“I’ll be there. Are the Masons invited?”
“No, only you.”
“Is this about the contempt order?”
“The judge has also invited a few of the jurors who asked to speak with you. I assume that is okay with you?”
“Uh, sure, I’ll talk to them.”
“Then we’ll see you at nine.”
He disconnected before I could ask about the contempt order again. I stood on the sidewalk and thought about the invitation. I was probably going to find out which way the jurors had been leaning when the rug was pulled out from under them. Since they had heard only the plaintiff’s side of the case, I assumed they had planned to come down on my side of the equation and were upset that we had settled when they were ready to teach Tidalwaiv a major financial lesson. I assumed the judge would take a few shots at me as well, since we had wasted more than a week of court time before settling the case.
I finally went back inside the bar to tell the others that the case wasn’t quite finished yet. The sommelier was opening a second bottle of bubbles. But soon afterward, I left the team there and headed home. I was hoping to get in before Maggie so I could think about what I wanted to say to her about the money I had just made. I planned to tell her that I would rebuild her house if she wanted me to and thatI hoped to live in it with her when it was finished. But that of course would be her call, not mine.
I succeeded in getting to the house on Fareholm ahead of her but not ahead of someone else. As I climbed the stairs to the front door, I saw a man sitting, his back to me, on one of the bar-height director chairs turned toward the view of the city below. His black suit and silver hair made him easily recognizable.
“So you came down after all,” I said as I approached. “I didn’t see you at the press conference.”
Victor Wendt turned to look at me.
“I didn’t come down for the press conference,” he said.
I nodded and gestured toward the view.
“You heard about the sunsets up here,” I said.
“Actually, I came to see you,” he said.
“If you’re going to tell me you stopped the wire and my client will never see a dime, you’re too late.”
“No, not at all. The money’s yours. And your client’s. I consider fifty million dollars an acceptable fee for doing business.”
I nodded as I realized that he had come to gloat about avoiding a more expensive verdict.
“Fifty-two million, actually, but who’s counting,” I said. “Except maybe your board of directors.”
“Yes, I will have to explain to them how we chose the lesser of two evils,” Wendt said. “I’m sure they will understand.”
“Then, what can I do for you, Mr. Wendt? I’m sure you didn’t come here to rehearse your speech to the board.”
“No, and I appreciate that you didn’t invite me to get the fuck off your porch. I came to make you an offer.”
“An offer? Like the last time we met? I’d say that was more of a bribe.”
“This is purely a business offer. I want to hire you, Mr. Haller.”
Wendt reached into his jacket and pulled a folded document out of the pocket.
“Hire me?” I said, trying to hide my surprise.
“This is a two-year contract for your services,” Wendt said. “Two point six million dollars per year for your legal advice on an as-needed basis. You’ll never have to step into a courtroom or be the lawyer of record on any legal action. Just a personal contract between you and me. I hope you will accept it.”
He handed me the document and I unfolded it. I scanned it quickly and immediately understood what it was and what it meant. A high-end buyout.
“You want to make sure I never sue you again,” I said. “Or at least not for the next two years, while you try to resuscitate whatever’s left of your merger after today.”
I started to refold the contract while doing the math.
