CHAPTER 13
C HAPTER 13
H aving the limo wait while Rae and Dana entered the courthouse held a decadent flavor. Rae had hoped for another semiprivate moment with the Raleigh attorney, but the instant they passed through the glass-and-brass doors and entered the marble-clad lobby, Dana’s assistant and three strangers in their best courtroom suits crowded in. Dana bid Rae a sparse farewell and turned her attention elsewhere.
Just the same, Rae found a distinct pleasure to this utterly unexpected turn of events. Rae had planned this as a get-it-done journey. Meet Dana. Lay the just-in-case foundation to shield her if the DEA came knocking. Enjoy a moment reconnecting with her favorite professor. Use this unexpected development as an opportunity to build a new professional relationship.
And return to her small life on the Crystal Coast.
Instead, this had become a day full of surprises. Required in order to fulfill the charges she had accepted by taking on this particular power of attorney. For a missing client. And his property that had been reduced by two recent hurricanes to a very expensive pile of rubble. And who now was the subject of a DEA investigation.
But wait, there’s more.
So now her newest client wanted to pay cash for this very same property. Which was not, officially, actually, for sale. Yet.
And then there was the kicker.
This very same new client also happened to be her first flame. The love at the center of her sixteen-year-old existence. Who had then vanished, only to reappear after twelve mostly silent years.
And hey, guess what. This guy has gone from easygoing beach bum to representing some very rich, very mysterious people. And to top it off, Rae’s assignment for the next few hours was to formally prepare a series of questions so her all-time favorite prof could peel this guy like an onion. And if Curtis wanted to be her client, he was going to pay for the privilege.
Her phone pinged as she entered the courthouse café. Rae slid into an empty window booth, ordered coffee from a passing waitress, and checked the readout. Her boyfriend and semi-fiancé had texted. John Anders came from old Down East money. Both his parents were professors at the University of North Carolina in Greensboro. They were content and haughty in their regional existence. John had, to say the least, issues. He scorned their ivory-tower complacency. He despised their gatherings of like-minded intellectual snobs. He never actually said it, but he thought his folks were flabby and complacent and lazy, cruising through life at a near-idle speed because they could. Rae thought they were wonderful, but had learned not to say as much.
John had grown into a man his parents simply could not understand. His mother actually referred to him as their beloved cuckoo, secretly deposited in their nest by a roving pixie. They held on to Rae with almost comic desperation, treating her as their last remaining hope to maintain connection with their son the stranger.
John had scraped through university on a tennis scholarship. He occasionally served as instructor at the new hotel. He repaired boats at a relative’s marina, taught sailing, crewed for two nationally ranked teams, and lived for his trips to do the impossible. Right now, he was with a clutch of like-minded fitness freaks, hiking the Tehachapi Mountains in California’s Mojave Desert.
His text said he was headed out for the day’s big hike. They planned to overnight in a local roach motel, eat a meal that didn’t come from ready packs. He’d try and call if they had cell service. Hoped she was well and enjoying a fine day. Bang and gone.
Rae tried not to be irritated with his casual offhand manner, which was John’s typical method of dealing with her world. They were perfect for each other in so many ways. Sadly, their professional paths were not among the reasons why they were meant to be together.
As so often happened when they were apart and trying to communicate, Rae pushed aside all the unanswered issues, opened the shoulder bag that served as both purse and briefcase, and pulled out a legal pad and her laptop. Then she glanced through the window by her booth and caught sight of her limo idling by the curb.
Oh yeah. Definitely a day for the books.
An hour and a half later, Rae left the courthouse. She wanted to try and beat the heavy lunch crush at her favorite Raleigh spot, the Irregardless Cafe. Despite the early hour, a crowd was already lining up for tables when she arrived. There were probably better ways to grab a rushed hostess’s attention than a single woman pulling up in a limo, having a uniformed driver open her door. But this worked well enough.
Rae pretended to ignore the stares and took her place in line. But a few moments later, the hostess announced there was a window table available for one, if that was acceptable. So back she went, through a restaurant full of curious gazes, to what was probably the premier spot. Rae ordered and asked if it might be possible for her waiter to take the driver’s order and put it on her bill. Then she filled her sunlit table with computer and phone and pad and notes. Just another day at an off-site office.
Following what was perhaps the most fun she’d ever had at a working lunch, Rae returned to the limo in time for a pair of conference calls. Nothing major, just serving her coastal clients, keeping tabs on a pair of slow-moving cases, riding through Raleigh in style.
Magic.
When Rae entered the law offices, Dana’s assistant was already setting up the conference room. Rae seated herself in the lobby and resumed work. Five minutes later, Curtis entered, greeted her, and stood by the outer window, texting. Two strangers playing at their professional afternoons.
