Dead in a Week (Forensic Instincts 7)

Simone was escorted through glass doors and into Robert Maxwell’s office suite by a twenty-som

ething California girl who introduced herself as Jen and whose über-tanned skin announced that she spent long hours at a tanning salon. This was Silicon Valley, not LA. That meant a cool, often rainy February. Not exactly beach weather. So the tan was fake. The cordial treatment was real. Actually, her attitude was more than merely cordial, Simone noted. She was exuberant. And while the cordiality was directed at Simone, the exuberance smacked of something that had little to do with Jen’s role at Nano. Simone recognized the signs. A sparkle in her eyes, a lilt to her step, not to mention the vase of fresh flowers on her desk—clearly Jen was in the throes of a new relationship.

With a glowing Jen leading the way, Simone shifted her focus, using this opportunity to survey the extensive work space surrounding Robert Maxwell’s closed office door.

There was a teak sitting area that looked more like a living room, a boardroom that was currently empty but that could easily seat thirty, and an elaborate food preparation area designed to serve elegant cuisine to powerful people.

At the rear of the suite, there was one other closed-door inner sanctum—smaller, but stationed right beside Maxwell’s—with a gold name plate that said Zoe Pearson on it.

The hierarchy here was crystal clear.

Jen knocked on Robert Maxwell’s door.

“Come in,” a strong voice responded.

Jen opened the door halfway and gave her boss a bright smile. “Ms. Martin is here to see you.”

“Thanks, Jen. Send her in.”

Robert Maxwell rose from behind his circular chrome and glass desk, walking around to shake Simone’s hand. He was tall and broad-shouldered, a good-looking man who clearly worked out and paid attention to his appearance, as was evidenced by his neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard, his perfectly creased slacks—sans the jacket and tie, which were folded on the back of his executive desk chair—and his trim physique. He also had a ready handshake. But his demeanor and appearance belied the intensity that ran underneath. Maxwell had built this company with toughness and grit in a highly competitive industry. He was not to be trifled with.

Simone had done her homework and thoroughly researched Robert Maxwell. Professionally, he was highly respected throughout the industry. He was a frequent speaker at Stanford University, teaching and encouraging MBA students who had aspirations of working in the technology sector. He attended conferences and seminars worldwide to keep up with his ever-evolving world. And he worked tirelessly at his job, never asking more of his employees than he did of himself.

Personally, he was an avid golfer. He had a wide range of hobbies and interests, including bicycling, as was evidenced by the bicycle helmet sitting on the credenza behind his desk. And he had a family who was significant in his life.

All excellent motivations for a healthy sixty-three-year-old man to release groundbreaking cutting-edge technology and then move on to the next stage of his life. That, however, didn’t mean he planned to totally bow out of Nano, not after all these years. The interviews of him that Simone had read reflected his fierce commitment to his company, as well as his total confidence in his staff—a staff he had vetted well and hired because they were the best. He demanded loyalty and gave equal amounts in return. And it wasn’t BS. Simone could attest to that fact after spending half a day within these walls. Despite the more informal business attire and less rigid behavior she’d encountered—not a surprise, given that this was California and not New York City—NanoUSA had a small, tight-knit company feel—atypical for a high-powered corporation.

A culture such as that could only originate from its leader.

Simone knew in her gut that the idea of a mole would be unthinkable to Maxwell. Finding the culprit would be hard enough, but proving his or her guilt to Maxwell and then dealing with his inevitable sense of betrayal… Simone wasn’t looking forward to that part of her job.

“Good to meet you, Ms. Martin,” Maxwell was saying, his gaze flickering quickly over her. “Vance has spoken very highly of you.”

“As he has of you.” Simone almost laughed at the typical male once-over she’d just received. Why was it that men never realized a woman knew when she was being physically assessed?

Taking advantage of Maxwell’s obvious approval of what he saw, she added, “Please call me Simone.”

“Only if you call me Robert.” He smiled, a charming and enveloping smile rather than a practiced one. It made him look years younger than sixty-three. Despite his awareness of an attractive woman, he wore his wedding band, and his enormous office was filled with family photos—his wife, his kids, and his two granddaughters, who looked to be about two years old and six months respectively.

“What can I get you?” he asked. “Coffee, tea, water?”

“Water would be wonderful, thank you,” Simone replied. “I’ve been chatting with your staff for over four hours now and had more cups of coffee than I can count. Any more and I won’t sleep for a week.”

“I hear you.” Robert strode over to a built-in fridge and pulled out two bottles of water. “Here you go.” He handed one to Simone and then gestured at one of the two ivory-colored leather sofas that were situated adjacently in one corner of the office. “Please. Have a seat.”

Simone sank down into the grained leather. She opened her bottled water and took a healthy swallow before settling herself, crossing one leg over the other. She opened her Louis Vuitton document holder and prepared to take notes as Robert took a seat on the other sofa.

“I hope my staff has been accommodating,” he said with the certainty of a CEO who knew the answer would be yes.

“They most certainly have. They’re an exceptional group. Very upbeat. Very excited about all the new developments happening at Nano.”

“So how’s the process going?”

“Exactly as I expected. I’ve only met with a handful of people, but preliminarily it seems as if there are some disconnects in opportunities to streamline and refocus efforts. I’ll have a better-defined picture in a few days. Once I’m finished, Vance will have a clear action plan to get his organization ready for functioning without him when he succeeds you.”

Robert’s brows rose. “That’s a pretty bold statement. No comment.”

“Your deflection is all I needed to hear.”