Chapter 8: Dealing with Dante

September 11, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

“Did you make the call?” I asked after greeting Sensei Jim on Monday evening.

He nodded soberly, “I did.”

“How bad?”

“She demanded I ‘fire’ you, and when I refused, because the explanation wouldn’t have mattered, she withdrew Marcia from the school.”

“Now what?”

“There isn’t anything we can do, really. She said she’s going to call the ISKC and have your teaching license revoked, which we both know isn’t possible. I’m sure she’ll demand you be suspended or not allowed to judge tournaments, but I spoke to Ichirou-san and he has no intention of doing anything of that sort.”

I sighed, deeply, “I take it you didn’t talk to Marcia?”

“Mrs. Ingles stated quite clearly that neither of us are to have contact with Marcia.”

“What the heck is wrong with people?” I groused. “Can’t they just mind their own business?”

“It would seem they can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Add this to my continually growing list of reasons to want to retire and move to Japan.”

“I haven’t given up the fight, but it feels like a rearguard action. I do have one fear,” I said.

“Which is?”

“That Marcia shows up, unannounced, at my house.”

“She knows where you live?”

“I don’t know that I’ve ever told her, but it’s not exactly a State Secret, and a good number of students know where my house is because they’ve been there at one time or another. All the black belts, and a few others.”

“Just be very careful, Steve.”

“I will.”

“Let’s go teach,” he said.

I got up and followed him into the training room. After warm-up exercises, Will and I worked with the lower belts in the small training room. I did my best to keep my focus, but my mind kept going back to the situation with Marcia. I was supremely pissed at her mom, but there truly wasn’t anything I could do about it. My fear was, as I’d expressed to Sensei Jim, that she’d show up at my door and potentially make a bad situation worse.

“You should probably call Jamie or Melanie,” Kara suggested as we left the dojo for the walk home.

“Her mom is being mean!” Birgit declared.

“Yes, she is, Pumpkin,” I agreed. “And yes, Kara, you’re right.”

I pulled my mobile phone from my pocket and pressed the speed dial button for Melanie’s home number. Pete answered, and called her to the phone. I quickly explained the situation.

“Whatever you do, do NOT let her into your house,” Melanie said. “You were never, ever alone with her, right?”

“Never. I only saw her at the dojo or at the tournament and a couple of times at dinner with her mom. And there were always dozens of people around, at a minimum.”

“If she does show up, make sure you keep the security tapes. You might need them.”

“Seriously?”

“Her mom has already staked out her position - you’re a deviant.”

“Don’t use that word, Melanie!” I growled viscerally.

“I used it for that exact reason. Think about what your mom would do in a similar situation. What she would have done if she had ANY proof you’d been with Elyse’s aunt.”

“What the fuck is wrong with people?” I spat.

“We’ve known plenty of people who are insanely prudish. One more piece of advice - if she does come back to the dojo, you have to stay away from her. Completely. Tell your karate master I said so.”

“I doubt she’ll come back,” I said.

“I’m talking even after she turns eighteen!”

“What?!”

“Until she’s twenty-five, her mom could make claims of abuse.”

“Which Marcia would deny.”

“You’ve dealt with the CPD and DCFS. Think that will matter?”

“Armed revolution is sounding better and better every second,” I sighed.

“Just don’t say that in public, Steve. Unless you win, they imprison or execute you for stuff like that.”

“No shit, Melanie!”

“If she does show up, anywhere, make notes, write down who was with you, and call me. Got it?”

“Yes, Dear,” I deadpanned.

“Just be smart, Steve.”

“I will. Thanks, Melanie.”

We said ‘goodbye’ and I hung up.

“What was her advice?” Kara asked.

“Just as you’d expect. I think one of the women has to answer the door for the near future, just to be safe.”

“You think she’ll show up?”

“I’d say we can count on it.”

September 14, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

“Perfect timing! I’m having lunch with Melissa today.”

“I bet you are!”

“It’s a business relationship, Dante. Period. There are boundaries, though you wouldn’t have a clue what that word meant.”

