ECLIPSE (43 page)

Pierce thought of Trevor Hill. “After this, you think we’ll ever be the same?”

Rachel gave him a shrewd look. “I will, more or less. But not you. You’ve seen too much.”

Silently he remembered being locked with Bobby in his cell, then the warmth of Marissa’s body against his. Pierce imagined them now—Bobby
in prison, Marissa desperate and alone—waiting for events only Pierce could influence.

“Let’s talk about the hearing,” he told Rachel.

O
N
S
UNDAY NIGHT,
the lawyers clustered around a conference table at PGL’s headquarters, Pierce and Rachel Rahv facing Hamilton and Vasquez. At the appointed time, Judge Taylor materialized on the screen like the Wizard of Oz.

Her manner brisk, she sat in her chambers with a stenographic reporter. “This hearing,” she said without preface, “is to rule on plaintiff Bobby Okari’s request to enjoin PetroGlobal from participating in acts of murder, such as those that allegedly occurred at Goro, or in violations of due process in connection with Mr. Okari’s trial. We’ll begin with argument relating to Goro. You first, Mr. Pierce.”

Pierce looked into the video camera. “Taken in sequence, Your Honor, the facts show that PGL was deeply involved in an atrocity ordered by Colonel Okimbo—”

“PGL,” Taylor interjected sharply, “or Van Daan? PGL claims that whatever he may have done was unknown to anyone above him.”

Across from Pierce, Clark Hamilton smiled faintly. “With respect to Bobby Okari,” Pierce responded, “Van Daan
was
PGL. Gladstone hired him at the suggestion of Ugwo Ajukwa, Karama’s adviser, to supervise security in the delta. In London, when PGL asked for protection, Karama put Okimbo in charge, and Okimbo asked that PGL assign Van Daan to work with him directly. Not only did Gladstone comply, but he gave Van Daan authority to pay Okimbo and arm his soldiers—”

“PGL,” Taylor interrupted, “contends it had no other means of protection.”

“That’s no excuse for abdicating its responsibilities as completely as Gladstone did. At Okimbo’s urging, Gladstone removed Trevor Hill from involvement in security matters. Before the operation in Goro, Hill reiterated to Gladstone his belief that Okimbo had ordered a massacre at Lana, and suggested that PGL encourage Okimbo to use tear gas and rubber bullets in any actions against the Asari. Once again, Gladstone sided with Van Daan. So Van Daan authorized Okimbo to use PGL’s boats and helicopters in a slaughter carried out with weaponry paid for by PGL.”

“That doesn’t make PGL cognizant of how they might be used.”

“The reports about Lana should have. Instead, Gladstone put a man in charge who wanted more civilians slaughtered. Memoranda from Van Daan’s files show that Okimbo proposed a ‘wasting operation’ against Goro in return for twenty-five thousand dollars, and that Van Daan paid Okimbo ten thousand of that
before
the attack.” Pierce slowed his speech for emphasis. “On Friday, at the risk of his life, a soldier described that ‘wasting operation’ to Karama’s handpicked tribunal: the slaughter of civilians, the beheading of Okimbo’s father, the torture of Okari himself. According to this witness, Van Daan flew Okimbo to Goro. A massacre ensued. Shortly thereafter, Van Daan paid Okimbo the balance of his fees.”

The screen magnified Judge Taylor’s look of gravity. “Mr. Hamilton?”

His voice sober, Hamilton said, “The essence of Mr. Pierce’s argument is that the lynchings were the pretext for a massacre. If you accept that thesis, you must accept the existence of a conspiracy against Okari
and
PGL.

“After the lynchings, as before, Mr. Gladstone had no choice but to rely on the Luandian military. At every point he emphasized PGL’s commitment to human rights; at no point did he authorize the slaughter of civilians. Whatever happened at Goro—and we have only the word of a soldier addled by alcohol and marijuana—there is
no
evidence whatsoever that
any
responsible person from PGL was in any way involved.

“As to Mr. Van Daan, Mr. Gladstone has suspended him pending an internal investigation. Whatever his role at Goro, he will not be involved in further military operations.” Hamilton’s voice became firm. “The purpose of an injunction is
not
to compensate for harm that has already occurred but to prevent harm in the future. There’s no longer any basis for enjoining PGL.”

This last was a key argument; Pierce found Taylor’s ensuing silence troubling. “Let’s move to Okari’s trial,” she said finally. “The question is what role, if any, PGL played in the prosecution of Mr. Okari. Mr. Pierce?”

