Ian Hamilton - The disciple of Las Vegas

Ava could see black shadows under her eyes, and her lips were chapped, or bitten. Her hands were on the table, the thumb of the right hand rubbing the palm of the left. “I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable for you,” Ava said.

Simmons shrugged. “I just want to get this over with.”

“Me too.”

There was an awkward silence. Ava took a copy of the transfer request from her Chanel bag, and then, for good measure, a copy of Douglas and Ashton’s confession and the paperwork from Jack Maynard and Felix Hunter. They’re going to get their money back too, she thought as they came to mind for the first time since she had last talked to Maynard. How long ago had that been? Three days? A week? It felt like a month. It felt like another world away.

Simmons was leafing through her own papers. A convenient distraction, Ava thought. Suddenly the woman raised her head and said, “There is something I’d like to say to you before the others arrive.”

Ava twisted in her chair so she could face Simmons. “Go ahead.”

“I listened to the message you left on my phone this morning.”

“Yes.”

“I have to say I found it completely perverted and twisted.”

“I’m sorry if you think that.”

“No, you’re not. You’re not sorry about anything. First you try to drive a wedge between me and my fiance, and then you attempt to discredit my father and damage our relationship by suggesting he would do something so venal.”

“Do you seriously think I was making it up?”

“You’ve proven yourself capable of doing absolutely anything to get your way.”

“Not to that extent.”

“I don’t believe a word you say.”

“You shouldn’t be so naive about the men in your life.”

Simmons slammed her palm on the table. “You thought I’d sign that damn transfer if you could convince me that my father didn’t care whether or not you released those tapes. Well, here we are, and I’m going to sign it, all right, but only because he wants me to.”

And for what reason? Ava wanted to ask, but bit back the question. Nothing positive could come from telling Lily Simmons something she didn’t want to hear.

The boardroom door opened and a middle-aged man walked in with a young woman. He was tall and slim, and his silver mane contrasted nicely with his classic navy-blue pinstriped suit. The woman wore a soft cream suit that enhanced her dark skin and fashionably cut hair. “My name is McIntyre, and this is my associate Monique Hutton,” he said.

Ava stood and shook hands with them. Simmons stayed seated. The lawyers sat next to Ava, McIntyre to her immediate left and Hutton next him. He took two files from his assistant and then said, “Lily, could you come closer, please.”

Simmons sat stone-faced, grinding her teeth. Then she picked up the papers in front of her, and seated herself next to Hutton.

McIntyre opened the first file. “I hope this is what you’re expecting to see, Ms. Lee,” he said. “We prepared it under the direction of Ms. Simmons, and she thinks it fairly reflects a discussion you had with Andrew Hawkins earlier today.” He passed her a three-page document. “Do you need some time alone with this?”

“No,” Ava said, scanning the page.

“And Ms. Simmons said that you see no need to employ legal counsel from your side.”

“That’s correct.”

“And that you have the authority to bind the Ordonez Group.”

“I do,” Ava said, opening her purse and taking out the fax she had received from Manila. “Here — this should be satisfactory. If you need to speak to a representative of the law firm in Manila, I have them on standby.”

He scanned the fax. “No, this seems perfectly straightforward and clear. Have them courier the original for my records, if you don’t mind.”

“Certainly,” Ava said, and continued reading.

The document laid out the details for transfer of the $65 million. The deal bound the Ordonez Group: its representatives could not so much as utter the words The River, Simmons, Ashton, or Douglas, let alone contemplate taking legal action against any of them. If they did, The River and its investors would be entitled to damages that far exceeded $65 million. It was familiar posturing, full of bluster that amounted to very little.

Ava paused when she got to the last page of the document. She looked up at Simmons and her lawyers. “I didn’t discuss this with Mr. Hawkins,” she said.

McIntyre cast an anxious look at Lily.

“But it is what I discussed with Ms. Simmons when I first proposed a settlement, so it isn’t entirely unexpected or unreasonable,” Ava said slowly. She signed the document.

“Excellent. And now this one,” McIntyre said, handing her a single piece of paper.

She read the paper and then leaned forward so she could speak directly to Lily. “You’re pushing me to the limit with this.”

Simmons turned her head towards Ava but didn’t look her in the eye. “We think it’s necessary.”

“I don’t object to admitting that I may have misinterpreted your father’s remarks, but I have trouble signing a piece of paper that says I deliberately lied about what he said for my own selfish motives.”

A heavy silence settled in the room. McIntyre tapped his pen against the back of his hand while his assistant stared at the wall.

“Mr. McIntyre,” Simmons said, “you know my father. What do you think he would say about making changes to this document?”

“He would be quite adamant about leaving the wording intact,” McIntyre said.

Ava pushed it aside and handed a paper from her stack to McIntyre. “This is another copy of the letter authorizing transfer of the money from Cyprus to a Hong Kong bank account. I want it signed before I sign anything.”

McIntyre took it from her, read it, and passed it to Simmons. “Ms. Lee, before Ms. Simmons signs, I have to ask you to confirm your intention to sign both documents that we’ve presented to you.”

“I’ll sign.”

“Then I will sign immediately after,” Simmons said.

Simmons and Ava took turns signing five copies each of McIntyre’s documents, and then both McIntyre and Hutton witnessed them. Ava had them make three copies of the money transfer and then witness that the copies were of an original signed document. It was five o’clock when they finished.

Ava took two sets of each document and slipped them into her bag. “The transfer request will be couriered to the bank in Cyprus tonight,” she said. “I hope no one will think they can interfere with the process.”

“We have an agreement that benefits both parties, Ms. Lee,” McIntyre said. “It would be foolish, not to mention damaging, for anyone to do anything contrary to it.”

Ava stood and extended her hand. As she did, her phone rang. She was about to turn it off when she saw the incoming number. “It’s the Prime Minister’s Office calling,” she said. “I’m afraid I have to take this.”

McIntyre looked at Simmons. Her mouth was fixed in a tight smile.

“Yes, I’ve had a much better day than yesterday,” Ava said, “and I want to thank you for your concern… No, Mr. Anderson, Mr. Simmons didn’t call, but Mr. Hawkins did and he was very helpful… Yes, we have resolved the issues between us, and I don’t think you’ll be hearing any more about this from our side… I’ll be sure to pass that along to President Arellano… Yes, I won’t hesitate to call you if the need arises.”

She closed the phone and slipped it back into her Chanel purse. “Well, thanks for this.”

Simmons looked at her lawyer. “Ms. Lee, just a reminder,” McIntyre said. “You’ve just signed a binding agreement. I’m not sure that conversations with the Prime Minister’s Office, however casual or uninitiated, are in anyone’s best interest.”