to persuade a security guard to let her in. She almost succeeded, then he checked with his superior and almost got fired.”

“What do we try next?”

“If I get my job back tomorrow morning at the hearing I can just walk into my office.”

“Who’s your lawyer?”

“I don’t have a lawyer, I’ve never needed one.”

“You can bet the college will have the most expensive lawyer in town.”

“Shit. I can’t afford a lawyer.”

Steve hardly dared to say what was in his mind. “Well … I’m a lawyer.”

She looked speculatively at him.

“I’ve only done a year of law school, but in our advocacy exercises I scored highest in my class.” He was thrilled by the idea of defending her against the might of Jones Falls University. But would she think him too young and inexperienced? He tried to read her mind and failed. She kept looking at him. He stared right back, gazing into her dark eyes. I could do this indefinitely, he thought.

Then she leaned over and kissed him on the lips, lightly and fleetingly. “Hell, Steve, you’re the real thing,” she said.

It was a very quick kiss, but it was electric. He felt great. He was not sure what she meant by “the real thing,” but it must be good.

He would have to justify her faith in him. He began to worry about the hearing. “Do you have any idea of the rules of the committee, the procedure for the hearing?”

She reached into her canvas briefcase and handed him a cardboard folder.

He scanned the contents. The rules were a mixture of college tradition and modern legal jargon. Offenses for which faculty could be dismissed included blasphemy and sodomy, but the one that seemed most relevant to Jeannie was traditional: bringing the university into infamy and disrepute.

The discipline committee did not in fact have the final say; it merely made a recommendation to the senate, the governing body of the university. That was worth knowing. If Jeannie lost tomorrow, the senate might serve as a court of appeal.

“Do you have a copy of your contract?” Steve asked.

“Sure.” Jeannie went to a small desk in the corner and opened a file drawer. “Here it is.”

Steve read it quickly. In clause twelve she agreed to be bound by the decisions of the university’s senate. That would make it difficult for her to legally challenge the final decision.

He returned to the discipline committee rules. “It says you have to notify the chair in advance if you wish to be represented by a lawyer or other person,” he said.

“I’ll call Jack Budgen right away,” Jeannie said. “It’s eight o’clock—he’ll be at home.” She picked up the phone.

“Wait,” Steve said. “Let’s think about the conversation first.”

“You’re so right. You’re thinking strategically, and I’m not.”

Steve felt pleased. The first piece of advice he had given as her lawyer had been good. “This man holds your fate in his hands. What’s he like?”

“He’s chief librarian, and my tennis opponent.”

“The guy you were playing on Sunday?”

“Yes. An administrator rather than an academic. A good tactical player, but my guess is he never had the killer instinct to make it to the top in tennis.”

“Okay, so he has a somewhat competitive relationship with you.”

“I guess so.”

“Now, what impression do we want to give him?” He ticked points on his fingers. “One: We want to appear upbeat and confident of success. You’re looking forward eagerly to the hearing. You’re innocent, you’re glad of the opportunity to prove it, and you have faith that the committee will see the truth of the matter, under Budgen’s wise direction.”

“Okay.”

“Two: You’re the underdog. You’re a weak, helpless girl—”

“Are you kidding?”

He grinned. “Scratch that. You’re a very junior academic and you’re up against Berrington and Obeli, two wily old operators who are used to getting their own way at JFU. Hell, you can’t even afford a real lawyer. Is Budgen Jewish?”

“I don’t know. He might be.”

“I hope so. Minorities are more likely to turn against the Establishment. Three: The story of why Berrington is persecuting you like this has to come out. It’s a shocking story, but it must be told.”

“How does it help me to say that?”

“It plants the idea that Berrington might have something to hide.”

“Good. Anything else?”

“I don’t think so.”

Jeannie dialed the number and handed him the phone.

Steve took it with trepidation. This was the first call he had ever made as someone’s lawyer.
Pray God I don’t screw up.

As he listened to the ringing tone, he tried to recall how Jack Budgen played tennis. Steve had been concentrating on Jeannie, of course, but he remembered a fit, bald man of about fifty, playing a well-paced, wily game. Budgen had defeated Jeannie even though she was younger and stronger. Steve vowed not to underestimate him.

The phone was answered in a quiet, cultured voice. “Hello?”

“Professor Budgen, my name is Steven Logan.”

There was a short pause. “Do I know you, Mr. Logan?”

