Behind the Bonehouse (6 page)

“It further stipulates that you will not disclose any information or trade secrets you encounter there to anyone else, or use that information to benefit yourself or another. That you will not go to work for any business that competes with Equine Pharmaceuticals. That you will not yourself go into competition with Equine Pharmaceuticals during your employment, and for a period of eight years after your employment has been terminated. It is only too clear from the testimony of Arthur Lawrence, and the recording we have all heard, that you are in violation of that agreement.”

“I don't see it that way.”

“Don't you?” Garner Honeycutt smiled stiffly, and adjusted the knot in his gray paisley tie. “On what do you base your position?”

Bob Harrison couldn't have smiled if there'd been a gun to his head, and he started toward Carl with his hands clenched, stopping himself three feet away. “How could you
do
it! Those are Alan's formulas! All you did was run the tests Alan and I asked for. For you to steal his work and try to—”

“Wait a minute! I—”

“Your education and experience didn't qualify you for the work we do at Equine. I went out of my way to mentor, and train, and encourage you, and I promoted you way beyond what you ever should've expected, when—”

Garner raised a hand toward Harrison, with mild blue eyes and raised eyebrows. And Bob Harrison turned around and sat down in the straight-backed chair beside the tape recorder at the end of the sofa near Jane.

“Besides.” Carl was smiling now, smoothing his hair away from his forehead. “Tapes can be faked.”

“But they weren't, were they? We have the originals and copies of two recordings and a Dictaphone belt as well, in addition to the testimony of Mr. Lawrence. Let us accept it as read, shall we? Now.” Garner Honeycutt was still looking at Carl as he crossed one leg over the other, slowly tapping a file folder on the arm of his chair, his thin face calm but stern, his voice quiet and firm.

“There are three options open to Mr. Harrison. He can file a police report citing premeditated theft and ask the County Attorney to prosecute you on a criminal offense. If the County Attorney proceeds, with the evidence in our possession, a conviction would be assured. That could entail the possibility of jail time, court-ordered financial restitution for the damages to Mr. Harrison, as well as burdening you with a permanent criminal record. He can also—”

“The probability of the Woodford County Attorney taking that up is nil.”

“Is it?” Garner Honeycutt smiled, a small, secret, predatory smile, and gazed briefly at the ceiling. “You're far more confident of that than I would be, were I to be in your position. It would be an easy case for him, and it would certainly show the voters here in Woodford County that he supports local business. Which I would think would be advantageous for a man with political ambitions.”

“So what?” Carl's face was red now, but his eyes were cool, squinting under his sandy gray brows as he lit another Lucky.

“The second option open to Mr. Harrison is to file a civil suit and ask the court to
permanently
enjoin you from working for a competitor, as well as from competing against Equine Pharmaceuticals in any manner whatsoever. It would preclude you from disclosing trade secrets, and all other information acquired at Equine Pharmaceuticals.

“I draw your attention to the word
permanently
. If you were to appear in court, facing this evidence, you would have no choice but to
agree
to such an order. While that might reduce the chance of a criminal prosecution now, it would expose you to crushing defense costs, and ultimately the payment of all Mr. Harrison's financial damages arising out of the violation settlement for having willfully violated the contract you signed upon employment. The theft of a substantial trade secret, based on this evidence, will support punitive damages as well.

“At the end of the day, you would have a court order hanging over your head, and no employer, investor, or banker would ever touch you. If you were even to attempt to subsequently violate such a court order, you would be subject to contempt of court proceedings. The court has
very
broad powers in handling instances of contempt of court, and the violation of its own orders. You would risk having to pay additional damages, as well as Mr. Harrison's legal costs.”

“And Mr. Harrison's other option?” Carl was sitting on the sofa now, leaning back, blowing smoke toward the ceiling, holding an ashtray in his lap.

