Coercion

Alicia crossed the street and approached the Continental parked at the kerbside. Lemond Bishop lowered the passenger side widow. "Good evening Mrs. Florrick," he said. "Please get in."

"You said this was about Cary?"

"Get in and we'll talk." Alicia hesitated. "Do you want to keep Mr. Agos out of prison or not?"

Alicia climbed into the back seat, and the car immediately took off. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"To a meet."

"At eleven o'clock at night Mr. Bishop? Really?"

"I've had a little talk with my man, Dante."

"The witness? The one who incriminated Cary?"

"Maybe he's had a change of heart."

"Is that where we're going? To meet with him?"

"Eventually. First, a bit of business."

"What kind of business?"

"Remember Johnson Cartwright the Third?"

"Yes. You made him an offer and he declined."

"His stable's the number one right now, his horses can't stop winning. They got the best trainers and the best breeding programme."

"So what does this have to do with me Mr. Bishop?"

"I'm going to make Mr. Cartwright another offer, one he can't refuse, and I want you to negotiate the details."

"You know I can't Mr. Bishop. I – we – we don't work for you now."

"So, I've just re-hired you, exclusively for this case. Your firm was acting for me when I made the first approach. So, officially you're just tying up the loose ends. Think of it as a matter unresolved."

"And if I refuse?"

"Please Mrs. Florrick. You want Cary to go back to prison?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to be your saintly self; sexy lawyer, wife of the Governor, future State's Attorney, a respectable figure of the establishment. Mr. Cartwright has got it into his head that yours truly is nothing but some black gangster wannabe. He's not happy about handing over his life's work to a notorious drug dealer. That's where you come in Mrs. Florrick. You can tell Cartwright all about my legitimate enterprises and all about the generous donations we make to the citizens of Chicago less fortunate than ourselves. And then, once you've charmed his pants off, he'll sign all of his holdings over to me."

"Just like that."

"That's the plan."

"What about Cartwright? I understood he'd been diagnosed with Alzheimer's."

"Heresay. He was fine last time I spoke to him."

"Promise me you'll get your boy Dante to make a statement putting Cary in the clear."

"You have my word."

The house on the edge of town was a large two-storied residence surrounded by woodlands. Inside, the party sat around a large oval table, Alicia, Bishop, Bishop's two bodyguards, Johnson Cartwright the Third, and Deke Sykes, Cartwright's attorney.

"So, you're the wife of the governor?" asked Cartwright.

"Alicia Florrick. We have met before Mr. Cartwright, don't you remember?"

Cartwright looked puzzled and turned to his attorney.

"Of course Mr. Cartwright remembers you Mrs. Florrick," said Sykes.

Alicia thought Cartwright looked much older than the last time she'd seen him, in fact he didn't look well at all. "Do you Mr. Cartwright?" said Alicia. "Do you remember me?"

"Oh yes," Cartwright said, "of course. You were wearing that short skirt. I could see the colour of your knickers."

"Mr. Bishop," said Alicia, getting to her feet. "We need to talk."

Bishop was all smiles. "Excuse us for a moment gentlemen," he said.

Bishop joined Alicia in the kitchen at the back of the house. "What is going on here?" she demanded.

"It's just like I said," Bishop replied. "Business."

"Mr. Cartwright is clearly unwell. He looks as if he's drugged up to the eyeballs. He's in no fit state to conduct his affairs."

"That's why Sykes is here, he has power of attorney."

"That isn't how it works. Nothing we sign today will be worth the paper it's written on. It's coercion Mr. Bishop and it's unlawful."

"Why don't we worry about that after the fact?"

"Mr. Bishop, my advice is to wait. Cartwright's family will no doubt assume control of his assets at the proper time. Make your offer to them."

"Mrs. Florrick, you should know me by now. I don't do waiting."

"Mr. Cartwright has agreed to your offer," said Sykes when Alicia and Bishop returned to the table.

"Agreed?" said Cartwright. "What have I agreed to?"

"I suggest we reconvene this meeting," said Alicia. "How about tomorrow morning in my office?"

"Are you the Governor's wife?" asked Cartwright.

"Here," said Sykes, putting the paperwork in front of the old man. "Sign at the bottom of the page."

"Mr. Sykes," said Alicia, "you are out of order. I think it's time you took your client home."

"Wait just a minute," Bishop insisted, glaring at Alicia. "Let's just sign the deal."

"Okay! Okay!" Cartwright said. "Let's do it!" The old man pulled out a revolver from the back of his pants, pointed it at the head of his attorney, and squeezed the trigger. The shot was followed by a steady trail of blood dribbling out from the cavity in the dead man's temple.

