There was no cover letter or any other indication of the sender. Nothing but a copy of an email from Nelson Ledbetter, CEO of Northstar, to Ned Bartman, Mark’s rival for class counsel. In it Ledbetter confirmed our chat and alluded to an attachment showing that little anomaly we discussed. The attachment wasn’t included, but I could guess what it was: a spreadsheet showing the discrepancy in fourth-quarter earnings that Bartman supposedly unearthed all on his own, the discovery he was hanging his hat on for appointment as class counsel. Now we had evidence that he’d been hand-fed the information by Ledbetter.

It had taken three drink-dates with Joshua Matson, and by the last one, I’d had to be a lot less subtle. It could happen anywhere, I’d told him. A young lawyer working third chair on a major lawsuit discovers that his boss made a dirty deal on the side. A deal that could reap him millions of dollars. Does he reveal it to the other side? But he’d finally come through for me.

When I heard Mark return to the building, I called him with the news. “Come on up,” he said, and I went back outside and in the front door and up the four flights of stairs. He was waiting by the open door, barefoot as always after hours, but otherwise fully dressed in white tie and tails. He’d been to a charity do that night, an event chaired by his wife.

“Where’d you get this?” he asked as he read the email.

“Anonymous delivery. Presumably from a whistleblower inside either Bartman’s firm or Harrington’s.”

“Well, what do you know?” He grinned. “An honest-to-God smoking gun. It really happened. They really did a reverse auction.”

“We don’t have a witness to authenticate it,” I pointed out.

He waved a hand. “We don’t need one. I’ll confront Ledbetter with this email on the stand, and drag out all the lies in his deposition. He’ll fess up.”

“Then you’ll be appointed class counsel.”

He spread his arms wide. “Last man standing. Great work, Shay. You really came through for me.”

“I need a new assignment. What about the Genco case? I could help Phoebe.”

“Nah. That case would be a waste of your talents. Let’s keep you on Northstar. Now that we’re locked in as class counsel, there’ll be plenty for you to do. And if not, I’ll think of something else.”

“Anything but CDMI,” I reminded him.

“Right.” A frown crossed his face, but he wiped it away with a smile. “Want to come in? Have a celebratory nightcap?”

“Thanks, but I should head back down. Good night.”

I turned and walked very deliberately to the elevator. I could feel him watching me from his doorway as I pushed the call button. The cage arrived, the cylinder opened, but my feet faltered. I did a quick about-face to the stairs.

“No.” Mark came at me in three quick strides and took me by the elbow. “You can do it, Shay.” He steered me back to the elevator.