Isla paced the boardroom floor, periodically checking her watch. Gordon sat at the table, leafing through sheets in a file folder.
"We need to get started," she said.
"Give him five more minutes."
She shook her head in disgust. "Are you sure Robert knows about this?"
"I told him myself."
"He's blowing it off then."
"Be patient."
"Look," she said, standing over him. "You called this meeting because there are things we need to discuss before the lawyers arrive. They'll be here soon, so if we're going to talk, we have to do it now."
Gordon thought for a moment and then leaned back in his chair. "Ok. Tell me how much you know."
"I know that three people are dead and we're holding the smoking gun."
"This is not the time for dramatics."
"That's not drama. It's fact. The blame has been publicly placed at our feet."
The boardroom door opened and Robert strolled in carrying the morning paper and a coffee. He looked like a man without a care in the world. "Sorry I'm late," he said. "Off to a bit of a slow start this morning." With a grunt, he dropped down into a chair.
Isla glared at him and continued. "What I don't know is what caused the Wellman Building to collapse and whether it is in any way connected with the work we did there."
"Oh Jesus. Not this again." Robert popped the top off his takeaway cup and slurped his coffee.
"Yes, this again." She crossed her arms across her chest. "And isn't it curious that it's one of your projects."
"You sound like that Leo woman."
"Oh, you mean the woman you referred to in the Times as 'an annoying little shrew'?"
"Birds of a feather, you two." He unfolded his paper and spread it on the table in front of him. "Neither of you has a clue what you're talking about, and yet you won't shut up."
"Then enlighten me."
Robert scanned the newspaper as he spoke. "The work we did on Wellman — and Midshipman for that matter — was top notch. The accidents are tragic, of course, but they've nothing to do with us."
"That may be," said Gordon, lacing his fingers together. "But the public doesn't see it that way. Three clients have already dropped us, and I expect more will do the same."
"Then they're fools. Can't they see this is just a smear campaign against me?"
"Against you?" Isla's eyes widened. "Three people are dead and another is disabled, and you think this is about you?"
"Your naivety would be charming if it wasn't so annoying." He took another gulp of his coffee. "We're in the run-up to an election. Leo and that journalist, whatever his name is, are riding my coattails to boost their own careers."
She let out a sharp laugh. "You megalomaniac."
"Enough!" Gordon took a deep breath. "We've got to get a handle on this, and that's all there is to it. To that end, I've hired a public relations firm."
"You're wasting your time," said Robert, waving a dismissive hand. "There'll be a new story next week and this will all die down."
"Yeah," said Isla. "The new story will be about Mr. Best's lawsuit. Maybe the families of the Wellman Building victims will join him, and we'll have a class action on our hands."
"This is nothing but a nuisance suit. With all the coverage, it was only a matter of time before someone convinced Best to litigate. It'll be tossed out."
"Let's hope so," said Gordon. "In the meantime, we've got to get out ahead of this before we lose more clients."
Robert flipped over to the sports section. "Have it your way. Call the PR firm and tell them I'm available for a press conference this afternoon."
"Oh, like hell!" said Isla. She turned to Gordon, pleading. "He can't do any more interviews. Seriously."
"Miss Foster," said Robert. "You seem to need reminding, yet again, that these decisions are not within your pay grade."
"That, right there, is why I don't want you talking to media." She jabbed her finger at him as she spoke. "You're ignorant and arrogant. And if you're not careful, you'll run this company into the ground."
Robert stood and picked up his coffee. "I think we're done here."
"Sit down, Robert." Gordon rubbed his temples. "I agree with her, and what's more, the PR firm was adamant that you not make any more public statements about this firm, or your work here."
"This is ridiculous."
"No, this is business."
"But you hate giving interviews," he said.
"I do, yes." Gordon rolled up his sleeve. "But I won't be the spokesperson for the firm. Isla will."
She pointed to herself. "Me?"
"You," said Gordon. "The community respects you, our clients think highly of you, and as a bonus, Marian Leo seems to like you — or at least not hate you."
Red splotches covered Robert's face and neck. "Isn't that convenient."
"We'll meet with the PR folks this afternoon. They're coming by at two o’clock to start laying out a plan."
"I have another engagement at two," said Robert. He avoided looking either of them in the eye. "Better make it three."
Gordon pushed back from the table and with a sigh, eased himself out of the chair. He slid his hands in his pockets and stood for some time, looking down at his shoes. Then at last he shrugged and looked up. "We won't be needing you at that meeting, Robert. In fact, we won't be needing you at this morning's meeting with the lawyers either."
"What are you talking about?"
"Between the Wellman accident and the lawsuit . . ." A pained look came over Gordon's face as he spoke. "Robert, I'm sorry. But we need you to step back from the firm for a while — just until this blows over."
Robert was so still it was eerie. It was like seeing a crocodile in the water and wondering whether it would attack. He crossed the boardroom toward the door. When he reached Isla, he paused. "Your time will come," he whispered.