T. Bunn - The Great Divide

Out back the air seemed springtime fresh. Trestle tables stretched out in long lines, with plastic barrels of beans and slaw and potato salad and iced drinks marching down the center aisle. While the others loaded their plates and claimed a table, Marcus went over to where two women operated a fryer and returned with a basket of hush puppies. Deacon led them in prayer, then they dug in.

Their table garnered more than its share of glances. There were many groups made up of blacks and whites and Native Americans, but none where one of the black men wore a suit and vest and gold fob. Attention soon turned elsewhere and they were left alone to feel as welcome as they cared. For a moment on this balmy autumn day, in a restaurant walled by ripened tobacco and ceilinged in endless blue, the farmers sat united in tired satisfaction. Another growing season was ended. The auctioneers and tobacco buyers were in town to bid and pay. In the warehouses and back rooms, where experts rolled gold-leaf panatelas and sampled the crop’s flavor, word was spread of where this year’s pig picking would be held. If any health inspector happened to be among the crowd, he showed the good sense to feast in silence.

Marcus waited until the others had finished to say to Austin Hall, “I asked Charlie along because I’m hoping he will help me with this trial. He already is in an unofficial capacity. Do you mind if we talk a little business?”

“I have no secrets from Deacon,” Austin replied.

“It’s a measure of the man who’s talking,” Deacon offered, “that he actually means what he says.”

“We need to make a decision here. I’m sorry Alma couldn’t join us, but this can’t wait.”

“She couldn’t get out of the faculty meeting. She told me to make the decision for us both.”

Deacon gave the man a gentle smile. “Then miracles do indeed abide in this land.”

Austin replied with a look of woeful openness. “We can’t thank you enough.”

“Ain’t no need to say anything.”

“Yes there is. Alma and I, we were so moved, you can’t imagine.” Austin turned his gaze toward Marcus and explained, “The church is helping us put together the ransom.”

“Just being there for a friend in need, is all.” Deacon took a breath. “Since we’re talking about this, there’s one more thing that needs saying. A lot of the money came from Kirsten Stanstead.”

Austin’s control threatened to crumple. “What?”

“She figured if she went to you direct, you’d say no. But the only reason she didn’t give the whole amount was because I wouldn’t let her. There’s others at the church who wanted to help. And Fay said to tell you we got people praying ’round the clock, gonna keep at it till your girl’s been brought home.”

Austin’s struggle for control needed outside help. Marcus used his most clinical tone to demand, “So you’ve decided to go ahead and pay the ransom?”

“I don’t see what choice we have.” Austin managed a ragged breath. “The police and the FBI are against it, but what have they done for us? They’ve spoken with the embassy. The embassy has written a letter to the Chinese authorities.”

“More than that,” Marcus countered.

“Not enough!” A few heads turned their way. Austin lowered his voice. “Not enough. They haven’t got a thing to report. All we hear is how they don’t understand what Gloria was doing in China. Over and over the same words.”

“That’s natural enough.” Charlie Hayes spoke up for the first time. “They’re government employees. Government employees learn early on the most important part of their job is making sure blame gets stuck to somebody else’s hide.”

Marcus said, “As your attorney, I cannot officially advise you on the payment of ransom. Unofficially, I would urge you to inform the police the moment the transfer of funds is made.”

“Gloria said no police.”

Charlie said, “It’s good advice, Dr. Hall. I’d take it if I were you.”

Because Austin’s gaze remained on the old man, Marcus said, “Charlie and I have worked together on more cases than I care to count. He’s been a friend since I started practicing, and my best source of advice since he retired from the federal bench. He’s still a member of the bar and knows federal court procedure from the inside out.”

“Then I suppose,” the professor said, “you’d best call me Austin.”

“It’d be a pleasure, sir.”

“We also need to discuss timing,” Marcus went on. A soft breeze touched the surrounding plants, most of them well over seven feet tall and cropped of all but the highest leaves. These whispered and clattered amidst an orchestra of birdsong and buzzing insects and quiet conversation. The other tables granted them privacy in the manner of country-born. “I’ve received a call from the judge’s aide. The defense has requested a meeting for tomorrow, and another for the day after.”

“So?”

“My guess is they’re going to ask for an immediate trial, giving us almost no time to collect depositions and evidence.”

Charlie broke in. “Normally this works in the defense’s favor, since it keeps the plaintiff from preparing fully. Or fishing for new leads.”

“But we don’t have much of a case,” Marcus went on. “And to be honest, I don’t think more time will help us. We want to make some noise. Nothing more.”

Austin rolled that around in his analytical mind, and came up with “The payment.”

“Exactly. If you are going ahead with the transfer of these funds, do you want to give it more time? I have no idea whether time pressure will work in our favor or against us.”

“Do it.” Austin did not hesitate an instant. “Do it now. No waiting. We do everything possible, soon as possible.” His face was as stern as Marcus had ever seen. “Hit them just as hard as you can.”

“Most lawyers don’t have the guts to tell their clients the good, the bad, and the ugly.” Logan’s opening remarks were not standard fare for either of his guests, and it showed on their faces. He didn’t care. He was less than twenty-four hours from his next in-chambers meeting with Judge Nicols, and the case was already a bad taste in his mouth. “That’s not my problem. Randall, you took me on with the express purpose of burying this guy Glenwood. Fine. You tell me there is no connection between New Horizons and the Chinese factory. So I go in armed for bear. What happens? Marcus gets up in front of the magistrate and proves there is a connection. And now you’re in here to tell me the connection is tenuous at best. I’m not sure I should believe that, Randall.”

Randall Walker sat there and took it because he had to. He was the one who had requested this meeting, and for some reason had brought Logan’s senior partner in for backup. Two cronies of the old power structure, polished and easy, their meanness hidden down deep. But Logan knew it was there. He had seen them both in action. The only way to handle these guys was by holding hard to the offensive.

Logan was ready when Randall started in with “I need you-”

“Wait, Randall. Just wait, okay? This meeting is not about what you need. I’m the one going head-to-head in front of Judge Nicols tomorrow. Big meeting. And I’ve still got a lot of questions that need answering. Such as, where did Glenwood get that information he showed the magistrate?”

“I don’t know. I wish I did.”

“Could it have come from your office?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re not setting me up as a patsy, are you, Randall?”

He reddened, but held to the even tone. “I want you to win this case.”

“All right. So play ball with me.”

“I’ve brought the chief North Carolina accountant and the two vice presidents of the Rocky Mount distribution facility.”