Just Dreams (Brooks Sisters Dreams Series Book 1) (15 page)

Charles stepped inside and gave her a kiss on the cheek.  They were really good friends who had known each other for years.  He knew her from high school back in New York when they worked together on the school newspaper.  They were New York transplants who had come to Miami for the sun, the fun and the job.  She was a good reporter with lots of good sources, a knack for getting to the heart of a story and a keen sense of ethics.  He knew he could trust her.  He also knew that she wouldn’t submit the story unless she had reliable sources and corroboration.  He’d have to convince her.

Judith locked the door behind him.  He took a seat at her dining room table and set the laptop down on top.  She took a seat at the head of the table next to him. “So, what’s up?”

He told her everything.  Well, almost everything.  He left out the part about how he had obtained the computer files and the fact that Kathy may have to face disciplinary proceedings from the Florida Bar because they’d decided to get involved.  Judy would find that out soon enough.

He showed her the documents to back up his story.  When he finished, she slid her chair back, stood up and started pacing the dining room.  He could see the wheels turning in her head as she figured out the angles.

“So,” she said, “let me get this straight.  You want me to publish a story accusing one of the largest defense contractors in the country of assisting the C.I.A. with operating illegally in the United States and link that to Patti’s death.”

“Right,” he said.  “The proof is right here.”

Judy scratched delicately at a spot on her scalp just above her right temple with a perfectly manicured fingernail. She shook her head.  “Sorry.  My editor will never let me run the story based on what you’ve shown me so far.  I need more proof.”

Charles sat back in his chair and threw his hands up.  “More proof? What more could you possibly need?  The proof’s right there.”  He pointed a hand toward his laptop.

“No.  It’s not all there,” she said.  “For example, we don’t have proof that Manning is a C.I.A. operative.” 

When Charles opened his mouth to speak, Judy gave him the look she used to give him when she was the editor of the high school newspaper and he used to argue with her over a story.  He closed his mouth. 

“You know that Manning used to be C.I.A. because you worked with him on joint missions when you were in the military.  But that was more than ten years ago.  For all you know, Manning could have left the C.I.A. and joined the F.B.I., the N.S.A. or any other government agency authorized to operate in the U.S.,” she said.

Charles sat there for a moment considering her point.  He hated to admit it, but she was right.  They needed more proof that Peachtree was acting on orders from the C.I.A.  He rested his elbows onto the dining room table, put his head into his hands and racked his brain trying to figure out how they could acquire the proof they needed.  He ran a hand over his face and noticed the stubble on his chin.  It had been a long day and it promised to be an even longer week.  Then it came to him.  He looked up at her.  “I’ve got a buddy in the F.B.I. who should be able to confirm that Manning is not an F.B.I. agent.  He may be able to find out whether Manning is C.I.A., but he’s not going to be able to confirm or deny that publicly.”

Judy smiled and joined him at the table.  “All I need is a reliable source telling me that Manning is still a C.I.A. operative.  That source could be you once you confirm with your F.B.I. buddy that Manning is still working with the C.I.A.”

“We also have the fax number that Wilkes and the other Peachtree operatives sent their reports to.  There’s got to be a way to look up who owns that number,” he said.

“Leave that to me,” she said.  “I’ve got a friend at the telephone company.”

It was Charles’ turn to smile.  “Why am I not surprised?  You always had lots of helpful friends.”

She laughed.  “How else is a girl supposed to get what she needs in this world?”

“I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to help me,” he said.

She waved a hand at him.  “Anything for a friend.  Besides, I should be thanking you. This is a big story.  I need something like this to put me on the map.  Who knows?  After this, maybe the New York Times will offer me a job.”

“Just be careful,” Charles said.  “These people are dangerous.  They’ve already taken out four people to cover this up.  I don’t want you to be next.”

“Don’t worry about me.  I know how to take care of myself.  Besides, once the story’s out, the cat will be out of the bag. Peachtree won’t dare touch you or me then for fear of giving it credence.

“I hope you’re right,” he said.

“I know I am,” she said.

***

Giada sat in an unmarked sedan parked across the street from the entrance of a Publix parking lot.  She watched Charles stroll down the street and enter the lot.  A minute later she saw his car exit. Peachtree’s operatives tailed him.

