Fatal Reaction

around almost as if he were surprised to find me still there. Then, without a word, he took my hand and led me out of the apartment.
     
    As we drove back to my office I tried to focus on the touchstones of the city like a blind man fumbling for familiar objects in the dark. After the grisly scene in Danny’s apartment I needed to reassure myself that the world had not somehow slipped off its axis. I sought comfort in the rumble of the city buses, the enduring twin corncobs of Marina Towers, the hulking permanence of the Merchandise Mart, squat and solid beside the opaque waters of the Chicago River.
    “What happened up there?” I asked finally.
    “I don’t know,” replied Stephen helplessly as we made our way through morning traffic.
    “Do you think he could have surprised a burglar?”
    “I don’t know what to think,” he answered, “but it didn’t look like anything was taken.”
    We drove south on Dearborn in the deep shadow of the el tracks. We were almost to my office before I found the voice to speak again.
    “When are you going to tell Takisawa?” I ventured.
    “Not until it’s too late for them to change their minds about coming,” replied Stephen. “Losing Danny is going to be devastating for us. The Japanese hate it when the players change in the middle of negotiations. Not only that, but you may remember that our original entree to the company was through Danny. He and Takisawa’s son-in-law were friends in law school. To the Japanese, those kinds of relationships are critical. Who knows whether we’ll be able to keep their interest in the project now that Danny isn’t part of the equation.”
    “Maybe you should think about postponing the visit?”
    “Science is a winner-take-all sport, Kate. There are no silver medals in this. Every time I have to wait to hire someone or hold off buying a piece of equipment because I don’t have the money it puts Mikos that much closer to beating us.”
    “I understand that. But even ignoring for the moment the fact that Danny has been the lead man on this from day one, I don’t see how you can possibly be ready without him.”
    “Obviously I’m going to have to find someone to take his place,” said Stephen, pulling into the loading zone in front of my building.
    “Like who?” I demanded, thinking how difficult it would be to find someone willing to plunge into this kind of fast-moving, highly technical negotiation in midstream. “Like you.”
    “You can’t be serious!” I exclaimed in a decidedly unlawyerly display of candor.
    Stephen turned slowly in the driver’s seat and took both my hands in his. He is a big man, handsome the way that Hercules was strong and with the kind of charismatic personality that in the closed confines of the car seemed to radiate heat like a bomb site after a blast.
    “It has to be you, Kate. As outside counsel, Danny always kept you up to speed on our dealings with Takisawa. You also know our business inside and out. I can’t think of anyone who is in a better position to evaluate the impact that the different ways we might structure this deal will have on the company.”
    “I have other clients, Stephen,” I protested. “What you’re asking is absolutely impossible.”
    “You could take a leave of absence from the firm,” he countered, “a temporary leave of absence. Lawyers do it all the time to have babies or work political campaigns....” A delivery truck pulled up behind us and the driver pummeled his horn angrily.
    “You’d be better off with almost anyone but me when you’re dealing with the Japanese,” I countered. “Everyone knows that women give them the heebie-jeebies.” Normally I would never have dreamed of using my being a woman as an excuse, but I was desperate. The thought of leaving the firm, even temporarily, to go to work for Stephen every day was enough to give me the bends.
    “My head is on the block, Kate. My jugular is exposed, and from what you’ve been telling me Jim Cassidy is busy sharpening his knife...
    “Which is why you need someone who knows how to deal with the Japanese, someone with a lot of experience with this kind of deal.”
    “No. What I need is someone who knows me. Someone whose judgment I trust.” Behind us the truck driver leaned on his horn. Startled, I snatched my hands away. “I have never asked you to do anything for me before,” Stephen continued, gravely.
    I stared at him for a few seconds, but in the end there was no reply to this