Chapter 11
Charlotte looked serious as she waited in the conference room of his firm for John to join her for his interview.
Since her return from Aspen, she had spoken to two of his employees who had confirmed the kind of behavior his daughter and others had alluded to.
Uncontrollable rages, lack of empathy, abusive language when he felt an employee had done something wrong, inflexibility, lack of concern for the safety of his employees.
No one else had mentioned rape or sexual misconduct.
Henry had spoken to a few connections of his own who confirmed that John had done everything in his power to get the shipyard to accept the seventeen recently purchased ships at once and give him a much lower price on the refits if they all came in together, which had inevitably caused the entire crews of all seventeen ships to be laid off immediately, as well as dockworkers.
John had been the single person responsible for it, and he looked Charlotte squarely in the eye and said that it was neither his decision, nor his orders, and he boldly blamed the shipyard for the layoffs that he had engineered.
For every point she brought up, he had someone to blame other than himself—the unions, the docks, the port authority, government regulations, and even the men themselves, saying that they should have seen it coming and had their unions negotiate a better deal for them.
“I believe they did,” Charlotte said politely.
“They got to it way too late,” John said. But the men had been laid off within the hour the ships were docked, and no one had known about it until the day before. The deal had been in secret negotiations until the last minute.
She read off the list of traits and behaviors that he had been accused of, and he blamed them all on and attributed them to someone else in each case. It was staggering listening to him. He was lying about everything, took no responsibility, and showed no remorse.
She didn’t bring up Angela’s rape, because she didn’t want him to guess her source, and she was saving it for the final draft and didn’t want to lose the element of surprise.
John mentioned having met Charlotte on Ben Sharpe’s boat in St. Barth and reminded her that since it was a personal trip during the holidays, their meeting and whoever else was there were off-limits according to their agreement not to include personal issues, which was his way of reminding her that she couldn’t write about Lillith, which was actually of no interest. He was a widower, his wife had been gone for nearly a year, Lillith was of age, and who he dated was irrelevant, and not the issue.
How he conducted his business, how he treated his employees, his business practices, dishonesty, and lack of compassion for the people who worked for him were the issues. And what kind of man he was.
From experience, she could tell that he had lied his way through the entire interview, and she thought him a despicable person and suspected that the readers would too, once they read the article.
It was a far cry from her interview with Ben Sharpe, which was inspiring, had touched her deeply, and showed what kind of man he was.
Everything she knew about John now underscored the differences between the two men.
John looked victorious when he walked her to the elevator after the interview, convinced that he had fooled her and she had believed every word he said. He flirted with her and said he’d like to have dinner with her sometime soon. Charlotte pretended not to hear him.
—
She met with Henry the next morning and looked serious as she sat down across from him.
“Have you started writing it yet?” he asked her, and she shook her head.
“I wanted to talk to you first. We’ve got an awful lot on this guy,” she said with a grim expression, “much more than I suspected at first. Business and personal, operational, and even criminal.” Two of the men who got laid off had taken their own lives.
She told Henry about the rape and he looked solemn.
“You have to protect your source on that, if you’re going to include it.”
“Can I?” she asked him.
“Yes, and I’d like you to check with the hospital and see if they kept any documentation from the night she came in after the rape.
” He thought about it carefully. “I think you have to include the rape. People deserve to know what kind of man he is. That’s the core issue here.
A man who would do what he did to his employees, treats them as badly as possible, lies to them, cheats them, and rapes young women is not who I want to do business with, with all his holier-than-thou ways. ”
“He may sue us,” she warned him.
“Let him. I know you’ll handle it all gracefully, and he won’t want to face a rape trial in order to prove what a good guy he is.
The laws in California have changed, and for criminal proceedings, there is no longer a statute of limitations on rape.
He could be arrested and go to trial. We have to stay as circumspect as we can, and report what people say about him.
The truth is the line of defense against libel, and everything you’ve told me and I’ve heard has the ring of truth to it.
I know you’ll do a terrific job with it.
You have my blessing,” Henry said, and she stood up a few minutes later, eager to go to work.
“I think I’m going to do the rough draft at home so I’m not interrupted. I want to get it all in and get it right.”
“Just stay away from that young woman he’s dating. He has the right to date whoever he wants, and it’s really none of our business. The rest is all fair game. You’ve done a great job researching this,” he said, praising her.
“And you helped,” she returned. Henry had spoken to many people he knew and who had done business with him, and none of them had a kind word to say about John.
The commodore of the yacht club said he broke the rules and had a wanton disregard for other members, including safety measures for the disabled and the elderly.
And two men who had been in sailing races against him said he was a dangerous sailor, and several times had nearly caused accidents at the start and finish lines.
“He’s damn lucky that girl he raped didn’t bring charges.
He could have wound up in prison,” Henry said to Charlotte.
“With those new laws now in California, and no statute of limitations on rape, he could still be arrested and face criminal charges. Good luck. I know you’ll do a great job with this.
” He smiled at her. They had a gold mine of factual information about John Williams that all checked out.
Charlotte gathered up her things and went home after that.
She changed into the old track pants she wore when she was writing, and an ancient sweater with holes in it.
She sat on the couch with her notes and spread them out on the coffee table, putting them in the order she wanted to use them.
The words were already swirling in her head, and she needed to get them all out now and onto her computer screen.
—
She wrote almost without stopping for the next three days.
And whenever she did stop to get some rest, she would wake up and think of something she wanted to add, or a section to move around.
At the end of the third day, she felt as though she was almost there, and mostly had polishing and correcting to do.
She was reading it through for the second time when her assistant called her.
“John Williams wants to talk to you. He says he has something to add. He wanted your cell number or house line, and I wouldn’t give them to him.
Do you want me to call him back and patch you through, so he doesn’t get your number?
” Charlotte hadn’t thought of that, but her assistant had a good point.
She didn’t want Williams having her number if he didn’t like the article when it came out.
And it was a sure thing he wasn’t going to love it.
She had put everything into the draft she’d written, including the rape of Angela Klein.
“That would be nice,” Charlotte agreed, although she didn’t want to talk to him. She felt as though she had been living with him for the past few days. She couldn’t get him out of her head.
Her assistant had him on the line in two minutes, and just hearing his voice now upset Charlotte.
“Hello, John. What can I do for you?” she asked briskly.
“I’d like to meet with you before you write the article. Can you meet me somewhere for a drink?” It was the last thing she wanted to do.
“I’m working from home. I’m writing it now.”
“Where do you live?” he asked her, and his voice made her skin crawl, especially after speaking to Angela.
“Would you like to speak to my managing editor? He’s been very involved in the research too.”
“How much research are you doing?” He sounded short for a minute. “We’re just talking about an incident involving a few seamen and dockworkers. There’s no need to fan the flames any more than they have been. The whole point is to put the fire out. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is to the men who got laid off,” she said calmly. “I live downtown, in the West Village.”
“Is there somewhere we can meet near you?” he asked. He sounded nervous, and had good reason to.
“There’s kind of a deli two blocks from my apartment.
I could meet you there,” she said, not happy at the prospect of seeing him.
She’d have to shower and dress and do her hair and look respectable.
She looked like a derelict while she was writing.
But she was curious about what he wanted to add, and it might be important.
“Fine.” He didn’t sound happy about it, and neither was she. “Would you want to come to my apartment?” he offered. “It’s got a fabulous view.” It was the last thing she wanted to do, to get trapped in his apartment alone with him.