“Is that what I think it is?” she asked.
“Depends on whether you’re thinking like KaneWeller or Fielder amp; Company.”
“Both, and I’d say it’s a counter-surveillance device, not a recorder.”
“Correct.”
“You know what I want to talk about, don’t you?”
“I think so.”
“Can I see them?”
“We agreed they would remain in our custody,” Daniel said. “It was all spelled out in the documents we signed a few hours ago. Remember?”
“Let me make this simple, Daniel. Either I get access to those files or I scuttle the merger.”
Daniel searched her eyes. They looked no more sympathetic than an attacking Doberman’s. She was not about to back down. “I’ll let you see the files under my supervision-in our offices-on one condition.”
“What’s the condition?”
“You can only use the information as background. None of it can be copied or shared with your colleagues. And none of it can be used in any way to justify your scuttling of the merger.”
“Agreed. My only interest is to understand exactly what we’re walking into-so we know what to avoid going forward.”
“Let’s have a drink,” Daniel said. “Then I’ll take you back to our office.”
After sharing a bottle of Shiraz and a platter of imported goat and sheep cheeses along with professional small talk, Daniel and Cheryl exited the restaurant onto Boylston Street. They walked to the intersection of Arlington and Boylston across from the Boston Public Garden and waited for the light to change.
Daniel hoped he wouldn’t regret bringing Cheryl to the office to examine the fifty-two files. But all things considered, he had little choice. As Deputy General Counsel for KaneWeller, Cheryl certainly had the power and influence to scuttle the deal if she were so inclined. Allowing her to review the files with an opportunity to explain their true purpose, he told himself, might well be the only way to save the merger and distance Wilson from Fielder amp; Company. Hopefully, it would also avert any negative press that might compromise liquidation of Charles’ other assets.
When the traffic light changed, Daniel and Cheryl began crossing Boylston Street. They walked past the center island, commenting on the beautiful budding elms and maples that lined the edge of the Public Garden.
Suddenly, without warning, a car swerved out from behind a lane of stopped traffic, crashed through a street construction fence, and headed directly for them at high speed. As soon as the two attorneys grasped the horrifying reality that the car was targeting them, they changed directions and began to run, but it was too late. The car struck them in the crosswalk before crashing into the back of a parked delivery van and exploding into flames. Their bodies were crushed instantly, hurled from hood to windshield and into the air. Cheryl’s body hit the asphalt like a ragdoll, twisting and rolling for fifty feet until it came to a stop beneath a parked car. Daniel’s was thrown against the back of a parked SUV, shattering the vehicle’s windows before dropping lifelessly to the street. Both of them had died instantly.
Later that evening, The Boston Globe posted a preliminary online report of a fatal Back Bay accident:
Boston Globe City amp; Region Desk
By SUSAN KITE.
A car racing at high speed hit two pedestrians in Boston’s Back Bay earlier this evening. The car swerved from behind a lane of stopped traffic and struck attorneys Daniel Redd of Boston and Cheryl O’Grady of New York City, who were walking in the crosswalk at Boylston and Arlington. Both were killed instantly. The car continued through the intersection and crashed into a parked delivery truck before exploding into flames. Remains of the driver have not yet been identified.
Even though the publicly reported details were sketchy, it was sufficient confirmation for Marco. No one had seen or heard anything unusual. It was a clean remote hit. The remains of the driver would soon be identified as a drunken street bum who’d gotten behind the wheel of a stolen car. The remote control equipment inside the car had exploded into a million indiscernible pieces, a method he’d employed for a dozen other hits. Marco’s two million dollar fee, with another million for no loose ends, would be wired to his Nevis account within twenty-four hours, as promised. Doing business with Tate was truly a pleasure.
11
Wilson — Cambridge, MA
Wilson lay sprawled across the overstuffed chair and ottoman in the belfry library of the Fielder family home in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The two-story library had always been Wilson’s lair. His father turned the circular belfry into a cozy library lined with maple bookshelves when Wilson was eight. The large oculus window provided a lookout to the outside world and a beautiful view of Cambridge Common and Harvard Square. Growing up, he and his friends had used the library and its large round window as an imaginary battle station with a strategic lookout. That’s when he started calling the Fielder family home Brattle House. When he’d gotten older, the library became another place to have long intimate conversations with his father.
Last night, after spending several hours researching the latest surveillance and counter-surveillance practices online, Wilson had fallen asleep in his favorite overstuffed chair. His sister Rachel woke him with a violent shake. “Wilson. Wilson. Wake up. Daniel Redd was killed last night.”
Wilson cracked opened his eyes gummed up from sleep, struggling to bring them into focus. Rachel’s face was distorted. She looked horrified. “What?” he said, as her words began to sink in.
“Last night, just before eleven o’clock, Daniel and another attorney were hit by a drunk driver on Boylston.”
“Where’s the driver?”
“Dead. The car struck a truck and exploded.”
Still dumbstruck, Wilson grabbed the morning edition of The Boston Globe from Rachel’s hands.
Daniel Redd of Boston and Cheryl O’Grady of New York City were killed yesterday evening when a car racing at high speed swerved from behind a lane of stopped traffic and struck the two attorneys who were walking in the crosswalk at Boylston and Arlington Streets. The car continued through the intersection and exploded when it crashed into a delivery van. Remains of the driver have been identified as Thomas Wilkins of Boston.
Wilkins, who had been living on the streets of Boston for the past year, was driving a stolen vehicle at the time of the accident. Daniel Redd, age 47, was a partner with the Boston-based law firm of Weintraub, Drake, Heinke amp; Redd. He is survived by a son, William, age 24. Cheryl O’Grady, age 42, was Deputy General Counsel for the New York investment banking company KaneWeller. She is survived by her husband, Connor. The two attorneys had been working on KaneWeller’s recent acquisition of Fielder amp; Company, a Boston-based financial consulting firm. Chairman and founder, Charles Fielder, is still in a coma at Mass General suffering from a gunshot wound he sustained just last week in Sun Valley, Idaho. While the police have not officially drawn any connection between the two tragic events, they have not ruled out the possibility.
Wilson read the report two more times, still unable to fathom that Daniel was suddenly gone. Killed in a crosswalk because of Fielder amp; Company’s secrets. Why now? The fifty-two files? Sharing them with me? Meeting with Cheryl O’Grady? Had Daniel shared the files with her? Or was there something else Daniel failed to tell me?
“They did it. I know they did it,” Wilson said under his breath.
Rachel looked as pale as death, staring at Wilson in disbelief. “What’s happening to us?” she whispered.
An hour later Wilson was sitting in Bill Heinke’s office at Weintraub, Drake, Heinke amp; Redd, listening to Heinke’s account of Daniel’s tragic death.