T. Bunn - The Great Divide

The judge’s eyes narrowed, but Marcus could not determine whether she shared his conviction that this was not news, for all she said was, “I am not laughing, Mr. Kendall.”

“No, Your Honor, I did not wish to imply that you were.” But Logan did not back down. “I merely wish to save Your Honor the risk of being shamed by an adverse ruling on appeal.”

“How kind of you.”

Marcus wrested back control of the situation. “Your Honor, a corporation acts only through individuals. I merely want this case to include the people who were actually in charge of the decision that led to Gloria Hall’s disappearance.”

“You have proven none of this,” Logan lashed back.

“On the contrary. We have shown through its past unscrupulous practices that the U.S. company is indeed capable of colluding to kidnap Gloria Hall, precisely because she was tracking down these practices and planned to bring them to light. And we have demonstrated that New Horizons specifically chose to work with Factory 101 because this Chinese group threatened the one thing they hold in greatest esteem, their profit.”

“Your Honor, I protest. He continues to besmirch my client’s good name with no basis whatsoever.”

Glenwood pressed home. “Profit, Your Honor. That was the motive behind all of this. Profit and power. General Zhao joined in because he shared both a lust for profit and the power to hold and abuse these workers. There was a pattern and practice to both companies’ actions, which was precisely why they were successful partners, and exactly why they were forced to do away with Gloria Hall.”

Judge Nicols’ gaze tightened. “Do away with her?”

“Kidnap and hold her against her will,” Marcus amended, though he remained shattered by what he had finally admitted to himself.

“Your Honor, we object-”

“Enough.” She used the flat of her palm as an effective gavel. “I accept the plaintiff’s request as valid. The evidence supports his claim of extended jurisdiction over General Zhao as a necessary codefendant.”

“We will appeal this ruling, Your Honor.” Logan’s hoarseness revealed the cost of his defeat.

“Appeal all you like. In the meantime, papers will be served on the Chinese embassy this very afternoon.”

Logan clutched for another rope. “He will claim diplomatic immunity.”

“That may well be so. But we can nonetheless subpoena the man and require him to stand before this court.” Judge Nicols rose to her feet. “We will now adjourn until nine o’clock tomorrow. You gentlemen are dismissed.”

The call came through at a quarter to six the next morning. As Logan groped blindly for the phone, his bedmate moaned and rolled over. He complained, “This better be good.”

“And you better be awake,” growled the caller.

“One second.” Logan recognized the voice instantly. As he slid from bed his current girlfriend called out another man’s name. He glanced down, caught by the sudden decision that it was time to trade her in for a newer model. Four weeks was long enough for both of them.

Logan carried the cordless phone out of the bedroom and over to the hall window. Dawn remained a faint rumor on the horizon. He pressed the phone to his chest and took a series of steadying breaths. He was not hesitating in order to wake up. He had never been more awake in his entire life. He had been expecting this call, but still the sheer potential of what it meant left his heart hammering. Another breath, one more. He lifted the receiver again, hoping he could keep the tremor out of his voice. “All right. I’m listening.”

The head of the China Trade Council said, “Whatever you want, Kendall. I have the board’s full backing on this.”

The caller held an admiral’s gruffness, the bold commanding grip on power that reflected decades of leading a corporate army. Logan knew the man now. After the first call, Logan had ordered an associate to research the man’s background. Up until the previous year, he had been chairman and chief executive officer of one of the nation’s top fifty companies, a behemoth that was into everything from cars to home financing.

Logan responded, “The problem is the same as the first time we talked.”

“Double your fees. Triple them for all I care.” The man chose not to hear Logan. “Take this additional client and name your price.”

“I appreciate your offer, sir. But accepting General Zhao as a second client may not be in New Horizons’ best interests.”

“Forget them!” The bark suggested Logan was treading on thin ice by even questioning the bid. “It’s their fault we’re in this mess to begin with!”

“Actually, sir, General Zhao-”

“New Horizons was the one that initiated the whole deal!” The chairman of the China Trade Council struggled to rein in his legendary temper. “Look, Kendall. I’m telling you how it is. You understand? Now name your price to include General Zhao as a client.”

Logan knew the moment had arrived. “I want to be named outside counsel.”

“What?”

The fact that he had finally managed to throw the chairman gave him confidence. “Not just of the China Trade Council. Your former company has two subsidiaries in North Carolina. I want them too.” When the chairman did not respond, he finished with a certainty he did not feel. “Take it or leave it.”

To his astonishment, the chairman laughed. “You’ve been up nights planning this out, haven’t you.”

“I couldn’t afford to give it that kind of time, sir. I have a case to win, remember?”

Another laugh. “All right. It’s a deal.”

“I want it in writing.” This time the tremor could not be kept out of his voice.

“Sure you do. I’ll have my people draw it up and courier it down to you today.” The humor died, choked down to grating fury. “Just win this case, Kendall. And bury that Glenwood. Bury him deep. Right down to the center of the earth.”

Marcus awoke to the deep black of some predawn hour, a time so vague and fretful even the poets of yore had forsaken the task of naming it. He was not sorry, though he had worked late and his need for sleep was as strong as a starving man’s hunger. He decided against an early run. His mind had already tuned in to the day and the work ahead, so he made coffee and took it to his office. Papers were strewn across his desk and the next room’s larger table. The night before they had seemed adequate. Now they flouted the truth of what had fueled his labors. Suzie Rikkers hid in the shadows, waiting for him to return to court, eager to pounce.

The phone crashed about the house, as though the machines were all triggered to shout alarm if ever used before dawn. A merry voice asked, “Do I not wake you again?”

“Dee Gautam,” he said, and took comfort from naming the mystery. “No, this time I beat you.”

The little man rewarded Marcus with a high-pitched giggle, somewhere between the highest note of a pipe organ and a cackle. “Good, very good. You are learning to catch the worm, no?”

“Learning, but let’s leave the worms out of it. What can I do for you?”

“I am calling to say that Chung must leave. He has much fear of the police.”

“Maybe I can help him.”

“Thank you, but no. His problems are all in the past, and his fears are of the kind that do not heal. You understand?”

Marcus picked up his mug, though the coffee was cold and he no longer wished to drink it. “All too well.”

“Yes, you are learning much. It is a good thing and a bad thing, this gift of wisdom.”

“The wisdom is fine,” Marcus responded. “It’s all the baggage I have problems with.”

“We will speak of this another time, yes? For now, I am calling at this dark hour to say that today you must find another way to go to your court.”