The Great Divide (22 page)

“Cropped ’baccy not five miles north since I could walk.”

“Then set this gentleman straight on where this road is headed.”

“Like to, but I cain’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“ ’Cause he’s right and you’re wrong.” The man aimed a brown stream and a well-chewed plug at the stained paint can by the door. “Can’t make it no plainer than that.”

“Well, I’ll be …” Charlie threatened to toss his cane away. “Never thought I’d live to see the day I’d stand sandwiched between such ignorance.”

Argument was halted by the line moving them inside. The barn’s interior was just slightly cooler than a blast furnace. The air was thick and cloying with the smells of tobacco and sweat and pork. Two men worked a tall brick oven; one tended the wood-chip fire and the other turned a huge iron handle. Through the cast-iron door Marcus could see three entire hogs roasting and dripping fat. A third man used a razor-edged machete to carve off hunks that fell onto a wooden spatula he gripped in his other hand. He cut and caught and turned and deposited the steaming pork onto a paper plate, then wheeled back. Marcus set down two twenties for the four plates, one price for all they could eat. No one lingered long inside the barn.

Out back the air seemed springtime fresh. Trestle tables stretched out in long lines, with plastic barrels of beans and slaw and potato salad and iced drinks marching down the center aisle. While the others
loaded their plates and claimed a table, Marcus went over to where two women operated a fryer and returned with a basket of hush puppies. Deacon led them in prayer, then they dug in.

Their table garnered more than its share of glances. There were many groups made up of blacks and whites and Native Americans, but none where one of the black men wore a suit and vest and gold fob. Attention soon turned elsewhere and they were left alone to feel as welcome as they cared. For a moment on this balmy autumn day, in a restaurant walled by ripened tobacco and ceilinged in endless blue, the farmers sat united in tired satisfaction. Another growing season was ended. The auctioneers and tobacco buyers were in town to bid and pay. In the warehouses and back rooms, where experts rolled gold-leaf panatelas and sampled the crop’s flavor, word was spread of where this year’s pig picking would be held. If any health inspector happened to be among the crowd, he showed the good sense to feast in silence.

Marcus waited until the others had finished to say to Austin Hall, “I asked Charlie along because I’m hoping he will help me with this trial. He already is in an unofficial capacity. Do you mind if we talk a little business?”

“I have no secrets from Deacon,” Austin replied.

“It’s a measure of the man who’s talking,” Deacon offered, “that he actually means what he says.”

“We need to make a decision here. I’m sorry Alma couldn’t join us, but this can’t wait.”

“She couldn’t get out of the faculty meeting. She told me to make the decision for us both.”

Deacon gave the man a gentle smile. “Then miracles do indeed abide in this land.”

Austin replied with a look of woeful openness. “We can’t thank you enough.”

“Ain’t no need to say anything.”

“Yes there is. Alma and I, we were so moved, you can’t imagine.” Austin turned his gaze toward Marcus and explained, “The church is helping us put together the ransom.”

“Just being there for a friend in need, is all.” Deacon took a breath. “Since we’re talking about this, there’s one more thing that needs saying. A lot of the money came from Kirsten Stanstead.”

Austin’s control threatened to crumple. “What?”

“She figured if she went to you direct, you’d say no. But the only reason she didn’t give the whole amount was because I wouldn’t let her. There’s others at the church who wanted to help. And Fay said to tell you we got people praying ’round the clock, gonna keep at it till your girl’s been brought home.”

Austin’s struggle for control needed outside help. Marcus used his most clinical tone to demand, “So you’ve decided to go ahead and pay the ransom?”

“I don’t see what choice we have.” Austin managed a ragged breath. “The police and the FBI are against it, but what have they done for us? They’ve spoken with the embassy. The embassy has written a letter to the Chinese authorities.”

“More than that,” Marcus countered.

“Not enough!” A few heads turned their way. Austin lowered his voice. “Not enough. They haven’t got a thing to report. All we hear is how they don’t understand what Gloria was doing in China. Over and over the same words.”

“That’s natural enough.” Charlie Hayes spoke up for the first time. “They’re government employees. Government employees learn early on the most important part of their job is making sure blame gets stuck to somebody else’s hide.”

