T. Bunn - The Great Divide

“No. I–I don’t recall.”

Marcus hefted the documents sent by Ashley Granger. “Did you not prepare an overview for the President specifically related to Chinese factories that were pirating U.S. goods? Such a document, sent directly to the White House, does not seem to be something a person in your position could afford to forget.”

“Maybe. I’m not sure.” The man’s anger was fading fast. “I do a lot of position papers.”

“The plaintiff offers as documentary evidence this very paper, addressed to the White House and signed by the witness.” Marcus passed it to the court reporter, who numbered it and handed it to the judge.

Logan remained on his feet. “Your Honor, I must protest.”

“Overruled. Proceed, Mr. Glenwood.”

Marcus handed the witness a second copy. “Mr. Hadley, I ask you to turn with me to the top of page eleven. There you will find mentioned Factory 101 within the military-owned complex operated by one Zhao Ren-Fan, and located between Hong Kong and the city of Guangzhou.”

“Objection! This is not pertinent to this case, Your Honor.”

“I think I should be the one to decide what is and is not pertinent, Mr. Kendall.”

“Of course, Your Honor, but-”

“Wouldn’t you say that was my choice, Mr. Kendall?”

“Certainly, I merely-”

“Then why don’t you sit down and let us get on with this.” To Marcus, “Proceed, counselor.”

“There at the top of page eleven, Mr. Hadley. Would you please read for the court what you say about Factory 101?”

“I don’t-I’m not certain this …”

“Do you not state here, in a document you prepared for the President of the United States, that Factory 101 is one of the worst pirates operating within the textile industry? Do you not state that in black and white, Mr. Hadley?”

“I may have,” he muttered, now seeking to bury his face in the document. “There were several dozen such papers prepared by my subordinates. I can’t recall them all, often I just sign them.”

“But it is your signature there at the bottom of the document, is it not?”

“It appears to be, yes.”

“All right. Let’s go to the second paragraph on that page. The one where you describe how, because the factory is owned and operated by a high military official, this very same General Zhao Ren-Fan, it has been protected from closure. But New Horizons, a company that has been a major contributor to the President’s own campaign, had lodged an official complaint. Do you not state this, Mr. Hadley?”

“I told you, it was probably prepared for my signature by-”

“Do you not also state that New Horizons claims to be losing as much as seventy million dollars annually through Factory 101 selling copies of its product, copies so good only an expert can tell the difference?”

“Objection!” Logan’s voice was bitterly furious. “This is ridiculous, Your Honor. As I said before, counsel is attempting to submit evidence that is clearly in violation of the rules of relevance.”

Marcus was locked and loaded. “Your Honor, I submit that the State Department has been intentionally dragging its feet over these depositions. The reason for this is clear. They are concerned about being implicated in the collusion between New Horizons and Factory 101.”

“What collusion?” Logan almost shouted the words. “The plaintiff hasn’t proven a thing!”

But all that was about to change. Marcus walked back to his table, picked up the next set of papers and said, “Your Honor, I wish to submit as evidence documents that I feel will demonstrate beyond a shadow of doubt that the New Horizons board fled the country to avoid answering questions related to how they had established a joint venture with Factory 101 in order to bring an end to the pirating. And that the State Department has been collaborating with the board to mask this.”

Hadley shouted, “That’s absurd!”

“Your Honor!” Logan’s face bore the strain of battle. “This has absolutely no foundation whatsoever! Counsel is intent on tainting this jury with lies and baseless allegations!”

“All right, calm down!” Judge Nicols had the ability to strike with the softness of a velvet-covered fist. “There will be no further histrionics in this courtroom, do I make myself clear?”

Hadley mistook the resulting silence as an opportunity. “This is crazy. We haven’t got a thing to hide.”

She glared down. Hard. “You just hush up.” Then to Marcus, “This had better be good.”

“I submit that they have a very great deal to hide, Your Honor. And for very good reason.” Marcus approached the bench, handed over the document. He waited as Judge Nicols read, and watched her features harden. Only then did he pass on a second copy to Logan. In the ensuing silence he noticed Charlie standing by the central aisle. He walked over, saw the old man mouth the word “Friday.” He nodded his agreement, turned back to the courtroom.

“All right, Mr. Glenwood. I am allowing this as evidence.”

“Objection.” Logan’s voice was as weak as the hand holding the papers. “This has no bearing on the case, Your Honor.”

“Overruled. Proceed, Mr. Glenwood.”

Marcus handed the witness a copy of the document. The man was clearly reluctant to take hold. “Would you state for the jury the nature of this document?”

“I-this is confidential, you shouldn’t-”

“Does it not contain a list of the business leaders who traveled with the President to China on that trip five years ago?” Marcus waited through the silence, letting it settle and squeeze. “Answer the question, Mr. Hadley.”

“It appears … Yes.”

“All right. There are two names marked halfway down. Would you please tell the jury what those names are?”

The witness mumbled an inaudible response, which was fine with Marcus, for it gave him a reason to trumpet, “Do they not belong to one Mr. James Southerland, chief executive officer, and Frank Clinedale, assistant chairman of the board, of New Horizons Incorporated? Does this not suggest that these men went to China to solve the pirating problem once and for all? Did they not decide then and there that it would be better to establish a joint venture and share profits, rather than risk years of further lost revenue? Answer the question, Mr. Hadley. Has the State Department not been reluctant to supply these depositions precisely because they are terrified of this coming out?”

“No.” The man had sweated a stain the entire way around his collar. “That’s not it at all. I don’t know anything about this. Nothing.”

“Fine.” Judge Nicols cracked the word like a whip. “In that case, the State Department will have no objection to supplying this court with those depositions immediately. And State is hereby sanctioned to the tune of ten thousand dollars per day for every day the depositions do not arrive. And you, sir, are hereby ordered to remain in Raleigh and on call to this court until the depositions arrive.”

“Judge, I can’t, I’m scheduled to fly-”

“You are so ordered,” she snarled. “I would be delighted to find you accommodations in the local holding pen if necessary.”

Logan Kendall’s fury carried him through a battery of protests, mostly from females, all of them rising in tone and temper as he marched on. He did not run, but his stride was such that few could have caught him without jogging, which was hard to do within the staid confines of Randall Walker’s law firm. The complaints that followed him had alerted Randall’s secretary, who was in the process of rising and moving to block the door when he appeared. Logan said nothing, just looked at her, his raging glower enough to halt her in midstride. Which was good, for he had no desire to release what he contained upon anyone other than the man himself.