T. Bunn - The Great Divide

“I’d like you to testify. I’m going to try to build a case on past practice.” This meant attempting to bolster his case by showing how the company’s previous actions formed a consistent pattern. “It’s a long shot, but the best I have.”

“No problem.” The eyes glimmered with a trace of old life. “Love to tell my tale to another jury.”

“I imagine the defense will bring up …” Marcus hesitated, then trod delicately. “All the unsavory details about you that they can.”

“Hey, it’s not like I’ve got a lot left to lose.” He brought his chair forward and leaned over his desk. “Speaking of which, you better be ready. They’ll do their dead-level best to roast you over a hot fire.”

Marcus rose to his feet. “I don’t have much left to lose either.”

Marshall Taub grinned for the first time. “Sounds like you might be the right man for the job.”

Ashley Granger, the attorney referred by Kirsten Stanstead, occupied a small suite of offices on M Street, just down from the Washington Marriott-distinctly downtown but very much a medium-priced spread. A series of Chinese prints hung on the walls, a hand-woven Oriental carpet marked the waiting area, a vase and two lacquered bowls rested on an end table. Marcus gave his name to the secretary-receptionist, scouted the cramped outer office, and took Granger’s independence as a good sign. Here was someone who had carved out a niche and succeeded well enough to remain his own man, but not so well as to move into the lofty suites occupied by lobbyists and allies of the mega-corporations. In another life, it was the kind of station he would have liked for himself.

“Mr. Glenwood? Ashley Granger. Why don’t we step inside.” Ashley Granger was tall and had probably once been slender. But the desk and city living had padded his frame. His wavy hair was thinning but still more coppery than gray, and his face held to the freckled imprint of the little boy. His gray eyes were level and his manner direct. Even before he had settled in behind his desk, he demanded, “What can I do for you?”

“I’m bringing a civil case against a North Carolina company and an affiliated factory in mainland China, not far from Hong Kong.”

“Is this factory located in a Special Territory?”

Marcus tried to be just as direct. “I have no idea what that is.”

“Special Territories are Chinese versions of free-trade zones. Special laws, special dispensations. A lot of foreign joint ventures choose to locate there because the flow of capital is less restricted.” Ashley Granger’s speech held a slight Southern edge. His attitude was both comfortable and briskly big-city. “Even have different court systems for handling disputes.”

“I don’t know for certain, but I doubt this factory is located in a Special Territory.” Marcus scanned the office walls until his eye was caught by the twin framed diplomas. “You attended Wake Forest.”

“Undergraduate and graduate both. They gave me a free ride and I wasn’t about to argue with that.”

“Don’t blame you. I chose Duke and Penn for the exact same reason.” Marcus inspected the man, wished he knew whom to trust. And how far. “How did a Wake Forest grad wind up practicing the Chinese branch of international corporate law?”

“My parents were missionaries over there. Taiwan first, then Hong Kong, then the Chinese population in Singapore and Malaysia.” Words spoken so often they did not occupy much of his mind. His gaze remained alert, measuring. “Mind if I ask how you got my name?”

“A young lady based here and working with a D.C. charity suggested you. How she found you, I don’t know.”

“I do some pro bono work for some of the local groups. Maybe there’s a connection.”

“Asia Rights Watch?”

“Some.”

“Do you know a Mr. Dee Gautam?”

Granger held Marcus’ card up for a more careful inspection. “For a local Rocky Mount attorney, you get around, Mr. Glenwood.”

Marcus had to ask, “Did you ever meet a woman by the name of Gloria Hall?”

He noted a flicker of something down deep, there and gone in an instant. Despite his boyish looks, Ashley Granger played his cards close and well. “Might have. I meet a lot of people in this game.”

“I heard more or less the same response from Dee Gautam.”

“Probably because it’s true. There’s a big gray area in pro bono work, Mr. Glenwood. Sometimes it’s hard to tell exactly what falls under attorney-client privilege.” A longer inspection. “You do much pro bono work yourself, Mr. Glenwood?”

“Some.” Clearly the man wanted more, so he continued. “Until eighteen months ago, I headed a Raleigh group trying to reinstate the policy in all the major firms.”

“Now that’s interesting.” Granger reached for his yellow pad, pulled a pen from his shirt pocket. “Got someone down there who could confirm this?”

Marcus started to ask why it was important, decided to let the man lead on. “Charlie Hayes is a retired federal appellate judge. Gladys Nicols was a former local judge, she’s now been raised to the federal district bench. We three headed up the program.”

Granger nodded twice, as though agreeing with some internal voice, then launched straight ahead. “Business in China, Mr. Glenwood, has nothing near the same transparency as you find under U.S. law. The Chinese do not have as well-developed a legal system or commercial system. You have to look at business relations in China with a certain degree of skepticism. In the United States you have rule of law, you have regulatory bodies, you have precedent, you have an existing legal structure. China is the Wild West by comparison. They don’t have a standardized process under which their rapid commercialization is taking place. The result is a haphazard body of law and regulation, one based more on the preference of people in power than on the rights of average citizens. The little people are squeezed hard, but they have no voice, no legal recourse, no democratic means of affecting policy. The people in power just cruise along. This is particularly true of companies not directly in the spotlight. Smaller companies, including many international joint ventures, operate in a netherworld, beyond the pale of what we would consider normal constraints of law and regulation. These legal vacuums are being sought out and exploited by the wrong kind of U.S. company.”

Marcus heard him out, understanding little beyond a single fact. “I think I need to trust you fully.”

Granger smiled thinly. “Big mistake.”

“I have a more serious problem than what I just said. Do you know New Horizons Incorporated?”

“The name, sure.”

“Have you ever represented them?”

“Not a chance. Look around you, Mr. Glenwood.”

“Call me Marcus.”

“I work with the small-fry. Companies like New Horizons go for the higher-priced spread. There’s a group called the China Trade Council, they exist to service the needs of companies that size. The council charges a quarter mil a year to join the elite, but its members have access to the top guys on both sides of the ocean. People like New Horizons press their case at levels I can’t reach. We don’t operate in the same spheres.”

“Gloria Hall was apparently kidnapped while researching labor abuses at a Chinese factory. One allegedly operated jointly by New Horizons, called Factory 101, located in something called the Guangzhou Industrial Compound.” Marcus waited for a response, and when none came, said, “If this was a United States-based situation, I would press for criminal proceedings.”

“It’s not the United States,” Granger replied flatly. “You contact the boys over at State?”