Marcus said, “As your attorney, I cannot officially advise you on the payment of ransom. Unofficially, I would urge you to inform the police the moment the transfer of funds is made.”

“Gloria said no police.”

Charlie said, “It’s good advice, Dr. Hall. I’d take it if I were you.”

Because Austin’s gaze remained on the old man, Marcus said, “Charlie and I have worked together on more cases than I care to count. He’s been a friend since I started practicing, and my best source of advice since he retired from the federal bench. He’s still a member of the bar and knows federal court procedure from the inside out.”

“Then I suppose,” the professor said, “you’d best call me Austin.”

“It’d be a pleasure, sir.”

“We also need to discuss timing,” Marcus went on. A soft breeze touched the surrounding plants, most of them well over seven feet tall and cropped of all but the highest leaves. These whispered and clattered amidst an orchestra of birdsong and buzzing insects and quiet conversation. The other tables granted them privacy in the manner of
country-born. “I’ve received a call from the judge’s aide. The defense has requested a meeting for tomorrow, and another for the day after.”

“So?”

“My guess is they’re going to ask for an immediate trial, giving us almost no time to collect depositions and evidence.”

Charlie broke in. “Normally this works in the defense’s favor, since it keeps the plaintiff from preparing fully. Or fishing for new leads.”

“But we don’t have much of a case,” Marcus went on. “And to be honest, I don’t think more time will help us. We want to make some noise. Nothing more.”

Austin rolled that around in his analytical mind, and came up with “The payment.”

“Exactly. If you are going ahead with the transfer of these funds, do you want to give it more time? I have no idea whether time pressure will work in our favor or against us.”

“Do it.” Austin did not hesitate an instant. “Do it now. No waiting. We do everything possible, soon as possible.” His face was as stern as Marcus had ever seen. “Hit them just as hard as you can.”

“M
OST LAWYERS
don’t have the guts to tell their clients the good, the bad, and the ugly.” Logan’s opening remarks were not standard fare for either of his guests, and it showed on their faces. He didn’t care. He was less than twenty-four hours from his next in-chambers meeting with Judge Nicols, and the case was already a bad taste in his mouth. “That’s not my problem. Randall, you took me on with the express purpose of burying this guy Glenwood. Fine. You tell me there is no connection between New Horizons and the Chinese factory. So I go in armed for bear. What happens? Marcus gets up in front of the magistrate and proves there
is
a connection. And now you’re in here to tell me the connection is tenuous at best. I’m not sure I should believe that, Randall.”

Randall Walker sat there and took it because he had to. He was the one who had requested this meeting, and for some reason had brought Logan’s senior partner in for backup. Two cronies of the old power structure, polished and easy, their meanness hidden down deep. But Logan knew it was there. He had seen them both in action. The only way to handle these guys was by holding hard to the offensive.

Logan was ready when Randall started in with “I need you—”

“Wait, Randall. Just wait, okay? This meeting is not about what you need. I’m the one going head-to-head in front of Judge Nicols tomorrow. Big meeting. And I’ve still got a lot of questions that need answering. Such as, where did Glenwood get that information he showed the magistrate?”

“I don’t know. I wish I did.”

“Could it have come from your office?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re not setting me up as a patsy, are you, Randall?”

He reddened, but held to the even tone. “I want you to win this case.”

“All right. So play ball with me.”

“I’ve brought the chief North Carolina accountant and the two vice presidents of the Rocky Mount distribution facility.”

“Hang on here. I’m smelling more than furniture polish in the air. Two low-level VPs with no knowledge of the international markets? Who are you kidding, Randall? Where are the board members?”

“I told you. They’re all in Switzerland.”

“Can I talk to them by phone?”

“No.” Randall turned to Logan’s senior partner for emphasis. “No way.”

Logan waited, giving his boss a chance to back him up. The older attorney remained stone-faced. Logan sighed. “Okay. Right now I need everything you can give me to build us a fire wall. You tell me there’s not just an arm’s length between these two companies, but a nine-thousand-mile gap. Is that correct?”

“Precisely.”

“I need proof, Randall. You’ve heard that word before, I assume.”

The senior partner shook his head and said mildly, “Logan.”

But he would not be stopped. “Proof is what we’re after, Randall. Proof that I can wave in front of the judge’s nose.”

