Marcus watched Charlie rise and begin his jocular probing. His poplin suit had been bought for a much younger man, and tended to flap on Charlie’s aging frame. But the jurors apparently did not mind, for they watched Charlie’s creaking dance with a smile. Marcus wholeheartedly agreed. Charlie Hayes pranced and waved and flittered like a poplin butterfly.
“Is the door locked? All right. Everybody pay attention.” Logan surveyed the group crammed into his office-seven lawyers, two paralegals, two in-house jury consultants, three secretaries. As senior associate, Suzie Rikkers claimed the most comfortable visitor’s chair. The others squeezed into whatever space they could find. Five remained standing. All wore sullen expressions and the bored air of people wasting their time.
“I know what you’re thinking. The trial is a sham, the plaintiff has no case, and you’re all there for padding.” Logan noted the nods around the room. Even the most junior associate felt the senselessness of their presence. And he knew what they all expected next-the partner in charge would now give a pep talk: how this was crucial courtroom experience, how they needed to watch and learn, ask questions, anticipate, get ready for their own big day.
“Well, up to now that’s been exactly right. Dan Fussell, our senior partner, actually stopped me yesterday in the hallway and asked if we couldn’t use a couple more associates in there.” He waited long enough to see the surprise filter through the boredom. Here was something new, a partner actually telling them the truth. “Obviously our client has given the senior partner a blank check. Since I refused to take on anyone else, my guess is he’ll bill you all at partners’ hourly rates. I know I would.”
Logan stood and turned to the window behind his desk. The descending sun shone through a horizon-level slit in the clouds, and painted the world ocher and rose and gold. At least here was space and clarity. Logan continued, “Dan has bought the client’s line. He assumes this is a nuisance claim. He accepts that New Horizons has no formal tie to the Chinese factory. The vanished girl has nothing whatsoever to do with New Horizons. And we’re off for a walk in the park.”
He turned back, and this time all eyes were on him. “As far as Dan is concerned, that’s exactly what we’re thinking too. You don’t discuss this with anyone not in this room, not even your own secretary. You need a letter typed, do it yourself. Don’t open your mouth to anyone around here except the people in this room. We can’t afford the risk of this getting back to the client. New Horizons has announced that they are granting us a bigger slice of the corporate pie, and we don’t want anything to disturb this new relationship. Are we clear so far?”
This time the nods were sharp assents. He had their full attention. “All right. I’ve got a strong gut feeling that the company is leading us right off the cliff.”
The room took a single breath. Suzie asked in her patented whine, “You really think they kidnapped that girl?”
“I think it doesn’t matter. I think they’re hiding something. Something big. Whether it’s about Gloria Hall or Factory 101 or something else entirely doesn’t make any difference. What we can’t afford any longer is to simply go where they direct.”
He clenched the leather backrest of his chair with both fists, and leaned as he would over prize-ring ropes. “We’re going to prepare for the worst. Suzie, get a team together. Assume Marcus is going to hit the jury with past practices. Prepare arguments for the judge.”
“Right. But-”
“No buts.” A quick glance around the room. “From now on, we work on the assumption that our client is not our friend. Clear?” When their assent came, he continued, “Two people start digging through New Horizons’ court records. I want to know every time they have even sneezed within a hundred feet of a courthouse. Volunteers? Fine. You and you.”
All notepads were out now, all pens in use. “Two more start prepping for defense. Okay, you two. Every time Marcus comes up with something, you prepare a counterattack. We meet every day a half hour after court adjourns for strategy sessions. I’ll have sandwiches brought in. Weekends and evening activities are hereby canceled for the duration. Any questions?”
They looked around, the unasked question on everyone’s face. Finally Suzie blurted out, “Do you think New Horizons had Marcus beaten?”
Logan replied with a growl. “Get to work.”
TWENTY-FIVE
On Wednesday Marcus awoke with enough clarity for his arm to ache more than his head. He greeted the nightmare’s lingering dread not as he would a friend, but at least as a sign that things were returning to normal. By the time he had showered and dressed, he could hear sounds rising from downstairs. Marcus entered the kitchen to find Kirsten and Darren cowed and silent at the table, while Fay Wilbur clattered about the stove and grumbled angrily to herself. She rounded on him the instant he appeared. “Well? What you staring at?”
“Good morning, Mrs. Wilbur. Nice to see you again.”
“This ain’t some good-time show. Get on over there and sit yourself down.” She turned back to the skillet and muttered as she would a curse, “You look like a three-egg man to me.”
“All I normally take is toast and coffee.”
“Hmph. Probably why you got yourself messed up. Didn’t have no strength. Anybody with the sense God gave a little blind mole knows you gotta start your day with a full belly.” She whipped plates in front of Kirsten and Darren. Kirsten gawked at her two eggs and bacon and sausage and three biscuits and grits and ham hock, then directed a horror-stricken appeal at Marcus. Fay Wilbur caught the glance out of the corner of her eye and demanded, “What’re you staring at him for? He can’t tell you a thing worth knowing ’cept you gotta eat it all before you rise up.”
Soon as she turned back to the stove, however, quick as a flash Darren picked up Kirsten’s plate and shoveled a goodly portion onto his own. She responded with a sigh of pure gratitude.
Marcus asked Kirsten, “What brings you over so early?”
“Starvation, most likely,” Fay Wilbur rattled the biscuit tray. “Girl’s all skin and bones and eyes. Even her hair looks peaked.”
Kirsten replied, “Netty called this morning. Her son had a bad night. She asked me to handle the office.”
“Hush up, now, you got all day to do your lawyering.” Fay Wilbur slapped a plate down in front of Marcus. “Right now what I’m hearing is folks not using their forks fast enough.”
After breakfast Marcus waddled his way to the front door. Kirsten wore a mildly astonished look. Only Darren was smiling. As he pushed open the door, Darren spoke for the first time that day. “D-don’t see how Deacon stays so th-thin.”
Marcus asked Kirsten, “Have you found anything more in Gloria’s research materials?”
“Maybe.” The enigmatic wariness returned to her features. “I’m not sure.”
Marcus glanced at his watch. There were questions to be asked, but not now. “I need whatever there is.”
“I brought the rest of her stuff with me.” Their gazes no longer met. “I’ll start on it tonight.”
“Can I help?”
“Gloria wouldn’t want a stranger going through her personal things.” The reply sounded practiced. “I can do it faster by myself.”
Marcus carried his suspicions with him to the car and out of town. Just as they hit the highway, with Darren driving, Marcus’ mobile phone rang. “Glenwood.”
“It’s Ashley Granger here, sport, calling from Washington. How’re you doing?”
“Fine.”
“That’s not what I hear. Old Dee tells me somebody got you good.”
Marcus stared at the day ahead. “How did Dee Gautam hear about that?”
“Been asking myself the same question. Only found one answer. Because he thinks what you’re chasing is important enough to watch, and watch closely. How does that grab you?”
Marcus replied truthfully, “I’ve got a load of questions and no answers this morning.”