William Bernhardt - Deadly Justice

“Oooh, retract those claws, Candy,” Doug replied calmly. “No need for a conflagration with me. Everyone knows I’m not sleeping with you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Figure it out for yourself, dear. Buy a dictionary.”

“You know, Gleason, I’d like to give you a swift kick between the legs.”

“Is that what you’re into? I’m not surprised.”

Rob stepped between them. “Children, children, let’s cool off.” He held Candice and Doug arms length apart. “Why is it I spend half my time at staff meetings breaking up fights?”

“Because you haven’t the sense to let nature take its course,” Chuck answered. “Kincaid, do we really need the Nelson case on the agenda?”

“It’s been very active this past week.”

“But do we need to talk about it? Do you need our help?”

“Well—no, not particularly.”

“Fine, it’s off. Shelly?”

Ben heard a rustling on the other side of the room. She was sitting in a chair at the end of the table. Ben hadn’t even noticed her.

“Shelly, I’ve got every goddamn project you’ve worked on for the last three months on the agenda. I hope you’re ready to talk about each and every one of them. At length.”

Shelly’s face turned a sickly shade of yellow, but she remained silent.

“I was wondering,” Ben said, drawing attention away from her. “Maybe we should have some kind of memorial for Howard.”

“Memorial?” Herb said.

“Yeah. Something to note his passing. Hell, one of our own was killed less than a week ago, and here we are going on as if nothing happened. As if he was never here.”

“What do you suggest?” Chuck asked.

“I don’t know—some kind of remembrance. Maybe you could put something on the agenda. We could each say a bit about what we remember best about Howard.”

“What I remember best is how he stole the Kestrel case from me,” Herb said. “And then, to make it worse, he screwed it up. That probably set my career back five years.”

“I remember the time he came on to me at the summer retreat,” Candice said. “He’d had way too much to drink. Kept babbling about how his wife was frigid and had I ever done this position or that position, the whole time staring at my—well, anyway. It was gross. He was practically drooling.”

“I don’t think this is the kind of remembrance Ben had in mind,” Rob said quietly.

“Why not? This is fun.” Chuck entered the fray. “Remember the departmental golf tournament, and how he kept shaving strokes off Crichton’s score? Man, what a suck-up. If there was anyone in this department you had to be careful about, it was him.”

“Remember the Alumco acquisition?” Doug said. “How he accidentally lost everyone’s proposal but his own?”

“What is this?” a voice boomed from the doorway. “I thought we were having a meeting.”

It was Crichton. Evidently, the fact that he was fifteen minutes late was of no importance. He expected everyone to be in their seats, lined up like obedient Boy Scouts.

As one body, they all scurried to the nearest available seat at the table. Once more, Herb outmaneuvered Chuck and took the catbird seat next to Crichton. Once they were all in position, Crichton strode to his tall chair. He grimaced a bit as he sat down; evidently his back was still giving him some trouble.

Before he began, he reached out for his coffee mug. “Goddamn it, someone call Janice and—” He stopped in mid-sentence, as he saw the steam rise from the mug. “Someone already—but—” He sputtered another moment, made a growling noise, then grudgingly sipped his coffee.

Ben tried to hide his smile. What a bad boy he was, to spoil Bobby’s fun.

“Chuck, have you got an agenda?”

Chuck slid the agenda down to Crichton. “First, I want to remind you all that we’ve got a softball game against the Memorex Telex legal department tomorrow, and I expect everyone to be there. Rain or shine, healthy or sick, and no matter how busy you are.” Crichton scanned the agenda for a few moments. “Kincaid?”

Ben looked up, startled. “What?”

“Where’s the Nelson case? It’s not on the agenda.”

“Well, that’s because—”

“Didn’t I tell you it was each lawyer’s responsibility to submit each major project they’re working on to staff notes?”

“Yes—”

“Did you think that case wasn’t important? That case that could potentially cost this corporation millions of dollars?”

“It wasn’t that. Chuck—”

“Damn it, when I give an order, I expect it to be carried out.”

“I understand—”

“No exceptions.”

“Really, the only reason—”

“Kincaid, I want you to submit a revised, all-inclusive agenda. And I want it on my desk by the end of the day. There’s no excuse for letting a case of that magnitude slip through your fingers. I don’t want this to ever happen again. Understand?”

Ben shot a fierce look at Chuck, who was conveniently looking the other way. The grins on the faces of me other lawyers were barely masked. They had known Chuck was setting him up from the start. Sabotage, corporate style. “I understand, sir. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.” Crichton downed some more coffee, then, suddenly, his anger seemed to drain away. His flushed face resumed its normal color. “Good grief, Kincaid. I don’t know what came over me. Imagine talking to a litigator of your caliber the way I did. And over a trivial matter like this. I don’t know what gets into me sometimes. Could you possibly accept my apology?”

If the other lawyers in the room were delighted before, they were horrified now. It seemed that Ben Kincaid was impervious even to sabotage. The Teflon trial lawyer. “Let’s just forget the whole thing, sir,” Ben said softly.

“Done. So tell me what’s going on in the case.”

Ben reviewed the document production, the depositions he had taken of the plaintiffs, the hearing on the motion to compel, and the deposition of Andrew Consetti. “I’m planning to drive to Oklahoma City to talk to Al Austin and Bernie King.”

Crichton’s head rose. “Oh? Why do you need to do that?”

“Consetti identified both of them m his deposition.”

“Al Austin is no longer with the company.”

“Nonetheless, Consetti identified him as someone involved in the design of the XKL-1.”

“Have the plaintiffs requested his deposition?.”

“No. Not yet anyway.”

“What about Bernie King?”

“Again, no.”

“Then what’s the point of talking to them?”

Ben shifted in his chair. “Mr. Crichton…I’m an officer of the court. I have an obligation to fully and fairly understand what took place. Plus, I have to know the whole story, to shore up any loose ends, to understand our weak points as well as our strong points, and to identify any exposure the Apollo Consortium may have.”

“Bernie King is a very busy man. He’s top dog in the OKC office. He runs a seven-hundred-man shop. He doesn’t have time to play around with lawyers.”

“I won’t take any more time than neces—”

“Look, Kincaid, it’s your case, but I don’t think you should waste your time, much less the time of other important Apollo personnel. Find out whatever you can from the other side, then file your motion for summary judgment. I see no need for you to be investigating your own client.”

He lowered his mug to the table, watching Ben very carefully. “After all, you already know what position you have to take.”

28

BEN MUTTERED MOST OF the way to Oklahoma City, his hands tightly clenching the steering wheel.

“I got to hand it to you,” Rob said. He was seated in the passenger seat of Ben’s Honda Accord. “Most people would’ve backed off. Crichton made it clear he didn’t think you should go to Oklahoma City, and here you are, doing it anyway.”