Tales of Drysdale House (15) A Lawyer Takes On a New Role

 

A lawyer takes on a new role.

Narrative of Jane Bennet.

I was feeling pretty good about my prospects as I walked into the Lobby of the Hathaway Building. I was carrying a cup of coffee which I had purchased next door. I was sure that soon I would be working back on the top or sixth floor, promoted out of by punishment assignment with the temporary data and exhibit clerks on the fifth. The Sixth is where the action is; where Mr Masters and the partners work and where all the decisions are made. I often work on Saturdays. I like to show my dedication to my job.

I approached the security desk, to receive clearance to ascend in the elevator. Mr Masters is very security conscious.  Two men were working.

“Where is Sofia?” I asked as I approached.

“She didn’t come in today, so Jake is working some overtime.” The head guard seemed both a little bored and upset that I had questioned the arrangements.

“Mr Reiss would like to see you. He asked that you be escorted to him if you came in today. Jake will take you.”

I was pleased, already some action on my little letter. The meeting must be about my promotion back to the Sixth Floor.

Jake looked middle-aged and a little grey at the temples, but still muscular and strong. A woman could feel safe when protected by a big man like Jake. We entered the elevator car, Jake letting me proceed him as was only right.

Jake pressed the button for the basement.

“Why are we going down? I was to meet Mr Reiss?”

Jake did not smile. “Mr Reiss has asked that you meet him at one of the interview rooms in the basement.”

I was a little worried. “Let me go back upstairs, I can meet Mr Reiss upstairs. I would feel better if we went upstairs.”

Jake said nothing.

“Please, I am uncomfortable. Let me go back upstairs.”

The elevator doors opened on the basement. It was a dark area. Large brick pillars, which supported the six story 1890s building, once the tallest in San Francisco gave the whole place a gothic flavor. The place was broken up into service rooms for building heating and cooling, and storage areas. I had been down here only once before while I was looking for a file in the Frick Steel patent case and had become lost. I had had to call for help on my phone.

“I want to go back upstairs.”

Jake was unrelenting. “Mr Reiss said to bring you to an interview room down here. He said it will be more private.”

Now I was very afraid, but I didn’t dare say anything more. The large and muscular Jake seemed to be more a menace than a protection now. I wanted to turn and flee, but my high heels would make running impossible. Meekly I followed Jake.

Jake lead me through a maze of corridors, past storage rooms and equipment rooms for the systems of the building. I was not sure I could retrace my steps back to the elevator without help. He came to an unmarked door, identical to many of the equipment room doors. Like those doors, it was reinforced with a steel panel. He knocked. I heard a voice. Jake opened the door and pushed me in the back. I entered the room.

There was only one light, a pendant hanging from the ceiling. It was rather low over a square table, about four feet square. On the other side was Gerry Reiss with a legal folder in front of him.

“Sit down, Miss Bennet.”

I sat.

“I have here a letter from you directed to Mister Masters, the owner of the Law Firm you work for.” Do you know the letter I mean?”

I could barely speak; my throat was so dry. “Yes,” I croaked. “I know which letter.”

“Speak up Miss Bennet, I can barely hear you.”

“Yes, yes I wrote the letter.” Now I was almost shouting.

Mr Reiss went on. “So you are aware of what is in the letter.?”

I was brisk now. “Yes, I identified a possible problem and suggested a solution to resolve it. It is my duty as an employee of the Firm.”

“A solution that would involve a promotion and a new office for you?” Reiss’s voice was dry.

I gulped, “Yes.”

“A solution that would benefit you for solving a problem that could only possibly result from you releasing information that would reveal the problem publicly? That sounds close to blackmail.”

I tried to deny such an accusation. But Reiss continued speaking, talking over me.

“And what is this ‘problem’ that you would solve for us?”

I would have to speak very carefully here. Two days ago, by sheer chance, I had discovered that the Grand Duchy of Lutha, a tiny microstate for which Mr Masters had recently become the Honorary Consul in San Francisco, still had laws on its books which permitted slavery, particularly female slavery. Mr Masters had given me a large law book written in whatever foreign language the use in Lutha to replace in the Law Library in our conference room. The rows of books are very impressive and make a good impression on clients. By chance, Mr Masters had left a slip of paper marking the pages he had been consulting. I was curious as it is good to know what topics the big bosses are studying so that one can be prepared to shine when they ask questions in front of clients. I could not read the foreign jibber jabber so I used Google Translate to put the gibberish into good American.

I was shocked. Lutha still permitted slavery, especially female slavery. I checked to see this was an old book, but it was published last year, in 2015. I replaced the book and saw my chance. I wrote a letter suggesting that if the Firm could accommodate me by a promotion back to the sixth floor and a raise, I could come up with a strategy to handle what could be a public relations problem. Of course it was genteel blackmail; a girl has to take care of herself in this world. Now I had to be careful.

“I don’t know if you are aware of the fact that Lutha, for whom Mr Masters is a consul permits the abhorrent and barbarous practice of female slavery. It even recommends that the women be branded, like animals! As a good employee, I wanted to protect the good name of the Firm.”

