Critical Reaction (27 page)

So yes, he believed enough in Kieran’s case, and all that was very relevant and very important. But where did that leave him? Should he offer to do more? Shoulder a major role in the approaching trial? Emily still hadn’t asked—and perhaps she’d never ask. But after what he’d just seen confirmed about Emily’s feelings for Kieran on the Annex lawn, maybe that couldn’t matter anymore. Not if it was in his power to make a difference
in the life of someone Emily cared about the way he’d cared for Carolyn.

Kieran and Emily were gone by the time Ryan entered the Annex front door. Emily was nowhere downstairs. He took the staircase to her bedroom door, which was ajar.

“Emily?” he called, pushing it gently open.

She was seated on the bed, facing away. She turned as he entered, her eyes shot through with hopelessness.

“I can’t help Kieran. I can’t win his case, Dad. I can’t beat them. I keep telling myself that I can, but I can’t.”

Ryan sat down on the bed beside her and put his arm around her shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Let’s talk about that.”

CHAPTER 28

S
EVEN
D
AYS
U
NTIL
T
RIAL

Adam leaned back in his desk chair as he finished his review of the summary of Dr. Virgil Strong’s expert report.

This was satisfactory, he thought. He picked up the phone and called the contact number Cameron Foote had provided.

“Sharon? Yes. I’m just checking to see if the award letter has been released to the USC Health Sciences Department yet. The one confirming the final decision to fund the new chair. No? Well, could you please see that it goes out today? Fax and mail. Thank you.”

Adam knew Dr. Virgil Strong. He’d looked into hiring him for the Project at one time. The man was a top expert in nuclear physics, though his personality had not been judged suitable for their purposes in Project Wolffia. So when the scientist’s name came up as a potential expert for the Mullaney lawyers, Adam had been seriously troubled.

He’d considered bribery, but Virgil Strong was almost certainly above a direct solicitation, which was, in any event, extremely tricky business. No, a better course was to take advantage of the fact that the man was no less ambitious than any professor in line for department head at a major university.

The offer of a newly funded chair honoring Dr. Strong’s work in health physics had not even been conveyed by Covington Nuclear, but through a foundation openly funded by Covington’s
parent company. Adam hadn’t asked Cameron Foote what channels he’d used to convey the information to Dr. Strong that the chair was under “immediate” consideration by the foundation.

They hadn’t wished to buy the man. They’d only needed to influence him. This summary of Strong’s report to Mullaney’s attorneys, obtained by a graduate student of Strong’s on a highly paid summer internship with Covington Nuclear at Los Alamos, proved they had been successful.

If this summary was correct, Strong’s expert report in the Mullaney case took no risks, plumbed no depths. It was entirely satisfactory.

And the Health Sciences Department at the University of Southern California would get its new chair.

Ryan slowed his pace as he reached the Annex. He wasn’t a morning runner; he preferred exercise as catharsis after a full day of work. But today it felt good to get out early, with the pretrial status conference in the afternoon. Especially given his anxiety about receiving Dr. Strong’s reports: the professor’s secretary had left a message on Friday that they would be delivered before noon this morning.

He’d spoken with Dr. Strong several more times at the end of last week, sending more documents and answering questions about Kieran’s recollections. He’d considered conveying Dr. Trân’s reports to the USC professor. In the end he hadn’t, uncertain what effect they would have.

But this was unprecedented for Ryan, to be hours from exchanging final expert reports with an opposing attorney without even having seen them himself.

A FedEx truck approached from down the street. Ryan stood on the lawn and watched it slow beside him.

A uniformed man appeared from the driver’s side. “Are you Ryan Hart?” he asked.

At Ryan’s nod, the man handed him a thick envelope, which Ryan signed for. He was tearing open the package as the man said, “Have a good one,” and stepped away.

There was a single bound document inside: Cause of LB5 Explosion and Related Health Effects. Under the title was stamped “Dr. Virgil Strong, Member, Faculty of University of Southern California Health Physics Department.”

Ryan flipped straight to the back to read the “Summary of Opinions” just as Emily came out of the Annex to join him.

“How’s it look?” she asked tentatively.

Ryan didn’t glance up, but began to read out loud.

“In sum, based upon the chemical data, blast force, time parameters . . .”

He skipped ahead.

“. . . it is my expert opinion that the October 16, 2013, explosions in Lab Building 5 of the Hanford Reservation were most likely caused by an autocatalytic event, triggered by the opening of a valve on the bottom of Vat 17 by person or persons unknown. . . . It is also my opinion that there is insufficient evidence from the blood samples to conclude that Kieran Mullaney was exposed to ionizing radiation as a result of the explosions.”

Ryan felt the blood drain from his face. “Strong’s sided with Covington Nuclear,” he muttered.

His cell phone pressed hard against his ear. Ryan paced the hall outside Judge Renway’s courtroom in the Sherman Federal Courthouse.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hart, but Professor Strong isn’t available just now,” the secretary said calmly. “I’m glad to take a message.”

Ryan struggled to keep his voice down. “I’ve left four messages today already.”

“I am
so
sorry, Mr. Hart,” the solicitous woman responded. “I’ve forwarded your earlier messages to Dr. Strong’s office, but I don’t believe he’s even been in yet today. I’ll be sure to alert him to the urgency of your calls just as soon as I see him.”

