“Who is he?”
“I’m not sure, but we were talking about union problems, and his name came up.”
“Do you know what firm he’s with?”
“No.”
Lara buzzed her secretary. “Kathy, there’s a lawyer in Manhattan named Paul Martin. Get me his address.”
Keller said, “Don’t you want his phone number so you can make an appointment?”
“There’s no time. I can’t afford to sit around waiting for an appointment. I’m going to see him today. If he can help us, fine. If he can’t, we’ll have to come up with something else.”
But Lara was thinking to herself, There is nothing else.
Chapter Twelve
Paul Martin’s office was on the twenty-fifth floor in an office building on Wall Street. The frosted sign on the door read, PAUL MARTIN, ATTORNEY AT LAW.
Lara took a deep breath and stepped inside. The reception office was smaller than she had expected. It contained one scarred desk with a bottle-blond secretary behind it.
“Good morning. Can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Mr. Martin,” Lara said.
“Is he expecting you?”
“Yes, he is.” There was no time for explanations.
“And your name?”
“Cameron. Lara Cameron.”
The secretary looked at her quizzically. “Just a moment. I’ll see whether Mr. Martin can see you.”
The secretary got up from behind the desk and disappeared into the inner office.
He’s got to see me, Lara thought.
A moment later the secretary emerged. “Yes, Mr. Martin will see you.”
Lara concealed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
She walked into the inner office. It was small and simply furnished. A desk, two couches, a coffee table, and a few chairs. Not exactly a citadel of power, Lara thought. The man behind the desk appeared to be in his early sixties. He had a deeply lined face, a hawk nose, and a mane of white hair. There was a feral, animal-like vitality about him. He was wearing an old-fashioned pinstripe double-breasted gray suit and a white shirt with a narrow collar. When he spoke, his voice was raspy, low, somehow compelling.
“My secretary said that I was expecting you.”
“I’m sorry,” Lara said. “I had to see you. It’s an emergency.”
“Sit down, Miss…”
“Cameron. Lara Cameron.” She took a chair.
“What can I do for you?”
Lara took a deep breath. “I have a little problem.” A skeleton twenty-four stories of uncompleted steel and concrete standing idle. “It’s about a building.”
“What about it?”
“I’m a real estate developer, Mr. Martin. I’m in the middle of putting up an office building on the East Side, and I’m having a problem with the union.”
He was listening, saying nothing.
Lara hurried on. “I lost my temper and slapped one of the workmen, and the union called a strike.”
He was studying her, puzzled. “Miss Cameron…what does all this have to do with me?”
“I heard you might be able to help me.”
“I’m afraid you heard wrong. I’m a corporate attorney. I’m not involved with buildings, and I don’t deal with unions.”
Lara’s heart sank. “Oh, I thought…isn’t there anything you can do?”
He placed the palm of his hands on the desk, as though he were about to rise. “I can give you a couple pieces of advice. Get hold of a labor lawyer. Have him take the union to court and…”
“There’s no time. I’m up against a deadline. I…what’s the second piece of advice?”
“Get out of the building business.” His eyes were fixed on her breasts. “You don’t have the right equipment for it.”
“What?”
“It’s no place for a woman.”
“And what is the place for a woman?” Lara asked angrily. “Barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen?”
“Something like that. Yeah.”
Lara rose to her feet. It was all she could do to control herself. “You must come from a long line of dinosaurs. Maybe you haven’t heard the news. Women are free now.”
Paul Martin shook his head. “No. Just noisier.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Martin. I’m sorry I took up your valuable time.”
Lara turned and strode out of the office, slamming the door behind her. She stopped in the corridor and took a deep breath. This was a mistake, she thought. She had finally reached a dead end. She had risked everything it had taken her years to build up, and she had lost it in one swift instant. There was no one to turn to. Nowhere to go.