T. Bunn - The Great Divide

He had to ask, “You think she wanted to call me?”

Alma gave the low chuckle of one saddened yet vastly amused. “That is the only foolish thing I have ever heard you say.”

Charlie saved him by huffing up. “Sorry, folks, the old bones didn’t want to obey me today. You’re looking lovely as ever, Alma.”

The bailiff entered through the judge’s door and announced, “All rise.”

Marcus said in a soft aside, “I’ll be handling the questioning today.”

Charlie rewarded him with a grand smile. “You heard from that Washington lawyer feller?”

“Last night.”

“He supplied us with the goods?”

“The best I’ve ever seen.”

Charlie sighed and lowered himself down into his chair as Judge Nicols settled herself. “I always did love fireworks and things that go bang.”

As Judge Nicols bid the jury a polite good morning and inquired about their weekend, Marcus whispered, “I’m going to request a new witness be subpoenaed. If she grants it, you need to run out and phone this number.” He handed over a slip of paper. “Tell him to expedite the papers.”

Charlie noticed the area code. “Washington.”

“The process server should be standing outside the guy’s office at this very moment.”

Judge Nicols turned toward their table and demanded, “Mr. Glenwood, are you ready to proceed?”

Marcus rose slowly, noting that the judge’s eyebrows lifted in response. Logan stiffened ever so slightly in his seat. Marcus said, “Permission to approach the bench.”

“Granted.”

It was Logan who walked forward to represent the defense. Marcus did not need to glance over to know Logan was as keenly taut as he. “Your Honor, there has been unnecessary foot-dragging by the State Department with regard to our request for depositions from the New Horizons board members. Not even the first of these has taken place.”

“I object to both the tone and the content of this accusation, Your Honor,” Logan shot back. “The plaintiff’s counsel is taking what is a normal business situation, the annual general meeting of the company’s international divisions, and turning it into something sinister. Or trying to. Of course these depositions take time. These are busy men.”

“And this is an urgent matter, one that our embassy officials have clearly put on the back burner.” Marcus handed over the document containing the name supplied by Ashley Granger. “I have identified the man at State who is responsible for such matters. Grey Hadley is acting assistant director of the division of consular affairs. He is scheduled to be leaving the country the day after tomorrow. I hereby request a subpoena be issued immediately, so that we may have him testify prior to his departure.”

“Your Honor, this is preposterous!” Logan leaned both fists on the corner of the judge’s bench. “We’ve acted in good faith here, despite the fact that this is a case built out of thin air. Right over there are two senior vice presidents-”

“Of the North Carolina distribution center,” Marcus added. “Who have nothing whatsoever to do with international activities.”

“-who have already sacrificed a full week of their time just to be here and show the company flag.”

“They cannot answer for anything to do with the company’s ties to Factory 101, Your Honor. Which is all we are after. One single person who has the power to sign off on international activities.”

“Excuse me, Your Honor, but can’t you see the plaintiff’s strategy here? They’re trying to bring another chess piece into play. They conceal what they can. They shuffle the pieces around to confuse the viewer. When things get tight, they move in another piece. They distract your attention. They frighten you. They threaten with more smoke and mirrors. No doubt when this is over they’ll refile their claims, set up groundless appeals, tie up the courts with prevarication.”

Judge Nicols observed Logan Kendall with an onyx mask. “Are you just about done?”

Logan backed off a fraction. “Yes, Your Honor.”

She turned back to her inspection of the records, then handed them to the aide poised by her chair. “So moved. Have an affidavit drawn up immediately.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. I took the liberty of doing so this morning.” Marcus waited as she inspected the new pages, and he decided there would be no better time than this. “I have one other name I’d like to add to my original list, and for similar reasons.” He handed over the second document. “Hans Klein, of the Swiss embassy in Washington.”

She passed on it before Logan could frame a response. “So moved. Anything else?”

“No, Your Honor.”

“Very well. Call your next witness.”

Marcus walked back to his table, knowing that it was not just his imagination that the courtroom air was now singed with compacted energy. “Plaintiff calls Marshall Taub to the stand.”

It was Logan who reached behind him, taking the file an assistant had ready to hand over. Several of the jurors moved slightly forward in their chairs. There was no change to the routine, except now it was the lawyer with the bruised and bandaged face and one arm in a sling who stood. All the same, the jury knew that the trial had taken a different tone.

To his lasting credit, Marshall Taub was not only sober, he was presentable. Nothing could be done about the Richmond lawyer’s pasty features or the broken blood vessels across his nose and cheeks. But his dark suit was neatly pressed, his hand steady as it reached for the Bible, his voice resonant and firm as he swore to tell nothing but the truth.

Marcus started off slow and easy, going over the more successful aspects of Taub’s career-his partnership with one of Virginia’s oldest firms, his holding of office in the state bar association. The defense remained silent throughout. Marcus then asked, “You are involved in a long-running dispute with New Horizons, are you not?”

“Objection!” Logan vaulted from his chair. “Permission to approach the bench.”

This time it was Marcus who followed Logan’s march to the judge’s stand. His opponent was ready. It was no longer a skirmish.

Logan launched directly into attack. “Your Honor, this is one Pandora’s box you definitely do not want to allow them to open.”

Marcus did not hide his intentions at all. “As Charlie Hayes indicated last week, Your Honor, we are establishing a pattern of past practice. New Horizons has a long history of such unsavory activities.”

“This is totally irrelevant, Your Honor.”

“Wherever New Horizons has set up operations, litigation has followed. They have left a trail wide as the Mississippi and just as murky.”

Logan looked directly at him for the first time that day. “Very cute. Did your colleague come up with that one?”

“A little less histrionics, Mr. Glenwood,” Judge Nicols agreed.

Logan took that as his cue. “There is no similarity of action, Your Honor. On the one hand you have labor relations at U.S. facilities. On the other you have a Chinese factory with no established connection to my client.”

Marcus felt a singular thrill. Logan knew, or at least he suspected, that more was to come.

Logan kept his eye on the judge. “These other cases have been litigated and resolved, Your Honor, usually in the company’s favor. And I might add that most of these cases have been underwritten by labor. These are classic union tactics, Your Honor. Throw mud at the company until they agree to whatever the union is demanding. Personally, I wonder whether the unions are financing this case as well.”

“Your Honor, I object to these baseless insinuations.”

But Logan was not finished. “Do you want to litigate on the issue at hand, Your Honor? Or do you want to litigate the past? It is patently unfair to give such extraneous information to the jury. We’ve got to stick to the facts here. And the facts are, the plaintiff has no case. There is nothing to tie my North Carolina clients to some problem nine thousand miles away.”