“The answer is simple, Your Honor. Okimbo suborned perjury from these witnesses; Van Daan paid them for it. The result was testimony so preposterous that the gallery laughed. The only moment more ludicrous was Van Daan’s assertion that the fifteen-thousand-dollar bribes were actually for ‘expenses.’”

“Never mind the defects of the evidence,” Taylor cut in. “What’s your proof that anyone but Van Daan was involved?”

Pierce felt another stab of dismay. “We don’t need any, Your Honor. Van Daan acted on authority granted by Mr. Gladstone. PGL can’t disown him now.”

Taylor raised her eyebrows. “Mr. Hamilton.”

“Our
response
is simple: Mr. Gladstone is not involved, and he’s suspended Van Daan. This court’s only power is to enjoin PGL if—and only if—there’s a risk that it will act improperly in the future. There’s no such risk.”

“Your Honor,” Pierce began, “on the question of risk—”

“I’ve heard enough,” Taylor interrupted. “So I’ll address myself to you, Mr. Hamilton.

“The essence of your argument is PGL’s obliviousness. I hope that doesn’t include you. It’s clear that the only reason Mr. Pierce knows so much is that someone slipped him documents PGL never produced. I accept your word that you’ve never seen them. But I don’t believe, and you don’t seriously argue, that they’re forgeries. So I’ve begun to worry that neither your client nor you have a clue about what’s being done in PGL’s name, and with its money.”

Astonished, Pierce watched the apprehension appear in Hamilton’s eyes. “Your ostrich defense won’t fly,” Taylor went on. “Gladstone made Van Daan the company’s agent. Far from being an excuse, conditions in Luandia—including the murder of its workers—magnified Gladstone’s responsibility to be a hands-on crisis manager. The alleged massacre at Goro and this disgrace of a tribunal appear to be part of a scheme designed to eliminate Okari in which Van Daan plays a pivotal role.

“I don’t know that Okari’s innocent—at this juncture, I don’t much care. Injunctive relief includes the power not only to enjoin PGL from further wrongful actions but to undo the wrongs already committed by Van Daan.” Pausing, Taylor sat straighter. “Accordingly, the court enjoins PGL from any collaboration in Mr. Okari’s prosecution that violates Mr. Okari’s rights under international law.

“But that’s not all,” the judge continued in a chilly voice. “I direct PGL to use its good offices with the Luandian government to seek a recess in the trial in order to investigate whether it has access to further evidence helpful to Okari’s defense, and to make that evidence available to Mr. Pierce. If PGL does not comply, the court will consider initiating criminal contempt proceedings against PetroGlobal
and
its officers.”

Across the table, Hamilton took notes, his only defense against humiliation. “Your client should also know,” Taylor told him, “that we will do everything in our power to limit the consequences of its actions to Bobby Okari. By letter and by telephone, this court will ask the secretary of state to formally request the Luandian government to suspend the tribunal until PGL has complied with its order, and to urge that any future proceedings accord Mr. Okari due process of law. Among
your
responsibilities is to limit the harm to date by working with Mr. Pierce. Is that clear?”

In another context, Pierce might have felt sympathy for Hamilton: not only was Taylor’s ruling worse than he could have imagined, but its impact would be disastrous for PGL’s reputation and the value of its stock. In yet another context, Pierce might have been elated. All he could feel now was hope.

When Taylor vanished from the screen, Hamilton faced Pierce. “We’ll cooperate, of course.”

“Of course.”

From his expression, Hamilton heard the acid in Pierce’s voice. Pierce did not care; this case had stripped him of false politesse. At length, Hamilton said, “Michael wants to see you. Give me a half hour to explain to him what’s happened.”

G
LADSTONE HAD A
spacious corner office. When Gladstone’s assistant closed the door behind him, Pierce found him gazing at the half-lit skyline of Waro. Without turning, Gladstone said, “It’s always better in the dark.”

“Much like your business, I suppose.”

Gladstone turned, his face expressionless. “You must be quite pleased.”

Pierce could imagine his thoughts; whether or not Bobby survived, Gladstone’s overlords at PetroGlobal might throw him to the wolves. “I’ll be ‘pleased,’” Pierce answered, “when Bobby’s life is spared.”

“I’ll do what I can.” A sliver of anger entered Gladstone’s voice. “As I would have before this judge fueled the media campaign you’re no doubt about to launch.”

“No doubt. Your choice now is to make it better or worse.”

Gladstone was silent. At length he said, “It was Trevor Hill, wasn’t it?”