The law offices occupied three high floors in a building adjacent to the North Hills Mall. The large outer lobby was a remarkable blend of austere luxury and comfortable furniture. Rae paused from her work and inspected her surroundings. She tried to imagine what it might have been like, had she taken this direction. Dana’s firm had actually recruited her, along with a Charlotte firm on the rise and an Atlanta powerhouse. But Rae had never doubted her direction. She was a Down-Easter, an island girl born and bred, destined to remain in the finest place on earth. Her Crystal Coast hometown.
Yet, watching this group of professionals move smoothly through another busy day tugged at her. Here on display was everything Rae’s one-woman firm would never contain. Was her dream come true worth not being part of something this potent?
Which brought up the other unanswered dilemma. How she had broken off two previous relationships as they approached what Emma called the marriage stage. Both times, her beaus had refused to promise they would remain permanently fixed in this one place.
Rae glanced down at her phone. There on the darkened screen was the text she didn’t need to read again, the latest hello-goodbye from the man who wanted to become her fiancé. John was as firmly fixed to the Crystal Coast as Rae. A big reason for why they were together.
Leading to the question for which she had no answer. Were the reasons for her relationship with John enough to see them through, well, life?
Rae was genuinely relieved when her phone rang. She checked the screen and was astonished to find that it was her aunt. “Emma?”
“Hello, darling. Is now a bad time?”
Rae cupped her phone, leaned over, and spoke softly. “I’m sitting in an elegant lobby waiting for a meeting to start. You won’t believe who’s standing by the window, not talking to me.”
Her aunt replied, “Which is why I’m calling.”
“What?”
“I just got a call from Colton. Nola’s heard from two friends. Somebody’s been asking about you.”
Nola was Colton’s wife—Rae’s aunt—a woman Rae counted among her very finest friends. “Why exactly are you the one telling me this?”
“Because Colton made inquiries. He wants you to know this wasn’t some possible new client wanting to check you out. ‘Probing’ was the word Colton used. He said you’d understand.”
“Colton thinks it’s the Feds again?”
Emma was clearly enjoying herself. “That was his first thought. And the reason he called me and not you. But what he’s learned left him wondering if perhaps it’s time to hire a private investigator.”
Dana chose that moment to step from the elevator. She stood in the lobby long enough to complete a phone call, surveying the two of them in the process.
Rae followed Dana’s gaze over to where Curtis stood by the window, his back to the room, texting. Rae’s body straightened with a professional outrage. This was precisely what she needed. A reason to set aside whatever had once existed between them. See this from the perspective of now. Accept the man was a complete and utter mystery.
“Do me a favor and tell Colton I owe him and Nola a huge thanks.”
“Was it Curtis?”
“I can’t say for certain. But I think yes.”
“That dog.” Emma was almost laughing now. “That scurrilous mongrel. How dare he?”
“I have to go. Thank you, Emma. So much.”
Dana waited until Rae rose from the sofa; then the older lawyer asked, “Everyone ready?” When her PA stepped from the conference room and offered Dana a thumbs-up, Dana said, “Why don’t we get started.”
* * *
Soon as she was seated in the conference room, Rae took her sheet of questions and wrote a new one across the top of the page, bearing down so hard she punctured the paper. Rae handed it to Dana and watched the attorney’s expression turn grim. Beyond glad that Dana now shared her outrage.
“Are we recording?” When the PA nodded confirmation, Dana looked across the table at Curtis and demanded, “Have you instructed someone in your employ to investigate Rae Alden?”
“Joel Blanchard is a former FBI agent who specialized in white-collar crime,” Curtis confirmed.
“Why did you feel this was a necessary step?”
Curtis hesitated. Just a fraction. But clearly measuring his response. “We’re discussing a multimillion-dollar transaction. Tied to a resort where we’ve recently confronted improper dealings among our own employees. It’s only logical that I supply a formal confirmation of the individual responsible for this sale.”
It was Dana’s turn to hesitate. Rae nodded silent agreement. Curtis responding so directly caught her somewhat off guard. It didn’t make things right, not by a long shot. Just the same . . .
Dana glanced at the sheet of questions. Then, “Moving on. We need to have a clearer understanding of who you are and who the group is you claim to represent.”
“I represent a cash buyer,” Curtis replied. “Is that not enough?”
“In this case, no.”
“I approached Ms. Alden to discuss the sale of a property. Nothing more. Can I ask for the particulars involving this . . . ‘case,’ did you call it?”
“All you need to know is, the sale can only move forward if and when we are fully satisfied with your responses.”
