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Darby nervously signed on the second slot。 Mr。 Morgan had made the first entry the day he rented the box。
Ms。 Baskin glanced at the signature while Darby held her breath。
〃Do you have your key？〃 she asked。
〃Of course；〃 Darby said with a warm smile。
Ms。 Baskin took a small box from the drawer； and walked around the desk。 〃Follow me。〃 They went through the bronze doors。 The vault was as big as a branch bank in the suburbs。 Designed along the lines of a mausoleum； it was a maze of hallways and small chambers。 Two men in uniform walked by。 They passed four identical rooms with walls lined with rows of lockboxes。 The fifth room held F566； evidently； because Ms。 Baskin stepped into it and opened her little black box。 Darby looked nervously around and behind her。
Virginia was all business。 She walked to F566； which was shoulder…high； and stuck in the key。 She rolled her eyes at Darby as if to say； 〃Your turn； dumbass。〃 Darby yanked the key from a pocket； and inserted it next to the other one。 Virginia then turned both keys； and slid the box two inches from its slot。 She removed the bank's key。
She pointed to a small booth with a folding wooden door。 〃Take it in there。 When you finish； lock it back in place and e to my desk。〃 She was leaving the room as she spoke。
〃Thanks；〃 Darby said。 She waited until Virginia was out of sight； then slid the box from the wall。 It was not heavy。 The front was six inches by twelve； and it was a foot and a half long。 The top was open； and inside were two items： a thin； brown legal…sized envelope； and an unmarked videotape。
She didn't need the booth。 She stuffed the envelope and videotape in her shoulder bag； and slid the box back into its slot。 She left the room。
Virginia had rounded the corner of her desk when Darby walked behind her。 〃I'm finished；〃 she said。
〃My； that was quick。〃
Damned right。 Things happen fast when your nerves are popping through your skin。 〃I found what I needed；〃 she said。
〃Very well。〃 Ms。 Baskin was suddenly a warm person。〃You know； that awful story in the paper last week about that lawyer。 You know； the one killed by muggers not far from here。 Wasn't his name Curtis Morgan？ Seems like it was Curtis Morgan。 What a shame。〃
Oh； you dumb woman。 〃I didn't see that；〃 Darby said。 〃I've been out of the country。 Thanks。〃
Her step was a bit quicker the second time through the lobby。 The bank was crowded； and there were no security guards in sight。 Piece of cake。 It was about time she pulled a job without being grabbed。
The gunman was guarding the marble column。 The revolving door spun her onto the sidewalk； and she was almost to the car before he caught her。 〃Get in the car！〃 she demanded。
〃What'd you find！〃 he demanded。
〃Just get outta here。〃 She yanked the door open； and jumped in。 He started the car and sped away。
〃Talk to me；〃 he said。
〃I cleaned out the box；〃 she said。 〃Is anyone behind us？〃
He glanced in the mirror。 〃How the hell do I know？ What is it？〃
She opened her purse and pulled out the envelope。 She opened it。 Gray slammed on the brakes and almost smashed a car in front。
〃Watch where you're going！〃 she yelled。
〃Okay！ Okay。 What's in the envelope！〃
〃I don't know！ I haven't read it yet； and if you get me killed； I'll never read it。〃
The car was moving again。 Gray breathed deeply。 〃Look； let's stop yelling； okay。 Let's be cool。〃
〃Yes。 You drive； and I'll be cool。〃
〃Okay。 Now。 Are we cool？〃
〃Yes。 Just relax。 And watch where you're going。 Where are you going？〃
〃I don't know。 What's in the envelope？〃
She pulled out a document of some sort。 She glanced at him； and he was staring at the document。 〃Watch where we're going。〃
〃Just read the damned thing。〃
〃It makes me carsick。 I can't read in the car。〃
〃Dammit！ Dammit！ Dammit！〃
〃You're yelling again。〃
He yanked the wheel to the right and pulled into another tow…away zone on E Street。 Horns honked as he slammed his brakes。 He glared at her。
〃Thanks；〃 she said； and started reading it aloud。
It was a four…page affidavit； typed real neat and sworn to under oath before a notary public。 It was dated Friday； the day before the last phone call to Grantham。 Under oath； Curtis Morgan said he worked in the oil and gas section of White and Blazevich； and had since he joined the firm five years earlier。 His clients were privately owned oil exploration firms from many countries； but primarily Americans。 Since he joined the firm； he had worked for a client who was engaged in a huge lawsuit in south Louisiana。 The client was a man named Victor Mattiece； and Mr。 Mattiece； whom he'd never met but was well known to the senior partners of White and Blazevich； wanted desperately to win the lawsuit and eventually harvest millions of barrels of oil from the swamplands of Terrebonne Parish； Louisiana。 There were also hundreds of millions of cubic yards of natural gas。 The partner supervising the case for White and Blazevich was F。 Sims Wakefield； who was very close to Victor Mattiece and often visited him in the Bahamas。
They sat in the tow…away zone with the bumper of the Pontiac protruding perilously into the right lane； and were oblivious to the cars swerving around it。 She read slowly； and he sat with his eyes closed。
Continuing； the lawsuit was very important to White and Blazevich。 The firm was not directly involved in the trial and appeal； but everything crossed Wakefield's desk。 He worked on nothing but the pelican case； as it was known。 He spent most of his time on the phone with either Mattiece or one of a hundred lawyers working on the case。 Morgan averaged ten hours a week on the case； but always on the periphery。 His billings were handed directly to Wakefield； and this was unusual because all other billings went to the oil and gas billing clerk； who turned them in to accounting。 He'd heard rumors over the years； and firmly believed Mattiece was not paying White and Blazevich its standard hourly rate。 He believed the firm had taken the case for a percentage of the harvest。 He'd heard the figure of ten percent of the net profits from the wells。 This was unheard of in the industry。
Brakes squealed loudly； and they braced for the impact。 It barely missed。 〃We're about to be killed；〃 Darby snapped。
Gray yanked the gearshift into Drive； and pulled the right front wheel over the curb and onto the sidewalk。 Now they were out of traffic。 The car was angled across a forbidden space with its front bumper on the sidewalk and its rear bumper barely out of traffic。 〃Keep reading；〃 he snapped back。
Continuing； on or about September 28； Morgan was in Wakefield's office。 He walked in with two files and a stack of documents unrelated to the pelican case。 Wakefield was on the phone。 As usual； secretaries were in and out。 The office was always in a state of disruption。 He stood around f