No One Rides For Free - Larry Beinhart (2 page)

"Anything that pays." I thought for a
moment, remembered that he worked for all deceased people and tripled
my fee. "Seven hundred fifty dollars a day, for my time, plus
costs which can include additional people, which I mark up. No OT on
my own time, but any day that runs longer than fourteen hours, I
charge two days."

"Your rate is not a problem," he said,
being very serious. "I want to know what sort of work you do."

He wanted to play "Say the secret word and you
win a duck." There was an answer he wanted to a question I
didn't know, and the reward would be a job, which I needed. I hate
the game.

"We're squash buddies," I said. "Nobody
can be truer and more steadfast than squash buddies. If you were
married I would say you want me to prove that your wife does awful
things with small animals so you won't have to pay alimony. But
you're not married. I don't think it's you that's in trouble, because
I don't think you know how. So. Let us cut the crap; tell me what the
problem is and I'll tell you if I can help."

"It's not for me. It's for . . . let's say a
client. But I don't want to waste your time if it's not in your
line."

"Of course it's for a client. You're an
attorney, Chip, remember."

"Yeah. Look. . .uhhah . . .I don't know how to
say this. You're not the smoothest guy in the world. I mean I don't
mind. That kind of thing doesn't matter to me. And if you're the
right guy, it won't matter to . . . them. So I'm just trying to save
everybody time and embarrassment."

"What the hell. I don't need your insults. I
don't need your job. You're lucky to get me."

"Then how come," he said, "I've had to
pay for the court the last two weeks?"

You can't fool a squash buddy. Even when your touch
on the drop shot is picture perfect, he knows when you 're broke. And
the s.o.b. still wanted to play "Say the secret word."

"Awright, you wanna know. My work could be
characterized as tough-guy eclectic. I chase bail skips. I discover
disreputable dirt for divorces. I track down white-collared corporate
crooks . . ."

I saw his eyebrow twitch. It was practically a clue.
I was very, very close to the secret word.

". . . some of my best cases have been beating
the embezzler before he beats it to Brazil. I've done some very quiet
stuff for politicians. I offer discretion, loyalty, superior
intelligence and half a law degree."

"Half a law degree?"

"Yeah," I said, "I'm a law-school
dropout. That has all the utility of being a beauty-school dropout,
except I still can't do my own nails."

"Where," I knew he would ask, "did you
go?"

My answer, I also knew, would clinch it. I didn't
have the right kind of name, the right style or the right kind of
look. But once in my life I had been in the right place.

"Yale," I said.

He sat back and pretended
to ponder.

* * *

At 7 P.M. the next evening I got out of the subway at
Wall Street.

I wore a suit and a rental tie. I had re-shaved at
six and trimmed the burns. The woman I lived with had ironed my
cleanest shirt. They were gonna love me.

The receptionist sat beneath a large, amorphous and
contemporary painting that symbolized, I think, gray. I asked for Mr.
Riggins. When I did not have to wait because he was in conference, on
a conference call with a client or on long distance, I realized that
he was really in a fit.

He looked me over and found me adequate. Not good
enough to praise. Not bad enough to complain. So he led me on through
the rabbit warren of Associates' territory. A clean undistinguished
factory of the mind, still busy as the associates put in unpaid, but
highly billed, overtime to prove their dedication to the holy, and
very well paid, grail of partnership.

We ascended through an internal stairway to Partners'
turf. The law firm provides associates with office furnishings;
partners buy their own. It is one of the finest ways in the western
world of demonstrating class distinction. Partners may even put in
custom doors. Like a scout entering Indian territory, Chip's
awareness of danger increased geometrically with each sign and
marking.

"
Hey"—I put my hand on his shoulder--"I
won't embarrass you. I'll be a credit to my race." His look
implied that it was improper to joke when surrounded by forces so
capriciously hostile. "Really," I back-tracked, "I
won't even make jokes. I will act like this is serious, which I'm
sure it is. I will act with probity and correctness."

"Good."

We straightened our ties and he led me to a corner
office. Corner office is, of course, top of the heap. Think of it!
Two views! Only four rooms per floor have two views! And the
furnishings. An acre of Persian carpet. In mid-acre, an antique desk!
An ornate surface with no drawer space, a desk that says
functionless. Pure, unadulterated status desk. There were no law
books. No bookshelves. When you saw this man, all this said, you were
not paying for books, for dusty research, for filings or record
keeping. When you saw this man you were paying for the privilege of
seeing him.

There were only two chairs. One was behind the desk.
No one had to explain that Chip was not included. He offered me up to
this High Lord of the Legal Admiralty, gave me one last pleading look
and left.

Lawrence Choate Haven was about sixty-five. His suit
was two months of my rent. His nails were manicured, his hair
precision cut, his tall wealthy but not ostentatious. His posture was
a credit to his class or he was wearing a corset. His middle-name
name belonged to the Choate in the firm's masthead.

He explained that he had checked my references. I
looked humble. He had found them adequate. I looked grateful. 

"When we have been called upon to utilize
investigative services in the past we have used one of several large,
established firms. Accountability is an important qualification in
most instances. However, like all positive qualities, accountability
has its obverse side. It means that a system is operative, and a
system means that a significant number of nonessential personnel,
management, clerical, accounting, et al, are involved.

"In this instance we have a situation in which
discretion is more important than corporate accountability. If I were
employing you on behalf of Choate, Winkler, I could not permit myself
that option. This, however, is a personal matter, and I am indeed
free to exercise that option."

