Chapter 6: The Offer He Shouldn't Have Made
Richard called at noon.
I was in a cab heading back across the city, the recusal document signed and filed, Grace already in a closed-door session with the board's legal counsel.
I looked at his name on the screen for two full rings before I answered.
"Where are you?" he said.
"Out."
"I called the house.
You weren't there."
"I know."
A pause.
I could hear him breathing.
"My attorney called me this morning," he said.
"He told me he sent a letter to your firm three days ago."
"I'm aware."
"Claire." His voice dropped.
"That letter was meant to open a conversation.
It was not meant to be—"
"Submitted to the board as evidence of an attempt to obstruct a compliance review?"
Silence.
"Is that what you did with it?"
"Richard, I'm in a cab.
I'm not going to discuss this on the phone."
"Then come home.
Come home and we'll talk about this like two adults who have been married for nine years and can still—"
"I'll be home this evening."
"I need to talk to you now."
"I know you do." I looked out the window.
"I'll be home this evening."
I ended the call.
He called back immediately.
I let it ring.
He was home when I arrived at six.
He was in the living room, not the study, which told me his attorney had advised him to stop working and start thinking.
He was sitting in the chair by the window with no drink, no phone, no performance.
Just a man in a room waiting.
"Sit down," he said.
I sat on the sofa across from him.
"My attorney," he said, "tells me the board has opened a formal disciplinary proceeding.
Effective today."
"Yes."
"He also tells me that the letter he sent — which I authorized — has been characterized as an attempt to impede the investigation."
"That's an accurate characterization."
"It was a negotiation, Claire.
It was an opening position.
Every compliance matter I have ever seen resolved has involved negotiation."
"Not when the negotiation is directed at the spouse of the subject, who is also the lead attorney on the engagement, without disclosing either of those facts to the board."
He looked at the floor.
"I didn't know you were the lead attorney."
"I know."
"If I had known—"
"You would have handled it differently.
Yes.
I know that too."
He looked up.
"I need you to tell me what they have," he said.
"Not as my attorney.
As my wife.
I need to know how bad this is."
"I recused myself from the file this morning."
"Then as my wife."
I looked at him.
"As your wife," I said, "I have known for three weeks what is in that file.
And I have thought about very little else." I kept my voice level.
"As your wife, I am telling you that the correct thing to do — the only thing that helps you at this point — is full cooperation.
Not negotiation.
Not back channels.
Cooperation."
"Full cooperation means—"
"It means what it means, Richard."
He stood up.
Walked to the window.
Stood with his back to me.
"I built that division," he said.
"I want you to understand that.
The contracts I brought in — the Meridian contract, the Fortress program, the DHS renewal — those were mine.
I built them from nothing."
"I know."
"And somewhere along the way—" He stopped.
His shoulders dropped slightly.
"Somewhere along the way I made decisions that I told myself were necessary.
That I told myself everyone in that position makes."
I said nothing.
"I need to know if there is a version of this," he said, still facing the window, "where I come out the other side with something left."
"That depends entirely on what you do in the next seventy-two hours."
He turned around.
"Tell me what to do."
"Call your attorney.
Tonight.
Tell him to contact the board's legal counsel and request a meeting.
Tell him you are prepared to cooperate fully.
Tell him no more letters, no more back channels, no more negotiation attempts."
"And you?"
"I'm not your attorney, Richard.
I stepped off the file."
"I'm not asking as a client." He crossed the room and sat down again, closer now, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
"I'm asking as your husband.
Are you still my wife?
After all of this — are you still here?"
The room was very quiet.
I looked at him for a long time.
"I don't know yet," I said.
It was the most honest thing I had said to him in weeks.
He nodded.
Looked at his hands.
"That's fair," he said quietly.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Something in his face shifted — a tightening around the eyes, a stillness that was different from the stillness of a moment ago.
"Who is it?" I said.
He didn't answer.
"Richard.
Who is calling you right now?"
He turned the phone so I could see the screen.
The name on it was not his attorney.
May you like
It was not Daniel.
It was a name I had seen once before — on the incorporation documents for the shell company in Delaware.