“Hey, asshole, you’re the one who hires a stable of hot chicks!”

“And we have policies in place against the kind of thing you’re implying.”

Dante laughed, “You own the company! Those don’t apply to you!”

“Actually, they do. All the rules apply to me most of all! How can I ask anyone else to follow them if I don’t?”

“Because you own the fucking company, you stupid fool! When will you ever learn to take full advantage of your position?”

“The way you mean? Never. Now, did you call for a real reason, or just to talk about you mistreating your female employees?”

“Fuck you, Adams!”

“For the third, and final time, you aren’t my type.”

Penny, sitting next to me, was clearly about to lose it. But at this point, I simply didn’t care if Dante heard her laughing.

“$600K. And that’s my final offer.”

“No, it isn’t. You’re still a bit low. Make it $1.3 million and we’ll call it a day.”

“No fucking chance.”

“My advice to Melissa will be to turn this over to a team of attorneys who will squeeze $10 million from you, demand injunctions against your company, and generally make your life a living hell. And do you know what the best part is? You’ll be paying for her to torture you.”

“What’s the REAL fucking number?”

“We split the difference, slightly in your favor. $900K. That’s your price of freedom. You get a complete release for your money. Now, YOU take it or leave it.”

“Shove it up your ass!” he spat.

“Is that your final word on the matter?”

“My lawyer will call you,” he growled, then slammed down the phone.

I gently replaced my handset and smiled smugly.

“Got him!” I declared.

Penny laughed, “Of course you did! That was masterful! You played him even better than Jesse plays Birgit!”

“I don’t know about THAT,” I chuckled. “But it was fun. And now I hope to never speak to him again.”

“Good luck with THAT,” Penny said, shaking her head ruefully. “He still owns Peach.”

“Yeah, but there’s no reason to talk to him.”

“Steve, I have a Sterling Hendriks on the phone for you,” Kimmy announced about five minutes later. “He says he’s an attorney for Dante Puccini.”

“Put him through, please.”

“Mr. Hendriks? This is Steve Adams. How may I help you?”

“I need to send you a settlement agreement and release form. May I have your attorney’s name and number?”

“Just send it to me, please,” I said. “I’m advising Ms. Mascioli on this matter.”

“Are you an attorney?”

“No. But nothing in the law requires Ms. Mascioli to use an attorney. Just fax me the documents.”

I gave him the number, he promised to fax the documents, and then we hung up.

“No lawyer?” Penny asked. “Is that wise?”

“If I ask a lawyer to review it for me, and hand it to them, it’ll cost a couple of hundred bucks. If I have Dante’s attorney fax it directly to my lawyer, and they start quibbling over terms, it’ll cost thousands. If the documents aren’t straightforward, I’ll call Mr. Hendriks and tell him to fix them. I’ve read enough of these damned things to know where the traps are!”

Twenty minutes later, Kimmy brought me the paperwork.

“He’s fucking joking,” I said, shaking my head.

“What?”

“It includes a waiver of claims for intellectual property. That is NOT happening.”

“Why?”

“I’m guessing Dante can’t work around one of his own patents. Or it would be too expensive to do so.”

I asked Kimmy to get the attorney on the phone, and five minutes later she put him through.

“Everything is fine except clause twelve. That has to be stricken. It’s non-negotiable.”

“My client insisted that he wouldn’t agree without that waiver.”

“It wasn’t discussed, and we would never, ever give it. He tried to pull a fast one, Counselor. Tell him I’m smarter than that. Remove clause twelve and we have a deal. The deadline is 5:00pm today.”

“His instructions to me were clear,” Mr. Hendriks protested.

“I’m sure they were. And my response is clear. That’s not the deal we negotiated. Ms. Mascioli not only won’t sign, she CAN’T sign.”

“Can’t? Why?”

“Neither M&M nor Ms. Mascioli own the intellectual property rights. If I acted the way your client usually does, I’d tell her to sign, then laugh all the way to the courthouse when your client tried to make use of patents he assigned to Ms. Mascioli and M&M.”

