Chain Reaction 3.41: Adrien Finch

Drake

     Emily needs a hero. Well, actually, Graham does, but if I help Graham and let it be known that I'm the one doing it, I'll look better in her eyes. The challenge is to beat my father to the punch, and he has a head start.

     As soon as Valentino goes to sleep, I head out to my lawyer's office. Roland is at the house in case something happens, and Morgan should be back any minute. However, I don't have time to waste. The office closes in fifteen minutes. So, I hop into my Ferrari and floor it.

     When I walk in, I see his receptionist sitting at her desk. Although she rubbed me the wrong way when I first met her, I've decided I like Amelia. She has a real attitude problem.

     "We're closed," she says in a miffed way.

     Attitude problem... and hot. I haven't a doubt in my mind Adrien bangs her after hours. I would.

     "This won't take too long. He'll see me." I smile to her bored expression. Yes, I definitely like her.

     She all but rolls her eyes. "Whatever."

     I go have a seat, remembering the first time I came here. She'd tried to refer me to Clara, my lawyer's legal aid, but I insisted upon seeing Adrien Finch himself. His time is expensive--but worth it.

      I hear his voice as he walks out of his office. "Everything will be fine, Mr. De la Cruz, but please don't hesitate to call me if you should have any more questions."

      I smile. Yeah. Because you'll charge him for the phone call, too.

      The other client leaves, and Adrien sees me. "Mr. Goth! What a ... surprise." He glances at his receptionist in a pointed way.

     "I'm sorry for arriving so late, Mr. Finch, but my situation is urgent." He's a very methodical person, so I know me arriving late bothers him. But then again, he knows how much I pay him.

     "Not a problem," he lies. Then he gestures to his office door. "Come inside and fill me in on the details."

     As soon as we're seated, he asks, "Does this have anything to do with that scar?" He hasn't seen me in person since I got back.

     I'm not happy he brought that up. "No."

     "If you don't mind me asking, how did you come by it? It looks like it'll leave a permanent mark. We could most likely destroy whoever gave it to you."

     "The scar on my face isn't up for debate. At any rate, it's growing on me."

     He waves his hand dismissively. "As you wish. So, what is the purpose of this evening's visit, Drake?" We switch to a first-name basis once inside the office.

     "I'm here on behalf of Graham Taylor." The name tastes bad in my mouth. The man hates me simply because of my father, yet I'm willing to help him?

     It's all about Emily. She wants him out of prison, so that's what she'll get.

     "On behalf of?" he questions my wording. "Graham Taylor is already occupying a prison cell. Haven't you heard?"
     "Yes, I have. I'm here to remedy that."
     He opens his mouth and sits back, eyebrows raised. "And here I thought you hated the man."

     "You thought correctly. But his daughter is going to pieces over the whole thing."
     "You mean your step-mother?"
     I look up and say dangerously, "Do not, under any circumstances, refer to her as my step-mother again." I get the feeling he enjoyed reminding me of that, but that'll be the last time. He doesn't need to forget what I'm capable of.
     "My humblest apologies then." He can bow and scrape like the best of them, but I know he retains a very dominant-type personality. He likes to win, and that makes him good at what he does. But he also likes making money, meaning he can't piss off his wealthiest client.
     "I want you to do anything possible to either drastically lessen his sentence or dismiss it completely. Surely there is something that can be done."
     He slides over to the smaller desk which contains his computer. He pulls up a very official-looking page with a government seal on it. "Yes. I remembered correctly." He sounded as if he answers an internal question. "The request has already been sent."
     Damn you, Pops. Plum, he's fast.

     "Find a way to one-up it then!" I demand. "Declare the first one a mistrial of some kind. Get the sentence revoked! Find a loophole in the system. Isn't that what you're paid to do?"
     He smiles at me in a mildly condescending way. He's only ten or so years older than me, so he doesn't need to look at me like I'm a pampered child who isn't getting his way. He's always itching to prove himself to the older, more well-known legal community, and here I'm giving him another chance to strut his legal prowess.
     "The appeal has been filed. I don't see much more I can do."
     I know the tricks he uses in how he words things. "Ah, but you've already thought of something you can do to undermine that operation and glean faster results, haven't you? Otherwise you'd have said you can't see anything more you can do."
     He chuckles. "How very astute. But it would require more capitol and bending a few rules..." He leaves the statement hanging.
     "Bend them. Break them. What do you think I'm paying you for, Adrien?" I wave my hand. "Don't bother telling me how. Just do what you do best."
     He smiles widely. "Leave it to me, then."
     I smile back. "And let it be known you're doing this on behalf of me. I want her to know that."

     "Fear not," he tells me as we shake hands. "Your lady love will know who's pulling the strings."
     I clench my jaw in mild irritation. "Thank you."

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