“It’s right next door.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

The senior partner and Randall did not move. Randall said, “I want to make a request.”

Logan glanced from one to the other. “What, you two had a strategy session and forgot to invite the defending attorney? Guys, in case
it’s slipped your tiny minds, my good name is the one on the line here.”

“Logan, Randall merely said—”

“It’s all right.” But Randall’s expression did not back up his words. One glance was enough for Logan to know it was not all right at all. Randall was watching him cautiously, measuring vigilantly. Logan knew he was proving to be more of a handful than Randall had ever anticipated. Which was good. Because Glenwood was threatening to present the exact same risk. Randall went on, “New Horizons has an extensive trade relationship with Factory 101 in China. But we don’t want you to admit this tomorrow.”

Logan gaped at the two older men. “You’re both certifiably insane.”

“Not at all.”

“Tomorrow is the next-to-last meeting in-chambers before we go to trial!”

“We have to determine,” Randall went on, pressing down hard on each word, “exactly how much Marcus knows.”

The senior partner spoke, “We realize this is a lot to ask.”

“What’s this
we
business? Who’s side are you on?”

“We’re all on the same side.” The senior partner patted his head of burnished silver, adding contentedly, “Randall Walker is offering to grant us a significant portion of the New Horizons corporate account. An account you would personally manage.”

Logan settled back in his chair. “All right. I’m listening.”

Randall said, “New Horizons’ relationship with Factory 101 is a critical part of their overall import business. One we would prefer not to have exposed to the light of an American courtroom. So we need you to hold back and see if Marcus Glenwood has managed to come up with the impossible.”

Logan mulled that over, then demanded, “So just how much trade do they do with these Chinese guys?”

O
N THE RIDE BACK
after the pig picking, Deacon sat up front because Austin insisted. A glance in the rearview mirror was enough to reveal the reason why: Austin spent the journey locked upon the view out the side window, eyes blind and face weary in the way of one whose sleep was stolen. The mood in the car remained thoughtful and quiet
until Marcus turned back onto the state road and reentered familiar territory. Then Deacon eased himself about, until he was leaning against the door and able to watch Marcus and Charlie both. “Did you ever know Marcus’ granddaddy, Mr. Charlie?”

“No, can’t say I ever had the favor.”

“Old Mr. Horace was a fine man. Real fine. Helped build our church, in a manner of speaking.”

Marcus quickly glanced over. “What?”

“Those fields out between the cemetery and the rise, they once belonged to Mr. Horace. They were deeded to him in a settlement. Back when I was just starting out my days at the pulpit, lightning struck the old church. Least, that’s what we figured it was. Big storm passed late one night. Next morning we didn’t have nothing but ashes. That church was built by freed slaves with the first money they earned. Lots of wailing by their grandchildren and great-grandchildren the day after that storm. Didn’t have nothing left but a bell and four cornerstones. Lost it all.”

“Hard blow,” Charlie offered.

“Marcus’ granddaddy came by that very same day, deeded the land over to us. Said he had no use for bottom land, he wasn’t no farmer and never would be. Shame to let good tobacco land go to waste.”

“I never knew any of this,” Marcus said.

“We farmed that land and sold the crop and built the new church. Yes, Mr. Horace was a fine man. And my, but he could talk.” The memory caused Deacon to smile. “Talk the hind leg off a dead mule. Talk all day and all night.”

Charlie asked, “Marcus, your granddaddy was a tobacco auctioneer, do I recall that straight?”

“Until his stroke.” But Marcus was caught by the memory of an old man who, once settled by his wife into the corner rocker, neither moved nor spoke. Marcus’ grandfather had watched his growing-up years and never uttered a sound. For a born talker, it must have been an assignment in hell itself.

The car was silenced and sobered by passing the red-brick sign announcing the entrance to the New Horizons complex. One corner remained broken and scarred where Marcus had clipped it. A team was busy erecting a burnished copper shield on top of the brick, one bearing
the star-and-rainbow logo and embossed with the world-famous command to
GET IN GEAR
. They took the downward-sloping curve through the forest, reentered the light where the road flattened and revealed the church. Marcus studied the surrounding fields with new interest. “Hard to believe all this started with them wanting to move the cemetery.”