By one o’clock, the wind along the Chicago River was strong enough to whistle through the girders of the bridge.
My lawyer, Marcus, walked beside me, his wool coat collar turned up against the chill. A taxi ride from the tower had cost twenty-two dollars, and the receipt was still warm in my pocket.
“The confidentiality agreements are binding,” Marcus said, his eyes scanning the passing water. “But you have to remember how easily information flows in this city.”
“No one outside this circle knows Vela Dynamics is the buying entity,” I said.
“For now,” Marcus said. “But secrets always slip, Evelyn.”
“We have three weeks before the board vote,” I said.
Marcus stopped near the railing, turning to face me. “If the sales division gets wind of who is actually signing the checks, they will search for any leverage they can find to block the sale.”
The thought of our proprietary data leaking to the market kept me silent as we turned back toward Wacker Drive.
At four, the warmth of the coffee shop on the corner of Dearborn was a relief, though the four-dollar cup of black coffee tasted mostly of paper and steam.
I sat in a small booth near the back, reviewing the draft of the acquisition agreement.
Two women sat at the high top table three feet away, their shopping bags piled on the floor between them. One of them, a woman with sharp features and perfectly styled dark hair, was speaking loudly into her phone.
“He is meeting with Arthur tomorrow morning,” she whispered, though her sweet-toned voice carried clearly across the narrow aisle.
I recognized her from the Meridian directory photos. It was Vanessa Vance, the regional manager.
Vanessa twisted an expensive emerald ring around her finger, her nails painted a deep, glossy red.