He did not seem to expect an answer. “You got here on your own,” Pierce responded. “All you could ever control was PGL. Through a series of miscalculations, you lost that. If you believe that Karama is using this trial merely to kick Okari out of Luandia, that’s the worst miscalculation of all.”

Gladstone shoved his hands into the pockets of his linen sport coat. “I’ve arranged to see Karama. If we can help get Okari out of here, will he dismiss his lawsuit?”

“All I can do is ask Okari and wish you good luck with Karama.”

Gladstone’s smile was bleak. “Okari once told me that we were Siamese twins, our fates inextricably bound. I suppose I should have listened.”

A
T TEN O’CLOCK
M
ONDAY MORNING
, P
IERCE AND
H
AMILTON STOOD
before the tribunal. “With the support of counsel for PGL,” Pierce said, “defendant renews his request for a recess. I ask the court to hear Mr. Hamilton.”

Orta fixed Hamilton with a disparaging gaze. “PGL is not a party here.”

“True,” Hamilton responded. “But Mr. Van Daan is a principal witness, and his role raises important questions about the case against Okari. PGL requests a recess to investigate Mr. Van Daan’s activities, and to inform the court and Mr. Pierce of our findings in four crucial areas: the murder of our employees; the events in Goro; the testimony of Lucky Joba, Moses Tulu, and Eric Aboh; and Van Daan’s own credibility.”

“For our part,” Pierce added, “we believe that PGL’s investigation will confirm the lack of credible evidence against Mr. Okari. A man’s life is at stake, and the truth may be at hand. Justice requires a recess.”

As Nubola shook his head, Orta said impassively, “Let us hear from Mr. Ngara.”

Ngara stood. “I respectfully request the tribunal to hold this matter in abeyance pending the further testimony of Beke Femu.”

Pierce felt numb: that Orta looked unsurprised confirmed his worst suspicions. “Very well,” Orta said, “You may recommence your cross-examination.”

Hamilton glanced at Pierce, then shrugged in resignation. Pierce took his place between Bara and Bobby, noting Marissa’s stricken face. In this
courtroom, Pierce thought, hope vanished quickly. Bara’s expression was blank; Bobby’s, contemptuous at first, changed when he saw Beke Femu.

Watching Femu take the stand, Pierce thought of a college friend who had suffered a nervous collapse; afterward an affectless stranger had occupied the man’s body until, like his former self, this shell vanished from the campus altogether. So it seemed with Femu. He gazed at the courtroom with spectral eyes, as though he remembered nothing from before; only his naked fear when he saw Okimbo betrayed that he did.

“Tell the tribunal,” Ngara directed, “if you have anything to add.”

“Yes.” Femu’s voice was almost inaudible. “I lied.”

A smile of satisfaction stole across Ngara’s face. “And your reason?”

“Personal gain.” Femu looked down. “A man gave me money. He said he was working for Mr. Pierce.”

This fabrication, Pierce thought, showed a lawyer’s touch; he could not disprove the supposed act of someone else. “How much money?” Ngara demanded.

“Ten thousand dollars U.S.”

Taking a document from the table, Ngara handed copies to the court, then to Pierce. On its face, it was a record from the Bank of Luandia, dated one week before, showing the deposit of ten thousand dollars by Beke Femu. “A forged document,” Bobby murmured. “One can never say they lack a sense of humor.”

Ngara gave it to the witness. “Did you deposit that money in your account?”

“Yes,” Femu responded mechanically. “This is the record.”

“Very well. Tell us what happened at Goro.”

The witness swallowed. “There was resistance. We did only what was necessary to subdue the village.”

Femu’s script lacked the texture and detail of truth. But Colonel Nubola nodded his encouragement; from the jury box, Okimbo watched Bobby Okari with obvious enjoyment. “So,” Ngara prodded, “there was no massacre.”

The witness still looked down. “No, sir.”

“Then where did you get this terrible story?”

“From the man who gave me money,” Femu mumbled. “He showed me a legal document signed by Mr. Pierce. He told me to memorize the underlined parts. Then I could add whatever details I liked.”

Ngara handed Pierce a copy of the civil complaint in
Okari v. PetroGlobal Oil.
Scanning its pages, Pierce saw that the factual allegations were denoted by highlighter. After handing copies to the tribunal, Ngara asked, “Is this the document?”

“Yes, sir.”

“In short,” Ngara said harshly, “your testimony was based on a complaint prepared by Okari’s lawyer.”