leader had been given.
“We have one concern,” Richard told her. “We need our team leaders to
be in top form. The job comes with a lot of stress—you already know that. But
being partner is going to double, triple that stress. You understand?”
“Of course.”
“You’re not much for working out, I take it.”
Sarah tried not to feel insulted. She thought she looked pretty good:
same slim body she had maintained since high school, always turned out in
professional-looking clothes and hairstyle.
“Our insurance premiums go down if all the key employees have gym
memberships,” Richard told her. “So that’s included in your package. We have
a list of different ones you can go to—you can find one close to the office or
close to your house. But we’d like to see you meeting with a personal trainer
at least twice a week.”
“I’d rather work,” Sarah said, assuming that was the right answer.
Richard shook his head. “You need to stay focused. Even-keeled.
We’ve heard a few complaints that you’re sometimes too hard on people. Hard is
good—don’t get me wrong,” he said before she could defend herself. “We
wouldn’t put you in charge if you couldn’t lead. But it’s good for everybody
if those of us in power take a little time to sweat off some of the pressure,
you understand?”
Sarah had no desire to waste time at some gym when she could be billing,
but she wasn’t going to argue. If the firm thought it would make her a better
leader, so be it. She would put in the minimum time with a trainer in case
anyone checked up on her, then she’d work extra hours to make up for it.
Because nothing was going to interfere with this promotion. It had
come much sooner than she ever could have hoped: right before her twenty-ninth
birthday.
Sarah loved responsibility—always had. Not so much bossing people
around, but instead being the problem-solver in any group. Figuring things
out. Some people worked for praise, she noticed over the years, but she took
much more value out of being proud of herself. She liked knowing she was the
most reliable person she knew—except for her parents, who had given her that training
in the first place. But as far as any other lawyer she’d ever met—and before
that, any other student she met—Sarah felt comfortable believing she worked
harder and smarter than any of them.
Her five months as partner in the firm she had been working for since
law school was one of the favorite periods of her life. She would wake up
sometimes at three-thirty in the morning because she was so excited to get to
work. It meant she often passed out dead tired by nine o’clock at night, but
she loved knowing she was up before anyone else, working long before dawn.
On April 6, she arrived at seven AM and began working on a Motion to
Dismiss. She had already checked the status reports from her team members
before she even came in, and knew she would have a few hours to herself now to
work on her own cases.
The agents swarmed the building. One minute the only people she noticed
outside the glass wall of her office were the attorneys and staff she saw every
day, and the next there were navy blue uniformed men and women everywhere,
seizing papers and files, emptying cabinets, and ordering people away from the
shredders that stood conveniently beside every desk.
Sarah rose slowly, her legs unsteady. She was tempted at first to stay
in her office, hidden behind the wooden door, but she realized that wasn’t her
way. No matter how horrible things would be once she confronted what was
happening, she was a partner, she was a team leader, she was Sarah Henley. And
Sarah Henley stepped up.
She could see now the bright yellow lettering on the agents’ uniforms:
FBI.
As one of the female agents moved toward Sarah’s office, sweeping the
contents of one of the secretaries’ desks into a sturdy cardboard box, Sarah
asked,