T. Bunn - The Great Divide

Marcus held to the quiet tone, one that sounded almost gentle to his own ears. Like the voice of the doctor who had come to him that day in the hospital. A voice too full of emotion to hold much force. “We entered an intersection, I could have sworn we had the green light but I don’t know, the other driver said it was red and my wife and I were still arguing … ” He searched for air that did not fill his lungs and never would again. “All I saw was a flash of light off to my right, didn’t hear the horn or the brakes, though the police report says there was a skid mark seventeen feet long. Just that flash of light off the truck’s grill, then he hit us. Just behind my wife’s door. Drove in the back right door and …”

He couldn’t remember why he had started on this story. Only that he had to finish. “I don’t recall much about what happened next. In my memory it was as though one instant there came this flash of light, the next and I was on a bench in the hospital, a nurse was bandaging my forehead, and a doctor was leaning over to say something.”

He remembered then why he had come. Why this was so important. His head popped above the surface of his ocean of pain, and he focused on the man opposite him. “I didn’t want that doctor to speak. If I had owned a gun, I would have killed him stone dead not to hear what I saw there in his eyes.”

Marcus stopped then, and waited until the silence lifted the other man’s head. Austin Hall threw him one quick glance. A world of terror in one swift look. Marcus continued, “So I’m here to tell you that all you have to do is say the word and I’ll walk away. No, even more than that: Unless you ask me to continue, I’m going to drop this case. And I seriously doubt that anyone else will ever touch it.”

The dark fingers twirled the chain, a glittering spiral across his middle. “It won’t do any good. Alma-”

“I won’t say a word to your wife about our conversation. This is between you and me.” Another breath, the hardest of all. “Father to father.”

The gaze that met his own was hollowed by nights of whispering shadows. “I couldn’t bear it if my Gloria … ”

“I know,” Marcus murmured, “all too well.”

Laughter and loud student voices echoed from somewhere down the hall, drawing them back from the brink. Austin Hall asked, “Do you really think making a case of this might do any good?”

“It might. I hate to say more than that. But it might. New Horizons lives in the spotlight. If we could even threaten them with publicly staining their reputation, maybe they’d respond.” Marcus unclenched his hands and offered them, empty. “But it’s a long shot at best.”

When Austin Hall’s only response was to turn and stare out the window behind his desk, Marcus rose and left the room.

Logan Kendall’s secretary knocked on his open door. “Mr. Walker is here to see you, sir.”

“Show him in.” Logan waited to rise until the older man was through the door. “Randall, good to see you. You take coffee?”

“Black, two sugars.”

“Have a seat here, why don’t you.” Logan noted the man’s flash of irritation at being directed to the chair in front of the desk, and not the sofa in the corner. Good. Cracking that polished veneer was an excellent first step. Logan walked back around his desk and dropped into his chair. “What can I do for you?”

Randall Walker had the easy smile of old Southern money, and eyes of congealed mud. “What say we wait for the young lady to bring my coffee?”

“If you want.” Logan made a scene of checking his watch, his desk clock, his diary. “I need to be leaving fairly soon, though. Got a big case coming up.”

Randall held to his smile, though his gaze hardened. “Only if you’re lucky.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m here to offer you … ” He stopped as the secretary returned, with a mug this time, as per Logan’s earlier instructions. No china service, no boardroom conference, no stage for Randall to control. This was Logan’s office and strictly his show.

Randall inspected the mug, then lifted it in a wry accolade. “You learn fast.”

“You started to say something?”

“Indeed I did.” A sip, a nod of approval. “I stopped in today to offer you a dream come true.”

Logan chose to misinterpret the remark. “Sorry. I’m not in the market for a move. I’m very happy where I am.”

“That’s good. Real good. Because I didn’t make this journey to offer you a position. No. I want to offer you a case.”

Logan used the padded armrests to push himself erect. “You’re going after Marcus.”

“On the contrary. Marcus Glenwood has elected to go after us. Or, rather, after a dear and valued client, for whom I happen to serve as outside counsel.”

“Which one?”

Randall used his mug as a stage prop, holding the moment with a veteran’s poise. He sipped, sighed, sipped again, and finally said, “New Horizons.”

Despite himself, Logan was rocked. “Marcus is suing New Horizons Incorporated?”

“He has not yet filed, but it is looking increasingly likely that he will indeed be bringing suit in federal court.”

“Who is he tying in with?”

“Apparently the gentleman has decided to go it alone.”

Logan had to laugh. “You can’t be serious. Nobody in their right mind would try to handle a federal case by themselves. Much less take on a billion-dollar corporation. Who does he think he is, the Lone Ranger?”

“A question I would very much like to ask him myself.”

“Marcus is going to get himself squashed like a bug.” The prospect brought a great deal of satisfaction.

Randall nodded once. “I sincerely hope so.”

Logan hesitated. To gain New Horizons as a client would be a major coup. His status would skyrocket. But still the question had to be asked. “Why me?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Kedrick and Walker has a hundred lawyers who’d kill for the chance to represent New Horizons in court. Why come to me?”

Randall fiddled with the knot of his tie. The triangular design was woven with what appeared to be genuine silver threads, for they reflected the light like dozens of tiny mirrors. “I have done some checking up on you. The word in our tight-knit little community tends to confirm what your colleague Ms. Rikkers implied. You were a better trial attorney, Marcus the better rainmaker.”

“So?”

“Yet it was Marcus who received the partnership, not you. That hardly seems fair, now, does it?” Randall leaned forward. “I do not seek just any attorney for this case. I want a lawyer with a grudge.”

Logan waited, scarcely breathing.

“I want someone who despises Marcus Glenwood. Someone willing to tear him limb from limb.”

The tightness in his throat barely left room for a single word. “Delighted.”

“I do not mean for you just to win this case,” Randall said. “I want Marcus Glenwood to be so humiliated that his name is forever erased from legal memory.”

A light flashed, and with it came a slight easing of the constriction. Logan hungered after this chance, but he also wanted to enter with eyes wide open. “It’s not Marcus at all. You want to make sure nobody else takes this case up again later.”

The words pushed Randall back in his seat. “Marcus Glenwood has no case. It is a nuisance claim. We want it stifled.”

“But I’m right, aren’t I?”

Randall’s gaze had the texture of dirt from a very old grave. “Whatever my reasons, if you take this case it is with the express purpose of leaving a heap of ashes for the wind to blow away.”

Logan permitted his grin to show through. “Then I am definitely your man.”