I sounded like a good and prim woman, just doing my best for the Law Firm. Butter would not melt in my mouth.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I want to leave and go to my office.”

I started to rise. Two hands gripped my shoulders and pushed me down in the chair. The grip was strong, I feared it might leave bruises on shoulders. The hands seemed determined to push me right through the seat of the hard wooden chair.

I looked around wildly. I was being held by Mr Anderson. He had something to do with security. I had not noticed him in the room! He had a knack for being so still and quiet that one would swear he was not there, even when he was sitting in plain sight.

“Let me go, I want to leave. You can’t keep me here.” I was nearly hysterical.

“You requested this meeting, Miss Bennet, you should stay and see it through.”

That sure sounded like a threat, but I was too scared to say anything, not even that I preferred Ms Bennet.

“I just want to get everything straight, Miss Bennet. You requested a meeting because you discovered, what were your words? a barbarous and abhorrent custom in a country Mr Masters represents. Is that correct?

“Yes, but…”  I was cut off.

“You were prepared to accommodate this barbarous and abhorrent situation if you were paid more money and received a promotion. Is that correct?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way. I would help manage the situ...”

“Is that correct?”

“Yes sir.”

“Maybe you can help us with another situation. Are you aware that Mr Masters lunches every Friday with Inspector Strade of the San Francisco Police? He has done so since returning from his vacation.”

I hadn’t known that. It sounded like I was about to be threatened with arrest for blackmail. I was aware that Mr Anderson was standing directly behind my chair. He was uncomfortably close, well within my personal space. It made me uncomfortable.

“What situation?” I was not going to admit to anything. I am a lawyer. I know my rights!

“There is a situation arising from your leadership of the evidence preparation and analysis group in the Frick patent case.”

That damn case! That case was what had led to my removal from the sixth floor in the first place. First, Dana Wynter had been chosen over me to travel to Pittsburgh. Then when I had attempted to show leadership back in San Francisco, I had been accused of disrespect to Mr Reiss because I had used Mr Masters office for a few days. Unfair. I had been demoted to overseeing a bunch of scruffy temporary workers doing scut work in preparation for the trial. Tedius boring work, far from a courtroom. And I had had to apologize to Mr Reiss while on my knees!

“What situation?” I was sure my work had been impeccable, despite my disdain for the job.

Mr Reiss leaned back in his chair.

“Inspector Strade is investigating a recent string of disappearances by young ladies. Normally he doesn’t investigate missing persons cases, but one of the missing women was a kindergarten teacher, a popular kindergarten teacher, in an area with many influential parents. Three women in five days, all with the same method. They each received a text, ostensibly from a friend, who claimed that she was just outside with a present for the victim, and needed help to bring it upstairs. The women went outside and were never seen again.”

“What does this have to do with me?’

“All of the missing women, Sheila Grant, Melissa Forzani, and Maria Chavez, worked as temporary employees under your supervision during the Frick case. Inspector Strade does not know this. Not  yet at least. Mr Anderson did some extra investigation.”

Mr Reiss opened a file folder. He took out a picture. I recognized her as Sheila Grant.

“Sheila Grant.” He put the picture in front of me. “Australian, backpacker, in the country legally, allowed to work temporary jobs. Here is the interesting part. On the morning of the night that Sheila disappeared from her Youth Hostel, you received a deposit into your checking account of $2500.00.”

He slid a copy of my bank statement across the table. My account showed a deposit of $2500.00. I was sure that I had never received that money. I would know.

“Anyone can make a deposit into an account. I have no recollection of receiving that money!”

“True that anyone can make a deposit into an account. But only the owner can transfer money out.”

He took another piece of paper across the table. It was a payment, made that afternoon on my student loan. A second piece of paper from the student load holder showed that the money had been received and credited to my account. The new balance had been reduced by $2500.00. The remaining balance was still large though. Very large. An ungraduate degree from Stanford followed by a Stanford Law Degree is not cheap. I had been making what payments I could, but San Francisco is an expensive city. I had covered the interest but had barely touched the capital sum outstanding. That $2500 reduced the amount owing by more than I had been able to in two years.

“I don’t understand this” I was genuinely bewildered.

“There is more.” He passed more papers across the table.

They showed that on the very next morning following Sheila Grant’s going missing, a further $2500 had been paid into my account, and immediately applied to my student loans. I was stunned. It looked like I had been paid to set up Sheila Grant. Why would they do this? Who would do this? Of course, anyone who could take money out of my account to pay down my loans could make it look like it happened nearly a week ago. They were going to a lot of trouble to shut me up. Why?

Mr Reiss put two more piles of documents on the table. “Melissa Forzani, Maria Chavez”

I looked over the documents. It was the same pattern. One payment on the morning before the girl disappeared, one payment the morning following. The last payment for Maria Chavez had been paid this morning. I had withdrawn some money from an ATM this morning. I had not noticed any unusual activity on my account when I had done so. I was dumbfounded. That was a lot of money to shut me up! I was scared.