“No, sir. I’m calling you in your capacity as chair of the discipline committee of Jones Falls University, to let you know that I’ll be accompanying Dr. Ferrami tomorrow. She’s looking forward to the hearing and she’s eager to lay these charges to rest.”

Budgen’s tone was cool. “Are you a lawyer?”

Steve found his breath coming fast, as if he had been running, and he made an effort to stay calm. “I’m at law school. Dr. Ferrami can’t afford a lawyer. However, I’m going to do my best to help her present her case clearly, and if I go wrong I’ll have to throw myself on your mercy.” He paused, giving Budgen the chance to make a friendly remark or even just a sympathetic grunt; but there was a cold silence. Steve plowed on. “May I ask who will be representing the college?”

“I understand they’ve hired Henry Quinn, from Harvey Horrocks Quinn.”

Steve was awestruck. It was one of the oldest firms in Washington. He tried to sound relaxed. “A deeply respectable WASP law firm,” he remarked with a small chuckle.

“Indeed?”

Steve’s charm was not working on this man. It was time to sound tough. “One thing I should perhaps mention. We must now tell the true story of why Berrington Jones has acted against Dr. Ferrami in this way. We will not accept any cancellation of the hearing, on any terms. That would leave a cloud over her head. The truth must come out, I’m afraid.”

“I know of no proposal to cancel the hearing.”

Of course not. There was no such proposal. Steve carried on with his bravado. “But if there should be one, please be advised that it would be unacceptable to Dr Ferrami.” He decided to wind this up before he got himself in too deep. “Professor, I thank you for your courtesy and I look forward to seeing you in the morning.”

“Good-bye.”

Steve hung up. “Wow, what an iceberg.”

Jeannie looked puzzled. “He’s not normally like that. Maybe he was just being formal.”

Steve was pretty sure Budgen had already made up his mind and was hostile to Jeannie, but he did not tell her that. “Anyway, I got our three points across. And I discovered that JFU has hired Henry Quinn.”

“Is he good?”

He was legendary. It made Steve go cold to think he was going to go up against Henry Quinn. But he did not want to depress Jeannie. “Quinn used to be very good, but he may be past his prime.”

She accepted that. “What should we do now?”

Steve looked at her. The pink bathrobe had gaped open at the front, and he could see one neat breast nestling in the folds of soft terrycloth. “We should go over the questions you’ll be asked at the hearing,” he said regretfully. “We’ve got a lot of work to do tonight.”

37

J
ANE
E
DELSBOROUGH LOOKED A LOT BETTER NAKED THAN
she did dressed.

She lay on a pale pink sheet, lit by the flame of a scented candle. Her clear, soft skin was more attractive than the muddy earth colors she always wore. The loose clothes she favored tended to hide her body; she was something of an amazon, with a deep bosom and broad hips. She was heavy, but it suited her.

Lying on the bed, she smiled languidly at Berrington as he pulled on his blue boxer shorts. “Wow, that was better than I expected,” she said.

Berrington felt the same, although he was not crass enough to say so. Jane knew things that he normally had to teach to the younger women he usually took to bed. He wondered idly where she had learned to be such a good lay. She had been married once; her husband, a cigarette smoker, had died of lung cancer ten years ago. They must have had a great sex life together.

He had enjoyed it so much that he had not needed his usual fantasy, in which he had just made love to a famous beauty, Cindy Crawford or Bridget Fonda or Princess Diana, and she was lying beside him, murmuring in his ear, “Thank you, Berry, that was the best it’s ever been for me, you’re so great, thank you.”

“I feel so guilty,” Jane said. “I haven’t done anything this wicked for a long time.”

“Wicked?” he said, tying his shoelaces. “I don’t see why. You’re free, white and twenty-one, as we used to say.” He noticed her wince: the phrase “free, white and twenty-one” was now politically incorrect. “You’re single, anyway,” he added hastily.

“Oh, it’s not the fucking that was wicked,” she said languorously. “It’s just that I know you only did it because I’m on the committee for tomorrow’s hearing.”

He froze in the act of putting on his striped necktie.

She went on: “I’m supposed to think you saw me across the student cafeteria and became entranced by my sexual magnetism?” She smiled ruefully at him. “I don’t have any sexual magnetism, Berry, not for someone as superficial as you. You had to have an ulterior motive and it took me about five seconds to figure out what it could be.”

Berrington felt a fool. He did not know what to say.

“Now in your case, you
do
have sexual magnetism. Buckets. You’ve got charm and a nice body, you dress well and you smell good. Most of all, anyone can see that you really like women. You may manipulate them and exploit them, but you love them too. You are the perfect one-night stand, and I thank you.”

