Sins of the Father
“Mr. Palmer, I know you asked not to be disturbed.” My secretary’s voice startles me out of my deep focus.
I’ve told her not to use the intercom like that unless it’s an absolute emergency. I hit the flashing red button on my desktop phone. “Then why are you disturbing me?” I snap.
Q4 reporting is in full swing and I’m busier than I’ve been since I started work here.
“You’ve got a visitor. I explained that you weren’t available. He said if you didn’t speak to him now, he’d send a subpoena.”
That makes me sit up straight. “Where did you say he’s from?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Ask him again.” I’m stalling because it doesn’t really matter. Subpoena power trumps my deadline for this brief. I close my laptop and begin putting sensitive documents into their files.
“He won’t say, sir,” she says in a low voice.
Shit. “Alright. Give me two minutes and then escort him in.”
I straighten my tie and use my phone to check for crumbs or food in my teeth and then shake myself out of it. I’ve been away from criminal practice too long. I’d forgotten how intimidating we could be. Showing up unannounced and threatening subpoenas is how we establishour dominance. Not even the most powerful people in this country are above the law.
Precisely two minutes later there’s a brief knock on my door before it opens. I stay seated when the man who made my battle-ax of a secretary stutter enters.
His eyes go to my closed laptop and he frowns. “Are you on your way out?”
“No. How can I help you?”
“I’m from the Department of Homeland Security. I’d like to discuss your application to the US Attorney’s Office for the District of Columbia.”
The hairs on the back of neck stand up. “I see.” He could have knocked me over with a feather. My stomach drops. “This seems…irregular,” I say.
“Highly. But, so are the circumstances that bring me here.”
“Okay.”
“Aren’t you going to ask what those circumstances are? Or do you already know?”
“I’m waiting for you to tell me. I’m not the one who showed up at your office.”
He strolls the perimeter of my office, peering at my diplomas and artwork. I watch him and don’t react. He wants me to know he’s going to control the pace of this conversation. But I know he’s here because he needs something from me, and I’ve got a hot date and a brief to finish before then, so I cut to the chase.
“If you don’t start talking in the next minute, I’m going to take you up on that subpoena you threatened. I’ll come to you. And when I find out who you’re trying to keep this visit a secret from, I’ll make sure they know of it.”
He chuckles. “I heard you were an asshole.”
“Only when necessary. You’ve got twenty-one seconds.”
He expels a harsh breath. “I guess I should get straight to it.”
“Please.” I wave at the chair and try to ignore the thundering in my chest and wait for him to drop the hammer.
He sits and looks down at the ground for a beat before he meets my gaze. “I have a friend at Secret Service and he does me a solid by giving me a heads-up when I need it. And today, he called about you. Your background check came back.”
“Okay?”
“How come you didn’t disclose your nine-figure net worth and thebillions you’ll inherit?”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up again and unease tickles my gut.
