The Opportunist Part 19

"What kind of....p.o.o.p?" I ask.

"During their testing period, blood clotting showed up in thirty-three percent of their human rats. Thirty-three percent Olivia! Do you know how big that is? It's big like a two foot c.o.c.k."

I flinch. For a lesbian, she referenced male genitalia an awful lot.

"Big enough for the FDA to ground the product six months before OPI had a chance to market it."

Bernie tosses me a gargantuan file.

"So how did they get themselves on the market without FDA approval?" I ask.

"Oh, they got their approval. They falsified data submitted in seeking FDA authorization to market Prenavene, which is a generic drug. They submitted its original version for the FDA tests."

Ahhh-the old switcheroo trick.

"But why would OPI take the risk after what their independent testing found? They must have known that eventually the whole thing would come crashing down around them."

"Most fraud in clinical trials is unlikely to ever be detected. Most cases, which do come to public attention, only do so because of extraordinary carelessness by the criminal physician."

"Hmmmm," I say.

"They're not our case," she says plucking the file from my fingers and replacing it with another one.

"The CEO and co-founder of the company had a ma.s.sive heart attack and died about two weeks ago. All eyes then fell on his daughter, a twenty something spoiled brat, with an Ivy league education and too much signing power."

"Her t.i.tle?" I ask.

"Vice president of internal affairs. The DA is coming at her hard. They are building their case against her as we speak."

"What do they have on her?" I flip through the file, my eyes scanning the boring law jargon.

"Her signature was on the release forms that were turned in to the FDA, which means that she oversaw the entire project. She knew they were testing the real drug and not Prenavene." I blow out a low whistle in response to this news. The prosecution already had one h.e.l.l of a case. I plop the file down on her desk.

"You've discovered the bad news without me having to tell you," she says grimly. "She's guilty as sin, admitted to the whole thing to us." I s.n.a.t.c.h the file back up.

"We want to take a risk on this one," she says bouncing a pen off of the wall. "This case is going to be all over the media, it will boost us to the next level of firm."

"Sooo, the next question would be...why are you giving a case this size to the rookie?"

"Two reasons, my prodigal daughter. One, because I like you, and two, because the client asked for you specifically."

"What? How?" I had covered many cases in Texas, but nothing that would garner any type of attention to me. I was a relatively unknown litigator.

"The client was shopping for you."

"What's her name?" I ask, not sure what all of this means.

"Smith, Johanna Smith."

"I've never heard the name before."

"They might have read about your cases in Texas or perhaps you came recommended by previous client of yours, either way, you've got it, kiddo. Don't screw it up."

I stumble to my office with the case file clutched to my chest. Was I ready for this? One good case, correction-one impossible case, if won, would boost me to partner...

I hole myself up in my office for the rest of the afternoon, re-reading the file again and again until the words become a blur and I have a raging headache. The secretary has left for the day, along with most everyone else. I nod a greeting to the cleaning lady on my way to the car and mentally plan out the conversation that I am going to have with Johanna Smith in the morning. c.r.a.p! The case was too big for me.

On my way home I call Turner to tell him the news and fill him in on the case. He sounds less than thrilled.

"I don't know Olivia. The DA is going to come after this girl pretty hard. Are you prepared to lose your first big case?"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I snap into the receiver.

"Look, I believe in you-I do, but this is a tough one. They have direct evidence tying her to the fraud, they have two witnesses willing to testify that she was involved. If you lose the case you can kiss partner goodbye." What an a.s.s. I tell him that my boss is calling on the other line. When I hang up, my eyes are pooling with tears.

"This is my break!" I scream at the car in front of me, "and I'm going to take it!"

At seven the next morning, I arrive at the office to find a sweet charcoal Jag in my parking spot. I find a s.p.a.ce a few spots away and march through the doors wondering who had the audacity to park where it says Reserved Kaspen. The secretary greets me with a cup of coffee and then blocks the entrance to my office with her body.

"There's something that I should tell you before you go in there," she says as I take a sip from my pink mug.

"Did you poison my coffee?" I ask, peering at her over the rim.

"No, but-"

"Then you can tell me while I turn my computer on," I reach past her and turn the doork.n.o.b.

There is a man in my office. I see his back first, as he is studying the numerous plaques and photographs I have on my wall. I shoot the secretary a look and she mouths "Johanna Smith's husband" to me, before making a discreet exit. She has lipstick on her teeth.

"Mr. Smith," I say confidently, though I am quite fl.u.s.tered at the surprise. My briefing with them wasn't scheduled for another two hours.

He turns slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. I see his grey suit, the white collared shirt unb.u.t.toned at the top, the golden tan, and I choke on my coffee.

"It's Drake, actually," he says in an amused voice.

I back away, trying to catch my breath and find myself pressed against the wall.

"Surprise," he says, and then he laughs at the look on my face.