She pursed her lips.  Manning had warned her that Charles was good.  He had obviously lost Peachtree’s operatives.  So, where had he been and what was he up to?  It was her job to find out.  She called Manning to report that Peachtree’s operatives were back on the job.  Her next call was to her unit’s resident geek – Gus Lambda.

“Yo,” he said.

“Gus, I need you to pull all the surveillance footage in a one mile radius around the Publix supermarket on Coral Way off of Brickell.  We’re looking to track the footprints of the Purple Ghost from 8:30p.m. until just now.  I’ll contact you tomorrow for the information.

“Got it,” Gus said.

Giada hung up.  They would see what they could see.

***

The next day, Annette escorted Charles into Kathy’s office.  The more he thought about it, the more he realized he needed to warn her to keep her safe – at least until the article came out and Peachtree and the C.I.A. were exposed.  He decided not to tell her about the article.  He didn’t know much about the Florida Bar’s ethical rules, but he suspected that if Kathy knew he had divulged confidential information to a reporter, she’d be duty bound to report it.  He didn’t want to put her in that position.  He’d already put her in quite a few tight positions – both literally and metaphorically.  He grinned at the thought.

His grin disappeared when she looked up at him and he saw the evidence of strain in her face.  Her skin lacked its usual healthy glow.  Her eyes contained none of the sparkle they normally did.  Dark circles appeared under them.  She looked as if she hadn’t slept in a week and tried to cover it up with makeup.  Guilt welled up within him. 

She stood up to greet him.  “Hello Charles.  Please have a seat.” 

Charles sat in one of the visitor’s chairs. Kathy sat behind her desk.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Annette asked.

When both Kathy and Charles declined, Annette left the office, closing the door behind her. 

“You look like hell,” Charles said.  He regretted the words the instant they left his lips.  Kathy recoiled in her seat as if she’d been slapped.  He caught a brief glimpse of hurt in her eyes.

“Why thank you very much.  That’s just what a girl needs to hear.” She sat back in her chair and breathed out a long sigh.  “Did you come here this morning to tell me something useful?”

She looked so tired, so worried, so defeated, that he wanted to get up, pull her into his arms and just hold her.  But he knew he couldn’t.  Annette or someone else could come through the door any moment and catch them.  He sighed.  He wished he had some magic words to give her comfort.  But instead, he had to give her more to worry about.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” 

“What?” she asked.

“I picked up a tail yesterday while I was running around doing some errands.  It was an unmarked sedan.”

“You picked up a tail?  What is this?  Some sort of spy novel?”  She waved a hand at him.  “Charles, we’ve got a real problem on our hands.  You need to find another counsel to represent you and I need to bring them up to speed as quickly as possible.”

“You’re not listening to me woman,” he said.  “I can’t say too much in here, because, for all I know, your office is bugged.”  He watched her eyes widen.  Good.  He had her attention.

“I thought I spotted a tail in New York.  I definitely spotted one when we got back to Miami.  And when I got home, I discovered listening devices – bugs – in my apartment.”

Kathy’s jaw went slack.  She stared at him for a moment before closing her mouth.  A frown appeared between her brows.  Her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward in her seat.  “And you think they might have bugged my office and my condo too?”             

He nodded.  “Yes.”

“You mean to tell me that Peachtree’s operatives and God only knows who else could have been listening to every conversation, every telephone call, hell every sound  I’ve made for days both here and at home? Why didn’t you tell me this when you first discovered the bugs in your place?”

He shrugged.  “At first, I thought they were only keeping tabs on me.  After the blackmail business, I began to suspect that they may be keeping tabs on you too.”  He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.  He had handled this – her – wrong from the very beginning.  He should have trusted her.  “You’re right.  I should have told you immediately.”

“Yes, you should have. This is very serious business.  It’s not only a complete invasion of my privacy, but also a violation of the attorney-client privilege.  It’s my duty to protect the sanctity of communications between the firm and its clients.  I need to know when the privacy of those communications could be compromised.”

She turned away from him, picked up the telephone handset and dialed a few digits. “Listen,” she said into the receiver, “we may have a security breach at the firm.  Send Kevin to my office right away.  Thanks.” She dropped the receiver back into its cradle.

“Look,” he said.  “I’m sorry about this.” 

He searched her face.  It unsettled him a little that he couldn’t read it.  Was she scared?  Upset? Hurt? Angry?

“I know,” she said. “But right now I have to report and deal with this possible breach of security.”

