He winked at Adam, showed him the sparkling teeth once again, and left the room.
Adam sat in a metal chair against the wall, and looked at the front of the card. It was fold-embossed with an official seal. Twenty calls a day. What did that mean? Did the callers want Sam dead or did they want him pardoned?
A lot of people in this state do not wish to see Sam executed, he'd said, as if he was already weighing the votes he'd lose against those he might gain.
Chapter 24
THE smile from the receptionist in the foyer was not as quick as usual, and as Adam walked to his office he detected a more somber atmosphere among the staff and the handful of lawyers. The chatter was an octave lower. Things were a bit more urgent.
Chicago had arrived. It happened occasionally, not necessarily for purposes of inspection, but more often than not to service a local client or to conduct bureaucratic little firm meetings. No one had ever been fired when Chicago arrived. No one had ever been cursed or abused. But it always provided for a few anxious moments until Chicago left and headed back North.
Adam opened his office door and nearly smacked into the worried face of E. Garner Goodman, complete with green paisley bow tie, white starched shirt, bushy gray hair. He'd been pacing around the room and happened to be near the door when it opened. Adam stared at him, then took his hand and shook it quickly.
"Come in, come in," Goodman said, closing the door as he invited Adam into his own office. He hadn't smiled yet.
"What are you doing here?" Adam asked, throwing his briefcase on the floor and walking to his desk. They faced each other.
Goodman stroked his neat gray beard, then adjusted his bow tie. "There's a bit of an emergency, I'm afraid. Could be bad news."
"What?"
"Sit down, sit down. This might take a minute."
"No. I'm fine. What is it?" It had to be horrible if he needed to take it sitting down.
Goodman tinkered with his bow tie, rubbed his beard, then said, "Well, it happened at nine this morning. You see, the Personnel Committee is made up of fifteen partners, almost all are ;younger guys. The full committee has several 'subcommittees, of course, one for recruiting, hiring, one for discipline, one for disputes, and on and on. And, as you might guess, there's one for terminations. The Termination 'Subcommittee met this morning, and guess who was there to orchestrate everything."
"Daniel Rosen."
"Daniel Rosen. Evidently, he's been working the Termination Subcommittee for ten days trying to line up enough votes for your dismissal."
Adam sat in a chair at the table, and Goodman sat across from him.
"There are seven members of the subcommittee, and they met this morning at Rosen's request. There were five members present, so they had a quorum. Rosen, of course, did not notify me or anyone else. Termination meetings are strictly confidential, for obvious reasons, so there was no requirement that he notify anyone."
"Not even me?"
"No, not even you. You were the only item on the agenda, and the meeting lasted less than an hour. Rosen had the deck stacked before he went in, but he presented his case very forcefully. Remember, he was a courtroom brawler for thirty years. They record all termination meetings, just in case there's litigation afterward, so Rosen made a complete record. He, of course, claims that you were deceitful when you applied for employment with Kravitz & Bane; that it presents the firm with a conflict of interest, and on and on. And he had copies of a dozen or so newspaper articles about you and Sam and the grandfather-grandson angle. His argument was that you had embarrassed the firm. He was very prepared. I think we underestimated him last Monday."
"And so they voted."
"Four to one to terminate you."
"Bastards!"
"I know. I've seen Rosen in tough spots before, and the guy can be brutally persuasive. He usually gets his way. He can't go to courtrooms anymore, so he's picking fights around the office. He'll be gone in six months."
"That's a small comfort at the moment."
"There's hope. Word finally filtered to my office around eleven, and luckily Emmitt Wycoff was in. We went to Rosen's office and had a terrible fight, then we got on the phone. Bottom line is this - the full Personnel Committee meets at eight o'clock in the morning to review your dismissal. You need to be there."
"Eight o'clock in the morning!"
"Yeah. These guys are busy. Many have court dates at nine. Some have depositions all day. Out of fifteen, we'll be lucky to have a quorum."
"How much is a quorum?"
"Two-thirds. Ten. And if there's no quorum, then we might be in trouble."
"Trouble! What do you call this?"
"It could get worse. If there's no quorum in the morning, then you have the right to request another review in thirty days."
"Sam will be dead in thirty days."
"Maybe not. At any rate, I think we'll have the meeting in the morning. Emmitt and I have ,commitments from nine of the members to be there."
"What about the four who voted against me this morning?"
Goodman grinned and glanced away. "Guess.
Rosen made sure his votes can be there tomorrow."
Adam suddenly slapped the table with both hands. "I quit dammit!"
"You can't quit. You've just been terminated."
"Then I won't fight it. Sonofabitches!"
"Listen, Adam - "
"Sonofabitches!"
Goodman retreated for a moment to allow Adam to cool. He straightened his bow tie and checked the growth of his beard. He tapped his fingers on the table. Then he said, "Look, Adam, we're in good shape in the morning, okay. Emmitt thinks so. I think so. The firm's behind you on this. We believe in what you're doing, and, frankly, we've enjoyed the publicity. There've been nice stories in the Chicago papers."
"The firm certainly appears to be supportive."
"Just listen to me. We can pull this off tomorrow. I'll do most of the talking. Wycoff's twisting arms right now. We've got other people twisting arms."
"Rosen's not stupid, Mr. Goodman. He wants to win, that's all. He doesn't care about me, doesn't care about Sam, or you, or anyone else involved. He simply wants to win. It's a contest, and I'll bet he's on the phone right now trying to line up votes."
"Then let's go fight his cranky ass, okay. Let's walk into that meeting tomorrow with a chip on our shoulders. Let's make Rosen the bad guy. Honestly, Adam, the man does not have a lot of friends."
Adam walked to the window and peeked through the shades. Foot traffic was heavy on the Mall below. It was almost five. He had close to five thousand dollars in mutual funds, and if he was frugal and if he made certain lifestyle changes the money might last for six months. His salary was sixty-two thousand, and replacing it in the very near future would be difficult. But he had never been one to worry about money, and he wouldn't start now. He was much more concerned about the next three weeks. After a ten-day career as a death penalty lawyer, he knew he needed help.
"What will it be like at the end?" he asked after a heavy silence.
Goodman slowly rose from his chair and walked to another window. "Pretty crazy. You won't sleep much the last four days. You'll be running in all directions. The courts are unpredictable. The system is unpredictable. You keep filing petitions and appeals knowing full well they won't work. The press will be dogging you. And, most importantly, you'll need to spend as much time as possible with your client. It's crazy work and it's all free."