Marcus did not argue. He merely stood by his table and waited for the judge’s gaze to turn his way. “We had the connection before us the entire time and didn’t see it.”
“You can support such a claim,” Judge Nicols demanded, “without introducing new evidence?”
“That is correct, Your Honor. But it would help if we could recall one witness, the chief executive officer of New Horizons Incorporated.”
As Judge Nicols pondered the request, her visage grew steadily sterner. “You may have ten minutes with the witness and one minute of the video. No more.”
Logan gaped, could only manage, “Your Honor, I object.”
“Your objection is noted.”
“We should not even need that much time, Your Honor,” Marcus replied, relief robbing him of all but the strength of a murmur.
Judge Nicols leaned over her desk to declare, “Listen up, Mr. Glenwood. If I find that this reexamination of evidence does not indeed merit this highly exceptional move, first I will strike the testimony. Then before the jury I will sanction you to the tune of fifty thousand dollars.”
“I understand.”
“You just hold on, I’m not finished yet. I will also hold you in contempt and jail you for thirty days. Subsequently, I will add my name to Mr. Logan’s request for a review of your license to practice law. And if he so chooses to resubmit his request to have this case dismissed, I will rule in his favor. I will deem your case to be a frivolous claim. And I will accept his request that you be held liable for all the legal costs incurred by New Horizons Incorporated.” She leaned over, face hard as a hawk’s. “Now. Are you absolutely, utterly certain you wish to proceed?”
“I am, Your Honor.”
“Very well. Mr. Logan, be seated.” She waved her black-robed arm in excommunication. “Call your witness, Mr. Glenwood.”
“The plaintiff calls Mr. James Southerland.”
The New Horizons CEO approached the witness stand with the stiff dignity of someone unaccustomed to doing anything against his will. James Southerland bore the red beefiness of a very wealthy man who loved to play outdoors. If he hunted, it was with Purdey shotguns, beaters, and chilled champagne. If he skied, it was by chopper. James Southerland seated himself and flashed indignant loathing at Marcus.
The judge leaned over and said to the now-seated witness, “You are still under oath, Mr. Southerland. Proceed, Mr. Glenwood.”
Marcus opened one of the boxes and began draping the legal tomes stacked on his desk with brilliantly colored sportswear. “This is what New Horizons refers to as Teen Gear, is it not, Mr. Southerland?”
“Objection, Your Honor, this is new material.”
“On the contrary, it was all submitted and accepted in front of the magistrate.” Marcus did not even bother to turn around, merely pulled out the final sweatshirt with its world-famous shooting star and rainbow arch, and anchored it into place with a pair of sneakers. He was still smoothing out creases in the sweatshirt when the judge overruled Logan. “Do I need to repeat the question, Mr. Southerland?”
“The answer is yes, everything you have there is New Horizons’ Teen Gear.”
“Fine. And all this gear comes from one source, is that not true?”
“Objection, Your Honor, this is getting us nowhere.”
She wheeled on him then. “My patience has about run dry, Mr. Kendall.”
“But Your Honor-”
“I have done everything but put a noose around Mr. Glenwood’s neck. If he decides to hang himself, you will be the first to know. Now let us get on with this trial!”
Marcus repeated, “The gear comes from where, Mr. Southerland?”
“Factory 101, China.” The chairman wore a checked cashmere jacket, a hundred-dollar hair styling, and a St. Moritz tan. “As I have already explained, the distribution-center chief made a perfectly natural mistake when he did not realize where the goods originated. It is not our intention to-”
The judge broke in with, “Just answer the question, Mr. Southerland.”
“Factory 101,” Marcus repeated. He hefted the sweatshirt. The light caught the silver threads in the rainbow slash. “This sweatshirt came from there as well, did it not?”
“I just said that.”
“Yes, of course you did. And your product lines are all divided by factory, is that not correct?”
The eyes squinted, searching for the purpose behind the question. “I don’t follow you.”
“There is no overlap at all between factories, is there? What is produced by one factory is produced by no other.”
“That is standard company policy. Almost all textile companies-”
“Yes or no, Mr. Southerland.”
“Yes.”
Marcus gave Kirsten a quick nod. She was instantly on her feet and unwrapping the first group of posters. Along the railing she propped up a series of New Horizons Teen Gear advertisements.
Marcus picked up one of the shoes and approached the witness stand. “These shoes come from your joint venture with Factory 101, do they not?”
“I am not in the habit of being forced to repeat myself!”
Marcus remained unruffled. “Please answer the question, Mr. Southerland.”
“I just said so!”
“That is an affirmative answer?”
His face grew red with the effort of restraint. “All right. Yes!”
“Everything about them, right down to the design on the soles of the shoes, is copyrighted by your company, is it not?”
“Yes.”
“As a matter of fact, each component of your Teen Gear line is specially designed so that it is exclusive to your company, is that not right?”
“Yes.”
“So, for example, you have these distinctive star-and-rainbow designs stitched into the side of the shoe, branded into the rubber stripe around the base, etched into the sole, even woven in special silver thread into the laces. Is that not all correct?”
“You can see it for yourself.”
“Answer the question, Mr. Southerland.”
He turned his exasperation on the judge. “Your Honor, this is a complete and utter waste of my time.”
“If so, Mr. Glenwood is about to pay with his freedom and his career,” she responded dryly. “In the meantime, you are hereby ordered to answer counsel’s question.”
Southerland crossed his arms, clenched his jaw, said, “Yes.”
“And all of these components are produced at the Chinese factory and nowhere else?”
Logan jumped to his feet. “Your Honor, please. This has already been stipulated. The lawyer is badgering the witness.”
Marcus turned and stared at the judge. Just looked at her. It was enough. Judge Nicols responded, “The information is so stipulated and recorded, Mr. Glenwood. The items originate solely from Factory 101.”
“Thank you for the clarification, Your Honor. I now wish to show a brief segment of the digitized video, and present as evidence a still photograph taken from this twenty-second portion of the tape.”
“Once again I must protest, Your Honor,” Logan continued. “This is being done purely for its inflammatory nature.”
“Then Mr. Glenwood will shortly be halted in his tracks.” Judge Nicols nodded. “Proceed.”
Austin Hall and Charlie Hayes rose at his signal, and left the room. Together with the bailiff they wrestled the television stand back into the courtroom and slid the digitized tape into the VCR. Gloria Hall’s image sprang into cruel focus on all four screens. Austin remained crouched over the machine, seemingly untouched by the voice and the image. Only Charlie turned and looked at the New Horizons CEO. And gave him a death’s-head grin.
“Send money,” Gloria dully intoned, and at Marcus’ signal Austin hit the switch, freezing the image.
Marcus accepted the final poster from Kirsten’s hands, keeping it turned so that the picture remained facedown as Alma unfolded the easel.