Page 50 of Maddy's Justice

“Of course he will. But watch him and see if you think he’s lying. If he did do it, you bringing it up to him should be sufficient to make him stop. If he didn’t do it, that will still be a good excuse to get a grip on him and make sure he knocks off the illicit behavior. There’s been more than enough of that already.”

SEVENTEEN

The luxury G-5 carrying a single passenger cruised in toward St. Paul. It made a perfect, soft landing at the downtown airport. Less than two minutes later the pilot stopped next to a Cadillac stretch limousine waiting for it.

At the bottom of the jet’s stairs were three, well-dressed men. They were nervously waiting for the passenger to deplane. Brandon Stafford was first in line at the bottom of the stairs. When he saw the senior partner from the firm’s Washington office in the doorway, Stafford swallowed hard and took in a deep breath.

“Brandon, good to see you again,” the seventy-two-year-old D.C. power broker said shaking Stafford’s hand.

Wade MacAlister had been a partner in a prestigious brokerage firm in New York and was also a very influential lobbyist in D. C. The investment banking house went bust in the crash of 2007 to 2008. Like most of the principals of these failures, Wade MacAlister was able to bail out before the place folded completely. Likely someone who should have been prosecuted but for their political connections. He was also allowed to keep several hundred million dollars. A licensed lawyer, at that point he jumped to Stafford, Hughes to use his influence with the government to bring in tons of business. Both legal and not so legal.

The D.C. office of Stafford, Hughes had scored a huge coup by bringing him on board. In less than a year, he had taken over the firm in its entirety. Today, he was in a foul mood because the management committee, the partners that greeted him, were causing problems. A trip to Minnesota before a holiday weekend was not what he wanted to do.

While the limo driver held the door open––greeted pleasantly by MacAlister––the four of them entered the car. The driver then helped load the visitor’s luggage. He took up his position behind the wheel and started to drive off.

“Driver, raise the privacy partition please,” Gavin Blake said.

“Yes, sir,” the man replied. After raising the partition, for some reason he could not quite explain, the driver’s curiosity got the best of him. He put in earplugs and turned on the listening device in the rear of the car. While the lawyers conversed, Dan Sorenson, a driver for Jake’s Limo Service, listened in.

“Like I told you on the phone yesterday,” MacAlister said looking at Brandon Stafford, “Chicago called. He’s concerned. Tell me,” he continued looking at Cliff Spenser, “what were you thinking when you hired outside counsel to handle a pissant harassment suit?”

“We figured it would generate publicity and we thought it would be best to have independent counsel handle it,” Blake answered for Spenser.

“It would look like we were taking the allegations seriously,” Brandon Stafford added.

MacAlister stared skeptically at Gavin Blake without responding. Except for Cliff Spenser, MacAlister’s presence alone caused heart palpitations in every senior partner.

“Cliff?” he finally said after a minute or so.

“We thought we were getting people we could control. Stick to the case. Find out what these women had and come up with a way to make it go away.”

“You were trying to save money. Avoid a big payout to the plaintiffs,” MacAlister said. “Now these lawyers you thought you could control are starting to peel back the onion.”

“I don’t think it’s that dire,” Cliff said. “They’re being thorough and…”

“Bring this guy to your party,” MacAlister said looking at Brandon Stafford. “I want to meet him.”

“You’re here for the weekend?” Stafford asked. It was the Friday before Memorial Day. Stafford had an annual party at his place on Lake Minnetonka set for Monday, Memorial Day.

“It wasn’t my first choice. I had a hunting trip to the island in the Gulf planned. Now I’m here dealing with a possible PR screw up and I’m none too pleased about it.”

“Sorry,” Stafford quietly said.

“Do the three of you understand what’s at stake here?” MacAlister asked. “Especially the girls, and I like going to the place up North and so do you.”

“Of course,” Cliff Spenser replied for all of them. “We need to get this thing settled. The lawyers think it’s too soon. If we make a high opening bid, something we would have to do to make it go away, the plaintiff’s lawyer will smell it as a panic offer.”

“Which it will be,” MacAlister agreed. “That’s why I want to talk to our counsel. See if you can get them both at the party.”

“Cliff Spenser’s on the phone,” Sandy yelled through Marc’s door.

Being the Friday afternoon before a long weekend, there were no clients in the office. The phones were not ringing with clients calling and everyone was gliding toward an early quitting time.

“Marc Kadella,” he said answering the phone.

“Marc, it’s Cliff Spenser. Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he heard Spenser say.

“No, Cliff, not at all. We’re winding down to get out of here early anyway.”

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