“Add this message to the last, please,” Ryan spat. “Tell him to collect the rest of his fee from Covington Nuclear.”

He nearly tossed the phone across the hall.

Strong’s report, with a few quibbles, had validated Covington’s position in this case—even to the point of downplaying the significance of the blood results. In twenty years of practice, Ryan had never had an expert so clearly turned. And they’d done it with such impeccable timing.

Fifty thousand dollars for Strong’s version of the blood study, plus the prepaid portion of Strong’s fees. All fodder for the shredder.

Ryan took a deep breath to get his heart rate under control. Covington had gotten to Strong—or maybe they’d always had him. His paranoia meter soared. Could he really trust Dr. Trân—or was
his
betrayal just being delayed until trial?

His hands had stopped shaking enough that Ryan pushed through the doors into Judge Renway’s courtroom.

“Your Honor,” Emily protested from counsel table, “we need this inspection of the lower levels of LB5 because our expert concludes that the explosion likely
started
in those lower glove boxes.”

The judge, resplendent in his blue robe, was peering over the bench at Emily. “Ms. Hart, discovery closed in this case months ago. Now you want Covington to prepare the building for an inspection—including sampling—only seven days before trial?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Emily pressed. She was on her feet, with
Kieran at her side looking down at the table. “Final expert reports were only due today; months ago, we couldn’t have known what other evidence might be relevant in light of our expert’s conclusions.”

The judge shook his head with a look Ryan interpreted as self-righteous solemnity. “The expert reports were only due so late at
your
request. And your expert could have alerted you to additional evidence he desired when still in the process of preparing his report.”

King, occupying the counsel table to Emily’s left, looked smug and satisfied. Why not, Ryan thought. He didn’t even need to open his mouth. The judge was making every argument for him.

“If I can remind the court,” Emily said, leaning into her own table, “we have only been attorneys in this case for less than sixty days. We have been working day and night to meet this Court’s schedule—”

The judge’s expression grew darker as he interrupted. “And I will remind
Counsel
that you knew the deadlines when you took the case.”

Through the veil of his disappointment today, Ryan felt proud of Emily. She wasn’t giving an inch. There was no need for him to resume his seat at counsel table next to Kieran: Emily was holding her own, even if this judge wasn’t budging.

Emily launched several more tacks, none of which made the slightest dent in the judge’s position. At last, Renway brought down the gavel.

“For the last time, your request is denied, Counsel. And since that was the last matter to cover today, we’re adjourned until trial commences next Monday afternoon, a week from today.”

King gathered his papers and left the courtroom at his usual rocket pace—as though fearing Ryan would follow again. The clerks followed the judge out. Kieran stood and thanked Emily dispiritedly. “I’ve gotta make a quick call,” he said, then left the room.

Emily and Ryan were alone in the cavernous courtroom. “Nothing from Strong?” she asked quietly.

Ryan shook his head. “Nope. He’s ducking my calls. We’re done with him.”

“Then I guess it’s Dr. Trân.”

Ryan smiled with more optimism than he felt. “I guess so.”

He gestured toward the door. “You think Kieran’s doing okay?”

Emily shook her head. “No. But he’s putting on a good face. Especially with Renway slapping us down again.”

Ryan nodded. “This was a foregone conclusion. But you did well today, Counselor.”

They pulled together their papers—including Covington’s final expert reports that they’d received that morning from Eric King. Ryan had already reviewed them quickly: there was little new. But then, Covington didn’t need anything new at this stage. Most of the arrows in this case were already in their quiver—including the judge who’d just left the courtroom.

They did have a small element of surprise for the first day of trial: Ryan’s participation. The last three days, he and Emily had hammered out a new split of responsibility. This was still Emily’s case. But Ryan had the opening statement, Kieran’s testimony, and other key parts of their case in chief—parts where his experience would count the most. Emily had closing arguments, most of the workers—including Taylor Christensen—and, at Ryan’s suggestion, Dr. Trân.

Emily’s unspoken relief had been immediate and powerful. Her role was still primary, but she no longer stood alone on the front line of a complex, difficult trial.

“Come on,” Ryan said. “The lawyer who sits in the gallery buys lunch.”

Emily smiled weakly. “That a tradition?”

Ryan patted her back. “It is now.”

CHAPTER 29

“Poppy.
Poppy
Martin.
”

He looked up from the handful of washers he held in his open hand. The lighting in aisle four of the Sherman Ace Hardware was a little dim—or maybe his eyes were just tired—but he didn’t recognize the barrel-chested man striding toward him.

The man drew close and Poppy realized there was a reason he didn’t recognize the grinning thick-armed man who was acting like Poppy was a lost cousin: he’d never seen him before in his life.

“Poppy,” the man began, still grinning, “my name’s Mel Emerson. I transferred to Hanford a few years ago from Los Alamos. I heard you were in that explosion last October, out at LB5. I wanted to say I’m really sorry you got caught up in that mess. See, I was one of the regular guards you replaced that night.”

Poppy looked him over, wondering why he’d never met a guard who’d been at Hanford that long—and why, in that case, this Emerson had recognized him. He wasn’t sure how to respond. “You’re welcome,” he said, awkwardly.