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been with Morgan and Associates for five years and she’d become Stanley Morgan’s right hand, the associate he went to with the tough assignments. He’d been respected throughout the world as a brilliant jurist, and the opportunity to learn from him was something that many of her contemporaries coveted. Her next move would be a federal judgeship.
    Being the chief—rather than simply Stanley Morgan’s second chair—would put her in a better position before a judicial review committee. President Cameron’s call underscored that fact. But, as ambitious as she was, she’d gladly give up the lead position if relinquishing it would mean that her friend and mentor was alive to take the reins. Capitalizing upon the death of someone she had respected, admired, and grown to love was not how she had planned to achieve her career goals.
    “The email isn’t in my inbox yet,” Charles said with a frown.
    Samantha glanced up. “Even something as simple as email delivery can’t be left to chance. Let’s make sure it goes through before we shut down.”
    “I’m starving.” Eric stood and stretched. He walked from the conference table to the wet bar, grabbed a handful of nuts from a silver bowl, and munched on them.
    She’d looked forward to the French fries and roasted chicken she’d ordered. Plus, she wanted her nightly glass of crisp sauvignon blanc. She was trying to keep with the civilized tradition that Morgan implemented for ending the day. When traveling for work, the team sat down for dinner and discussed something other than the projects that had consumed their day.
    It gave perspective, he’d said.
    “I know this isn’t the way you anticipated becoming first chair, but I can’t think of anyone better qualified to lead the team.” Abe Smith, seated at the table, glanced at the screen of his open laptop and shook his head. “Damn, but this email is slow. I don’t have it yet.”
    Previously, Abe had been in charge of their stateside team. He’d arrived in Paris only an hour earlier, called in to deal with the manpower shift necessitated by Morgan’s death. Abe had blue eyes, brown hair, and tortoise-shell glasses that made him look almost as smart as he was. While Eric had the look of an L.L. Bean model, Abe was all Brooks Brothers-style polish. His clothes were crisp, his hair smooth, even after a transatlantic flight.
    “That Morgan isn’t here still seems surreal,” Abe added. “I’m sorry for the circumstances, but I’m thrilled to be here.”
    “You’ll be great,” she said, glancing into his brown eyes. “Thanks for mobilizing so quickly.” Samantha’s attention returned to her laptop. Until the email was actually delivered to the judges, her job wasn’t done. Servers failed. It had inexplicably happened once over the weekend while they’d been in France, and twice the week before when they were using the ITT email system in the U.S., in preparation for the trial.
    There was a gentle knock on the door and the muffled announcement, “ Service de chambre .”
    “I’ll get it.” Eric crossed the room to open the door.
    “We’ll have just enough time to eat before Black Raven arrives for the transfer at 11:15,” Charles said.
    “Still not sure why we need to move tonight,” Eric said as he opened the door.
    “We can discuss that with the agents when they get here.” Samantha knew from prior experience with Black Raven that no progress would be made in altering the course the security company had chosen. Still, they were all tired. They needed to rest and be ready for proceedings in the morning.
    She nodded to Lorenzo, the room service attendant, who she recognized from their previous two nights at the hotel. Lorenzo smiled in return as the door shut behind him. He wheeled a gleaming cart into the room. Crystal glasses clinked as he proceeded to cross to the smaller table near the window that they used as a dining table.
    “ Mlle Fairfax, j’ai fait que les frites soit chaud ce