The Interior (Red Princess 2)

“Except for the bribery, I heard all of this from Randall last night. These accusations are thoroughly ridiculous.”

“Let’s say Sun’s innocent. That still means that someone at Knight is playing with the financials.”

“I’m telling you, David, the financials, the disclosures, the whole works, have been done perfectly, and I’m not going to let you ruin this deal.”

“I’m not trying to ruin the deal! I’m trying to protect Tartan!”

“There’s seven hundred million dollars on the table. That may sound like a lot of money—and it is—but the real money will come with the purchase of Knight’s technology—”

“You want it in pure monetary terms, okay,” David responded. “The risks—past, present, and future—will travel from Knight to Tartan with the sale. Do you really want to expose the firm’s biggest client to that?”

Miles glared at David.

“Let’s go back to Henry,” David tried reasonably. “Have him provide an indemnity backed by a letter of credit saying that Knight assumes responsibility for everything that’s happened in the past. Or we could have Tartan buy Knight’s assets but not the company. Either way, once the deal is done, Randall can have a press conference where he unveils a plan to correct any past mistakes and obliterate any future ones.”

“It’s too late. The contracts are due to be signed tonight.”

“Then I’ll have to withdraw from this matter.”

“Withdraw if you like. You can even leave the firm if you like, but confidentiality stays with the firm. You won’t be allowed to repeat any of this to anyone.”

“What about the FTC and the SEC? I have an obligation to disclose economic fraud that would lead to economic risk to the shareholders of a public company.”

Miles gestured around him. “Do you see any of those people anywhere around here? David, get serious. Who’s looking? Who cares? This is a business deal like any other that’s happening in this room right now. Henry and Randall are just a couple of men trying to make a profit—no harm, no foul so long as no one’s looking, and they aren’t.”

“You’re right,” David conceded. “Maybe no one’s looking, and what Henry and Randall do behind closed doors is none of my business. But Tartan is a publicly owned company. It’s a conglomerate made up of many shareholders. I would also point out that if, as a lawyer, I’m aware that the information that’s being provided regarding the sale of one publicly owned company to another is false, that I and the firm c

an end up with civil and criminal liability.”

“Are you saying you’re willing to bring down the firm—literally hundreds of lawyers, secretaries, and paralegals, as well as their families—because of these ludicrous charges?”

“I’ve already told you. It doesn’t have to go that far. We go back to Henry—”

“No!” Miles slammed his fist on the table. There was a momentary silence in the restaurant. Then everyone went back to his or her deals. Miles quickly composed himself. He kept his voice low and steady as he said, “Even if you go public, no one will believe you. I mean, look at yourself, look at your history. Three months ago you come over here and everywhere you go you find death. Even when you come back to L.A. death follows you. You lose a friend, an FBI agent no less. It’s tough and it’s public. But you seem to get over it. Then one day you go out to dinner with a friend and the poor guy gets killed right before your eyes. He dies in your arms. It’s tragic. It’s also quite public. Given the circumstances, no one should be surprised that you’d eventually have some reaction. It’s called post-traumatic stress disorder.”

David stared at his partner in disbelief. This was the same language Randall Craig had used last night, only worse.

“Naturally,” Miles continued, “at the firm, where you have a long association, we were terribly concerned. So when you left the government—or were you asked to leave?—we at Phillips, MacKenzie & Stout felt that at the very least we could bring you back into the fold.”

“That’s not how it happened.”

“It’s your word against ours—”

“Madeleine Prentice and Rob Butler won’t back your story.”

“Yes, but they’re federal employees, and who believes anything the government says? Do you? Most people will just think that the government was smart to get rid of you before you went postal on them.”

Miles had always been smooth, and he’d obviously prepared for this conversation.

Suddenly something Hulan had said in their hotel room last night fully registered. “You asked me back to the firm knowing that if I found something, if this moment came, that you’d be able to deflect any unpleasantness that came up by using your twisted version of the facts.”

“They may be twisted,” Miles acknowledged, “but you have to admit they’ll work.”

“What about the press?”

“Again, who’s looking?”

“Pearl Jenner from the Times. She’s here in China.”