“So it appears, Miss Bennet, that you are willing to make accommodations when it comes to the barbarous and abhorrent practice of female slavery.”

“No. No. I know nothing of this!”

I tried to push the chair away from the table. Mr Anderson did not budge. I tried to push myself up from the table but Mr Reiss reached across and grabbed my wrists.

“You see, Jane, we have an offer to make to you. In your letter, you indicated that you could be bought, that you could, for considerations, accommodate your values to a barbarous and abhorrent practice if it did not affect you personally.”

I sat down. Mr Reiss did not release my wrists. Fifteen thousand dollars certainly got my attention. Sometimes I was kept awake at night because of the weight of my loans. Without paying them down, I could not buy a house or even a car. I also understood the blackmail potential of those payments. I could not prove I had not received that money; Inspector Strade would throw me in jail as soon as he saw those documents. I calmed myself. Mr Reiss went on.

“Do you wear silk lingerie, Jane? Are you wearing intimate silk now? I see at least that your suit is not silk. Are you the kind of girl who wears silk caressing her intimately?

“You can’t ask me that! That’s against the law! It’s insulting!”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Jane, this a job interview for a responsible position. It is relevant and we want to know.”

“No, no of course not. I don’t own intimate silk items.”

I didn’t know why it was so important to deny that I owned silken items. I got the vibe though that no was the right answer here. Suddenly Mr Reiss yanked me across the interview table. He had never let go of my wrists and I found myself lying across the table.

“Anders, check will you?”

My legs were hanging down, I felt Mr Anderson reach around my body and undo my belt, then begin to undo my trousers. I kicked out as I struggled and he slapped me, hard, on my backside. I could feel him pull down my trousers. I thanked whatever powers that be that I was wearing very modest cotton blend underwear. He felt the material. He also felt my butt.

“Some kind of cotton blend.”

“Very good, you may sit down Jane.No, no need to pull up your trousers, you are fine as you are.”

I sat down on the hard wooden chair. My slacks were around my ankles. I felt very vulnerable. I was very scared. Mr Reiss continued speaking.

“You have demonstrated that you will comply with commands and are willing to accommodate us even when it comes to the barbarous and abhorrent, but natural institution of female slavery. You have seen the sort of girls we are looking for, pretty, curvy, feminine: the kind who wear silk lingerie. You have a reputation as a socially active person. That is what we require of you, that you find girls of the sort of Sheila, Melissa, and Maria. You will be paid for every candidate for acquisition that is accepted and again when the candidate is acquired.”

I was shocked. This could not be happening to me! It could not be true that I was sitting, with my trousers around my ankles about to agree to this. I could not see any way out of this without agreeing, and I did not see any way to escape once I was out of this room. I meant more to me than any other person, and I would not be friends, or at least close friends with any of the women I might turn over. I don’t have a lot of women friends for some reason.

“I can accommodate you in this, so $5000.00 each for each successful acquisition?

“How mercenary you are! How easily you accommodate us by betraying your fellow women!”

“They are nothing to me, I look out for myself.”

“The $5000.00 was just to get your attention. You will be paid $250.00 for each acceptable prospect for acquisition, and another $250.00 when she is acquired. And one last thing, as a junior member of the acquisition team, you will, of course, accommodate the senior members of the team from time to time.”

“I can’t agree to that! No way!”

“What” The money or the accommodation?”

“The money is too little, but I will have to accept that. It is the other accommodation! I can’t do that.”

“Jane, we have investigated your background, General Research is very thorough. There are more than three professors at Stanford who found you accommodating.”

I was put off my guard by that statement. It was not more than three, it was only two. While I was trying to formulate my response, Mr Reiss had grabbed my wrists again. My torso was flat against the table. Mr Anderson had pushed the chair away. I felt his hand on my hips. His left hand was tracing some sort of figure on my left thigh. Then I felt a knife against my body. It was just the back of the knife, but the feel of the steel scared me. He cut the waistband of my underwear above my left hip. With the knife, I could feel him tracing the figure on my left thigh again, then he cut the waistband of my panties on the right side. As they fell to the floor, he kicked my legs apart. I knew I would have to accommodate him; I did not want to be turned over to the police or be one of the women who was acquired.

Accommodating him was not all bad, he was strong and masterful. The worst part was Mr Reiss just watching, as if he was making note of my responses. Then Mr Anderson moved. He made me accommodate him in a way I had never accommodated a man before. I had never allowed it. But I was putty in his hands.

When he was done, he pulled up the trousers of my business suit. He handed the panties to Mr Reiss who put them in my purse. I wished I could fix my makeup; I am sure I looked deshelled.

Mr Reiss took my hand.

“Come on”, he said. “We are going to take a walk. There are things you need to see.

Meekly, I walked out of the interview room. Mr Anderson followed behind. I needed time to think, to ‘process’, but apparently I wasn’t going to be granted that. I wondered what other horrors and opportunities the day would hold.

*

 

Due to length, this post, A lawyer takes on a new role has had to be split into two parts. The second part will be posted tomorrow.