“His third option is to draw up a document such as I have here. In it you acknowledge that your employment at Equine Pharmaceuticals is terminated as of today's date. You acknowledge that this agreement is binding and supersedes the employment contract you signed when you were first employed. You agree to abide by the following: For a period of ten years, in all of North America, you will not work for a manufacturer of equine pharmaceuticals and health care products, or any other enterprise which competes with Equine Pharmaceuticals, directly or indirectly. You will not start such a company or go into competition with Equine Pharmaceuticals in any manner whatsoever. You will not use, or disclose, any formulas, trade secrets or other information to which you were privy while employed at Equine Pharmaceuticals. You will acknowledge that if you violate this agreement, a court will immediately issue an order to enforce the restrictions and require you to pay the costs of such an action.”

“You expect me to sign that without seeing a lawyer?”

“Mr. Harrison is a man with many demands upon his time who wishes to reach a quick conclusion and put this matter behind him as rapidly as possible. He is consequently willing to extend the offer until six o'clock tomorrow evening. After that, Mr. Harrison will take the tapes he has in his possession and pursue his other options. We took the liberty of determining that Harold Rasmusson, whom you used when negotiating your first employment agreement, is in Versailles all day tomorrow, and has time available to meet with you. We have played the tape, and discussed the options with him, and shown him this contract. But if you wish to consult another attorney, that's entirely up to you. If you wish to sign now, no other attorney need be subjected to hearing the tape Mr. Harrison has in his possession.”

“What about Butch?”

“That is not your concern.”

“So you'll offer him the same deal?”

Garner didn't answer.

And Carl stared at the fireplace as he stubbed his cigarette out and set the ashtray on the coffee table. “I suppose I might as well read the agreement.”

Garner Honeycutt handed a copy to Carl and another to Jane, then sat down again by the fireplace, where he thumbed through a
National Geographic
he'd picked up from a side table, while Bob Harrison put the cover on the tape recorder, and Carl and Jane read the contract.

Jane finished first. She was a university librarian who'd been reading since she was four, and she sat slumped against the blue flowered sofa, tears gathering in her eyes, her hands clenched on top of the contract in her lap.

When Carl looked up and lit another Lucky, Jane said, “You ought to sign it. It's the best resolution you can hope for, and nobody else would have to know what it is you've done.”

“Don't expect me to give in to this, simply because you—”

“
I
was born and raised here! You weren't. I don't want one more person to know what you've done. How could you
do
it!” Her face was flushed, but her lips looked bloodless, as she glared at Carl, on the other end of the sofa with a grim but petulant smile on his face.

No one else said anything. And Carl read the three page contract again, taking his time, glancing at Garner Honeycutt twice, before he said he'd try to reach Rasmusson at home.

He walked out to the front hall, then turned toward the rear of the house, and was gone for fifteen minutes. The other three sat in silence, unable to contemplate small talk, tapping feet and staring into space.

Carl came back in, and sat on the sofa, and crossed his legs before he spoke. “If you make one addition I will agree to sign this now.”

Bob said, “What is that?”

“That I will not be liable for legal costs, other than my own, pertaining to this document.”

Garner said, “We would not be willing to entertain such a requirement concerning action brought about by your possible infringement of this second document.”

“No, I mean at this time. Bob's legal fees relating to the work you've done and are doing now. Drawing this up, evaluating the first contract. I want it stated clearly that you can't come at me for costs.”

“Bob?” Garner Honeycutt looked at Bob, his eyebrows raised inquisitively, making him look like a wild hare for a moment, nose quivering in the air.

“That's okay with me.” Bob sat upright in his side chair, his spine a steel rod, his hands gripping the arms of his chair as though he needed to control them, his feet set squarely on the floor, ready to move fast.

“In that case, with Mr. Harrison's consent, I shall compose a draft of an addendum for consideration.” Garner pulled a legal pad from his briefcase and wrote for a moment with a ballpoint pen.

No one said a word while Garner handed his draft to Bob first, and then Carl.

Both nodded, and Carl handed it back. Honeycutt asked if there were a typewriter in the house.

Jane said, “I'll show you,” and led him across the hall to the study on the other side of the front door.

