T. Bunn - The Great Divide

“You mean why do I live in what has become a black neighborhood?” When the little man simply rocked back and forth, using the chair and his entire body to nod, Marcus went on, “Some people resent my living here. Especially the young men who don’t have work. You see them gathered on some of the porches. They watch cars with white drivers, and give me this look like, well, like I don’t belong and never will.”

The nightly chorus rose so gradually it was only when he paused to sort through jumbled thoughts that he heard it at all. “But there are a few people who have made me feel more than welcome. Deacon Wilbur, my secretary, a few others. They … understand.”

“They accept your pain and your loss.”

Marcus found himself unwilling to meet the man’s gaze. “You’ve been checking up on me.”

“That is what makes a home, I feel. Finding a place and a people who accept you as you are.” The rocker drummed quietly for a moment. “This Deacon Wilbur, I have heard the name before. He is Gloria’s pastor, yes?”

“You told me you didn’t know Gloria Hall.”

“No, Mr. Glenwood, I said I meet many people. Which I do.” Dark eyes glittered yellow and alien in the porch light. “Look at it from my side, please. A stranger comes in and asks many questions. Many sensitive questions. Questions that, if answered to the wrong person, could hurt others who are helpless. You understand me?”

Marcus leaned forward. “Is there a direct tie-in between Factory 101 and New Horizons?”

“Rumors, Mr. Glenwood. Nothing more than rumors.” A pause filled by the cry of an owl. “Almost nothing. Gloria once told me she knew how to obtain proof. But if she indeed found this, I do not know.”

“Was she kidnapped?”

“This also I have tried to discover. Tried and failed. There is no information coming from Factory 101. None.”

“Who is in charge?”

Dee Gautam stopped rocking. “Ah. Yes. The most dangerous question of all.”

“Dangerous how?”

“People are trying very hard to keep this answer a mystery. I smell danger for those who search.” The smile was gone entirely. “I have a very good nose for danger, Mr. Glenwood.”

“Ashley Granger is trying to identify the owner.”

“Indeed I am speaking to Mr. Granger. He is a good man and must also take heed.” Dee Gautam rose to his feet. “You are a good man as well, Mr. Glenwood. I am here to be telling you to take great care.”

Marcus rose and followed the little man back across the veranda. “I’ve already met the New Horizons goons.”

As he descended the stairs, the light caught the top of Dee Gautam’s head, shining through his few remaining tendrils of hair and exposing the scalp beneath. For the first time Marcus noticed two long white scars running in parallel almost from ear to ear.

“Sometimes a person can focus upon the snarling dog and miss the bear farther back.” Dee Gautam fitted comfortably into the night. “Beware the bear, Mr. Glenwood. It will eat you whole.”

The final pretrial hearing on Thursday proceeded pretty much according to his expectations. Marcus struggled to remain tightly involved. The dark-suited defense lawyers clustered like opposing chess pieces set in intricate balance to his lonely knight. They raised the issue of dismissal, accusing him once more of making a frivolous claim. He neither objected nor spoke, for his mind remained fastened upon the morning’s earlier mysteries.

That morning he had gone running in the dark, fleeing the whispers that awaited the moment he had opened his eyes-the ones that said, You have no case. As he wound his way homeward through a biting chill mist, a blond head stepped into the streetlight’s glare, an apparition of false dawn and promises unfulfilled. Kirsten motioned back to the files piled by his front door. In a flat voice she had simply said, “I’ll bring what I can when it’s ready. You don’t need to call me again.” All Marcus could think to say was, “Don’t leave!” Kirsten had not even turned around, just said over her shoulder, “I’ve driven all night, I’m tired, and all I want to hear from you is good-bye.” But Marcus would not let go. His puffing breath had mingled with the predawn mist as he had rushed over and stopped her car door from closing. “Is it me,” he had demanded, “and if so couldn’t you at least let me apologize?” Kirsten had bitten down hard on whatever she had been about to say, wrenched her door shut, and driven away.

Marcus sat now before the judge’s desk, and could not help but reflect on how, until recently, simply living from day to day had been enough. Waking before dawn, following a steady routine, attending to what small legal matters chance brought his way-these were accomplishments enough. But now there was this case, and people relied on him once more. He found this only added fuel to his predawn inferno. He loathed the prospect of adding to his burden of unfulfilled obligations.

“Marcus?” Judge Nicols’ voice forced him back to the here and now. “Do you intend on joining us today?”

He turned to Logan. The words rose unbidden from his own internal depths. “Release the woman.”

The quiet demand caught the entire chamber by surprise. Logan scoffed. “Are you talking to me? Because that doesn’t sound-”

“Tell the Chinese factory to release Gloria Hall. That’s all we want. Bring her home and all this will vanish.” He turned to the judge. “That offer is for the record.”

“Your Honor, this is the most ludicrous accusation I have ever heard.”

“There is no intended accusation at all, Your Honor. Free Gloria Hall and all charges will be dropped.”

But Logan was striving too hard for the advantage to listen. “Your Honor, this merely confirms our contention that the plaintiffs are bringing a nuisance suit. Glenwood must be severely punished.”

She turned slowly, as though reluctant to show Marcus her thoughts. “Well?”

Marcus nodded acceptance. The game was so rigidly set that no such maneuvering was possible. No one could see beyond the next move, when battle would officially be joined. “We have received none of the requested corporate documents from New Horizons, Your Honor.”

Logan was ready. “That is because they do not exist.”

“Your Honor, we have shown to the magistrate and yourself photocopied documents on corporate letterhead-”

“Which we claim to be false, Your Honor. Clearly this Miss Hall copied the New Horizons logo and drew up these documents herself. It is a well-known ploy of unions trying to smear a company’s name. No doubt she learned it from the same cronies who are backing this frivolous suit. New Horizons has placed a few scattered orders with Factory 101. Nothing more.”

Obtaining the original documents was critical. What case Marcus had was based upon the disputed documents. The court did not generally admit photocopies as evidence. The law required confirmation that what Marcus possessed was bona fide. Marcus reached for his briefcase. “Your Honor, I have an affidavit from the customs house at the Wilmington docks.”

Logan exploded. “This was not included in his list of evidence!”

“If you supplied what we had requested it would not have been needed.” There was no need to mention that Kirsten had only brought the documents that very morning. Marcus kept his eyes on the judge. “The affidavit states that New Horizons has cleared hundreds of container-loads of Chinese-produced clothes. And that this has been a practice followed over several years. I therefore request that the court grant us exceptional permission to submit all our photocopied documents as bona fide evidence.”

The judge’s features tightened around the edges. She scanned the affidavit, said, “So ruled.”