Man in the Middle Read Free Page A

the gesture, Mr. Ayers, but it’s not something I’m interested in.”
    “Stenman Partners is a hedge fund. They manage billions of dollars,” Ayers continued as if Peter had said nothing. “I am their counsel. They would hire you in a minute on my recommendation.” He explained that Peter had a lot going for him: he did well at UCLA, was good looking and athletic, and people gravitated to him. “All you’ve lacked is motivation.”
    “You mean to make money?” Peter asked.
    “I know it sounds crass, but yes. By the time you’re thirty, you could be making more money than you ever dreamed—”
    “Not now, Mr. Ayers. But thanks anyway.”
    Ayers tried several more times, unsuccessfully, to sell Peter, then said, “There must be something I can do.”
    Partly to calm Ayers, partly to address some leftover questions he had about events just prior to his mother’s death six days ago, Peter said, “Maybe you can help explain a few things to me.”
    Ayers’ head lifted. “I’ll try.”
    “The morning Mom died, she came to see me at work. She seemed disturbed.”
    Ayers looked away. “About what?”
    “The explosion in La Jolla. She said she knew that man Cannodine at Jackson Securities. When I asked, she seemed frightened and evasive. Was that related to your law firm?”
    Ayers made a twitch-like nod. Leeman, Johnston, and Ayers, he confessed, handled legal affairs, on a retainer basis, for Jackson Securities. He and Hannah met with Cannodine a couple of times.
    “That explains how she knew he had young children.”
    “Yes. Mr. Cannodine had pictures of the kids and spoke of them.”
    “She felt sad, knowing his kids would suffer. She also said the others who died weren’t guilty of anything. Do you know what she meant by that?” It was highly unusual for his mother to hide things from him, but when they had met that morning, she seemed evasive. She had also been nervous and near tears, and all he gave her were five minutes on his way into work. He should have done more—at least had a cup of coffee with her. He now hoped Ayers might throw him a bone of understanding, something to hold onto that might explain her unusual behavior. In his desire to hear something new, Peter didn’t notice Ayers’ face turn even more ashen.
    Ayers shook his head. “I don’t know what she might have meant, other than the obvious: a number of coworkers died with Mr. Cannodine.” With an escalating voice, he continued: “Did she say anything else? Think, Peter! I need to know.”
    Ayers’ passion startled Peter. He paused, shook his head, then said, “Some of your clients upset her. I think she meant this Cannodine guy, but Mom wasn’t specific.”
    “Did she mention anyone by name? Or say what Cannodine had done?” Ayers’ hands massaged his brow as if he might erase wrinkles or tear skin in the process.
    “No, but she did say lawyers represent . . . what was it?” Peter closed his eyes and replayed the meeting. His mother had surprised him outside his office only minutes after he’d first heard about the Jackson Securities tragedy on his car radio. She huddled under a stairwell in the shadows, shivering despite heated Santa Ana winds blowing south from Los Angeles.
    As Peter reassembled that last conversation, he continued: “Clients, she said, did evil things—she used the word ‘egregious’—and, despite that, attorneys acted as their advocates.”
    Ayers claimed to have no idea what Hannah meant. When it seemed the conversation had run its course, Peter made a show of looking at his watch. “I’m sorry, Mr. Ayers, but I need to get ready to go. I have a meeting with the attorney who handled Mom’s finances.”
    Peter herded Ayers to the front door. Before leaving, Ayers begged one last time. “Please, Peter, consider the job offer. If you don’t let me help, I won’t survive.”
    Tired of the topic, Peter said he’d think it over. With that, the melodrama thankfully ended, and Ayers