Curtis drew out his phone and set it on the table before him. He touched a number, hit the speaker tab. A woman answered before the first ring.
“Yes?”
“It’s as we discussed,” Curtis said. He described the setting, named Rae and Dana, then said, “If we want to proceed, we have no choice but to answer their questions.”
Even over the cell phone’s miniature speaker, the woman’s voice held a silken quality. Elegant as a French perfume. “You still think this is so important?”
“We need the property,” Curtis said. “And something else.”
“Go on.”
“Sooner or later, this information will need to come out.”
“My father would definitely prefer this to happen later. So would I.”
“I know that,” Curtis replied. “But right now, in this place, we have the opportunity to build allies. This goes far beyond the property’s ownership. We are at the point of needing to equip ourselves for the next phase.”
Silence.
“The timing may not be as you and your father wish. But moving forward now offers us a guarded entry.”
“An interesting way to define this hour,” the woman said. “ ‘A guarded entry.’ ”
“Guarded in that these attorneys are both charging me for their time. Which means everything that is revealed here remains confidential.” Curtis looked across the table. “Is that correct?”
Dana glanced at Rae, received her nod, answered, “It is.”
“They are now bound by confidentiality,” Curtis said. “And something else. We are forging a second item, something your father holds as important as his secrecy.”
“And that is?”
“Building trust.” Curtis met Dana’s gaze and continued. “As you can see, what you’re asking forces us to make a highly crucial decision. I need you to explain precisely why this breach of my employer’s confidentiality is so important.”
Dana glanced at Rae. She did not need to think this one through. Rae told the older attorney, “Go ahead and explain.”
Dana matched his formal tone. “Am I correct in assuming your investigator uncovered the DEA’s ongoing interest?”
“Joel learned some agency had flagged the file,” Curtis replied. “He suspected it was the DEA.”
“This requires us to adhere to professional guidelines in case there is evidence of a future potential conflict,” Dana said. “Because her client has gone missing and she serves full power of attorney, Rae Alden is effectively serving as principal. This results in the DEA’s concerns being directed at her, as well as the absent owner. If the DEA decides laws have been broken by the current owner, and these are tied to the property, Ms. Alden could be held liable.”
Curtis shook his head. “That doesn’t affect us. We want this estate. Who owned it before us is not important.”
“It is if we say it is,” Dana retorted.
Whatever he was preparing to say was cut off by the woman on his phone saying, “Curtis.”
“Yes?”
“I’ve heard enough. You may proceed.”
He was clearly caught off guard. “Do you need to check with your father?”
“I already have. Tell them everything they need to know.”
* * *
“We’re both a little confused, Rae in particular,” Dana began. “The image she presented of you was, well . . .”
“Different,” Rae offered. “Extremely.”
His response was immediate. “I don’t feel comfortable answering personal questions.”
The unseen woman’s voice emanated from the phone. “Curtis, please, this may actually be a good place to start.” When his only response was to drop his gaze to the phone, she went on, “Curtis Gage was recruited straight out of Columbia Business School, where he graduated top of his class. My father had instructed the agency to identify six recent MBA graduates with a specific set of skills and personal traits. Curtis is the only one of those six who is still employed by our group.”
Curtis settled his right hand by the phone. Every shift of his fingers revealed a damp smudge on the table.
“A year after he started, Curtis was appointed my father’s personal assistant. This is a highly coveted role in our group. It is actually how I began my entry into our group’s higher echelon. This marks the individual as someone intended for a senior executive role. Fourteen months later, Curtis was named director of one of the group’s smaller divisions. He was . . . How old were you, Curtis?”
He did not respond.
“Well. In any case, he was the youngest division chief ever. My father trusts him implicitly. As do I.”
“And your father is—”
Curtis spoke without lifting his gaze. “Not yet.”
“Curtis—”
“If the property sale is not moving forward, we don’t need to divulge your identities.”
The woman hesitated, then said, “It appears we have reached an impasse.”
Rae was the one to decide. “We’re gathered here and recording this session in case the DEA moves forward with their investigation. We have to show them there is no hint of impropriety.”
Dana said, “There are two areas of extreme risk. We must demonstrate that Ms. Alden has been completely aboveboard in the sale, taking no undeserved commission or misappropriating funds. And secondly, we need assurance that the buyer is not perpetrating whatever illegal operations the current owner might have been involved in.”
“Very well,” the woman said. “Curtis, proceed.”
“The family’s name is Morais,” Curtis said, and spelled it. “Originally of Calcutta. Twenty-two years ago, they moved their headquarters to Delhi. The CEO is Kurien Morais. The lady on speaker is Amiya Morais, the CEO’s only child. Ms. Morais is directly responsible for the family’s new North America operations.”
