Hunched down on the concrete steps, she listened to their footsteps pound away. Much closer than she expected, a police siren howled. A patrol car, right in the neighborhood. One of the crooks cursed, and this was all going to get very exciting in a couple of minutes.
The actual pursuit and arrest happened a couple of blocks away, so Anna didn’t get to see it. If the guys were still holding their array of tools, they were sure to be taken in and charged. She imagined the stray yellow paint spatters would tell the cops exactly what door they’d been attacking.
She wanted to get out of the area entirely, but she didn’t feel like leaving her hiding space until she was absolutely sure she wouldn’t be spotted. Teddy had it easy.
Finally, a voice hissed above her. “Hey, you can come out now.”
As she tromped up the stairs, Teddy flashed into visibility. It was like switching on a TV.
He was grinning. “Wasn’t that cool?”
She handed the phone back to him. “You could have told me you had a plan.”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.”
She rolled her eyes.
“So now we have a system,” he insisted.
“That isn’t a system, it’s—” She threw up her hands and glared, because she couldn’t think of what that was. “We still need the cops to do all the work, you know?”
“You’re no fun.”
“I’m sorry I’m no fun.” She walked off. She was tired, frustrated, and she wanted to go home.
“Anna—I mean, Rose! Wait up!”
“I’ll talk to you later,” she said and caught her own bus home.
ELEVEN
CELIA’S schedule was full. She liked it that way, now more than ever.
Second and third opinions on the leukemia diagnosis were acquired, confirming the first diagnosis. She and Arthur spent an afternoon poring over treatment options and survival statistics. The prognosis was generally good. If the chemotherapy worked, she’d probably be fine. If it didn’t, treatment options remained, but her odds decreased. It felt like rolling dice. Nothing to do then but roll and get it over with. Arthur made discreet phone calls and they arranged for her to receive treatments in one of the penthouse’s unused guest rooms. She hired a nurse and paid very well for her secrecy. Celia would receive her first round of chemotherapy by infusion on Friday afternoon, have the weekend to deal with side effects, and do everything she could to be back on her feet by Monday. No one would ever know, not until she was good and ready to let them know.
In the meantime, she had a company to run.
At the next city planning meeting, the committee would vote on which contract to award: West Corp’s downtown development project or one of the sprawling suburban expansion plans, including the one backed by Danton Majors’s company.
The meeting itself looked much like the previous one—same people, same room, same bitter coffee smell, same political subtexts. The vote didn’t cause much tension because the outcome was predictable. She’d worked hard for this, on behalf of the company and the city, and the committee wouldn’t award the contract to an outsider with a misguided agenda. This vote was just a formality. Celia hoped.
When she entered the room, she noticed Danton Majors right off. It might have been her imagination, but he seemed to be watching for her. His face was turned to the doorway, and his dark eyes lit up when she entered. He gave her a moment to exchange pleasantries with the deputy mayor’s assistant and chair of the city planning committee before he strolled over to have his own words with her.
“Mr. Majors,” she said. “One might think you’ve decided to move permanently to Commerce City.”
“I confess, I’m tempted,” he answered, his smile charming, his gaze predatory. “I had no idea there were so many opportunities here.”
“Oh, yes. Endless opportunities.”
“Ready for round two, then?”
“Is that what you’re calling it?” She tried to look thoughtful without laughing.
Mark was here again as part of the committee and gave her an encouraging smile across the room. Her heart sank at the sight of him. He was another person she’d have to tell about her illness, another person who would kick her ass for keeping it secret. She put on a good face and returned the smile. A good face: That was the whole point of keeping the secret.
She made a decision then, sudden and abrupt, which was unlike her. But right now, she felt like she was drowning and had to do something. Arthur was right. She couldn’t keep the secret for long. The committee vote was the important thing, the business could run itself after that. After the vote, she could hand the whole project over to her managers, tell everyone she had cancer, and focus on taking care of herself. Just a few more hours.
The chairman of the committee consulted with Mayor Edleston, who then made his way to the podium and called the meeting to order. The shuffling of papers and file folders rained throughout the room, which amused Celia because everyone also had laptops and netbooks open.
As the mayor began his opening remarks, a very young man, probably fresh out of law school, came into the room, fidgeting and seeming out of place despite his nice suit and fashionable haircut. Intern, she pegged him. He glanced around, swallowed, and found the courage to approach the planning committee chair, sitting at the head of a long table at the side of the room. He handed the chair one of several manila envelopes he carried, they whispered a moment, and the chair looked across the room to Celia. The guy blanched, then came toward her, holding another slim envelope like a shield. The mayor hesitated, trickled out a few more words of his opening remarks, then fell silent. Everyone watched her like she was on stage.
“Thank you,” she said, accepting the package. She drew out the contents in what she hoped was a confident manner, without fuss. It was a clipped stack of papers. She read the cover page, flipped to the page behind it, flipped back. The format was familiar, she knew what it said, but she couldn’t quite seem to take it in. The words made sense, but their meaning didn’t. Her brow furrowed, and she attempted to strategize on the fly.
“Mrs. West?” Majors asked. “Is something wrong?”
Leave it to him to poke at her. She made a noncommittal hum and tried to wave him off. She’d just been served papers, and she couldn’t think of why. The language was dense legalese, she needed to parse it, and wasn’t at all inclined to discuss it with a rival like Majors. Though the man seemed suspiciously pleased, like he already knew what the packet said.
It was the committee chair who said, “West Corp is being sued.”
Might as well have said her cat had died, the way everyone looked at her with shock and pity. She scowled back. The plaintiff was a small contracting company, Superior Construction. She’d heard of them, barely, but they’d dropped out of the city development talks early on. Too big a pond for them to play in. Now, they were suing West Corp for monopolistic practices that excluded fair trade and competition. The company had also applied for an injunction against any further planning committee activities until West Corp’s role in the proceedings and the true extent of the company’s monopoly on city development could be determined.
While the meaning of the pages sank in, the committee chair, city attorney, and mayor huddled together in a conference. She wished they hadn’t been clever enough to move away from the podium’s microphone, so she could hear what they were saying.
Danton Majors sat with his hands steepled, resting on his chin, examining the scene like a chess player, revealing no emotion but studious interest.
Celia couldn’t say a word until she got her own lawyers on the case. And figured out what Superior Construction was really trying to do. This smelled fishy.