Chapter Four:

Of the two London offices of Felix-Maclane, attorneys at law, the Westminster branch was by far the busiest; it sat fairly close to the central London parliamentary offices, Victoria Park and the river Thames, affording the upper offices a grand view, most days. Most of the clients were London based companies, though some international companies were represented; Felix-Maclane was widely known for its brilliance and exacting reputation, moreover for the extensive firm’s eccentric, commanding owner, Oscar Maclane.

Disembarking from their taxicab said owner and the Westminster office senior manager walked down the pedestrian plaza between several medium-sized office buildings; the skyscrapers were no more than 30 or 40 stories at most, bent in modern and interesting ways; some flew pavilion flags and all were surrounded by scores of pedestrians going to and fro. William and Oscar strode to work amid them. In the plaza, a stone-walled fountain sat surrounded by a few lush trees; it was a favorite gathering area for workers to talk or eat lunch. The gray, moving water in the fountain reflected the moody sky above.

“I don’t remember this the last time I came,” Oscar said, pausing by the fountain edge. “Nice. Very serene.” William smiled a little. He ate lunch here on clear days, when Michelle could not meet him; he could almost see her now, standing by the fountain edge, smiling at him with Ethan in her arms.

“Soon I can go home,” he thought. “Just get through the day.”

“City beautification,” William told his boss, turning his mind to other things. “Our tax dollars at work. It’s actually one of the more decent green respites around.” Nodding, Oscar took out his cell phone and took a quick picture. This green grove and water feature did make a nice haven amid the glass, concrete and people.

“Not bad,” Oscar said. “I pay taxes in seven countries, but this is the first fountain I’ve seen come out of it.” Chuckling, William resumed walking, his boss following.

“I need to gather some more intel, William,” Oscar mused aloud. “I don't want to run into this new venture half-blind.” William’s cell phone rang; glancing at the tiny screen, he smiled.

“You may just get your wish,” he said, flipping open the phone. “Montgomery…” he said, into the phone. “Hello, Forrest. Yes, you too. How are Megan and the kids? Good. Yes, they’re good. No, five months away still. You know how it is. Thank you. Yes, a damned shame; seven in a row. Indeed? Yes, well… we saw that one coming. I’ll bet they are. Certainly. I’ll pass it along. Appreciate the heads up, old boy. You too... say hello to yours for us. Cheers.”

Oscar watched William’s face closely throughout the conversation; the younger man’s blue eyes had a spark of cunning in them as he closed his phone.

“Your window of opportunity may be fading,” William said, walking by Oscar’s side, “That was Forrest Gaines over at the Times.”

“Reporter?” Oscar said, warily; he not care for journalists. Usually they ran bad pieces about his company as a giant eschewer of ‘mom & pop’ firms.

“Business news,” William returned. “Rumors are already out that Atherton B. Kirby has been let go.” Oscar grinned.

“I got that one through the goal-posts,” he said. “Just what I needed to starting things rolling. Friend of yours?”

“His brother Trevor was my flat mate at Cambridge,” William enlightened him. “Forrest and I kept in touch on a business scale.” They started walking again, heading to a larger building on the other side of the plaza. “As you are well aware,” William went on, “... the firm in question is too large for most companies to fold in; however, Forrest indicated that Rentyn and Foltz, as well as Chambers’ firm are hovering in the shadows.”

“Waiting to pick at the corpse, eh?” Oscar said, grinning. “Not if we get there first. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

William saw a look of predatory glee in his employer’s features; he’d seen it before, with the last company the driven man had taken over.

“Ah, the thrill of the hunt,” he thought, wryly. “A hunt that never ends.” He was glad that such ambitions extinguished themselves in him long ago; being a family man now, he found that globe-trotting and procurement no longer appealed. At the end of the day he just wanted to go home to his castle, eat a good meal, hold his wife and chase his son around the den. Without a family, he understood why Oscar so eagerly nurtured his company and sought out expansion with such vigor; there was nothing else for him to do.

“Good contact there, sport.” Oscar said; he sounded pleased.

“Quite,” William tempered. “I’ll just 'drop him a line' about our takeover when you give the ok.” Oscar nodded, walking with new energy.

The building housing Felix-Maclane neared; the offices were located in the top three stories of the blue-gray sky-scraper ahead; the sky reflected off the curved, modern structure, making the glass panels shine like a giant shield. Oscar smiled at the sight of it. “Well, let’s go up and assess the damage.” he said.

