T. Bunn - The Great Divide

He raised his gaze to meet theirs. “Yes, China is behind us in some things. But they are working hard to catch up. And what is more important still, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, what is absolutely critical here, what you must never forget, is that these conditions have nothing whatsoever to do with this case. Nothing. We are here because a woman has gone missing. Remember that. This is what has brought us together. The rest is just smoke. Don’t let the plaintiff’s attorney cloud your vision by blowing smoke at you. Don’t you dare let him.”

He waved his pen again, and this time they followed. “They say that New Horizons Incorporated and General Zhao should somehow be held liable for the disappearance of a political activist whom they can’t find. What they seem to have forgotten is that you do not enter a courtroom without a case that is somehow founded upon truth . Law and fact, and nothing else, make up this truth. Law and fact. I submit to you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, that they remain wide of the mark on both these vital issues. The law is against them. This remains a political issue that should never have entered this courtroom. And the facts are not with them. Remember what I said. No reliable witness.” He held them a moment longer, then swept the baton down and away. “They have failed to tie my clients to the alleged misdeed. Do not hold them responsible for what they have not done. I have said it before, I will say it again: Let us wrap this up and go home.”

The judge’s instructions took an hour and a half. The written interrogatories were passed out, the final orders solemnly intoned, and the case handed to the jury.

As soon as the jury retired and the judge departed, Marcus returned his little group to the pair of rooms lent them by Jim Bell. The press had grown impatient and tried to break through the police barrier, but Darren and the guards were ready. Darren and Deacon brought coffee and sandwiches that no one touched. Marcus stared at the food, knowing he was hungry, knowing also he would not keep anything down. He had known such letdowns before, but nothing this complete. He was anxious to learn the verdict, yet he knew it would do little good.

Charlie opened the door and slipped inside. Somehow the man seemed to have drawn both years and energy from the tirade washing against the windows. “Your audience is waiting.”

“Not now.”

“Come on, son.” Charlie walked over and pulled on his sleeve. “I know how you’re feeling, and I’m gonna share with you the barest truth I can. It don’t matter.”

“Charlie, I don’t have a thing to tell those people.”

“Sure you do.” The second tug was more insistent. “You’re a lawyer. You’re paid to think on your feet and spout hot air.”

Kirsten leaned against the wall, watching them. “He’s right, Marcus.”

“ ’Course I am. Listen to that din out there. They’re waiting for you to come out and give them the word from on high.”

“They’ll eat me alive,” Marcus said, but nonetheless allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

“Naw. Take a little nibble here and there, that’s all.” Charlie unbuttoned the sleeve covering Marcus’ cast. “Roll that up and leave off your coat.”

“Charlie, this is absurd.”

“I’ll tell you what it is, old son. It’s a whole ton of solid gold, and they want to just plump it down in your lap.” The old man’s eyes sparkled like those of someone half his age. “That’s the sound of free publicity out there, and a sweeter song they couldn’t be singing.”

Kirsten walked over, said, “You want to give it all to Logan Kendall?”

“Exactly!” Charlie patted his back, urging him forward. “Listen to the lady, son.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he confessed.

She joined her hand to his, and said, “Tell them what’s on your heart.”

“You got a smart one here,” Charlie agreed, opening the door, then turning back to wink at her. “Believe I’d hold on to the lady if I could.”

“All rise.” The judge swept in and seated herself. The jury paraded in and took their seats. Marcus felt the tension in the courtroom tighten around his chest like a titanium band.

Judge Nicols observed them solemnly, then asked, “Has the jury reached a verdict?”

“We have, Your Honor.”

Marcus glanced at his watch, then the wall clock, saw Charlie do the same. Ninety minutes from the jury’s departure to their return. A bad sign. Very bad. Civil-trial juries tended to bring back swift verdicts only when they found against the plaintiff. Discussions about punitive damages alone took hours, sometimes days. Not a good sign at all.

“Very well.” Judge Nicols pointed the bailiff toward the slip of paper offered by the jury foreman. She accepted it, unfolded the sheet, read it carefully, shook her head once, handed it back. “The foreman may read the verdict.”

The rawboned man held the sheet awkwardly and said, “We find for the plaintiff on all counts.”

The court breathed a single sigh, one cut off by the sound of a man’s broken sob. The foreman stopped and looked down to where Austin was held by his wife. The foreman’s face was clenched up tight as a fist.

Judge Nicols finally said, “Proceed to damages, if you please, sir.”

“Yes ma’am.” He glanced down at the paper, but did not seem to recognize his own writing. So he looked up and said, “We could never punish them like we’d want, so we decided the two of them ought both to make an atoning tithe.”

She shook her head. “Just the damages, please.”

“Yes ma’am.” He rattled the sheet, cleared his throat, and said, “In the matter of actual damages, we find for the plaintiff in the sum of one hundred thousand dollars, such amount to be shared equally by the defendants.”

Austin drew himself up with a shaky breath, wiped his face with an impatient hand. Not wanting to miss any of it, not an instant.

“As to punitive damages,” the foreman glanced over at the defense, a spark rising from somewhere down deep, touching the edges of his voice and his features. “We find for the plaintiff and against New Horizons in the sum of one hundred and eighty million dollars.”

The courtroom’s collective gasp took wings and started to fly, but was hammered down to earth by Judge Nicols. The only sound at the defense table came from Suzie Rikkers, who wheezed a cry as hoarse as a wounded gull.

The foreman’s gaze lingered on the general until Judge Nicols said, “Proceed.”

“We find against the general and the Chinese government, and hold them to punitive damages of eight billion dollars.”

In the stunned silence that followed, two sounds etched themselves deep in Marcus’ memory. One was the whoosh of escaped breath as Logan took the news like a fist driven into his sternum.

The other sound was of Suzie Rikkers coming completely and utterly undone. “No!” The shriek hurled her from her seat. She tried to ram her way to the left, but James Southerland sat sprawled as if he had taken three bullets to the gut. She shrilled, “You can’t do this!”

Frantically she clawed her way past Logan, desperate to escape. When he did not move fast enough, Suzie Rikkers hiked up her skirt and began crawling over the railing. “This is my case!”

Judge Nicols clapped one hand over her mouth and leaned back in her chair as Suzie Rikkers fell into the aisle. She came up with clothes and hair awry, her fists swinging at empty air. “I won this case! It’s mine!”

Judge Nicols lowered her hand and revealed her smirk long enough to say simply, “Bailiff, remove this woman.”

Suzie Rikkers seemed utterly unaware of the hands that gripped her or the rising tumult that marked her passage. Marcus waited until she had been dragged screaming from the room to turn back to the defense table. Logan Kendall had not moved.