Mistress of Justice

going to scream, or slap him, or even reach for his throat with her hands, which seemed to have the strength, more than enough, to strangle him to death.
    Reece said, “Taylor, I can make you understand. If you’ll just—”
    “I don’t want to hear anything more.”
    But she was speaking only to John Silbert Hemming, who nodded solemnly and escorted the lawyer out into the firm’s lobby to await the police.

     
    She spent an hour giving several lengthy statements to two humorless detectives from Police Plaza. She refused aride home from gallant John Silbert Hemming but promised that she’d call him about their opera “date,” a word that she pointedly used.
    “Looking forward to it,” he said, ducking his head to step into the elevator car.
    Taylor walked slowly back to her cubicle. She was almost there when she heard the sound of a photocopier and noticed Sean Lillick copying sheets of music on the Xerox machine near the paralegal pen. He looked up and blurted, “Taylor! You’re out of the hospital? We heard you were totally sick.”
    “Back from the dead,” she said, glancing at the music, the copying of which he was probably charging to a client.
    “You’re all right?”
    If you only knew …
    “I’ll live.”
    He nodded toward the manuscript paper. “Take a look. My latest opus. It’s about Wendall Clayton. I found all of these pictures and papers and things in his office the other day and I’m writing this opera about him. I’m going to project pictures on the screen and get some Shakespearean text and—”
    She leaned close and shut him up with an exasperated look. “Sean, can I give you some advice?”
    He looked at the music. “Oh, these’re just the rough lead sheets. I’m going to arrange them later.”
    “I don’t mean that,” she whispered ominously. “Listen up: If Donald Burdick doesn’t know you were Clayton’s spy yet, he will in about a day or two.”
    He gazed at her uneasily. “What’re you talking about?”
    “I’m talking about this: Pack up your stuff and get out of here. I’d recommend leaving town.”
    “Who the hell’re you to—”
    “You think Clayton was vindictive, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Donald’ll sue your ass for every penny of the money Clayton paid you to be his weasel.”
    “Fuck you. What money?”
    “That you’ve got hidden under your stinky mattress.”
    He blinked in shock. He started to ask how she knew this but he gave up. “I was just—”
    “And one more thing. Leave Carrie Mason alone. She’s too good for you.”
    The kid tried to look angry but mostly he was scared. He grabbed his papers and scurried off down the corridor. Taylor returned to her cubicle. She’d just sat down and begun to check phone messages when she heard someone coming up behind her. She spun around fast, alarmed.
    Thom Sebastian stood in the doorway, hands stuffed in his pockets.
    “Hey,” he said, “only me. Mr. Party Animal. Didn’t mean to spook you.”
    “Thom.”
    “I was mega-freaked when I heard you were sick. They wouldn’t let me in to see you. Did you get my flowers?”
    “I might have. I was pretty out of it. I couldn’t read half the cards.”
    “Well, I was worried. I’m glad you’re okay. You lost weight.”
    She nodded and said nothing.
    A dense, awkward moment. His voice quavered as he said, “So.”
    “So.”
    He said, “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know.… Looks like I’m leaving.”
    “The firm?”
    He nodded. “What I was telling you about, that new firm I’m starting with Bosk? It’s going to happen. Tomorrow’s my last day here. I’ve got ten associates from Hubbard, White coming with me. And a bunch of clients too. We’ve already got fifteen retainer agreements. St. Agnes, McMillan, New Amsterdam, RFC, a bunch of others.”
    Taylor laughed. “You’re kidding.” These were Hubbard, White’s biggest clients. They represented close to one third of the firm’s revenues.
    Thom said, “We’re going to do the same work Hubbard, White did but charge them about half. They were ready toleave anyway. Most of the presidents and CEOs I talked to said everybody here was paying too much attention to the merger and firm politics and not enough to the legal work. They said the other associates and I were the only ones who gave a shit about them.”
    “That’s probably true.”
    “The funny thing is, if I’d made partner I’d be under a noncompetition agreement so I couldn’t’ve taken any clients