True Blue - By David Baldacci Page 0,118

firm were authorized to see everything. And certain clients only wanted the attorneys who worked on their matters to be able to access the documents. The problem could be partially solved by requiring passwords to access certain files, but lawyers were notorious for losing such information or even letting colleagues who were not authorized use the passwords. The firm’s solution had been to keep the paper archives along with the flash drive in this room. An attorney had to be authorized to look through or take boxes out, and the flash drive was password-protected.

Even though Roy was authorized to look at the boxes he needed, he felt sure that Ackerman would put the kibosh on him looking at anything. He quickly went through a dozen boxes and pulled the flash drives from each and pocketed them. This, he told himself, was only a minor crime compared to the felonies he and Mace had been committing lately. He decided against climbing back in the dumbwaiter and riding it back up just in case someone was in the mail room.

He edged open the door to the archives and looked around. No one was within view. He slipped out and walked quickly through the suite, out the door, and up the stairs back to the sixth floor. He was about to put the first flash drive in his computer when he noted the Post-it he’d stuck over the camera port.

What if they’ve hacked into my computer? I put the flash in and they’ll know what I’m looking at.

He slipped the device back in his pocket, grabbed his briefcase and jacket, and headed to the door. When he opened it he came face-to-face with Chester Ackerman and two security guards.

Ackerman held out his hand. “I would like your key card right now.”

“What’s going on, Chester?” Roy looked at the two beefy uniforms. “Who are these guys? Did you finally replace Ned like I suggested?”

“They’re here to ensure that everything goes smoothly.”

“Smoothly? I told you I’d let you know about my representing Dockery.”

“And I just called the courthouse and found out that you are his attorney of record and will be representing the killer at a presentment hearing tomorrow morning.”

“Why’d you call the clerk’s office?”

“Because I don’t trust you. And it seems my instincts were spot-on. Your card?”

Roy handed it over. “Can I at least get my personal things?”

“We’ll send them to you. And I think a search of your person is in order.”

Roy drew closer to Ackerman. “You lay one hand on me I own your houses, your cars, your retirement plan, and this firm.” He glanced at both guards. “You rentals want a piece of that?”

Each guard looked nervously at the other and took small steps back.

Ackerman snapped, “Fine, just leave the premises now, before I have you charged with trespass.”

“And you have a great day too.”

Roy walked out of the firm while lawyers and staff watched from every nook and cranny. He half expected them to start cheering when the door closed behind him. He passed Ned in the lobby. The man was slurping down a giant Coke.

“Hey, Mr. Kingman, did you see those two security guards who came in?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Everything okay?”

Roy jingled the flash drives in his pocket. “Oh yeah.”

CHAPTER 90

ROY STOPPED at his condo, grabbed some things, and called Mace on the way over to Altman’s. He filled her in on what had happened, and she did the same on her conversation with Joe Cushman.

“Herbert is making like a seven-course meal,” she said. “But to tell the truth, I’m dying for a greasy burger and fries.”

“I’ll pick up some on the way. We’ll probably have to work through dinner anyway.”

He got there an hour later. They ate in the guesthouse in case Herbert happened by and saw them with charbroiled meat and salty fries dangling from their mouths. Mace finished off the last bite, took a long slurp of her Dr. Pepper, and sat back.

“Where are Alisha and Tyler?” Roy asked.

“Up at the main house being fed, among other things, couscous, pork tenderloin with a reduction sauce, and tempura green beans with a nice crème brûlée done in the classic style for dessert.”

“Did Herbert tell you that?”

“No, he actually prints menus every day. He dropped one off at the guesthouse. He was not happy to hear we were going to be missing his latest masterpiece.”

“I’m not sure a three-year-old is going to be into couscous and classic crème brûlée.”

“Oh, for Tyler he prepared his extra-special spaghetti with hand-formed meatballs and

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