She'd figured out the situation, chosen not to enable either parents bad behavior, and found a way to stay neutral without being passive. I could learn something from her approach. I spent the morning at work implementing the first phase of Lisa's plan. The business intelligence Nathan had stolen was detailed but not current.
Most of the contract information was at least 6 months old, and several of the clients he was planning to target had already signed new agreements with updated terms and pricing. More importantly, I'd been working on expanding into cyber security consulting, a lucrative niche that Nathan knew nothing about. If he wanted to compete with outdated information, he was welcome to try. The second phase involved documentation.
I spent my lunch break photographing every page of evidence Lisa had given me, uploading copies to multiple cloud storage accounts, and preparing a comprehensive report that laid out the entire conspiracy in chronological order. By 3:00, I had enough evidence to bury Nathan professionally and put Megan in serious legal jeopardy for corporate espionage. The question was how to use it for maximum impact. Lisa called me at 4 with an update.
Nathan's been suspended indefinitely pending investigation. Hartwell's lawyers are reviewing all his communications and computer access logs. What about Megan? Still employed, but she's been moved to a different department while they investigate her connection to Nathan's activities.
She's not happy. I bet she's not. There's something else. Nathan's been trying to reach you.
That got my attention. What do you mean? He called your office twice this afternoon. When your assistant said you weren't available, he asked for your cell phone number.
Did she give it to him? No, but he's persistent. I think he wants to make a deal. A deal?
The idea was almost laughable. Nathan had helped destroy my marriage, stolen my business secrets, and was planning to compete against me using information obtained through fraud. What kind of deal could he possibly offer? Let him call, I said.
I'm curious to hear what he has to say. Be careful, Jack. Desperate people do stupid things. So do angry husbands.
I got my chance to test that theory around 6:00 when my phone rang with an unknown local number. Jack Walsh. Jack, it's Nathan Coleman. We need to talk.
His voice was strained, lacking the confident charm I remembered from the Christmas party. Good. I'm listening. Not over the phone.
Can you meet me somewhere? Neutral ground. Why would I want to do that? Because we both have something the other wants.
I have information about your wife's plans. You have the power to make my current situation go away. Information about Megan's plans. That was interesting.
What kind of information? The kind that could save your marriage or at least save your assets when she files for divorce next week. Next week? The timeline was accelerating faster than I'd expected.
Where do you want to meet? I asked. You know that old warehouse district by the river? There's a diner called Mel's that stays open late, 9:00.
I'll be there. Come alone, Jack, and bring your lawyer's phone number. You're going to need it. He hung up before I could respond.
I sat in my office for a long time after that, staring out the window at the parking lot and thinking about the conversation. Nathan was scared, probably facing criminal charges and the end of his career. But he was also dangerous, a cornered animal with nothing left to lose. I called Lisa and told her about the meeting.
Don't go, she said immediately. It's a trap. Maybe, but he said he has information about Megan's plans. If she's filing for divorce next week, I need to know what I'm up against.
I can find out what you need to know. You don't have to meet with him. Yes, I do. This thing started with the three of us, and it's going to end with the three of us.
Lisa was quiet for a moment. If you're determined to do this, at least let me provide backup. I'll be in the diner close enough to help if things go wrong. Okay.
But stay out of sight unless I signal you. What's the signal? You'll know it when you see it. Mel's diner was exactly the kind of place you'd expect to find in an abandoned warehouse district.
Fluorescent lights, cracked vinyl booths, and coffee that could strip paint. It was also nearly empty at 9:00 on a Friday night, which made it perfect for the kind of conversation Nathan and I needed to have. He was already there when I arrived, sitting in a corner booth with his back to the wall and a cup of coffee growing cold in front of him. He looked terrible.
Unshaven, rumpled clothes. The kind of desperate exhaustion that comes from not sleeping for days. Jack, he said as I slid into the booth across from him. Thanks for coming.
Talk, he laughed, a sound with no humor in it. Straight to the point. I always like that about you. You don't know anything about me, Nathan.
I know more than you think. Megan talks about you a lot. How you've changed over the years. How you've become complacent, how you take her for granted, and you're here to defend her honor.
I'm here to warn you. Megan's not the woman you think she is. I signaled the waitress for coffee and waited for him to continue. She's been planning this for over a year, Nathan said.