Time passed and at ten Nicholas went to the door and jolted Lou Dell from her paperback. She had no idea when the Judge might send for them, and there was simply nothing she could do.
Nicholas took a seat at the table and began discussing strategy with Herman. It was not fair to keep them locked up during delays such as this, and Nicholas was of the opinion that they should be allowed to leave the building, with escorts, and engage in morning walks, as opposed to those of the noontime variety. It was agreed that Nicholas should put this request in writing, as usual, and present it to Judge Harkin during the noon recess.
AT TEN-THIRTY, they finally walked into the courtroom, the air still heavy with the heat of battle, and the first person Nicholas saw was the man who'd broken into his apartment. He was out there on the third row, plaintiff's side, in a shirt and tie with a newspaper spread before him and resting on the back of the pew in front. He was alone, and he barely looked at the jurors as they took their seats. Nicholas didn't stare; two long glances and the identification was complete.
For all of his guile and cunning, Fitch could do some stupid things. And sending this goon into the courtroom was a risky move with little potential benefit. What was he supposed to see or hear that would not be seen or heard by one of the dozen lawyers, or half-dozen jury consultants, or handful of other flunkies Fitch kept in the courtroom? Though he was surprised to see the man, Nicholas had already thought about what to do. He had several plans, depending upon where the man surfaced. The courtroom was a surprise, but it took only a minute to sort through things. It was imperative for Judge Harkin to know that one of the thugs he'd been so overly concerned about was now sitting in the courtroom pretending to be just another casual observer. Harkin needed to see the face, because later he would see it on video.
The first witness was Dr. Bronsky, now in his third day but his first on cross-examination by the defense. Sir Durr started slowly, politely, as if in awe of this great expert, and asked a few questions that most of the jurors could have answered. Things changed rapidly. Whereas Cable had been deferential to Dr. Milton Fricke, he was ready to battle Bronsky.
He started with the over four thousand compounds identified in tobacco smoke, picked one seemingly at random, and asked what effect benzol(a)pyrene would have on the lungs. Bronsky said he didn't know, and tried to explain that the damage inflicted by a single compound was impossible to measure. What about the bronchial tubes and the membranes and the cilia? What did benzol(a)pyrene do to them? Bronsky again tried to explain that research could not determine the effect of a single compound in tobacco smoke.
Cable hammered away. He picked another compound and forced Bronsky to admit that he couldn't tell the jury what it would do to lungs or bronchial tubes or membranes. Not specifically, anyway.
Rohr objected, but His Honor overruled on the grounds that it was a cross-examination. Virtually anything relevant or even semirelevant could be thrown at the witness.
Doyle stayed in place, out there on the third row, looking bored and waiting for a chance to leave. His assigned duty was to look for the girl, something he'd been doing for four days now. He'd loitered in the hallway below for hours. He'd spent one full afternoon sitting on a Dr Pepper crate near the vending machines, chatting with a janitor while watching the front door. He'd consumed gallons of coffee in the small cafes and delis nearby. He and Pang and two others had been hard at work, wasting their time but satisfying their boss.
After four days of sitting in one place for six hours a day, Nicholas had a sense of Fitch's routine. His people, whether the jury consultants or run-of-the-mill operatives, moved around. They used the entire courtroom. They sat in groups and they sat alone. They came and went silently when there were short breaks in the action. They rarely spoke to one another. They would pay strict attention to the witnesses and the jurors, and the next minute they would work crosswords and stare at the windows.
He knew the man would be gone before long.
He scribbled a note, folded it, and convinced Loreen Duke to hold it without reading it. He then convinced her to lean forward, during a pause in the cross-examination when Cable was consulting his notes, and hand it to Willis the deputy, who was standing against the wall guarding the flag. Willis, suddenly awakened, paused a second to collect himself, then realized he was supposed to hand the note to the Judge.
Doyle saw Loreen hand the note over, but he didn't see it originate from Nicholas.
Judge Harkin gathered the note while barely acknowledging it, and slid it across the bench close to his robe as Cable fired another question. Harkin slowly unfolded it. It was from Nicholas Easter, number two, and it said:
Judge:
That man out there, left side, third row from front, on the aisle, white shirt, blue and green tie, was following me yesterday. It was the second time I've seen him. Can we find out who he is?
Nicholas Easter
His Honor looked at Durr Cable before he looked at the spectators. The man was sitting alone, staring back at the bench as if he knew someone was watching.
This was a new challenge for Frederick Harkin. In fact, at the moment he couldn't recall an incident even remotely similar. His options were limited, and the more he pondered the situation the fewer choices he had. He, too, knew both sides had plenty of consultants and associates and operatives lurking either in the courtroom or very nearby. He watched his courtroom closely, and he noticed a lot of quiet movement by people who had experience in such trials and didn't want to be noticed. He knew the man was likely to disappear in an instant.
If Harkin suddenly called a short recess, the man would probably vanish.
This was a terribly exciting moment for the Judge. After all the tales and rumors and lore from other trials, and after all the seemingly empty admonitions to the jury, there in the courtroom at this very moment was one of the mystery agents, a sleuth hired by one side or the other to monitor his jurors.
Courtroom deputies, as a general rule, are uniformed and armed and normally quite harmless. The younger men are kept on the streets to battle the elements, and trial duty tends to attract the seniors bearing down hard on retirement. Judge Harkin glanced about and his options shrank again.
There was Willis, leaning against the wall near the flag, and it appeared he had already lapsed into his usual state of semi-slumber with his mouth open partially at the right corner and saliva dripping. Down the aisle, directly in front of Harkin but at least a hundred feet away, Jip and Rasco guarded the main door. Jip, at the moment, was sitting on the back bench, near the door, with his reading glasses perched on the end of his beefy nose, scanning the local paper. He'd had hip surgery two months earlier, found it difficult to stand for long periods, and had received permission to sit during the proceedings. Rasco was in his late fifties, the youngest of the crew, and was not known for his quick movements. A younger deputy was usually assigned to the main door, but at the moment he was on the atrium side manning the metal detector.