The Thunder Keeper(12)
The elevator doors swooshed open, and they walked wordlessly down the corridor to a spacious office that was all royal-blue carpet, dark leather sofas and chairs, and glass-topped tables with silver vases and figurines that winked in the overhead light. Beyond the desk, a wall of windows framed a view of the dark clouds threading like smoke around the tops of adjacent skyscrapers.
Vicky took one of the leather chairs and waited until Wes had sat down in the high-backed chair behind the desk. Loosening the knot of his dark tie, unbuttoning the collar, rubbing his neck. “You’ve been doing a fine job on the Navajo case,” he said. “No worries, I hope. No insecurities about being the only woman on the team.”
“This isn’t about the case, Wes.”
The man’s eyebrows shot up in a mixture of surprise and expectation. “No? What, then?”
“I got a call this morning from someone named Vince Lewis. What can you tell me about him?”
“Vince Lewis?” The lawyer let out a low whistle. “Very big man, Vicky. Vice-president of development at Baider Industries. What’d he want?”
“He wanted to see me this afternoon.”
“No kidding!” A grin started at the corners of Wes’s mouth and spread into a full smile. Light danced in his gray eyes. “You know what this means?”
“I hoped you could tell me.”
“Baider Industries must be considering new counsel, and they’re looking at Howard and Fergus.” Wes threw a glance around the office as if to locate the place whence such good fortune had come. “Baider’s been represented by Michaels, Starcroft and Loomis.” He shrugged. “Nathan Baider and Loomis are friends from way back. But word on Seventeenth Street is that Nathan Jr.’s running the company now. Goes by the name of Roz, don’t ask me why.” Another shrug. “Could be Roz convinced the old man to hire new counsel.”
So much had changed in the five years she’d been in Lander, Vicky was thinking. She was a half beat behind. She said, “I’m not familiar with Baider Industries.”
“No? Well, let me fill you in.” Wes laced his fingers together over the front of his shirt, the dark tie. “Big diamond mining company. Mines in Colorado, Wyoming, Canada. Mined some of the world’s largest diamonds up there in Wyoming. The old man’s a real immigrant success story. Fifteen years old when he got out of Germany two steps ahead of the Gestapo and landed in New York.”
Wes leaned back in his chair, warming to the subject. “Worked his way west to Colorado and spent ten years mining molybdenum at Climax. Soaked up everything he could on geology and went looking for diamond deposits. There’s gold, silver, lead, molybdenum, tungsten, phosphate, and probably a thousand other minerals in the Rocky Mountains. But diamonds? Nobody’d heard much about diamonds until Nathan Baider got into the business. You ask me”—he leaned over the desk—“Nathan Baider still calls the shots. He’s not the kind to let go. The company’s his baby.”
Vicky stood up and walked over to the large oil painting above the sofa: buffalo foraging in a snow-shrouded pasture. She turned back to the man at the desk. “If Baider Industries wants new counsel,” she said, “why didn’t the vice-president call you or one of the other senior partners? I’m the low person on the totem pole here.”
Wes flashed her a tolerant smile. “Don’t underestimate yourself. No doubt they’ve heard about you heading up the appeal on the Navajo case. Lawyers talk, you know.” He gave her a conspiratorial smile.
Vicky walked back to her chair, then to the painting again. She could always think better when she was moving, a gift from the old ones, she supposed. Crossing the plains, always moving through the vast spaces. They had to think while they were moving. She said, “I think Lewis wants to tell me something about the reservation.”
“Sit down, Vicky,” Wes said. “You’re making me nervous. Baider’s in the diamond business. They operate mines in southern Wyoming. You ever heard of diamond deposits on the res?”
Vicky dropped into her chair. “No,” she said simply. Oil, gas, gold, uranium, timber, water—the reservation was rich in natural resources. She’d never heard of diamonds.
“Let’s imagine the conversation over at Baider Industries,” Wes went on. “Roz decides it’s time for new counsel, somebody up to date on natural resource laws and regulations. Any suggestions? Vince Lewis—his job is to keep track of such matters—says, ‘Sharp female lawyer over at Howard and Fergus handling Navajo v. Lexcon. Arapaho. Natural interest in natural resources.’ ” He paused, grinning at her. “Roz says, ‘Go have a talk with that phenomenal lady.’ ”