He nodded.  He felt terrible.  He had brought nothing but trouble to Kathy since the day he met her.  “I understand.  Here, take this.”  He handed her a burn phone that had the number of his burn phone coded into it.

“What is this?”

He shook his head and held his right index finger to his lips.  “In case you need to reach me.”

“Okay.”  She put the burn phone into her right top desk drawer and stood up.  “Let me walk you out.”

They left her office together.  After they had walked down the hall a little ways, she pulled him into an alcove occupied by a copy machine and a couple of printers.  She kept her voice low to mask it under the mechanical sound of the printers spitting out pieces of paper.  “How extensively would they have bugged the firm?  Would they plant bugs in here?”  She glanced around as if half expecting to see them.

The cozy surroundings and the worried look on her face made Charles want to put his arms around her.  He shook his head.  “No.  It’s probably just your office, your paralegal’s, your associate’s and maybe the conference rooms on this floor.  Otherwise, there’d be too many feeds to follow.”

She nodded.  “I’m going to have a security firm brought in to sweep the office, my car and my apartment every day until this issue is resolved.”

“That’s a good idea.  Try the McKinley firm.  They’re very reliable,” he said.

“I’m glad you think it’s a good idea since you’ll be footing the bill for this expense,” she said. 

Charles winced.  Ouch.  The woman knew how to hit where it hurt.  He wanted to protest, but thought better of it when he saw the glint in her eye.  He swallowed.  “Understood.  “Let me know what McKinley finds.”

“I will,” she said.

On Thursday at noon, Peachtree sat on a park bench pretending to read a newspaper.  Sweat rolled into his eyes.  He cursed under his breath.  It was 92 degrees with 80 percent humidity and here he was, outside, waiting for Manning.  He was tired of waiting for the man and, although he hated to admit it, nervous about the meeting.  Manning probably didn’t think they were moving fast enough to contain the problem.  Or maybe he knew about the security breach caused by the hackers the other day.  Peachtree hadn’t reported it. 

He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped at his brow.  How did Manning get his information?  He probably had informants inside the company.  He put the handkerchief away and looked up to see Manning sitting on the bench next to him.  He forced himself not to jump.  The man gave him the creeps.

“I’m very disappointed in you Peachtree.  You’ve been keeping secrets from me,” Manning said.

The saliva dried up in Peachtree’s mouth. It was just as he’d feared.  He was silent a moment as he tried to figure out how to handle the situation.  Finally, anger took over.  Manning had talked to him as if he were a little boy about to be spanked.  It reminded him of how his father used to talk to him before meting out some severe punishment.  Well, he wasn’t a little boy any longer.  He decided to brazen it out.

“Excuse me?” Peachtree said.   “I have no idea what you’re talking about.  Why did you call this meeting and why are we meeting outside when it’s ninety two degrees with eighty percent humidity?”

Manning looked him dead in the eye for a long moment.  Peachtree fidgeted and was the first to break eye contact. Manning’s voice was soft when he spoke. 

“We’re meeting here today because I deemed it necessary to get my point across in person. I also wanted to make sure that no-one else overheard our conversation.  The situation with Morgan has spiraled out of control. We no longer trust your company to handle it.  You failed to report a very serious breach in your data security earlier this week and your operatives lost the tail on Morgan for several hours,” Manning said.

“It was only for a couple of hours, after which we picked up his tail again,” Peachtree said.  “As far as the data breach is concerned, there was nothing to report.  We handled the situation.”

Manning simply stared at him.  Peachtree caught himself fidgeting again.  He forced himself to stop.  This time, he didn’t break eye contact.  Manning’s eyes narrowed.

“That sort of bullshit is precisely the reason we no longer deem your company capable of handling this.  Do you know where Mr. Morgan went during those hours you deem so insignificant?  He went to see a reporter for the Miami Herald named Judith Bailey.”

The color drained from Peachtree’s face.  Judith Bailey was known for exposing government corruption and cover-ups.  She was also known for having reliable sources.  Charles Morgan had gone to see the reporter the day after the security breach.  He put two and two together and didn’t like what he came up with
. 
  

“Want to know how we found out about Bailey?  One of her contacts at the telephone company accessed information on the fax number we use for your operatives’ reports.  When we paid him a visit, we found out he had acquired the information for her,” Manning said.

“She’s going to have to be dissuaded from going forward with any story about Peachtree,” he said.  “I’ll - -.”

