The Associate Read Free Page A

no, to relax a little, but he worried that he would earn a reputation as a slacker if he turned down work. Just last night he had awakened, drenched in sweat, from a dream in which he cringed in the dark at the bottom of an elevator shaft as a car descended slowly, but inexorably, toward him. You didn’t have to be Sigmund Freud to dope out the meaning of that one.
    At 6:45, Daniel finished rereading a draft of his memo. He stretched and rubbed his eyes. When he pulled his hands away he saw Susan Webster smiling at him from the doorway. He couldn’t decide what was more shocking—that she was smiling or that she’d deigned to pay him a visit.
    “Hi,” he said casually, consciously keeping his eyes off of her runway-model figure.
    “Hi yourself,” she answered as she perched gracefully on the arm of one of Daniel’s chairs. She glanced at the papers spread across his desk.
    “If you’re not at happy hour you must be working on a case of monumental importance. Is that a brief for the United States Supreme Court or a letter to the president?”
    Susan looked and dressed like a cover girl, but her degree from Harvard was in physics and she’d been in the top ten at Stanford Law. Because of their science backgrounds, Susan and Daniel had been chosen as part of a team that was defending Geller Pharmaceuticals against a claim that one of its products caused birth defects. During the six months that they had worked together she had never asked Daniel’s opinion on anything and rarely addressed him, so he was surprised that she was talking to him now.
    “This is a memo for Mr. Briggs,” Daniel said finally.
    “Oh? Anything interesting?”
    “It’s another one of Aaron Flynn’s cases,” Daniel replied.
    “Flynn again, huh? He sure has his fingers in a lot of pies.”
    “I’ll say.”
    “Which of our clients is he suing, this time?” Susan asked.
    “Oregon Mutual. They insure Dr. April Fairweather for malpractice.”
    “The therapist?”
    “Yeah. How did you know?”
    “Arthur had me do some work on the case, too. It’s really weird. Do you know the facts?” Susan asked.
    “No,” Daniel answered. “I’m just working on an evidence issue.”
    “This college student went to Fairweather because she was depressed and having trouble sleeping. She’s alleging that Fairweather hypnotized her and caused her to develop false memories that her folks were in a satanic cult that did all sorts of stuff to her when she was a kid.”
    “What sorts of stuff?”
    “Weird sex, torture.”
    “Sounds kinky. Is any of it true?”
    “I doubt it.”
    “I met Dr. Fairweather once when she was with Mr. Briggs,” Daniel said. “She seemed normal enough.”
    “Do you have a lot more work to do on the memo?”
    “No. I just have to proof it once more.”
    “So you’re almost done?” Susan asked.
    “Pretty much.”
    Daniel didn’t really imagine that Susan was going to suggest a drink or dinner—he pictured Susan’s dates as rich,
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-model types who drove exotic sports cars and owned homes in the West Hills with fabulous views of the mountains—but for just a second he fantasized that she’d been won over by his curly black hair, his blue eyes, and his engaging smile.
    Susan leaned forward and spoke in an inviting whisper.
    “Since you’re finished with your work”—she paused dramatically—“could you do me a huge favor?”
    Daniel had no idea where this was going, so he waited for Susan to continue.
    “Coincidentally, it involves another one of Flynn’s cases, Geller Pharmaceuticals,” Susan said. “You know he made that request for production weeks ago?”
    Daniel nodded.
    “As usual, Geller took forever to get the documents to us. They’re supposed to be delivered to Flynn by eight in the morning.”
    Susan paused.
    “Renee has it in for me,” she said. Renee Gilchrist was Arthur Briggs’s secretary. “She knew I had important plans tonight, but she told Brock Newbauer that I could review