The Great Divide (54 page)

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.

Judge Nicols stood and pointed to the first row of viewers. Marcus turned only because her outstretched arm demanded it. Three gray-suited men rose to their feet and moved to the bar, the wooden gate behind which the public was required to remain. Through the buzzing confusion in his mind Marcus thought that two of the men seemed vaguely familiar.

Judge Nicols did not keep him in suspense. “Two of these men are FBI agents, the other is the district attorney. While the jury was out I met with the DA and the agents, and I have agreed that they should proceed with criminal charges against James Southerland and General Zhao Ren-Fan. A warrant has also been issued for the arrest of Randall Walker. Later this day further warrants will be issued for the entire New Horizons board of directors. They are to be arrested, formally charged, and criminally prosecuted for the kidnapping of Gloria Hall.”

The New Horizons chairman remained slumped motionless in his chair. The general tried to make a break for it, leaping over the defense table. The agents and the bailiff moved together and wrestled him to the floor. As they handcuffed him, the general was shouting that they could not do this, and ordering the defense attorney to get him out.

But Logan was still recovering from his body slam, and could only stutter, “General Zhao is covered by diplomatic immunity.”

Judge Nicols refused even to look his way. Instead, she remained raptly intent upon watching the general be hauled away. “He is nonetheless charged. These gentlemen will be granted a formal hearing in three days, at which time diplomatic immunity may be invoked for the general.” She watched as the agents lifted James Southerland to his feet and cuffed him. She offered the New Horizons CEO the same grim smile she had granted the general, and said, “Until that time, the gentlemen are invited to be guests of our fair state.”

M
ARCUS STEPPED onto the brick portico and rang the doorbell. The night was crisp enough to hold a winter’s silence, so quiet he could hear the measured tread of someone walking to the door. Gladys Nicols looked through the narrow side window and showed no surprise at his presence. Instead she opened the door and said merely, “You had me worried for a time there, Marcus.”

“Me too. May I come in?”

“Of course.” She opened the door and said, “Can I get you something, a coffee?”

“No thanks.” He stopped at the sight of two teenagers standing midway down the front hall, a young man of perhaps sixteen and a girl a year or so older.

The young man said, “You did great in there, Mr. Glenwood.”

“Yeah,” the girl added. “Momma won’t let us say anything about a trial, but we were rooting for you all along.”

“Thank you.”

“Come on in here, Marcus.” Gladys Nicols led him into her study and slid the doors shut behind them. “Have a seat there by the fire.”

She waited until they had both settled and taken a long look at the fire before asking, “Did you catch the evening news?”

“I missed it on purpose.”

“You looked just fine.” She gave him the tiniest of smiles. “And my, but you sounded eloquent.”

Marcus did not know what to say to that, so he made do with a careful inspection of the flames.

“The press is calling it the ‘shoestring defense.’ I like that. It holds
a certain ring.” When he did not respond, she went on, “The Chinese government has recalled its ambassador and declared the verdict to be an act of war. I have declined three invitations so far to travel up to Washington, each one coming from a higher authority. They can’t threaten a federal judge for doing her job, but they most certainly can try.”

“I’m sorry to have caused you all this trouble.”

“Do I look bothered to you?” She snagged a footstool with the toe of her shoe and drew it toward her. Once she had stretched out her legs and settled more deeply into the chair opposite him, she continued, “Let’s see, what else did the newscasters say? Three of New Horizons’ top sports stars have already declared they are breaking their endorsement contracts. Randall Walker was caught trying to board a plane to London using a false passport. And the State Department is lodging an official complaint against the ruling.”

Marcus rubbed his temples against the thought of the battles yet to come. “I’ll worry about all that tomorrow.”

She shifted in her chair, as though trying for a clearer angle on the issue. “I have been left with the distinct impression that Miss Gloria Hall had this planned from the beginning.”

Marcus said to the flames, “If you only knew.”

“Not tonight. But soon.” She cocked her head to one side. “One question will do for now. She knew the general was coming to America, didn’t she?”

“I can’t say for certain, but I think so.” Marcus felt the fatigue and the release down deep in his bones. “My guess is that she was hoping whoever took over the factory wouldn’t be so, well, controlled.”

“She wanted to provoke them into doing something that would expose them so that they would wind up in our courts. She wanted it all to happen while the general was over here and in range.” Gladys Nicols shook her head. “That poor girl.”

“Her poor parents.”

“Yes. Them too. How are they?”

“Not good.”

The look she gave him was etched with shared sorrow. “And how are you?”

“Surviving.” Marcus stretched his back, knew there was no putting it off. “Your Honor—”

“We’re done with court for the moment. You may call me Gladys.”

His gaze was enough to draw her up tight. “This case will not be finished,” he replied, “until we know exactly what happened to Gloria. And maybe not even then.” He sat and listened to the fire crackle, then continued, “Next week I’m going to file papers for a new civil action. I felt I owed it to you to see if you wanted me to pass the pressure on to another judge.”