“Who does own the intellectual property?”

“It doesn’t matter, does it? The answer is still a resounding ‘no’ on the waiver. And yes, I’m in a position to know AND to make that statement. Remove clause twelve, Counselor. Your client isn’t nearly as smart as he thinks he is.”

When I hung up, Penny was laughing again.

“Dante isn’t one tenth as smart as he thinks he is!” she said mirthfully.

“Actually, Pretty Penny, he’s an excellent design engineer. He’s just an idiot in other areas.”

“How long before he calls, frothing at the mouth?” she laughed.

“I’d say the over/under is about fifteen minutes!”

Twelve minutes later, Kimmy buzzed me.

“Dante is on the line and he sounds PISSED,” she laughed.

“Good. Let him sit on hold for four minutes, then put him through. Do NOT go back to the line to tell him.”

“Pushing his buttons?” she asked.

“Playing him like a violin!” I grinned.

Four minutes later she put a seething Dante through to me.

“What kind of games are you playing?” he demanded.

“Me? None. YOU added a clause we never discussed. The fact that you’re positively frothing at the mouth says I caught YOU playing games.”

“Who owns my patents?”

“They aren’t your patents! You sold them, and assigned all the rights to Mark and Melissa Mascioli. What they’ve done with them is none of your business, beyond the fact that they have an exclusive license to use them.”

“This is your doing, isn’t it?”

“Something that is also none of your business. I’m simply the middleman here, no different from your attorney. Now, are you going to remove the clause? If not, we have nothing to speak about.”

The phone on the other end was slammed down.

“He hung up?” Penny asked.

“He’s gone ‘round the bend,” I grinned. “What’s funny is that the patent assignments are a matter of public record. It would cost him a bit of money, but not a lot, to search the records at the Patent and Trademark Office and find out that Patent Partners, LLC, owns the intellectual property.”

“But he can’t find out who the partners are, can he?”

“No. He’d get the name of the registered agent for the LLC, but that’s it. Remember, we could only find out who the registered agent for LP Engineering was at first. We thought Dante owned it when his former top engineer went to work there. And even then, it was a matter of probabilities. Obviously, we know for sure now.”

“Think he’ll cave?”

“He has to. A new agreement will show up soon, I’m sure.”

It arrived on the fax machine about five minutes before I needed to leave for lunch with Melissa. The clause had been deleted and there was nothing else that looked problematic. I took it with me, and headed for Takumi. I handed Melissa the document after we were seated.

“I’d sign it,” I said. “Have Billie give it a once over, but I already had Dante’s attorney remove the one clause that was completely unacceptable.”

“What was that?”

“A waiver for claims for intellectual property.”

“That bastard is using his old patents, isn’t he?”

“I suspect there is at least one that is either too difficult or too expensive to work around. But I don’t know enough about electrical engineering or test equipment to suggest what it might be, or how you might find out.”

Melissa smiled, “I have people for that!”

“You’re learning! Jennifer or Mark?”

“Both of them together should be able to work it out. The big issue would be getting access to LP’s equipment, but I have some ideas on how to do that.”

“Just be careful you stay completely within the law and contractual agreements. Dante is foaming at the mouth right now, and ANY misstep will lead him to lash out.”

“You’re sure I should sign this?”

“Positive. There are no ‘gotcha’ clauses. Obviously, as I said, have Billie look at it, but I’d sign it.”

“OK. I’ll get it to her this afternoon. When do I need to sign it?”

“By a week from today. It’s one page, so I can’t imagine it will take Billie more than an hour to review it. And that’s all you want her to do. She can only bill you for the time, not take a cut.”

“Thanks. I owe you.”

“You’re welcome. And this is all part of mentoring.”

“You’re a good friend, Mr. Adams. And a good man.”

“Thanks.”

September 15, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

“She’s here,” Kara whispered on Friday evening, just before we were going to sit down for dinner. “And she wants to talk to you.”

“You have to send her away,” I sighed. “I simply can’t talk to her without risking trouble from her mom.”