Bishop's men jumped to their feet and pulled out their guns. "Wait!" Bishop cried. "Mr. Cartwright," he said calmly. "Put down the gun."

Cartwright turned the weapon on Alicia. "Are you or are you not the Governor's wife?" he demanded. Bishop threw himself over the table and grabbed hold of the old man's arm. When the gun went off for a second time, Cartwright took the bullet. Blood spurted out from the fatal wound inflicted to his throat.

"Fucking shit!" Bishop exclaimed. "Mrs. Florrick? Alicia? Are you hurt?"

Alicia stared wide-eyed at the two dead men slumped at the table in front of her. The front of her dress was spattered with blood. "I'm fine," she said dreamily.

Bishop turned to his stunned bodyguards. "Clean up this mess," he ordered. "Mrs. Florrick, come with me."

Alicia found herself being escorted upstairs. Bishop showed her into a large bedroom with a four-poster bed.

"Give me your jacket," he said, "and take off your dress."

Alicia was in shock, but she was quickly recovering her senses. "We must call Chicago PD," she said, removing her phone from her jacket pocket.

Bishop snatched the device from her hand and removed the SIM card. "No police," he said.

"We've just witnessed a murder and – "

"And what?"

"It was an accident, the gun went off in the struggle and besides, you were protecting me."

"Yeah right, and that's just how the DA will see it. I think I'll take my chances."

"So what do you propose we do?"

"Nothing. I'll handle it. Here," he said, opening the door of the closet and tossing Alicia a bathrobe. "Take off your dress and put this on."

"No. I'm going to walk out of this house," she declared, "and I'm going home. I was never here Mr. Bishop, okay?"

Alicia marched towards the door, but Bishop caught up with her and stood between her and the exit. "Sorry Mrs. Florrick," he said, towering over her, "but you're staying right here. Now, are you going to give me that dress or shall I rip it off you?"

Alicia gave him her jacket and then retired to the ensuite, where she unzipped her dress and put on the robe. Bishop collected the bloodied garment. "You might want to take a shower," he said, making for the door.

Once Bishop had departed, Alicia tried the door. It was locked.

Bishop returned an hour later with a bottle of red wine. "Thought you might like a drink," he said.

Alicia stood to one side of the huge bed, her hands in the pockets of the bathrobe. "How long do you intend to keep me here?" she asked.

Bishop poured two glasses of wine. "Not long," he said. "Once we've cleaned up your dress you can be on your way, providing of course we reach an understanding."

"I won't say a word," she said. "I was never here."

"Excellent," he said, passing her a glass. "So, let's drink to that shall we?"

Alicia took the glass and quaffed a mouthful of the wine. "What are you going to do with the bodies?" she asked.

"Please Mrs. Florrick, don't concern yourself. Everything is in hand." Bishop lowered himself into an armchair and ran his eyes over her. "You know what," he said, "this is going to put our relationship on an entirely new level. I think we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other, especially when you get the DA's job."

With only her bra and panties between the robe and her naked body, Alicia felt vulnerable in a way she never had before, and the strength of Bishop's concentrated stare exacerbated her unease. "We don't have – a relationship Mr. Bishop," she said.

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong. When your investigator Miss Sharma threatened my family she crossed the line. She made it personal Mrs. Florrick. You want personal, that's fine by me." Bishop drained his glass and got to his feet. He took off his jacket and his tie, and moved intently towards her. He placed his hands on her hips and whispered in her ear: "You've never had a black man before, have you?"

Alicia pulled away. "Mr. Bishop, this isn't necessary," she said. "Your secrets are safe with me. Please, let me go."

Bishop grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him, pressing his body up against her. His lips kissed her neck and his hands slid under the hem of her robe and stroked her thighs. "Relax," he said.

She felt her heart racing. She pushed her hands firmly against his shoulders. "No!" she cried, but his kisses kept coming, his lips now searching for her mouth. She tossed her head away from him but she couldn't escape. He untied her robe and locked his arms around her. "No, please," she murmured. One of his hands slipped inside her panties. She closed her eyes, feeling the sensation of his touch, her breaths now coming in shallow bursts. She felt her resistance dissolve, overcome by the power of his ardor and the sudden awareness of her own desire. His lips sought her once more and this time she met them, their tongues seeking each other out. Deftly, he unclipped her bra and threw her down onto the bed.

"I promise you one thing Mrs. Florrick," he said, loosening the belt on his pants. "There aint no going back after this."