The Great Divide (36 page)

The council’s chairman attempted to rein in his rage. “I told those bozos at New Horizons they were making a mistake to entrust you with something this explosive.”

“What would you expect,” grumbled another board member. “Coming from a company that sells glow-in-the-dark tennis shoes.”

“And pays a million bucks a year to some yahoo because he can jump,” sneered the deputy.

Randall ignored the jibes because he was concentrating on another sound, the only one he could clearly hear. The China Trade Council’s boardroom table was ringed by the noise of sharpening knives. “New Horizons pays their dues the same as you. They appoint their representative, the same as your own companies. That representative happens to be me. As per our rights as a council member, we are requesting your help.”

“Help that should have been requested weeks ago! Back before this lawsuit became a public brawl!”

The deputy turned his placating tone on Randall. “You know how we hate publicity. Especially when the Vice President has a trade mission in the pipeline.”

Randall smiled, and wished he could reach over and strangle the man. “I find it absolutely amazing how everybody at this table has such perfect hindsight.”

The chairman barked, “I told you from the beginning to destroy the Hall girl’s files.”

Randall sighed. “And just exactly when was that supposed to happen? Back when we didn’t know there were any files, or after we realized she must have locked them in a safety deposit box?”

“Now you listen—”

But Randall wasn’t done. “Hamper Caisse searched the Stanstead girl’s car, house, office, bathroom, basement—not once, but three
different times. Everyone in this room knows Caisse is the best in the business. That’s why we use him. Caisse said there was nothing. I believed him.”

“And look how wrong you were!”

“Yes.” Randall’s mind remained split between two fantasies. One was of carving out the chairman’s tongue with a dull spoon. The other was of a frosty glass filled to the rim with crushed ice and single-malt scotch. He could not tell which one appealed the most just then. “We were all wrong. Remember the meeting we had soon after this broke, gentlemen? I’ll be happy to draw out the minutes to refresh your memories. First we arranged for an attorney we tamed to tell the Halls they had no case. When that didn’t work, we agreed that sooner or later this thing was bound to come out. Then the Halls selected a lawyer so utterly incompetent the case was lost before it was started.”

Randall felt suddenly weary, both of this battle and the overall war. It had all seemed so simple then. “It was a unanimous decision, gentlemen. We all agreed. The Halls were not going to drop this case. A lawyer would be hired. The Halls would pursue their case. And going after the Halls themselves would only heighten the risk of everything coming out in the press. We couldn’t bribe them, we couldn’t threaten them. We had to find a weak link. Glenwood was perfect.”

“Perfect!” The chairman’s face had turned a remarkable shade of puce. “The man is threatening to derail our trade mission! One of our most senior contacts has privately informed us that China is considering the closure of all American subsidiaries and cutting off further negotiations with all U.S. companies! We stand to lose hundreds of millions of dollars in new business! You call this perfect?”

It was the deputy who responded. “As soon as the facts began to emerge, we tried to stop this Glenwood. Caisse was sent in. And others.”

“Yes, and I can now see where the problem lay all along!” The chairman stabbed a trembling finger at Randall. “You didn’t have the guts to finish things off cleanly!”

Randall had to release at least one small chuckle. “And you do?”

“Absolutely! And furthermore, we’ve got the intelligence to see this as the utter shambles it is!”

“On the contrary, Sidney.” Randall decided he had had enough. “You’re so dumb you could get lost in a round room.”

The chairman catapulted out of his chair. “Get him out of here!”

“Sidney, calm—”

“You’re fired! I’m getting your boss on the phone and personally taking control of this myself!”

“Oh, now we’re in for a treat.” Randall picked up his briefcase and graced the room with a grand smile. He had a villa on the Amalfi Coast he had visited only once, and two bank accounts in Switzerland stuffed to overflowing. It was time to taste the good life. As Randall gazed down at the eighteen other faces, he found himself wondering what had possessed him to want to join them in the first place. “I advise all of you to head for the nearest bunker.”

W
HEN THE PHONE RANG
, Marcus first thought it was part of a dream. His heart pounded in time to the jangling tone, and his eyes opened to a dark scarcely less vacant than the tomb. A vague yellowish light spilled through his window, enough to guide his hand to the phone. He lifted the receiver and squinted at the clock dial. It was four in the morning. “Hello?”

“Good, you are awake. This is very good.”

Marcus recognized the voice of Dee Gautam. “You can’t be serious.”

“Good to be awake and receiving good news. Sometimes the clock is an enemy to be conquered, yes?”

Marcus swung his legs to the floor, searched for the lamp switch, squinted at the sudden brilliance. “What news?”

“You are having pencil and paper?”

“Hang on. Yes, all right, go ahead.”

“A certain Hao Lin wishes to speak with you.” The merry voice spelled the name. “She is in detention at the INS center outside Washington. You know the term, INS?”

“Immigration and Naturalization Service. But what—”

“They hold her. Here is the detention number they have given to Hao Lin.” He read off the code. “Call today. See her now. Before she is moved and lost again. Hurry.” Dee Gautam cut the connection.

Marcus sat holding the receiver until he became resigned to the end of his slumber. He rose and padded for the bathroom, glad of one thing only: At least this night he had beaten the nightmare to the punch.

He went for a run in the dark, reveling in his brief solitude. He had not realized how much the constant presence of others weighed upon him. Even the ache in his arm felt like a healing pulse.

The night was black and starless, the clouds glinting dully with light reflected from the town below. Rocky Mount had the look of a place too weary to recover with only one brief night’s rest. He headed toward the river, took the bridge, and passed through the deserted downtown streets. The previous year’s floods had merely added new scars to more ancient signs of neglect. Tobacco barns, their windows black and toothless, sported wall signs of long-forgotten companies. Marcus ran and reflected upon how this was the perfect breeding ground for injustice, how inevitable it was for New Horizons to come and suck up what good remained within this tired old town.