“What do I tell her?”

“Exactly that - her mom is the problem, and because she’s a minor, I could get into all kinds of trouble. Apologize for me, please.”

“And if she asks when you can talk to her?”

“You know what Melanie said - basically I can’t have anything to do with her until she’s twenty-five, because her mom could make a complaint up to that point.”

“But she could do that, even if you don’t have anything to do with Marcia!”

“Yes, of course. But why add to the problems. Just tell her that I can’t speak to her. I COULD speak to her mom, in Sensei Jim’s office, but nowhere else. And I’d want you there as a witness as well.”

“You’re that concerned?”

“Want to talk to Mrs. Danforth again?”

“No way! Let me go back and talk to Marcia.”

“Wait. I have an idea. Let me give you Sensei Sharon’s number. It’s a bit of a hike from here, but maybe, just maybe, Marcia can get her mom to take her there. I can talk to Sensei Sharon and Sensei Ichirou to grease the skids, as it were.”

I went to my study and wrote down the number and gave it to Kara. She left and was back about five minutes later.

“She’s very upset,” Kara said. “She obviously feels rejected.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” I sighed. “But I can’t help that right now. What else did she say?”

“She told her mom she’s going to ask to be put in her dad’s custody until she’s eighteen.”

“Oh, THAT will make things SO much better,” I sighed sarcastically.

“For you? Or for Marcia?”

“Both, really. I get the drift that her dad is something of a cad, and if Marcia does get a Family Court judge to modify the custody order, I’m afraid Jillian Ingles is going to go completely off the deep end. What did Marcia say about Sharon?”

“She was reluctant, but I encouraged her to call and see if she can make it work. I suggested she say she got the number from the phone book.”

“Good call,” I said. “I need to save today’s security tapes permanently.”

“To prove she was never in the house?”

“Exactly. Granted, her mom could claim she came here a different day, or whatever, but having the tape will help if it comes to that.”

“I can’t believe someone would hurt their own child in this way!”

“That’s the problem, Kara. Like your dad, Kent van der Meer, my mom, and a few others we know, they all thought they were helping and protecting their children. They were wrong, but they don’t see it our way. Not at all.”

Kara sighed, “That poor girl.”

“We’ve both been there, Honey. And unfortunately, in this case, we can’t do anything about it.”

“Do you still think it was Mrs. Ingles’ foot?”

“Either she’s contending with my mom for the title of ‘biggest hypocrite’, or it was Marcia’s. At this point, I’m thinking it was Marcia. And that makes it even more important for me to stay away from her. Let me call Sharon and see if I can catch her before she leaves for her Friday evening class.”

Kara nodded and I picked up the phone and dialed Sharon’s home number. She was there, and I explained what had happened. She was sympathetic, and said she would do her best to help Marcia if she called. I thanked her, then followed Kara to the dining room so we could join the rest of the family for dinner.

September 16, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

The scent of incense filled my nostrils and caused me to recall the times I’d smelled that particular fragrance before - at the temple with Yoshiro; at Hideki’s promotion; at Hiro-san’s wake; at the blessing of my office. I purposefully used something different in my office so as not to interfere with my olfactory memory, and I was glad of it. Keeping this particular blend for very special occasions would ensure those memories stayed strong.

Kaito completed blessing the new dojo, and then prayed over and blessed the shrine which contained «Shihan» Hiro’s ashes. As expected, I saw a couple of frowns from parents who I knew were evangelicals, but Sensei Jim and I had discussed it and basically concluded that neither of us gave a damn about their discomfort. We didn’t think they’d pull their kids from the school over it.

When the religious part of the ceremony was done, Sensei Jim concluded with a short speech, and then had Will and Therese demonstrate sparring, Kara and Hannah demonstrate weapons fighting, and Birgit and I demonstrate kata. We did a simple yellow belt kata synchronized, though her steps were obviously shorter than mine, and then I did the most difficult of the black belt katas. Once the demonstration was finished, Sensei Jim invited everyone to partake of refreshments and socialize.