with shrugged and shook their head.
"He was already here when we got here," one of them offered.
"He was already inside the building?" John demanded. "Yeah."
"How the hell did he get a key?"
"He said Mrs. Lodge gave him one."
"We'll see about that," he snapped and strode quickly toward his office.
"Can I help you?" he said in a curt voice when he came to his office door.
The man turned and gave him an appraising look as he stood. "Chester Cabot," he said, holding out a business card. John noticed that his shirt was very white and perfectly stiff with starch, his burgundy tie redolent of power but not overstated, his pants flawlessly pressed, his black shoes shined to a mirror finish.
John took the card as he went past Cabot to take a seat behind his desk. Without looking at it, he eyed Cabot. The man seemed cool and unruffled and very sure of himself. "Most people wait out in the lobby and only come in here when they're invited."
"I was invited."
"By whom?" John demanded, even though he was pretty sure he already knew.
"Your employer, Mrs. Jessica Lodge."
John finally glanced down at the card, which said that Cabot was a partner at the law firm of Cabot, Cabot, and Pilkington. It was a name John knew well, one of the whitest of all the white shoe law firms in Boston whose clients were known for their blue blood and deep pockets and whose partners were known for their equally blue blood, their professional discretion, and their intelligence. "I see. So what do you want with me, Mr. Cabot."
Cabot leaned down and removed a sheet of letterhead stationery from a briefcase that stood beside is chair. He handed it across. "Mrs. Lodge has issued us instructions to shut down this paper on her behalf."
John stared at the man for a long silence because his brain seemed to freeze. The lawyer stared back, appearing unfazed by the news he had just delivered. John finally managed to ask, "May I ask the reasons she has made this decision now?"
"I can only surmise that it is because the paper has been losing money for some time."
"It's also been Mrs. Lodge's favorite investment."
Cabot drew himself a little more upright. "Nothing remains a favorite forever, it appears. However, I cannot speculate any further on her motives or the reason for her change of heart. I am just here to see that her instructions are carried out.
"I assume the employees will be given reasonable severance."
Cabot reached down and withdrew a file folder with a bound document inside. "This will lay out the terms of each person's severance. You will note that each person is being offered two years' salary at their present compensation if they sign a non-compete agreement." He handed the document across to John. "Please read this and let me know if you have any questions."
In spite of the fact that Jessica's offer was extremely generous in dollars, John looked at Cabot in amazement. "She's shutting down the paper, but she wants people to sign a non-compete? That's crazy! Are you saying she doesn't want a paper to exist in Salem?"
Cabot cleared his throat. "Again, I am simply here to carry out her orders and deliver her offer. I cannot and will not speculate on her motives. We will expect the agreements to be signed and the offices vacated by Friday."
"This coming Friday? Today's Monday. That's only five days."
"I am aware."
"What about the printing equipment, the computers?"
"Mrs. Lodge will retain everything. It's all explained in the document."
John looked through the glass walls of his office at the newsroom and the staffers who were already hard at work. Twenty-four people worked at the
Salem News,
twenty-four people who would be out of their jobs this coming Friday. "I haven't read the fine print yet, but I'll hazard a guess," John said. "Everyone gets their severance as long as they don't go to work for another paper within say, a hundred miles,
and
if they refrain from writing about several disappearances that took place in this city just
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