She hesitated a long moment. “I am both tired and tempted. But all my life I have heard words about passing cups.”

“There is a federal statute framed in the days of the Soviet empire,” Marcus explained. “Back then Russia tended to escape responsibility for the misdeeds of state-owned companies by claiming sovereign immunity.”

“I imagine we will find the same objection raised when the Chinese government appeals this decision.”

Marcus nodded. “I want to head them off at the pass. This particular law says that a foreign government involved in a company for wholly commercial reasons can be held directly liable for the actions of that company. And for all damages.”

Judge Nicols sat up straighter still. “My, my.”

“Not only that, but there is a legal exception to sovereign immunity. It states that if a single action can be shown to be part of an overall pattern, then the state can be held liable for fomenting this action.”

“You want to up the ante, don’t you,” she demanded softly. “Hit them with more bad publicity. Continue the pressure until they come up with answers.”

“As soon as I can get the papers together, I intend to file a civil action against the Chinese government for human rights abuses in its
lao gai
prisons and forced-labor factories,” Marcus finished. “Nationwide.”

“Then I suppose my questions about Gloria will have to wait a while longer.” Judge Nicols rose to her feet, drawing Marcus with her. “I will see you in my office at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

T
HE LATE NOVEMBER DAY wore a dress as dark as Alma’s. The airport windows overlooking the runway were veiled in a mist so fine and soft it could not be called rain at all. The vast crowd of press and photographers and mourners gathered beside the runway was washed a uniform gray. Marcus stood with one arm around Kirsten’s shoulders and looked to a group of television newscasters standing in somber shades and chattering to a horde of electronic eyes. Marcus wished he could somehow grow as impervious to the tumult as he was to winter’s approach.

They were all there with him, all the strangers bound to him now, knit into the fabric of his life. All but Gladys Nicols, who had sent Jim Bell in her absence. The retired patrolman and Amos Culpepper had stood sentry at the doors since their arrival two hours earlier.

Together they all had watched the plane land and the passengers disembark. The metal courier stood silent and waiting now, drenched in the same gray sorrow as all the rest of this mournful day.

Jim Bell walked over and said, “You know Judge Nicols would be here if she could.”

Marcus nodded, both to the words and his understanding that it was far easier to address him than Austin or Alma Hall. He had two new cases winding their way toward a new jury trial in the judge’s courtroom. “It was good of you to come.”

Jim Bell offered a paper stiff as folded parchment. “She asked me to give you this.”

Marcus unfolded the sheet, read the contents, then called out, “Darren, come over here, please.” He handed the tall young man the paper and said, “At the request of Judge Nicols and Charlie Hayes,
the governor has agreed to expunge your record. As far as anyone is concerned, you are walking out of here with a clean sheet.”

Amos Culpepper joined them. “You still want to join our team at the sheriff’s office, Darren?”

The man did not look up from the paper shivering slightly in his hands. “Y-yes sir.”

Amos gave a solemn nod. “Nice to know there’s some good coming out of this day.”

There was a knock at the door. All eyes watched as Amos walked over and exchanged soft words with a uniformed patrolman. He then turned to the couple tucked into the corner shadows and announced, “They’re ready to unload the coffin.”

Deacon Wilbur rose first, one hand on each of the parents. “Stand tall, now,” he said, his voice carrying against the tide trying to press through the open door. “The whole world is gathered out there, ready to watch your Gloria come home.”

A number of people proved instrumental to this book’s formation. Katie Simon is Staff Attorney and chief aide to U.S. District Court Justice Earl Britt. Her energy and patient explanations were critical to the research’s early stages. Kieran Shanahan, an attorney and member of the Raleigh City Council, was instrumental in the shaping of the trial and the defense’s strategy. His and Katie’s assistance cannot be overstated. It was both an honor and a pleasure to work with them, and come to know a bit more about their world.

Reuben Blackwell, former executive of the Raleigh Chamber of Commerce and now Director of the RMOIC, has been a dear friend for many years. The house where much of this book takes place is modeled after his neighborhood in Rocky Mount. I am indeed grateful to him and his wife, Neva, for seeking to share with me their world. Thanks must also go to the pastor of their church and his wife, Chris and Sherron Jordan, and to all their wonderful congregation. They sang, they danced, they shouted, they put up with my quiet musings, and they made me feel welcome. What a gift.

One of the great delights of this book has been working with my editor at Doubleday, Eric Major, and his assistant Elizabeth Walter. They bring to the table a remarkable level of professionalism and wisdom. I would like to thank two others among the many at Doubleday with whom I have been fortunate to work, Judith Kern and Steve Rubin. My heartfelt appreciation goes as well to the wonderful team at Waterbrook, including Dan Rich, Lisa Bergren, Michelle Tennesen, and Rebecca Price. It is a privilege to call them friends.