ROYCE ASSURED ME that David seldom listened to his mother and would never hire Duke. He said that David was anxious to meet me and understood that I had been hand-picked by his grandfather. I told Royce that the U.S. Attorney seemed to be a reasonable person and might be agreeable to bail. Royce wasn’t counting his chickens but was excited about the possibility of bail. As for Royce talking sense into Gloria, that was another matter.
“I’ve tried, but she’s not taking my calls. Maybe you’ll have better luck, headstrong is where she begins. Try to find a way to keep her happy.”
“Great,” I thought. “You’ve asked me to handle a case that’s impossible to defend, thrown in a few people trying to kill me, and given me a wild card mother who cares more about herself than her son. And I should ‘keep her happy.’ Can you make my job any more difficult?”
Maggie, Big Mike, and I were soon headed to the Dooley law firm. Brian begged off; he was knee deep reviewing the confidentiality agreement sent over by the U.S. Attorney’s office. Apparently, it wasn’t a boiler plate form.
The Dooley firm’s offices were not what one might expect from a large traditional law firm—no paneled walls or deep leather chairs. Instead, the office looked more like a startup technology company with large yoga balls and bean bag chairs in the lobby. The receptionist, Brandy, didn’t sit behind a desk but roamed the lobby wearing jeans, tennis shoes, and a tight, V-necked sweater. I could see wireless ear buds hanging from her ears. She was very friendly and smirked at Maggie’s obvious disapproval.
Brandy escorted us to the second-floor conference room. I was relieved to see a large, contemporary table and chairs; asking Maggie to sit on a ball chair would have been a bit much. There was no sign of a coffee pot or the pastries I had hoped for. We politely declined the Kombucha or Green Juice Brandy offered. The look on Mike’s face was priceless.
As expected, big law firm dynamics were in full force. Brandy closed the doors as she left, and we sat in silence. I decided to give them ten minutes. We had just pushed back our chairs to leave when the door opened, and a team of young associates entered in single file. They remained standing, backs against the walls; no one said a word. I noted that the male associates were empty-handed, while each female carried a legal pad or file. I glanced at Maggie, who was trying her best not to laugh.
Next, a cadre of attorneys who must have represented the plaintiffs marched in and took their seats at the conference table. The men gave me a casual nod and tossed business cards down the table. The three women were a bit more polite, offering smiles along with their cards. Maggie gathered the cards while we waited for the curtain to rise. I chose to ignore the smiling young woman who had been strategically placed directly across from me at the table. Any attempt at small talk would have been absurd.
None of these games and tactics bothered me; I enjoyed playing the underdog. Maggie, on the other hand, was no longer amused, even though she knew the scene had been carefully contrived. I whispered to her, “Having fun yet?” I wondered how they would react if I asked for a Bloody Mary.
Jordyn appeared at the door and walked directly to the head of the table, three more associates in tow. I had no idea how she’d earned her nickname. There had been rumors, but I refused to play that game. I watched as she carefully assembled her papers and positioned her computer before she sat down. She wasn’t physically attractive, at least not to me. She was of average height, average build, and wore little make-up. I noticed that her pale brown hair was well cut, and even I could tell her clothes weren’t from Macy’s. The force of her presence derived not from any physical attributes, but from her keen intelligence and strong determination to win at all costs.
One of the associates held the chair for her and then blended into the wall with the others. I felt sorry for the guy. He had gone to an Ivy League law school, graduated magna cum laude, and now his job was to hold the chair for a senior partner and provide her with ice water with fresh lemon. Surely this wasn’t part of his dream when he sat through torts class.
Jordyn didn’t waste time. “Welcome, Mr. Patterson. I hope Brandy made you comfortable.”
“She was most hospitable. We may go roller skating later,” I replied. Maggie couldn’t suppress a giggle—Jordyn wasn’t amused.
“My associates will give you the discovery requests we have for your client. These include requests for documents, written interrogatories, and notices for depositions, none of which should be a surprise to you. But one problem has come to light that we need to clear up first. We received a phone call from Duke Madigan this morning. I assume you know who he is. He claims that he has been engaged by Mrs. Ruple to handle this matter and that your representation had been terminated. I was tempted to cancel this meeting until the issues of representation has been clarified, but my colleagues convinced me to give you the opportunity to explain. Can you assure me that you do in fact represent Mr. Ruple?”
My first instinct was to cry uncle, pick up my papers and walk out the door behind Maggie and Mike. This woman had her game face on, and it wasn’t friendly or vaguely collegial. The lawyers sitting at the table were waiting for an answer. Charm would not be the right approach.
“I’m scheduled to meet with David Ruple this afternoon,” I replied, careful to keep an even tone. “If the meeting goes as I expect, he will sign the requisite engagement letter, assuring you or anyone else that I, and I alone, represent David Ruple. I’ll be happy to provide you with a copy.
“I think you’re smart enough to know that Mr. Madigan is blowing smoke. Duke has not met or spoken with David, nor does he have an engagement letter. I have no idea what he’s up to, but I can assure you that Duke does not represent David Ruple. Let’s quit playing games and get down to business. I asked for this meeting, and I appreciate the Dooley firm for providing such an impressive venue. Since the government has brought criminal charges against my client, I hope to work out a stay of your litigation and discuss the possibility of resolving your complaint without costly and extended litigation. The government has already seized all my client’s assets. Extended litigation isn’t likely to benefit anyone.”
My statement brought murmurs from the lawyers at the table. Jordyn’s cold gaze soon quieted the room.
“Your naïve expectation reflects a lack of understanding of the litigation we brought. There will be no stay, nor will there be a quick resolution unless your client wants to forfeit the software and sign a cease and desist. I know you are new to this case, but once you understand what your client has done, you’ll wipe that smug look off your face and agree to the remedies we have proposed.”
I felt Maggie’s hand grip my knee. I took a deep breath but didn’t respond. Long silences make most people uncomfortable, and the lawyers around the table began to squirm. Realizing I wouldn’t take the bait, Jordyn continued.
“Cat got your tongue, Mr. Patterson? You’re in the big leagues now, and your tricks or charm won’t get you to first base. I suggest you tell that Louisiana thug who engaged you that you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. Oh, yes—we know who’s paying your fees. Don’t think for a moment we won’t use David’s family against him should this case ever come to trial. I doubt a DC jury will have much sympathy for the grandson of a mob boss.”
Maggie’s grip on my leg tightened. Now I thought she might be the one to lose her cool. I gave her a smile and rose from my chair. I had noticed several cameras in the room and felt sure that the whole charade was being telecast to the clients. Rather than respond to Jordyn, I looked straight at the camera above her head.
“You know, Jordyn, I’ve been thinking. All these lawyers must cost your collective clients a pretty penny. I bet your hourly rate alone would choke a horse. If this farce cost my client, say—five hundred dollars for the hour it has taken, I bet all these lawyers doing absolutely nothing must have cost your clients at least fifty thousand dollars. That’s a lot of money for twiddling thumbs and dirty looks. Frankly, I’d be embarrassed to charge my client for this exercise in futility. What d’you say, let’s agree not to charge our clients for this meeting since nothing was accomplished. Do we have a deal?”
“What we charge our clients is none of your business,” she snapped.
I returned her scowl with a big smile and turned to Maggie. “Come on, Maggie, we have work to do. You’re correct, Ms. Duarte. How much you charge your clients is none of my business, but I will say one thing I like about this case so far—I like the odds.”
“Odds? What odds?” She looked genuinely confused.
“Five hundred to fifty thousand every hour we spend together is one hundred to one. I like the odds.”