Chapter 8: Thursday
The courtroom was smaller than I expected.
Grant was already seated at the opposing table when I arrived with Nora.
He was in a dark suit, very composed, flanked by two attorneys I didn't recognize.
His regular counsel wasn't there.
That was the first thing I noticed.
He didn't look at me when I sat down.
The motion to lift the injunction was straightforward on its surface — Grant's attorneys argued that the freeze had been obtained on the basis of incomplete information and that the underlying transfers were legitimate business transactions properly documented and disclosed.
Nora had prepared for this.
What she hadn't prepared for was the envelope that arrived at the clerk's desk twenty minutes into the hearing.
A court officer brought it to the judge.
The judge read the cover letter, then looked up at both tables.
"I've received a communication from the Securities and Exchange Commission," she said.
"They are formally requesting that this matter be stayed pending a parallel federal investigation.
This court will honor that request." She set the letter down.
"The injunction remains in place.
This hearing is adjourned."
Grant's lead attorney was on his feet immediately.
"Your Honor, with respect, a federal stay at this stage is highly irregular—"
"It is also within the SEC's authority," the judge said.
"Counsel, I suggest you contact your client's compliance team.
This court is adjourned."
The gavel came down.
Grant turned to his attorney and said something I couldn't hear.
The attorney shook his head.
Then Grant looked at me.
For the first time since the dinner, he looked at me the way he had in the early days — searching, calculating, trying to find the angle.
Trying to find where he had miscalculated.
"This is your doing," he said.
Quietly.
Not angry.
Almost wondering.
"You moved $63.4 million," I said.
"You left a record."
"We had attorneys review every step."
"I know.
I have their names too."
Something moved across his face.
Not fear exactly.
The recognition of fear.
The moment when a person understands that the thing they were afraid of has already happened and they simply hadn't been told yet.
"Where is my mother?" he said.
"I don't know," I said.
"Do you?"
He didn't answer.
Nora touched my arm lightly.
We stood and gathered our things.
At the door, one of Grant's attorneys called after us.
"This isn't resolved.
A federal stay is not a conviction.
We will fight every element of this."
I turned around.
"I know," I said.
"I'm counting on it.
Every time you fight, you produce more documentation.
Every deposition, every filing, every motion — more record.
More record is good for me." I looked at the attorney steadily.
"Tell your client to think carefully about what he wants to put in writing from this point forward."
We walked out into the corridor.
Nora exhaled slowly beside me.
"The SEC moved faster than I expected."
"Sandra Okafor," I said.
"She must have had more than she told you."
"She had enough." I stopped walking.
Down the corridor, through a set of glass doors, I could see the street outside.
People moving past.
Ordinary afternoon.
"Nora.
Eleanor.
Where would she go?"
"Somewhere without an extradition treaty, if she's smart."
"She's smart." I looked at the glass doors.
"But she's also seventy-three years old and she's been running this family for forty years.
I don't think she actually believes she can be stopped.
I think she left to buy time, not to disappear."
"Then she'll surface."
"Yes," I said.
"She will."
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered it.
Silence for a moment.
Then Eleanor Blackwood's voice, unhurried as ever.
"You've been very thorough," she said.
"Where are you?"
"Somewhere comfortable." A pause.
"I want to make you an offer."
"I'm listening."
"Walk away from the federal matter.
Let the civil case proceed — you'll recover a portion of the funds, enough to satisfy any reasonable person.
In exchange, certain information about your father's medical situation will remain private."
I felt the words land.
"What information?" I said.
"The full picture," she said, "is more complicated than you know.
There are things your father did, in the years before his illness, that you may not want made public.
Things that could affect how people remember him." A pause.
"I'm offering you a clean ending.
Take it."
I looked at Nora.
She was watching my face.
"Eleanor," I said.
"You just threatened to damage my father's reputation to stop me from pursuing the people who defrauded him."
"I'm offering you a choice."
"No," I said.
"You're telling me you have something you're afraid to use in court.
Because if you weren't afraid to use it, you would have already." I kept my voice level.
"Forward whatever you have to my attorney.
We'll address it in discovery." A pause.
"And Eleanor — this call is being recorded with the knowledge of federal investigators.
I'd suggest you call your own attorney next."
The line went quiet.
Then she said, very softly, "You are more like your father than I realized."
"I know," I said.
"He was harder to beat than you expected too."
I ended the call.
Nora looked at me.
"Was that true?
About the recording?"
"Sandra Okafor asked me to keep my phone active and connected to her team's monitoring line whenever possible." I pocketed the phone.
"I've had it running since this morning."
Nora was quiet for a moment.
Then she said, "Eleanor Blackwood just attempted to obstruct a federal investigation on a monitored line."
May you like
"Yes," I said.
"She did."
