“How convenient,” Rusty said.
“Whatever. She’s determined and she will not be denied.”
“Great. Let’s cut her in. How do we get Stu to cook the books for us for a change?”
“She thinks it’ll be easy. She thinks Stu might be getting cold feet with all the money he’s hiding and the taxes he’s evading. He even mentioned something about not going to prison on behalf of the old man’s schemes.”
Rusty smiled and said, “I love it. What’s her figure?”
“We’re equal, okay? All four of us. We take a million each to start with, keep it offshore where it’s hiding right now. Next year we take half a million each and leave one mil for the old man. Same for the following year. If it goes well, and there’s no reason it shouldn’t, we’ll split the fees until the payments stop, or until he gets out of prison. We can adjust the distributions any way we like. But we gotta stick together.”
“How do we snooker the old man?”
“Get Stu to dummy up the monthly financials. As long as Bolton’s in prison he won’t know the truth. When he gets out, he’ll certainly cause trouble, but we’ll have the money. What’s he gonna do, sue us for taking fees we’re entitled to?”
Rusty stopped smiling and said, “He’ll evict us from his building.”
“So what? If he does, we’ll go somewhere else, or maybe just shut it all down. That’s not a bad thought. Take a break from the law.”
“While we count our money.”
For the first time in years the Malloy boys enjoyed a moment together. The gorilla in the room had finally gone away. They had confronted Bolton and his monstrous fees, and they were not afraid. Driving home, Kirk was all smiles as he listened to Bach and dreamed of a far more pleasant life away from Chrissy and away from the law.
Rusty decided to hang around the hotel. He’d paid for the room, no sense hustling back home to an empty house. At five he entered the hotel lounge, got a drink at the bar and kept one eye on the door, ready to pounce on the first attractive prospect.
（26）
But Old Stu would have none of it.
He listened somewhat attentively as Diantha walked him through her tortured history with Bolton. She thought she was convincing but his homely old face became stone cold when she broached the subject of money. Damages. Compensation for sexual harassment. Since there was never spare cash lying around the firm, at least not above the table, Old Stu knew immediately that she had her eye on the treasure being accumulated offshore.
She plowed on and explained that the “boys” were getting restless and needed an “increase” in their compensation. He was nonplussed.
She wanted to remind the unlicensed accountant that he was an employee of the firm and could be terminated at any moment for any reason, or no reason at all, but she decided to keep the big arrows in her quiver and fight another day. She would regroup with the partners and plan their next move. The first, at least in her opinion, had been a disaster.
She left Stu’s office on the seventh floor and rode the elevator alone all the way down. She told her secretary to hold all calls and locked herself in her office. She kicked off her heels and stretched out on the sofa. Napping was impossible. The stress was too great. She had failed miserably in her first attempt to convince Stu to join their secret raid on Bolton’s beloved tobacco money. Who would she call first, Kirk or Rusty?
The answer was obvious. Kirk was a buttoned-up office guy who never got his hands dirty. Rusty was a street brawler who knew how to charm and negotiate. If the sweet-talking didn’t work, then he was always ready to twist arms, or kneecap an enemy if necessary. If anyone could bully and threaten Old Stu, it was Rusty Malloy.
Early that morning, Stu had emailed to her, Kirk, and Rusty the previous month’s financials. Things were bleaker than she’d thought. The banks would be calling soon and there would be the usual tense meetings.
She walked to her desk, sat with her feet on it, and studied the financials. Each year, Kirk and Rusty paid themselves $480,000 in salaries, with year-end bonuses based on the firm’s performance. The bonuses, always equal, per Bolton, were hammered out in a closed-door session each year on December 30. It was by far the most dreadful day of the year. Both partners came loaded with endless numbers, and Diantha had to referee. For the past three years, Kirk had raised hell because his side of the firm, the “right side,” had grossed far more than Rusty’s. Rusty fought back with five-and ten-year trends clearly proving that his personal injury practice was far more lucrative than Kirk’s. Only four years ago, his “left side” had doubled the gross revenue from his rival.