With that she pulled the sheet over her naked body, rolled onto her side, and closed her eyes.

Berrington finished dressing as quickly as he could.

Before he left, he sat on the edge of the bed. She opened her eyes. He said: “Will you support me, tomorrow?”

She sat upright and kissed him fondly. “I’ll have to listen to the evidence before I make up my mind,” she said.

He ground his teeth. “It’s terribly important to me, more than you know.”

She nodded sympathetically, but her reply was implacable. “I guess it’s just as important to Jeannie Ferrami.”

He squeezed her left breast, soft and heavy. “But who is more important to you—Jeannie or me?”

“I know what it’s like to be a young woman academic in a male-dominated university. I’ll never forget that.”

“Shit.” He took his hand away.

“You could stay the night, you know. Then we could do it again in the morning.”

He stood up. “I’ve got too much on my mind.”

She closed her eyes. “That’s too bad.”

He went out.

His car was parked in the driveway of her suburban house, next to her Jaguar. That Jaguar should have been a warning to me, he thought: a sign that there is more to her than meets the eye. He had been used, but he had enjoyed it. He wondered if women sometimes felt that way after he seduced them.

As he drove home he worried about tomorrow’s hearing. He had the four men on the committee on his side, but he had failed to win a promise of support from Jane. Was there anything else he could do? At this late stage there did not seem to be.

When he got home there was a message from Jim Proust on his answering machine. Not more bad news, please, he thought. He sat at the desk in his den and called Jim’s home. “This is Berry.”

“The FBI fucked up,” Jim said without preamble.

Berrington’s spirits sank further. “Tell me.”

“They were told to cancel that search, but the order didn’t get through in time.”

“Goddamn.”

“The results were sent to her by E-mail.”

He felt afraid. “Who was on the list?”

“We don’t know. The Bureau didn’t keep a copy.”

This was insupportable. “We have to know!”

“Maybe you can find out. The list could be in her office.”

“She’s locked out of her office.” Berrington was struck by a hopeful thought. “She might not have retrieved her mail.” His mood lifted a little.

“Can you do that?”

“Sure.” Berrington looked at his gold Rolex. “I’ll go in to the college right now.”

“Call me as soon as you know.”

“You bet.”

He got back in his car and drove to Jones Falls University. The campus was dark and deserted. He parked outside Nut House and went in. He felt less embarrassed about sneaking into Jeannie’s office the second time. What the hell, there was too much at stake for him to worry about his dignity.

He turned on her computer and accessed her mailbox. She had one piece of mail.
Please, God, let this be the FBI list.
He downloaded it. To his disappointment, it was another message from her friend at the University of Minnesota:

Did you get my E-mail yesterday? I’ll be in Baltimore tomorrow and would really like to see you again, even if only for a few minutes. Please call me. Love, Will.

She had not got yesterday’s message, because Berrington had downloaded it then erased it. She would not get this one, either. But where was the FBI list? She must have downloaded it yesterday morning, before security locked her out.

Where had she saved it? Berrington searched her hard disk for the words “FBI,” “F.B.I.” with dots, and “Federal Bureau of Investigation.” He found nothing. He searched through a box of diskettes in her drawer, but they were just backups of the files on her computer. “This woman even keeps a backup copy of her goddamn shopping list,” he muttered.

He used Jeannie’s phone to call Jim again. “Nothing,” he said abruptly.

“We have to know who is on that list!” Jim barked.

Berrington said sarcastically: “What shall I do, Jim—kidnap and torture her?”

“She must have the list, right?”

“It’s not in her mailbox, so she must have downloaded it.”

“So if it’s not in her office, she must have it at home.”

“Logical.” Berrington saw where he was heading. “Can you have her place …” He was reluctant to say “searched by the FBI” on the phone. “Can you have it checked out?”

“I guess so. David Creane failed to deliver, so I guess he still owes me a favor. I’ll call him.”

“Tomorrow morning would be a good time. The hearing is at ten, she’ll be there for a couple of hours.”

“Gotcha. I’ll get it done. But what if she keeps it in her goddamn handbag? What do we do then?”

“I don’t know. Good night, Jim.”

“Night.”

After hanging up, Berrington sat there for a while, looking at the narrow room enlivened by Jeannie’s bright, bold colors. If things went wrong tomorrow, she could be back at this desk by lunchtime, with her FBI list, charging ahead with her investigation, all set to ruin three good men.

It must not happen, he thought desperately; it must not happen.