in . . . well, doesn’t matter. Just a shame that my firm’s name was mentioned so prominently. I’ll make Rick Calder wish he hadn’t dragged me into this.”
“The fallout will be bad for a few days, but then—”
“You have no idea how bad,” Sinclair interrupted, angry. “It’s my name on the door.” He slammed his hand on his desk.
Sinclair’s office door opened. Stan Simms stood framed in the doorway, filling it side-to-side. He shook his head, giving Jack a menacing look. “For Christ’s sake, why is Strider still here? I said—”
“Hold on, Stan. I’m just finishing a discussion with him. I’ll bring you up to date in a few minutes. Getting excited is bad for your—” He gestured at Simms’ huge body. “—everything.”
“I’m not kidding about this,” Simms shot back and closed the door behind him loudly enough to register his disapproval.
When he looked back, Sinclair’s face showed his exasperation. “That’s a sample of what I’ve been getting this morning, Jack. Your presence in the firm is killing me.”
“That article is about Peck, not me. And you knew about his problems when you hired me.”
“Just a damn minute,” Sinclair snarled. “I knew nothing about the scandal delivered to my breakfast table this morning—child whores, HIV, and all the rest. Simms has called a meeting of the senior members of the firm to move that we fire you. He thinks he can scare up enough votes from old farts worried about protecting their fat bonuses.”
Suddenly the walls were closing in. He’d walked away from Stanford Law. Now Simms was trying to get him fired. This time he’d fight. If he didn’t, everything he’d worked so damned hard for would go up in smoke.
“I can tell from your face,” Sinclair said, “that you’re thinking about going to war with us over this. Not only would that be a bad mistake, but it won’t be necessary. I’m the managing partner, and I won’t be stampeded by Stan Simms or anyone else. But I have to give Stan something, so I’ve come up with a solution that will satisfy everyone.”
Jack doubted that any solution that worked for him would be acceptable to Stan Simms. He waited for Sinclair to continue.
“One of our overseas offices might be the place for you. I thought maybe the Paris office.”
Sinclair’s hard eyes warned him that nothing was open for debate. If he didn’t accept, Sinclair was ready for an execution. Besides, Paris wasn’t exactly a hardship post.
“That might be best all around,” Jack agreed.
“Good, good. I was sure you’d see it my way. As I said, I had the Paris branch in mind, but then I had a better idea. When I bought a law firm in Buenos Aires a few years ago, I got its field office in Mexico City as part of the deal. I’ve steered a lot of clients to them, Americans doing business in Mexico, but I don’t trust the managing partner. That’s where I’m sending you.”
The corner of Sinclair’s mouth lifted slightly, and Jack mentally cursed him. Sinclair had trapped him, dangling Paris to get his agreement, and then switching to Mexico City.
“So it’s settled. Now here’s the situation. One of our biggest clients, Palmer Industries, has its main hazardous waste treatment plant in Juarez, Mexico. Right now they could be headed for big trouble. A Mexican government agency is hell-bent on putting them out of business, locking the doors. That makes me so mad I’d like to go down there and kick some ass.” He shook his right fist. “Then, after I saw the morning paper I realized that you’re the right man to protect that plant, to stop the bureaucrats cold. Your ‘brand’ as an environmentalist has taken a hit around here, but should still be okay down there.”
“Sounds like you’re sending me into exile,” Jack stated tightly.
“Not at all. Your environmental credentials are money in the bank for that client.” Sinclair stood. “I’ll send the files to your office and set up a
“The fallout will be bad for a few days, but then—”
“You have no idea how bad,” Sinclair interrupted, angry. “It’s my name on the door.” He slammed his hand on his desk.
Sinclair’s office door opened. Stan Simms stood framed in the doorway, filling it side-to-side. He shook his head, giving Jack a menacing look. “For Christ’s sake, why is Strider still here? I said—”
“Hold on, Stan. I’m just finishing a discussion with him. I’ll bring you up to date in a few minutes. Getting excited is bad for your—” He gestured at Simms’ huge body. “—everything.”
“I’m not kidding about this,” Simms shot back and closed the door behind him loudly enough to register his disapproval.
When he looked back, Sinclair’s face showed his exasperation. “That’s a sample of what I’ve been getting this morning, Jack. Your presence in the firm is killing me.”
“That article is about Peck, not me. And you knew about his problems when you hired me.”
“Just a damn minute,” Sinclair snarled. “I knew nothing about the scandal delivered to my breakfast table this morning—child whores, HIV, and all the rest. Simms has called a meeting of the senior members of the firm to move that we fire you. He thinks he can scare up enough votes from old farts worried about protecting their fat bonuses.”
Suddenly the walls were closing in. He’d walked away from Stanford Law. Now Simms was trying to get him fired. This time he’d fight. If he didn’t, everything he’d worked so damned hard for would go up in smoke.
“I can tell from your face,” Sinclair said, “that you’re thinking about going to war with us over this. Not only would that be a bad mistake, but it won’t be necessary. I’m the managing partner, and I won’t be stampeded by Stan Simms or anyone else. But I have to give Stan something, so I’ve come up with a solution that will satisfy everyone.”
Jack doubted that any solution that worked for him would be acceptable to Stan Simms. He waited for Sinclair to continue.
“One of our overseas offices might be the place for you. I thought maybe the Paris office.”
Sinclair’s hard eyes warned him that nothing was open for debate. If he didn’t accept, Sinclair was ready for an execution. Besides, Paris wasn’t exactly a hardship post.
“That might be best all around,” Jack agreed.
“Good, good. I was sure you’d see it my way. As I said, I had the Paris branch in mind, but then I had a better idea. When I bought a law firm in Buenos Aires a few years ago, I got its field office in Mexico City as part of the deal. I’ve steered a lot of clients to them, Americans doing business in Mexico, but I don’t trust the managing partner. That’s where I’m sending you.”
The corner of Sinclair’s mouth lifted slightly, and Jack mentally cursed him. Sinclair had trapped him, dangling Paris to get his agreement, and then switching to Mexico City.
“So it’s settled. Now here’s the situation. One of our biggest clients, Palmer Industries, has its main hazardous waste treatment plant in Juarez, Mexico. Right now they could be headed for big trouble. A Mexican government agency is hell-bent on putting them out of business, locking the doors. That makes me so mad I’d like to go down there and kick some ass.” He shook his right fist. “Then, after I saw the morning paper I realized that you’re the right man to protect that plant, to stop the bureaucrats cold. Your ‘brand’ as an environmentalist has taken a hit around here, but should still be okay down there.”
“Sounds like you’re sending me into exile,” Jack stated tightly.
“Not at all. Your environmental credentials are money in the bank for that client.” Sinclair stood. “I’ll send the files to your office and set up a
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