The woman added, “The Fortunate Harbor project is the first step in what we hope will become a major new division.”
Curtis continued, “Three generation ago, they were South India’s largest shipping company. Now they own warehouses, distribution centers, trucking firms, and a large chain of Walmart-style stores operating throughout the Indian subcontinent.”
“And ships,” the woman added. “Mostly bulk transport, some container vessels.”
“Their move into resort hotels is fairly recent,” Curtis said. “They acquired the Nayer Hotel chain, sixteen properties, all five-star, located throughout Southeast Asia and the Middle East.” He stopped then. Stared at the phone. Waiting.
Amiya Morais said, “Two years ago, my father’s elder brother was kidnapped. My father was shot in the attack, but survived. We paid the ransom. My uncle was never found.”
Dana said, “I’m so sorry.”
Amiya continued, “Years before this incident, my father had decided to try and establish a foothold in the United States. We are all convinced our family’s safety and our company’s future requires this.”
“The attack on Kurien and his brother only accelerated the process,” Curtis agreed. “The exact opposite of what these opponents are after.”
Amiya went on, “It is absolutely crucial this information not be made public. We have several other North American projects we are considering. Decisions on those will only take place once Fortunate Harbor is running smoothly.”
Curtis added, “Some very powerful members of our own organization oppose this shift to North America. We don’t know for certain, but we suspect they are looking for a reason to stifle this move before reaching its full potential.”
Amiya added, “They are very concerned this will disrupt their power structure. Which is why the Fortunate Harbor project is not directly connected to the existing hotel chain. We can say that we are simply testing the waters. Nothing more. Just the same, they are opposed. Angry. Very, very angry indeed.”
“They’re searching for a way to sabotage our efforts,” Curtis said. “Keep us from showing a profit. Prove to the main board this entire North America venture is a total failure.”
“If they hear this new property is available, they’ll pay whatever you ask to make it theirs,” Amiya continued. “They will do whatever they can to wreck our venture. I would not put it past them to build a competing hotel.”
“They will not care about upsetting the locals,” Curtis added. “I can’t stress that too highly.”
When the two of them went silent, Dana nodded slowly. Her response carried a courtroom formality. “We are both very grateful for this gift of trust.”
Curtis demanded, “Does that mean we can move forward with the purchase?” When the two women hesitated, he pressed, “Our realtor’s appraiser has valued the property at between three and four and a half million dollars. We are hereby offering a million-dollar premium on the top estimate. Five and a half million. But we want to make this happen today—”
“One moment please,” Amiya broke in. “Curtis, please take me off speaker.”
He cut the connection and lifted the phone. “Go ahead.”
Whatever he heard pushed Curtis from his chair. “When, now?”
A silence; then, “Are we clear to proceed with the purchase? Right. Understood. Two minutes.”
Curtis lowered the phone, but did not resume his seat. He told Rae, “Something’s come up. I can’t accompany you back, you’ll need to take the limo.”
Rae thought he had gone through an almost violent transition during that phone call’s short space. The man was now beyond tense. Iron hard, fiercely intent.
“Okay.”
“Are we good to go on the property?” His speech was not just accelerated. Each word was precisely carved.
Rae sorted through several responses, and settled on, “There’s the matter of payment.”
In response, Curtis reached into his back pocket, drew out a check, and wrote hurriedly. “This is my personal account, but it gives you a paper trail. I’ll have the funds in place in an hour.” He passed it across the table. “Is that acceptable?”
Rae shifted the check over so Dana could see it clearly. As if she needed confirmation that Curtis had just handed over a check for five and a half million dollars.
“Rae?”
“I’ll have the papers drawn up and ready for signing tomorrow morning.” She looked up. “For the moment, yes, I agree to your price and the sale.”
“Outstanding.” He glanced at the phone, studying the blank surface. “My boss has decided she needs to come down. Or maybe her father is insisting. Amiya will want to meet you. Can you make time for us tomorrow morning?”
“I’ll have to work on my schedule, but I think . . .” She checked her phone schedule, saw the one unchangeable appointment was not starting until the afternoon. “Let’s say ten, and I’ll have the documents ready.”
“Excellent. Let’s meet in the hotel’s main restaurant.” He addressed Dana, “I need a private space.”
Dana gestured to the PA. “Turn off the recording, please, and show Mr. Gage to the empty office next door.”
“Thank you both.” As he followed the young woman from the conference room, he offered them the day’s first smile. “I can’t say this was a pleasure. But I’m glad we met.”