“Damage should be minimal, Captain,” William said, grinning. “I run a tight ship.” Oscar chuckled and headed towards the wide entrance.

By the time they stepped into one of the building’s elevators, Oscar’s face was steeled into his habitual no-nonsense business mask. Only with William, Michelle and a handful of others was he the more pleasant and humorous individual. Standing by his employer’s side, William opened the morning paper, his calm, steady demeanor unchanged.

Of the others in the elevator, one woman spied William; she was a paralegal in the research department. Looking over, she recognized the surly man standing by the tall, senior manager.

“Bloody hell... don’t look now but it’s Mr. Maclane!” she whispered to another woman. The second woman paused, and then glanced behind her at the two men in the rear of the elevator.

“Where?” she whispered back. “I’ve never seen what he actually looks like.”

“There, standing by Mr. Montgomery,” answered the first lady, quietly. “The one in the gray suit, with the face like thunder.” Her friend studied Mr. Maclane for a moment.

“I wonder what he’s doing here. I heard he was here just a month ago,” she remarked, quietly.

“To make our lives miserable...” the other whispered, bitterly. “He always has some god-forsaken project for us to research. As if we didn’t have enough work.”

Though the women whispered, they were not discreet enough; the elevator’s smooth surfaces reflected hushed voices well. William heard their conversation in its entirety; one corner of his mouth curled up. He glanced over at his boss; if Oscar heard, he did not show it. ‘The Boss’ took great pleasure in showing up unannounced to his various offices that invariably he’d be in a good mood, at least on the inside.

Oscar did indeed hear the conversation; most of the others in the elevator appeared to be too busy with their newspapers or palm pilots to listen. With discretion the gray-eyed man watched the two whisperers; his employees were always an interest to him. They appeared to be two women in their forties, both tastefully dressed for the office. The stockier woman turned to look at him and he pretended to study the ceiling; the woman’s expression was not a kind one. He was used to such looks; the woman looked like an unpleasant sort of person anyway. Her companion, however, was a different story entirely. Oscar felt his eyes slip back and focus on the conspirators once again.

The heart of Oscar Maclane was locked securely away in the steel vault of his chest; his mind and soul untouchable... at least, that was how he viewed it. He rather adhered to the Grinch’s philosophy of ‘two sizes too small’. The other woman looked back at him, and bore on her face curiosity, her glance thoughtful. It was not a seductive look, nor one of malice, but the woman’s eyes directed with them an odd feeling; it made itself felt on Oscar’s skin like a cool breeze on a hot day. It felt refreshing. The woman looked away to her stocky companion again and Oscar felt bereft; giving himself a mental slap, he resolved to focus on the day’s work. There was much to accomplish… much.

Still, Oscar’s eyes strayed back to the lady. Taller than her friend, she stood straight, her chin lifted ever so slightly, suggesting confidence and good manners. Her straight, light brown hair was up in a neat French roll, her warm, brown suit-dress tailored and conservative; no jewelry. The only decoration he could see was an auburn-colored scarf draped around her neck.

“What am I doing?” Oscar thought, alarmed at himself; he realized he was checking her out. Glancing over at William, he was relieved to find the younger man engrossed in his paper. The two women seemed satisfied in their scrutiny of him and looked no more; there were too many people in the elevator to get a proper look at the interesting lady. She obviously worked for his company; Oscar wondered who she was and what area of the she worked in.

The elevator doors finally opened to the familiar sight of rust-colored walls, wood floors and the firm name in simple, black letters behind the receptionist desk. As dull the grind of daily work, William reflected that this was one of the better firms he’d ever worked at. Perhaps he just liked being in charge of it.

“Excuse me ladies,” Oscar’s voice interrupted William’s thoughts. Glancing over, William saw his boss move forward and get out; puzzled, William followed. His office was two floors up; to his knowledge they had no business to accomplish on the first floor. Then again, with Oscar anything went. Stepping from the elevator, William saw his boss had caught up with the two ‘whisperers’ from the elevator. Hiding a grin, William ambled over, his posture relaxed.

“Perhaps the old boys in a firing mood,” he mused. He hoped not; it would be terrible to get canned for speaking badly of the boss while not even in the office. He waited nearby and watched the scene enfold.

The woman who’d complained in the elevator appeared horrified that Oscar was walking their direction; her companion, however, managed to keep on a tolerable stoic expression, a fact which William rather admired. Certain Britons still held on to the traditional ‘you-cannot-rattle-me’ stance in both expression and posture; it was an effective defense in most cases. Both women appeared to be in their forties, though one was a bit overweight; the calm one was taller and appeared in good health. She fixed Oscar with a gaze that suggested she’d meet a challenge.

