“Already?” Janet was surprised. “That wasn’t supposed to take place until tomorrow.”
“Well, Nancy Lexington’s attorney summoned us. So counsel and I went.”
Janet didn’t have to ask. She could tell that the conference had gone horribly just by looking at Jacob. He was positively gray, and he looked as rattled as the rest of the staff. The only difference was he also looked livid.
“Get the board chairman on the phone now,” he commanded.
She nodded. “I can see that you’re furious. May I ask what happened?”
“No settlement. Nancy Lexington was there, and she wouldn’t budge. She doesn’t want money, she wants revenge. She wants everyone’s head. Conrad’s. Madeline’s. Manhattan Memorial. The entire world, all of whom she holds responsible for Ronald’s death. The woman is certifiable.”
“Are those demands her attorney’s or hers?”
“If they were the attorney’s, we’d stand half a chance,” Jacob snapped, running a shaky hand through his hair. “But no, those are Nancy’s own demands. Actually, her attorney had begged her to accept the more than generous offer. He continued to urge her to do so throughout the meeting. And she continued to refuse.”
A dark pause, during which Jacob lowered his head. “I even followed the board’s instructions and offered to fire Conrad and Madeline. She didn’t give a damn. That wasn’t enough. She wants a court of law to find them responsible for Ronald’s death. Once that judgment is entered, they’ll be ruined. She wants no part of settlements wrapped in confidentiality agreements to protect the guilty parties’ reputations. She wants them and their reputations destroyed, personally and financially. Her goal is to have the Westfields unemployable, except for flipping burgers in a fast-food restaurant, and if the hospital goes down with them, so be it.”
“Oh, my God.” That was worse than Janet had expected. Without pursuing it further, she reached for the phone. “I’ll get the board chairman right now.”
* * *
Ryan s
at down at the computer desk in his lair. He had to listen to the recording of the latest conversation that had taken place at Nancy Lexington’s house—courtesy of the bug he’d planted there when no one was home. He was really psyched, not about the content, but about how he was going to listen to it.
He’d been looking for the right opportunity to test Audio Detracktor, the new app he’d downloaded to his iPad, and this Lexington family conversation would be perfect for the task at hand.
“Yoda, please upload the Lexington audio file to my iPad Dropbox account,” he said.
Mere seconds passed. “Your request has been completed,” Yoda responded.
“Excellent.” Ryan launched the app, selected the file and tapped the analyze button on his screen.
The app displayed “Working,” together with a swirling icon, as it crunched through the audio, attempting to separate similar sounds into layers. Each layer appeared as a horizontal band, stacked one on top of another, down the screen. They were arranged in descending order based on average decibel, the intensity of the sound isolated by the software.
Ryan tapped the play icon on the first and loudest layer. After a few seconds of silence, he heard some harsh words from Ron Lexington. Then more silence. Ryan tapped Stop, and moved onto the second layer. The voice he heard was Nancy Lexington’s, angry and irrational. A quick pause and then more of Nancy, petering down into silence.
Time to move on to the next layer.
This time it was Felicia, who sounded no less pissed off than her brother.
Cool.
The app had detected the pattern of each of their voices and separated each of them from the other as well as from the other sounds in the room.
Felicia’s words ended. Curious, Ryan played the next layer in the sequence. A honking horn from the traffic in the street below. The rumble of a truck’s diesel engine lumbering down the street. Then the click-click-click of high heels on a wooden floor, followed by the springs of a sofa as someone either sat or stood. And finally, tick-tick-tick, the telltale sound of expanding metal radiators as the heat kicked on inside the room. Ryan was beginning to wonder if he’d be able to hear the room’s occupants breathing.
His excitement over this new toy was abruptly halted when his mind reassembled the pieces of this audio puzzle, and he realized that the conversation in its entirety was important.
Time to actually listen.
“Yoda, please shut down the app,” he said.
“Of course, Ryan.” An instant later it had been done.
Now Ryan played the audio file using the standard music app so he could concentrate on the conversation itself.
Evidently Nancy had recently arrived home to find her children waiting.