The man spoke not only in complete sentences, but in
complete paragraphs. A vanishing art. I was impressed; The partners
at Choate, Winkler had not gone out and recruited Mr. Wood because of
his stunning legal qualifications and sterling character. He had
happened to them.

Leisure Time Industries had started as a record
company and grown into toys, games, concert promotions, resorts.
Anything that could be called leisure and some things that could not.
One of their subsidiaries made squash rackets. But they had a moment
of weakness, and Charles Goreman, who could scent weakness like a
hound can smell a bitch in heat, made his move. Even though LTI was
actually larger than Over & East, it became clear early on that
O&E was going to win. Rather than have a long drawn-out battle,
full of blood and gore, LTI changed course in midstream and allowed a
friendly merger. Choate, Winkler handled the approach and everyone
made out like bandits.

Especially Choate, Winkler. Part of the deal was that
they then became the corporate attorneys for Over & East. By
handling the losing side, they came out with a client twice
the size.

Part of that deal was that Wood was given a
partnership in Choate, Winkler, Higgiston, Hahn & Moore. Thus
everyone's back was adequately scratched. A spiral daisy chain at a
financial Plato's Retreat, where everyone made out. Over & East
continued to play Takeover & Eat, the legal fees rolled into
Choate, Winkler, and Wood's partnership share started in the $750,000
range and only went up.

Then, one night, eighteen months back, a junior
accountant was going through the books at Choate, Winkler. Junior
discovered something that every other accountant had missed for eight
years. He worked all night, checking, double-checking. Impatient for
dawn, he worked through the following day, checking what had to be
checked during working hours.

When Junior was sure, he talked his way into the
office of Lawrence Choate Haven and laid the bomb on that pure,
unadulterated status desk. Edgar Wood was a thief. Worse, he was
using the law firm as a conduit.

At that point, Junior had traced $4,873,927.64 that
had come out of Over & East, through Choate, Winkler, Higgiston,
Hahn & Moore, to existing but nonfunctioning subsidiaries of Over
& East, and from there to suppliers, which were, in fact, Edgar
Wood. Subsequent investigation brought the sum to a tad over $8
million.

"Perhaps," Haven said, "I acted
precipitously. All too often a pall of silence falls, a veil is
pulled across the face of the truth. The principals are more
concerned with protecting their public relations than in punishing
the perpetrators. But I felt at the time, and I still feel, that that
is the wrong approach. It virtually rewards the culpable and puts the
burden of restitution on the stockholders, or, in our case, the
partners. They cringe in the fear that the public will conclude that
because there is one malefactor that the entire organization is
capable of malfeasance.

"
It is a form of cowardice and an abuse of the
public trust.

"Choate, Winkler, Higgiston, Hahn & Moore
has been in existence for over one hundred and fifty years. In all
that time, nothing of this sort has ever occurred. Nothing has ever
blemished our name. Now that it had, I felt that we would only be
stronger for strong action. The other senior partners agreed with me,
if for no other reason than that someone must set standards.

"We decided to prosecute vigorously."

So they had. They went directly to Robert Morganthau,
Manhattan district attorney, that very day. Before they informed Mr.
Goreman, Before they informed Over & East. Before they confronted
Mr. Wood.

That way, there could be no backing down. And there
wasn't.

"
It set off a chain of events that I could not
have foreseen. Although Edgar Wood had embezzled money, I could not
imagine that he would involve outsiders in the matter and, worse,
violate the attorney-client privilege."

Edgar Wood, corporate counsel to Over & East,
personal attorney to Charles Goreman, had been privy to anything and
everything. But that knowledge was protected. It was not his to
share. The attorney-client privilege is the foundation of a lawyer's
relations with clients. It is the rock. It requires the attorney to
never disclose the client's affairs. Requires. It is not an option
like cruise control or white-wall tires.

Everyone now anticipated a new attack on Over &
East by the SEC and the law firm retained to meet the challenge was
Douglas, Cohen, Bartholomew, Neffsky and McDonald. The reason,
according to Choate Haven, was that Choate, Winkler, et al, was
potentially party to the SEC action and to a number of suits
involving Wood and Over & East.

I had heard of Douglas, Cohen; they were the
gunslingers of the three-piece-suit set. The Choate, Winklers of the
legal world could handle the day-to-day corporate business of
corporations, states and even nations. But when the fat was in the
fire, when the feds discovered the smoking gun, when the
vice-president was indicted on vice charges, they called in Douglas,
Cohen.

They were so good that the names in the masthead
actually belonged to nondeceased people.

But even they were having problems. They wanted to
know what Wood was saying. The SEC, who had hidden Wood away and was
taking his testimony in secret, claimed, so far successfully, that
they were not part of the judicial system; they were a regulatory
agency, and not subject to the normal process of discovery. To add
insult to injury, the SEC was leaking the choice bits and pieces to
the
Wall Street Journal
and the
Times
.

"They are the attorneys of record. But I, as a
private party, have a responsibility, because my conduct, however
proper and correct, may be leading to injury to parties whose
well-being was entrusted to me."

"Yeah, I can find the guy," I said. "I
can find him. Maybe Mr. Wood and I, we could have a conversation. But
I don't think he will summarize his testimony for me. I have sources
at the
Times
, but I
bet they don't know much more than they're publishing. I can butter
up a secretary or a steno down in D.C .... but I don't think that's
going to answer your questions, not over the long run anyway, and
this is an on-going thing. So we're talking about going further than
that."

"If you are implying that you might act beyond
the bounds of the law, I certainly recommend against any such
activity. I would be hard put, no matter how grave the situation, to
countenance your commission of an illegal act while performing as my
agent."