He returned and showered and ate, waiting until eight o’clock to call Ashley. Marcus greeted the lawyer with, “This has the makings of a great tale, how one attorney wakes another on a Saturday morning about a case that probably won’t earn either of them a nickel.”

Ashley croaked, “I’m supposed to find something funny about this?”

“Dee Gautam woke me at four.”

“Call me back in five minutes.”

Marcus waited ten, then redialed. Ashley answered, “I assume the elf did not want to know how you were resting.”

“He says there’s a potential witness who can’t wait. A certain Hao Lin held at the INS detention center somewhere near Washington. I’m sorry, he didn’t give me any more address than that.”

“I know the INS holding pen.” There was no longer any sleepiness to Ashley’s tone. “You want me to get a deposition.”

“Yes. Soon as I hear from you that this person is genuine and has something to offer, I’ll go ahead and request the judge serve papers to have her brought down.”

“Fine. Good. Listen, I was hoping to contact you this weekend. There’s something pretty amazing that I’m catching wind of. Do you want the rumors now or the facts in another day or so?”

Marcus pondered, then decided, “I’ll stick with the facts. I don’t know if I could handle anything else right now.”

M
ARCUS SET DOWN
the phone in time to the chime of his front doorbell. Darren appeared in the back hall and stood watching as he opened the door only to find himself confronting a stranger with a tense look and a cast-off smile. “Marcus Glenwood?”

“Yes.”

“Great.” He handed over a bulky packet and turned for the stairs. “Have a nice day.”

Marcus was still standing in his doorway reading the pages when his phone rang once more. Reluctantly he walked back to his office and picked up the receiver. “Glenwood.”

“Marcus, this is Jim Bell. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Not at all.” For a federal judge’s guard-receptionist to call him on the weekend during a trial was definitely one for the books. “What can I do for you?”

“Judge Nicols doesn’t know anything about this call.” The words had a rehearsed quality. “I’m not gonna say a thing to her, and you probably shouldn’t either.”

Marcus searched for his chair, said slowly, “Okay.”

“Last night the judge was approached by Senator Stern. He told her the White House is looking for a new independent U.S. prosecutor. Something about issues being raised by the Senate Ethics Committee. He asked if she’d like the position.”

Marcus breathed tightly. “She said yes.”

“Right. Also yesterday Jenny Hail was called by the governor’s office. A district judgeship has come available over in Winston-Salem. They’re considering Jenny for the position. You know how close those two are.”

Marcus hefted the newly arrived document. “I’ve just been served with a subpoena. A grievance has been filed against me with the state bar. It’s related to a case I was involved in, oh, it must be five years ago.” He flipped the pages, confirmed, “Yes, here it is, five years. It accuses me of turning a man whose will I drew up against his surviving heirs.” Marcus dropped the pages to his desk. “Charlie Hayes would call this a hanging offense, since if I’m convicted I would lose my license to practice law.”

“Interesting how all this came up together.”

“You said it.”

“Well, see you on Monday.”

“Right. And thanks, Jim. A lot.” Marcus hung up, trying hard not to read too much into what he had just learned.

B
UT
A
SHLEY
G
RANGER
did not call back that day, nor did Marcus receive any answer except a taped message when he phoned both Ashley’s office and his home. Marcus held to patience through a steady stream of work, finally giving in to exhaustion just after eight. As he lay waiting for sleep to come, he decided the day seemed altogether incomplete.

As usual, his sleep was shattered before dawn. This time, however, he opened his eyes and searched for what remained just beyond the reach of his senses. He peered into the darkness, but found no reason for fear. Instead, his room seemed disturbed by the beat of disembodied wings.

Marcus sat up in bed and tried to listen beyond the night’s sibilant hush. The chamber did not hold to the feel of his nightly trauma. Instead he sensed a different presence, neither good nor hostile, merely watchful. As though he was on trial himself, and the night was asking, Are you worthy? Marcus sat there until dawn, helpless to do more than hope the verdict would come down in his favor.

M
ONDAY MORNING
dawned with a mocking beauty, a false clarity to the sky and the road ahead. Marcus did not see the lie revealed until Darren was pulling into the courthouse parking lot, and he finally had an answer to his repeated telephone calls to Ashley Granger’s office.

Afterward it seemed that even before he heard the anguished voice, even before he detected the weeping in the background, even before Ashley’s secretary sobbed out the news on the car phone, he knew. Marcus sat and heard the keening words, and loathed the absence of rain and gray and universal mourning.

He was all the way down the courtroom’s central aisle before he realized he had passed Kirsten. He turned and greeted her with a solemn nod, and the thought that at this moment, her gaze of broken gemstone was completely appropriate. Here at least was one who shared his sorrow, even though she did not know it yet. Marcus moved to his table, said to Alma and Austin, “Do you still have the video?”

Something either in his eyes or in his tone stilled their questions. Alma said simply, “Yes.”

“The original?”

“In our safety deposit box,” Austin replied.

He turned to Charlie. “Find us an expert. Have it cleaned up, make Gloria as visible as possible.”

Charlie nodded. “What’s the matter, son?”

The bailiff chose that moment to announce, “All rise.”

Marcus remained standing as the others seated themselves, isolated by more than his stance as the court was called into session. He waited until Judge Nicols turned his way to announce, “Your Honor, it is my forlorn duty to announce that an attorney assisting me with this case, Mr. Ashley Granger of Washington, D.C., was murdered on Saturday.”

“No!” Kirsten’s wail wrenched Marcus where he stood, but he did not turn around.