“She’s not bad looking,” Oscar thought, standing near the pair. Rifling around in his brain for a good greeting, he studied the taller woman with an appreciative eye. She possessed clear, grayish-blue eyes and fair skin, with just a smattering of freckles across her nose; the freckles made her look a little more young and lively, like she could run though a field of flowers or something. In almost direct contrast her eyes had open, mature beauty and seemed to take in everything around her with grace, as if she existed solely as an observer of life and had seen much.

“I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you,” Oscar said, letting a rare smile slip past his stern facade. “Oscar Maclane.” The stockier woman opened her mouth but no sound came out.

“How very good to meet you, Mr. Maclane,” said her taller companion. “Judith Barrett, Research.” Oscar’s smile grew. This woman wasn’t afraid of him; she met his eyes with a calm kind of confidence that he immediately liked. Taking her offered hand, he glanced down; his good mood plummeted. A slender, gold band with an inset diamond met his eye. This charming, dauntless woman belonged to someone else. Though disappointed, Oscar did not miss a beat.

“Mrs. Barrett,” he said, mustering up a smile. “Glad to have you on board.”

“It’s Miss Barrett,” the woman returned, soberly. “My husband has been dead for some time.” Oscar felt happy and sad at the same time; the duality of said emotions irked him.

“Oh, I’m, uh... sorry to hear that,” he said, haltingly. “Liar,” he thought.

“This is Miss Delia West, one of my co-workers,” Miss Barrett continued, indicating her friend. The stocky woman managed an uncertain half-smile in Oscar’s general direction; he still did not like the woman at all but he didn’t say anything about the elevator incident. People were allowed to talk about their boss in public places without repercussion.

“Pleased to meet you both,” Oscar said, rallying himself nicely; he even managed a winning smile for the sour Miss West. “I’ve been meaning to visit Research on this trip.”

He glanced at William, whom was standing nearby; Montgomery was regarding him with that damn stoic look of his; it was impossible to tell what the guy was thinking.

“I’ll be along, William,” Oscar said, trying to sound casual. “I need to bother the Research people awhile.”

“Not a problem, Mr. Maclane,” William returned; the younger man’s eyes bore just a hint of a smile. Oscar scowled at him, his gruff demeanor descending on him like a curtain.

“Off with you, then,” he barked. William nodded and turned, walking back to the elevator. Looking back to the ladies, he met Miss Barrett’s slate blue eyes again.

“Do you wish to accompany us, Mr. Maclane?” she offered. “Our manager is Mr. Arrows. He should be able to find you all the assistance you need.” Unable to think up a response to this, Oscar merely nodded. For some reason his mind ceased to function properly. Half of him wanted to bolt for the elevator and hope William wouldn’t laugh at him too hard. He stayed and made a normal, everyday remark about the weather, walking beside the graceful Miss Barrett and her co-worker.

In the elevator, William chuckled to himself a good deal. Initially, he suspected his boss was going to terminate the stocky woman’s employment. He was surprised when that did not occur; even more surprising, however was the expression on Oscar’s face as he talked to the taller, graceful woman. She seemed younger than him by about eight or nine years and in spite of Oscar’s status and presence the woman did herself credit and held her own. William barely kept his composure when his boss began stuttering. Then there was the not-so-subtle glance at the woman’s ring finger.

The great and powerful wizard of the internationally acclaimed Felix-Maclane firm of attorneys was falling all over himself to impress an unknown research assistant. A smile overtook William’s features in the safety of the elevator.

“Stranger things have happened,” he thought. For some reason, a small vision of his lovely Michelle floated up in his mind... one of the day he met her, of her sitting huddled on a Manhattan street corner, selling drawings in order to eat; all the while she was a gem of untold worth concealed beneath her worn clothes and dingy hat. Almost two years later, they were married, in love, with one son already and another on the way.

Never before did it occur to William that Oscar might be lonely; the man seemed to be an energizer bunny of business and take-over bids. Then again, he, himself, didn’t really feel loneliness until that day... the day Michelle’s eyes peered up at him from under her hat; some mythical, imaginary thread bound them together for life at that moment, and he wanted to be around her for the rest of his days.

Thinking back, William realized Oscar’s face held that same expression just moments ago while looking at Miss Barrett... like a man having an epiphany.