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“You’d be surprised. ”
“What kind of people—”
Mac laughed. “Most are pretty regular…just taking a hobby too far.”
“Do you—”
“Hell, no.” He grinned. “But in the event of an apocalypse, I do know where they all are.”
They took the elevator to the ninety-eighth floor and stepped out into the dimly lit, conservatively furnished reception area. Mac spoke to the receptionist, who ushered them into a vast corner office and announced their arrival to its inhabitant.
Alexander Wilson looked to be in his early forties, but his face did bear signs of cosmetic and surgical intervention, so he could well have been much older. Mac introduced Gus as his corporate legal advisor. Wilson shook hands with both men, asked about their flight—the usual introductory small talk, after which he suggested that since it was nearly midday, perhaps they should go to lunch. There was a place he knew that served the best quail in New York.
Mac declined, saying they had another appointment for lunch. “Before we discuss what Wilson Freeman could do for Bolt Hole, Mr. Benton and I have a couple of questions…”
Wilson opened his arms. “Of course. Anything.”
“Three years ago,” Mac began, “you represented a young woman called Theodosia Benton who had been taken in for questioning by the Kansas PD.”
Wilson looked startled now. He glanced at Gus, making the connection.
“Can I ask you, Mr. Wilson, who retained you to represent Theodosia Benton?” Mac asked.
“I’m afraid that’s confidential.”
“We’re not asking you to reveal any communications between you and your client, Mr. Wilson,” Gus said, “merely his or her identity.”
“And as you well know, Mr. Benton, that too is privileged.”
Mac tried a different approach. “Bolt Hole’s head office is in Lawrence—”
“Yes, I did wonder why—”
“I live there.” Mac’s tone made it clear that the location was not negotiable. “As such I want any firm dealing with our business to be conveniently located. Do you have offices in Lawrence?”
Wilson looked a little confused. “No, I’m afraid we don’t…Rarely is immediate personal appearance required—. Of course if we were to secure a significant client in Lawrence, there is a definite possibility that we would establish—”
“You appeared for Theodosia Benton pretty quickly after she was brought in.”
“On that occasion, I was already in Lawrence.”
“Why?”
Wilson adjusted the knot of his tie. “Again, Mr. Etheridge, that’s confidential.”
“Are you aware, sir,” Gus said coldly, “that Theodosia Benton disappeared shortly after you extracted her from questioning?”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Benton. She did seem mentally fragile, but I am a lawyer, not a psychiatrist. Am I to assume you are the brother she was so keen to visit in the hospital? I’m glad to see you’ve made a full recovery.” Wilson stood. “Gentlemen, it appears to me that you are more interested in Wilson Freeman’s past clients than in joining our register. If that is the case, I’m afraid we have no more to say to each other.”
Mac met his eye and then he stood. Gus followed suit. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Wilson.”
CHAPTER 36
In Afterlife the dead are afraid of the living. It’s a message.
Patriot Warrior
It’s fiction you moron.