I shimmy away from the wall because I look like an a.s.sault victim and attempt to stroll casually to my desk. I collapse into a chair and stare at him gla.s.sy eyed.

"What the h.e.l.l?" I say.

Aside from a different haircut and a few more eye crinkles, he looks exactly the same.

"I looked for you."

"Did you now?"

"For a year after you left..."

"You must not have looked hard enough," I quip, though I know it isn't true. A year after I left Florida, Bernie called to tell me that a gentleman was calling the office inquiring about my current whereabouts. She said he had a British accent.

"I married her Olivia."

"Who?"

"Leah."

"I thought you were Johanna Smith's husband?" My head is spinning.

"Leah's her middle name, she's always gone by Leah and she kept her last name. Johanna Leah Smith."

The word "married" rings in my head repeatedly and I rub my temples at the ugliness of it. Caleb was married. Wedded. Bedded. A family man.

"Caleb," I choke on his name. "Why are you here? Actually, don't answer that-just get the f.u.c.k out." I raise my voice and stand up.

"I wanted to see you, to speak to you before you saw me for the first time in front of everyone."

I sit down again.

"You were the one looking for me? You were trying to find me to take Leah's case?" He nods.

"No," I say. "No way-ever. Never. No."

Maybe she never told him about what I did. He just thinks I picked up and left. He still hasn't got his memory back!

"Yes," he says standing. "You'll do it. She's guilty and you're the best liar I know." Okay, maybe she did tell him.

I snort and look away.

"I have no motivation to win this case for you," I smirk leaning back in my chair.

"You owe me," he smiles. "I know you don't have much of a conscience, but I think after what you put me through, twice, you might want to consider taking the case."

"I would have told you the truth eventually," I mumble. That's if Ariel the pharmaceutical fraud hadn't blackmailed me, but anyways....

"Would you have Olivia? Or, were you waiting for me to find out for myself when my memory came back?"

I look up at the ceiling and frown.

"Look, I'm not here to discuss the fact that you are lying, manipulative, and heartless."

Ouch...

"I'm asking for a personal favor. I know how you feel about her. I know what she did but I need you to make sure she doesn't go to prison."

"I want her to go to prison."

Caleb looks at me strangely, his eyes roam over my face then my hands.

"I don't. She's my wife. And, I'm asking that you take my feelings into consideration for once."

It hurts so much to hear him say 'wife.' I know it shouldn't, but it does.

"You can't guilt me into defending that viper! Besides, Leah would never agree to it," I shoot back at him, "there is a mutual hate between the two of us, in case you haven't noticed."

"Leah will do what I tell her to do. I need your a.s.surance that you will do everything in your power to help her."

I feel a rush of adrenaline. I could take the case and loose on purpose! Yes! But, I know I would never. My days of toying with people's lives are over. O.V.E.R.

"I can't," I am digging my fingernails into my thighs to keep from screaming.

"Yes, you can," he says, placing both hands on my desk and leaning towards me. "You're obsessed with your own success-always have been. Take it. Win the case, Olivia. You'll be rich, famous...and I might even consider forgiving you."

Forgiveness? I picture myself having dinner at their house; just me, Leah, Caleb and their kids...

I almost laugh out loud.

I glare at him. He's still the most handsome man I've ever seen. Red-head marrying, amnesia getting, b.a.s.t.a.r.d!

"I'll see you in the boardroom at nine o'clock to let you know my decision," I say, ending the conversation. He gives me a look I can't decipher and he straightens up to leave.

"Make the right decision, d.u.c.h.ess," he says before walking out the door.

"d.u.c.h.ess," I snicker and I throw a stack of sticky notes in his wake.

I take exactly one hour and forty-five minutes to compose myself. The indescribable shock of seeing him after so many years has left me slumped in my chair like a discarded rag doll. I keep seeing the part where he turns around and I splatter coffee out of my nose.

I do breathing exercises. I tranquilize myself with thoughts of happy rainbows and ice cream, but the colors keep turning black and the ice cream melts into a dismal mess. When I have grasped onto some semblance of calm by stabbing a letter opener repeatedly into Leah's case file, I head over to the boardroom.

"He is hot!" the secretary whispers to me as I pa.s.s her desk. I feel my eye twitch.

"Oh, shut up."

When I walk into the room, I see Leah first. How could I not? She is still surrounded by a halo of red hair. It seems brighter than four years ago, more vibrant. I wish I had listened to Dobson the rapist, that day in the rain and gone home, than none of this would be happening.

Caleb stands when I enter. Charming. Leah looks away. Bitter.

"Olivia," Bernie says beaming at me. "I'd like you to meet Leah Smith and her husband Caleb Drake." We all shake hands and I take my seat across from them. Caleb who has his arm slung over the back of Leah's chair, smiles at me like we're old buds and then winks.