They each knew despair in that moment, a despair that seemed more real to them than anything they had felt during the course of the trial. In near panic, they wondered what they had left unsaid, what they had forgotten to declare, how they could prove to this impartial judge that there was merit to their work, that they were honest men who had honestly delivered, that they could not be summarily dismissed, nor obliterated by decree.
And then despair led inexorably to reason, and they recognized with sudden clarity that the judge's decision would really change nothing. The truth was there in the record to be appreciated or ignored, but it was there nonetheless, and no one's opinion could ever change it. If there was any satisfaction for them that day, it came with the relief this knowledge brought, a relief that was terribly short-lived because it was followed by the cold understanding that even the trial itself had changed nothing. Whatever paper dragons they had fought in this courtroom, the real dragons still waited for them in the street outside, snarling and clawing and spitting fire, fangs sharpened, breath foul, dragons who would devour if they were not ultimately slain.
The two men sat in silence.
Around them, there was not even a semblance of ceremony or ritual consistent with what had gone before. The attorneys were whispering and laughing among themselves, packing their briefcases, the paid mercenaries taking off their armor and putting away their weapons, and hoping to go home to a hot bowl of soup before hiring on again to fight yet another man's battle on yet another day. Genitori shook hands with Willow, and then Kahn shook hands with Willow, and Sheppard shook hands with both attorneys for API, and then Brackman and his partner walked over to where the defense lawyers stood in a shallow circle and offered his hand first to Willow and then to Genitori, and then introduced all the men to his partner, who beamed in the presence of someone as important as Willow, and then each of the men congratulated each other on how well and nobly the case had been fought, and Brackman said something to Willow off the record, and Willow laughed, and then Genitori told Brackman how wise he was not to have made a second summation, and Brackman in turn complimented Genitori on how expertly he had handled a conceited ass like Ralph Knowles, and they all agreed Knowles had been a very poor witness indeed.
Arthur and Driscoll, apart, watched and said nothing.
Briefcases packed, amenities exchanged, the lawyers again shook hands to show there were no hard feelings between any of them, to assure themselves once again that whatever vile accusations had been hurled in calculated anger within these four walls, they could still express an appreciation of courage and skill, they could still part in the hope that one day they might meet again as battle veterans to reminisce about that terrible week in December when they were fighting a ferocious plagiarism case. And then, because their clients were waiting for the reassuring words that would tide them over through the weeks or perhaps months before the decision came, they moved away from each other cordially and filed out of the courtroom, forming again into two tight, separate groups in the corridor outside, where they talked in low whispers.
They talked only about the trial.
It was easiest to talk about the trial because, for the most part, it had been orderly and serene, moving within the confines of a described pattern toward a conclusion, however delayed. They talked about the trial, and seemed reluctant to leave the corridor, letting several elevators pass them by while they continued to chat, unwilling to make the decisive move that would take them into the next car and then to the street below. Jonah told Genitori and Sheppard that he was positive they had won, positive, and his eyes were glowing even when he sincerely apologized to Driscoll for ever having thought he was guilty. Is that all you have to apologize for? Driscoll asked, and for a moment the corridor went silent, for a moment a pall was cast upon the abounding good fellowship, but only for a moment, only until Jonah grinned and clapped Driscoll on the shoulder and said, Come on, Jimmy, it's all over now, we can all relax. Sheppard grinned too, and chastised himself for having been so stupid, he should have known all along that Mrs. Driscoll was the girl in the book. He saw the pained expression that crossed Driscoll's face, and fell silent. Genitori swiftly said he too was confident they had won, and then speculated aloud on how much the judge would award them for counsel fees.
Near one of the other elevators, Sidney told Arthur that Mrs. Driscoll's testimony had sounded very phony to him, and probably would not affect the trial in the slightest, the case was still airtight, he was certain the judge would decide in their favor. Arthur nodded, seemingly preoccupied, and when Sidney's partner commented on the fact that he didn't seem terribly elated, Arthur said, Well, I've got my new play to think about, you know. Sidney's partner nodded and said, Of course, of course, and then suddenly remembered he had not called his wife to tell her how the trial had ended. He asked Sidney if he had a dime and while Sidney was fishing in his pocket for one, he said, Isn't there someone you have to call, Sidney? Sidney was silent until he located the coin. Then he handed it to his partner and, with a secret smile, said, Why, no, Carl, there's no one I have to call.
And then all the talking was done, there seemed to be nothing more to say to each other. The afterglow of the trial could no longer warm them, no longer generate a sustaining energy among people who were essentially strangers to each other. They shook hands again, and — still reluctant to get into the elevator that would take them down to the street — broke into smaller groups, lingering in the hallway, Genitori saying he wanted to talk to the clerk before he left, clerks were always infallible indicators of how a trial had gone, and Jonah saying he wanted to go to the men's room, and Sidney telling Arthur to run along, he knew how busy Arthur must be, he would wait for Carl to finish his call. The groups dispersed soundlessly, Driscoll and his wife avoiding Arthur, who took a separate elevator down.
The corridor was empty.
When Genitori came out of the courtroom he told Kahn that the clerk thought McIntyre would find in their favor. Kahn seemed extremely pleased. He confided to Genitori that he had known the plaintiff's case was groundless all along, but that he never ceased to marvel at how the American system worked, a man being able to have his day in court, and to settle his problems there.
God bless America, Genitori said.
16
He spent the afternoon alone.
He was in excellent spirits, walking along Fifth Avenue for a while, his coat open, his muffler loose around his throat, simply walking, and watching everyone, and enjoying himself. Then he sat on one of the benches in Rockefeller Plaza, still watching the people who went by, comparing all the pretty girls to Chickie and deciding, as he had a hundred times before, that he was the luckiest man in the world. He watched the skaters for ten minutes or so, and then crossed over to Saks to listen to the Salvation Army band outside the store, all the while feeling a sense of impending joy, as though his present good mood were only the prelude to something inconceivably better.