“It’s already been handled,” Manning said, cutting him off.  “I took care of it personally.”

Something in Manning’s voice sent a chill down Peachtree’s spine.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome.  Just see to it there are no more reporting lapses or data breaches on your end.  Otherwise, we’ll have to tie up all our loose ends.”

***

On Friday morning, Kathy sat in her office and stared at the telephone.  She had to do something about Weisman’s threat to file a Bar complaint against her before it was too late.  She needed to inform the powers that be at the firm and find an attorney to represent her. 

Just thinking about the firm’s possible reaction to the situation filled her with dread.  She had no idea what would happen.  Would they fire her?  Would they keep her but never trust her to lead another case again? Which scenario was worse? 

She put her throbbing head into her hands and groaned.  How the hell had she gotten herself into this mess?  The better question was: Why?  She knew better than to sleep with a client.
She’d represented good-looking clients in the past and never felt the attraction for them she had for Charles.  What was it about him that had made her throw all caution to the wind?

She thought of the time they’d spent together in New York. Truth be told, she’d thought of little else over the past few days.  The video of their lovemaking, while humiliating in the sense that it had been watched by Weisman, Peachtree and God only knew who else, was also a poignant reminder of the way she had responded to Charles - of the level of passion they had shared.  She’d watched it several times and each time, it never ceased to arouse her.  She bit her lip.  There was no use thinking about that.  With all that had happened since that night, there was no going back.  She sighed.

A knock sounded at the door. 

“Come in.”

Erin walked in.  She must have stopped by Kathy’s office on the way in since her purse and briefcase dangled from her right shoulder, a newspaper was tucked under her left arm and she carried a Starbucks coffee cup.  She looked a little excited - as if she had some juicy gossip to share.

“Hey.”  She closed the door with her hip and plopped down on one of the visitor’s chairs in front of Kathy’s desk.  She set her coffee cup down on the desk and her bags on the chair next to her.

“Hey yourself,” Kathy said, happy for the distraction.

“Have you seen this morning’s paper yet?”

Kathy made a face.  “You know I don’t read the newspaper on weekdays.” 

Erin smirked.  “Well maybe you should.” 

“Why?”

“There’s an article in here about Peachtree Consulting.  It basically accuses the company of illegally conducting operations for the C.I.A. in the U.S.”

Kathy felt her eyes bulge open.  “What?  Give me that.” She held out a hand and reached across the desk for the newspaper. 

Erin grinned, holding it out of reach.  “And that’s not all.  According to the article, Peachtree was engaged in one of these illegal operations when its employee - Wilkes - got into the car accident that killed Charles Morgan’s wife.  Isn’t that great? If they were involved in illegal activities at the time of the accident, we should be able to get them on negligence
per se
.”  Erin looked as though she’d just solved world hunger.

Kathy stared at her, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. 
Please Lord, tell me he didn’t do what I think he did. 
She prayed silently. 
Because if he did, I’m going to kill him. 
Some of her emotions must have shown on her face because the smirk disappeared.

“What?” Erin asked.

Kathy silently held out a hand for the newspaper.  This time, Erin handed it over.  Kathy unfolded it. 

The story had made the front page.  As Kathy read it, her worst fears were confirmed.  The reporter referred to documents that were covered by the confidentiality order such as Wilkes’ employment records and expense reports.  The article also mentioned other records she was not sure Peachtree had produced.   She assumed Charles provided the reporter with the documents.  But how had he gotten hold of them?  She hadn’t given them to him. 

She looked up at Erin.  “Did you give the client copies of any of the documents produced by Peachtree?” 

Erin’s brow furrowed.  “No.  Of course not.  They were designated “AEO.”  I would never have done that.  Why would you ask me such a thing?” After a moment, her jaw went slack.  She stood up, grabbed the newspaper, plopped back down into her chair and scanned the article.  She then looked up at Kathy, surprise and disbelief all over her face.  “He didn’t.  But how?”

“That’s what I want to know.  Get MIS to check the document database and account for every person who accessed it.  I want a list of names, dates, times and methods. And I want it yesterday,” Kathy said.

Erin nodded, her lips pursed into a grim line.  “I’m all over it.”  She grabbed her bags and her coffee cup and left.

Kathy sat there for a moment staring out of her office window.  She didn’t see the view of Biscayne Bay.  All she saw was her career and her case going down the drain.  Charles only cared about destroying Peachtree. He didn’t give a damn who else got hurt in the process. 

