It was more than fifteen minutes since Farnsworth called the recess, and Seeley knew she would continue the trial without him. It didn't matter. Palmieri could take over and Seeley could walk away from the trial right now. Wasn't this why he had gone into solo practice-to take the cases he wanted, and leave the ones he didn't? Even remembering why he took the case-David against Goliath-failed to move him.
Leonard said, “What happened wasn't my fault.” He had turned back to the pictures on the wall.
“Of course it was. You screwed up and you were weak, so I took the blame for you.”
Leonard continued speaking to the wall. “He was a bastard, but you didn't have to knock him down. Hold his own gun on him.”
What so infuriated Seeley was that Leonard had no idea what a pitiful coward he was. He knew what had happened while he hid in the bedroom only because their mother had told him. But the possibility that he was complicit never occurred to him.
“Go catch your plane.”
Leonard didn't move. Seeley studied the back of his brother's plump neck, and for an instant had the sensation of the damage he could do with a baseball bat.
Leonard turned, his features as contorted by pain as if Seeley had in fact struck him.
Seeley stuffed down his fury. “You had something to tell me. Before, in the courtroom.”
Sensing forgiveness, Leonard brightened, quickly recovering, the way he did as a boy. “Renata arranged a field pass for you. You can pick it up at the will-call gate.”
The Stanford football game. My brother creates misery and this is what he thinks about.
“You won't tell her, Mike? The problem with Steinhardt?”
Seeley said nothing, but walked back to the courtroom. He was grateful to Palmieri for heading off Steinhardt's perjury. But the timing disturbed him. Palmieri had reviewed Steinhardt's notebook entries a week ago, and had seen the scientist's resume long before that. Why had he remained silent about the conflict in dates until Seeley was in the middle of his direct examination, when the disruption would do the most harm? Or was Seeley just passing the blame for not catching the discrepancy himself?
Thorpe's cross-examination of Steinhardt was already under way when Seeley came in. The courtroom felt like a crime scene. Palmieri slid a legal pad across the table. On it was a hastily scribbled outline of Thorpe's questions and Steinhardt's answers so far. Thorpe had for some reason started with Steinhardt's work in his UC lab. But, even if the scientist kept two sets of notebooks there, too, they had no bearing on the discovery of AV/AS, which came much later. Unless Thorpe's plan was to show that duplicity was Steinhardt's standard practice.
Steinhardt's easy condescension of an hour ago was gone. Although he followed Seeley's instructions to pause after each question, to give Seeley time to object, and to face the jury when he answered, the answers faltered. The rigid set of his narrow shoulders was a poor imitation of the earlier self-assured bearing. This was, Steinhardt had to know, just a warm-up. Thorpe could at any moment turn to the discrepancy between the scientist's travel schedule and his notebook.
As he followed Thorpe's questions, Seeley outlined on a legal pad a strategy that, on redirect, might at once deflect Thorpe's exposure of the second set of notebooks and yet keep Steinhardt clear of perjury. Leonard's pleas echoed in his thoughts: Fix this up, Mike. Don't tell Renata. This was as close as he and his brother got to fellowship.
Thorpe shuffled from the lectern to the defense table and whispered something to Dusollier. The Swiss lawyer nodded and lifted a folder from a pile on the table. Thorpe opened the folder, studying the contents at arm's length, as if there was something there that he found offensive.
“Earlier in your testimony, Dr. Steinhardt”-Thorpe spoke from the table and Steinhardt leaned forward to hear-“you referred to AV/AS as a vaccine. Is that correct?”
The court reporter asked Thorpe to repeat the question, and this time Steinhardt answered at once. “Yes, that's correct.”
Barnum leaned across the table and wrote at the bottom of the legal pad: “Where's this going?”
Seeley knew where Thorpe was headed, but didn't understand why.
Steinhardt looked at Seeley again, and this time Seeley nodded. AV/AS was not a true vaccine, but Steinhardt's concession on the point would not help Thorpe's case. He could argue that it weakened Vaxtek's claim of long-felt need for the therapy, but that would make no difference to the jury.
“Does AV/AS in fact work that way, as a vaccine, like the polio vaccine or measles vaccine? Does it use the body's immune system to neutralize a virus?”
Then Seeley saw Thorpe's strategy: he was trying to goad Steinhardt into overstating the scope of his discovery, to put on display for the jury the same arrogant scientist that Seeley was trying to hide. But Thorpe had miscalculated. Steinhardt had already been humiliated once today, by his own lawyer, and he was not going to let St. Gall's lawyer do the same. When he looked at Seeley for guidance, Seeley discreetly shook his head.
“No, it does not,” Steinhardt said. “As effective as AV/AS is in neutralizing infection, it is not a true vaccine, like the polio vaccine, that inoculates against it.”
“So, then, this vaccine ”-Thorpe was waving the folder now-“AV/ AS is not the Holy Grail that everyone's been looking for?”
Steinhardt didn't wait this time, but answered at once. “I'm not a theologian, sir.” The attempt at humor wrenched Steinhardt's face; humor and its expressions were unfamiliar to him and Seeley felt a moment's sadness for the scientist.
Thorpe sighed and leaned back on the table. “I was using the term colloquially, Doctor. Let me rephrase the question. Is AV/AS the AIDS vaccine that has been the object of scientific research since 1984?” If he couldn't portray Steinhardt as arrogant, Thorpe was going to show him as evasive. But why was he pressing so hard?
Steinhardt said, “Science doesn't work that way. With a disease as deadly as AIDS, there is a multiplicity of research goals. AV/AS achieved one of them.”
“But AV/AS does not trigger human immunity to the disease.”
Seeley was on his feet. “Asked and answered.”
Farnsworth looked from Seeley to Thorpe. The questioning puzzled her, too. “The witness may answer.”
“No,” Steinhardt said. “Sadly, it does not.”
Thorpe turned to the jury. “I have no more questions of the witness.”
Seeley caught his breath. Thorpe was not going to ask Steinhardt about the inconsistency between his travel dates and the dated entries in his lab notebook. It was inconceivable to him that Thorpe and his team of lawyers had failed to ask the question that any competent solo practitioner would have asked: Was the inventor in his lab at the time he said he made his discovery? And then Seeley reminded himself that until this morning he, too, had failed to compare Steinhardt's lab dates with his travel schedule.
“Redirect, Mr. Seeley?”
Seeley reckoned quickly. Two or three questions could repair the small damage from Thorpe's questions about the efficacy of AV/AS as a vaccine. But they might also open the door for more questions from Thorpe and-Seeley believed his witness still had it in him-perjury by Steinhardt. However, Steinhardt's new humility reduced the risk of arrogance or perjury from another question.
“Just one question, Judge. Dr. Steinhardt, we have in the course of this trial been referring to AV/AS. Could you tell the jury what those letters stand for?”
“AV, of course refers to AIDS vaccine. That's standard reference.”
“And AS?”
Steinhardt actually managed a shrug, and looked down as he spoke. “Alan Steinhardt.”
The approving nods in the jury box confirmed that Seeley had been right to ask the question.