Since Kirk’s travel expenses were about to be picked through by his wife’s divorce lawyers, they managed to agree that the room would be reserved by Rusty, who, at the moment, was between wives.
They met at 3:00 p.m. on a Thursday afternoon and no one from the office had any idea where they were, no small feat for two important men who kept themselves surrounded by staff. Rusty arrived first, checked in, and found a diet soda in the mini-bar. Fifteen minutes later, Kirk knocked on the door. They managed to say polite “hellos” and shake hands. Both were determined to act civilized and speak in measured tones. Both knew that one stray word could cause a brawl.
They sat at a small table and sipped sodas. Kirk asked, “You talked to the old man lately?”
“Last week, briefly. You?”
“He called last night. Proud of his latest cell phone. Said next time not to send Diantha. He wants one of us. As you know, I had to beg off.”
“Yeah, sorry about the divorce and all. I’ve been down that road several times and it’s never pleasant. No chance of a reconciliation?”
“No way. We’re too far gone.”
“I hear she’s hired Scarlett Ambrose.”
“Afraid so.”
“It’ll get nasty.”
“It’s already nasty. I’m moving out this weekend.”
“Sorry to hear that. You know, I’ve had three divorces, nothing to brag about. But I managed to settle all of them without the messy fighting.”
“I know, I know. Look, we didn’t drive here to talk about our divorces. The topic is money. We’re both in rough shape financially. Because of the divorce, I’m probably in more of a jam. The law firm is bleeding cash and the future isn’t looking too good. Can we agree on this?”
Rusty was nodding along. A pause, and he said, “Meanwhile, the old man is sitting fat in prison and counting the days until he gets out. The tobacco money is piling up and we can’t touch it. Can we?”
“Of course not. Stu controls it and he keeps it hidden. Here’s the rub. That money belongs to this law firm, not to Bolton Malloy. He’s been disbarred, disgraced, sent to prison, and he’ll never practice again. It’s against all manner of ethics for this firm to split fees with a non-lawyer. That’s understood. What worries me is that he and Stu are hiding the money and evading taxes. What if the IRS comes in with guns blazing and wants to dig through the books? What if they find the hidden loot? Guess who gets indicted. Probably not Bolton, though I’d point the finger at him pretty damned quick. It’s more likely that they’ll come after the two of us.”
“Agreed. What are you saying?”
“I’m saying exactly what you and I have been thinking ever since the tobacco money hit the table. We are entitled to a chunk of it. We were partners in this firm when the tobacco litigation was settled and we should get a share.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know. You got a number?”
Rusty stood and walked to a credenza where he riffled through a briefcase. He pulled out some papers and dropped them on the table in front of Kirk. “I ran some numbers last night, something I’m sure you do all the time. At the settlement, the court approved fees for Malloy & Malloy to the tune of twenty-one million. The old man wisely deferred his share and structured a deal to postpone it for ten years, hoping of course that our dear mother would pass in the meantime. We all know that story. So for ten years the money churned at a rate of about five percent a year. Five years ago, the annual payments of three million hit home, or hit somewhere in Stu’s world. At that moment, the pile was just over thirty-five million. Now, assuming the money is earning only five percent a year, and paying out at three million, then the payments will continue for another fourteen years. Bolton is almost seventy-two. What the hell is an eighty-year-old man going to do with that much cash?”
“I know all this, Rusty.”
“Sure you do. I’m just repeating myself so I can justify taking some of the money now.”
Kirk frowned and looked out the window. “What about Stu?”
“We make him rich. Give him a slice, enough to get a smile, enough to let the old fart quit and go home and water his roses. The conspiracy will take the four of us working together.”
“Diantha?”
“Of course.”
Kirk stood and paced to the door and back, rubbing his jaw with every step. “I had a long talk with her last night. The meeting with the old man was not a good idea. It brought back a lot of old issues that I thought they had resolved. Evidently not. To put it bluntly—she wants some of the money. She figures she’s entitled to it after all these years.”