A single tear slid down her cheek.  She dashed it away.  She didn’t have time to cry.  She’d deal with the hurt feelings later.  It was time to act.  She turned back to her desk, picked up the telephone and made two calls.  The first was to a friend who happened to be one of the best employment lawyers in the state of Florida. The second call she made was to Steve.  She didn’t bother to call Charles.  She’d deal with that bastard later.  In person.

***

Charles entered his condo carrying a copy of the Miami Herald and a cup of coffee he had picked up from Starbucks on the way home from his morning run.  He plopped down on one of the stools at his breakfast nook, unfolded the paper and smiled.  Judy had come through.  The story had made front page headlines: “Peachtree Consulting Complicit in Illegal Government Operations.”  He read the entire story with a grin on his face.  Let Peachtree and the C.I.A. try to weasel their way out of this.  They certainly had some explaining to do. 

His grin faded when he thought of Kathy’s likely reaction to the story.  Peachtree and the C.I.A. were not the only ones who had explaining to do.  Kathy was bound to realize that someone had leaked confidential documents to the media.  She’d eventually trace that leak to him.  He felt a little guilty about using her to exact his revenge, but he didn’t see any other way he could have achieved it.  He didn’t know when he made this plan that he would develop feelings for the woman.  And after Peachtree killed a witness and three hackers and then tried to blackmail Kathy, the only way he could think of to protect her was to expose Peachtree and the C.I.A.’s illegal activities.  He could only hope he could get her to understand that. 

He thought of how right she had felt in his arms that night in New York and how much he had needed to protect her when the bomb exploded at Mrs. Robert‘s house.  He’d make her understand.  He had to.

He glanced back at the newspaper and scanned the headline of the next story.  His blood froze.  It read:  “Herald Reporter Found Slain in Miami Shores.”   A picture of Judy appeared next to it.  The article reported that Judy’s body had been found in her home the previous afternoon by her cleaning lady.  She’d been severely beaten, her throat was slit and there were signs of a struggle.  The Miami Herald offered a $10,000 reward to anyone who provided information leading to the arrest of the person or persons responsible for the crime.

Oh my God.  What did I do?  Judy.
 

Despair rose over him like a fog.
It all my fault
.  If he hadn’t been so hell-bent on revenge this would never have happened and Judy would be alive.  He thought of the terror she must have felt in those final moments.  According to the article, they beat her nearly to death before slitting her throat.  Despair turned quickly into rage. 

He slammed a fist down onto the counter.  They would pay for this.  He would make sure of it. 

***

Charles walked into the 11
th
Street diner where he had agreed to meet Tyler for lunch.  Due to the late mid-afternoon hour, the place was relatively empty. 

Tyler sat in a booth at the back of the diner.  Next to him was a stuffed shirt dressed in a suit.  He was a clean-shaven Caucasian man in his mid-forties, of average height and average build, with dark hair.  Charles walked up to the booth.

“Hey Man,” Tyler said.

Charles nodded.  “I see you’ve brought company.  What?  We can’t have lunch together without you bringing backup?”  It was an old joke – one Charles made whenever Tyler showed up to the party with an uninvited guest.  He knew it wasn’t a good sign when Tyler didn’t chuckle.

“Charles, this is Agent Michaels.  We wanted to talk to you today about Peachtree Consulting – specifically, the article that came out in today’s newspaper,” Tyler said.

Charles forced himself to grin.  “Yeah.  I read that.  Peachtree’s dirty laundry aired all over the front page of the newspaper.”

“Were you the source of the documents the reporter referred to in her article?” Michaels asked.

Charles weighed his options.  If he told the truth, the F.B.I. would haul him in for questioning and try to force him to cooperate with its investigation by threatening him with prosecution for hacking into Peachtree’s files.  They’d want him to settle or otherwise put his lawsuit on the back burner pending the investigation.  Although having the F.B.I. investigate Peachtree was an integral part of his overall plan to destroy the company, putting his case on the back burner was not.  He shrugged.  “I have no idea where she got her information from.”

“The reporter referred to documents she could have only gotten from an insider at Peachtree or you if they were produced by Peachtree in your case.  We can’t ask the reporter about her sources because she’s dead.  She was murdered yesterday. We suspect Peachtree had a hand in that as well, but we can’t prove it yet.  I understand you and she went to the same high school together,” Michaels said.