Fatal Reaction

out of my mind.”
    “Do you remember what you said to me that day in the car?”
    “What day?”
    “The day you got me into all this. The day you talked me into taking over the negotiations with Takisawa. You told me you trusted my judgment. Well now I’m telling you the time has come to put up or shut up. Trust me. Takisawa is just playing games. You’ve got to either fold or call their bluff. But if you don’t, it’s the first step down a very bad road. Say yes to them now and Takisawa will have a leash around your neck so fast that before you know it you’ll be barking like a dog.”
    Stephen stood behind his desk and considered what I had said. I could not read his expression, but the pounding of my heart filled my ears and sweat trickled down the inside of my silk blouse like a cold river of fear. I tried hard not to think about what a large piece of my life I was gambling on this one moment. I tried not to second-guess myself. When it came right down to it, my judgment was the only thing that separated me from a thousand other lawyers in this town. When I stopped trusting it, it would be time to quit and hit the cocktail-party circuit full time.
    “Okay,” he said, getting slowly to his feet. “We’ll try testing your level of arrogance against theirs. You’d just better hope you’re right about this.”
     
    Old man Takisawa’s shock at what Stephen had to say was so convincing that if I hadn’t known better, I might have thought it was genuine. Oh no, he assured us, there had obviously been some sort of miscommunication. With his poor command of English he had obviously misstated his company’s position.
    From there it was all downhill. By the end of the day we had hammered out an agreement in principle that was everything Stephen had wanted. Once it was signed, Azor Pharmaceuticals would gain a powerful ally, someone who could take ZK-501 to market and yet would leave him in charge of his own company. Better still, he would have money enough to see the project through to completion, to have a chance to meet his most ambitious goals.
    We sent the Takisawa people back to the Nikko in a celebratory mood. Once we closed the doors on their limos, Stephen and I sat down to go over the terms of the deal one last time. After I was sure nothing had been overlooked, I could begin drafting the text of the final, binding agreement that would be signed by Stephen and Takisawa before the Takisawa delegation returned to Japan—-the one I looked forward to jamming down Jim Cassidy’s and the other board members’ throats.
    Once we had finished, Stephen was expansive, practically euphoric. His earlier displeasure with me was completely forgotten, erased by delight in having gotten what he’d wanted. While there was no denying that I, too, was pleased about the deal, I found myself wishing I could let my irritation with Stephen go so easily.
     
    When everyone else left for dinner, I began work on the agreement. Frankly, I was grateful for the chance to miss yet another business dinner, especially this one. Mother had arranged for a night out at A1 Capone’s Steak House, an infinitely tacky beef-and-brew place on Kinzie that featured an animatronic show about Chicago’s gangster past, complete with a reenactment of the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre.
    Considering Stephen’s family connections, I told my mother that I thought the outing was in exceptionally bad taste.
    “Of course,” she’d replied cattily, “that’s why the Japanese will absolutely adore it.”
    I worked happily for hours, culling the relevant language from the various drafts of the proposal and the notes I had made during the course of the day. I hoped to have a solid draft before I left, which I planned on dropping at Stephen’s apartment on my way home. Judging from his mood I was pretty sure he’d try to get me to stay. I figured I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.
    I worked steadily, completely absorbed by the task at hand and oblivious to everything around me. When I finally looked up I was surprised to see it was nearly ten o’clock. I decided to stretch my legs and get a Diet Coke. It felt good to get up, but it felt even better to make progress. With all the ups and downs of the past few weeks it was hard to believe we could have a signed agreement in less than twenty-four hours. As I made my way to the lunchroom I told myself that Danny would have been proud.
    Standing in the neon glow of the coke machine I