When Garner came back, he stapled addendums to the two originals and three copies, which Carl and Bob both signed. He had them both initial every page in every copy, and then Jane signed the bottom of the last page of the contract, and the addendum as well, as a witness. Garner handed an original to Carl and another to Bob, then put the others in a folder and slipped it into his briefcase.

Bob stood and picked up the tape recorder, and started toward the door—before he stopped and turned and looked Carl in the eye. “You fooled me. I'll give you that.”

“That's the first time I've heard you admit a mistake!”

Bob stared at him and shook his head as though that didn't deserve a reply. Then he and Garner walked out the front door, closing it quickly behind them.

Jane was standing, clutching her apron, her eyes burning into Carl's. “I wish I could say I was as surprised as Bob.”

“Shut up! You don't know what I've had to put up with, with Alan Munro, and the—”

“Oh, I knew there'd be an excuse!”

“Easy for you!
Your
father didn't—”

“Walk out. And my mother didn't clean houses like yours, or die when I was sixteen.
None
of that justifies what it is you've done!” Jane stalked out through the archway into the front hall, then turned left past the stairs and rushed on into the kitchen.

Carl heard the back door slam and gardening tools getting thrown in the wheelbarrow she'd left by the back door. He heard it thumping across the flagstones toward the garage—just as Cassandra sprinted into the living room from the front hall.

She rubbed against Carl's ankles, till he picked her up and stroked her throat as he stared across the street at Elinor Nevilleson, pretending to dead-head a rose bush while she watched Harrison's car turn toward the light at Main Street.

Carl said, “Bitch!” before he kissed Cassandra's forehead and carried her across the hall to the study.

He still held her while he dialed the phone and waited. “Terry, it's Carl. … Oh, not bad. Though I'm actually calling on a matter of conscience. … No, you heard me. I've decided to leave Equine Pharmaceuticals. I can't go into it in any detail, but there're practices being condoned there that I can't stomach. … I've also decided that it's my duty to tell you that you ought to investigate Equine's taxes. Bob Harrison's not doing business on the up-and-up. … I assume IRS auditors still get to keep a percentage of the unpaid taxes you uncover? … Good. So how soon can you start? … Well, even if you can't for a couple of months, it'll be worth your while when you do. … Okay. Sure. You wantta tee off at eight? … Good. Believe me, you won't regret looking at Harrison's books.”

Carl smiled when he put down the receiver, as Cassandra jumped to the floor.

Butch Morgan was leaning back in a worn green velvet chair, his feet on the matching footstool, the sound off on the baseball game on the TV across the room, a beer cupped in his left hand, his wife on the phone in his right.

“Come on, Frannie. You know you don't want a divorce. You know you don't. You know how good we can be. 'Member before the babies were born when we'd go out to the river and take a … Okay, so you've filed, but you can stop it if you want. I can make you happy, honey, you know I can. … Yeah, I'm drinkin' a beer. One, that's all. I can quit whenever I want. … No! Why would I want to talk about Korea with some stooge in a white coat who's never fired a shot? I wantta forget Korea, okay? And bring you and the girls back home. …

“Anyway, I'm fixin' to pick 'em up tomorrow mornin' about nine. I thought we could go see the Clark Museum there in Louavull, and take a picnic lunch. 'Course, one day I'd like to take 'em to see Harrodsburg and show 'em where I grew up, but there won't be time tomorrow if we …

“What d'ya mean? Why don't they want me to pick 'em up? … I don't. Not every time. … Well, are you helpin' 'em to want to, or are you criticizing me behind my back, so that … Then I'll just come up there tomorrow mornin', and we can all spend the day and go out to supper. … I finished fixing up the kitchen. Tiling the floor, that's done, and I … I gotta go, Frannie. Somebody's at the door.”

Garner Honeycutt and Bob Harrison had told Butch everything they'd told Carl, and he'd listened to them and the tape, sitting in the big green chair in the family room he'd added on at the back with a slider out to a side porch. He was holding a cup of coffee, staring at the slippery looking surface as though matters of consequence depended on how well he concentrated.