Marine One (28 page)

"I don't remember."

"Mrs. Collins, you would have the jury believe that the reason you weren't sleeping with your husband was because of a medical condition he never told a doctor about, and out of sensitivity to volunteer work you weren't doing, right?"

"I wouldn't put it like that."

"Nothing further, Your Honor."

Judge Betancourt dismissed us for lunch.

I checked my BlackBerry. Rachel asked, "Any word from Bradley?"

"Nothing. I sent him an e-mail but he didn't respond. I had Tracy call his office too. Didn't respond." I pondered what could possibly have happened to Wayne Bradley as I packed my notes. My thoughts were quickly interrupted by Kathryn, who had come up to counsel table in the middle of the courtroom. Brightman was with her.

Kathryn said, "Mike, let's go back to your office."

"I was just going to grab something over at the cafeteria. I need to prepare for this afternoon's witnesses."

"No, we need to talk about how this is going." She looked around to see if anyone was reading her lips.

Rachel and I headed to our car and then to the office. Kathryn, Brightman, Tripp, even Jeff Turner arrived a few minutes later. Someone had ordered sandwiches, but I was in no mood to eat. I wanted to get back and get ready for our next witnesses. As soon as everyone was in the room, Kathryn closed the door behind Justin. She turned, still standing with her arms folded, and said to me, "Mike, I thought you did okay on the opening statement. You left it a little open as to what our theory was going to be, and based on what I know, that seemed right to me. But now I've watched the first two witnesses, and it isn't working. I don't see the jury identifying with us."

I sat down and leaned back in my chair. "That's what I would expect when their first two witnesses are the most sympathetic witnesses in the world. Look, I know what I'm doing, Kathryn. I just can't change the facts. This case is just getting under way. I can see the stress on your face. I know the press hates us, they think I'm outmatched, you're answering to London, I get it. But you can't panic on me now."

"I am not panicking. But I do want to tweak things a little. Instead of Mark being a passive attorney on the pleadings but not in the courtroom, I've asked him to sit at counsel table during the trial, to take some witnesses, change the feel of things a little."

I couldn't believe my ears. "What?"

"He's been associate counsel since the case was filed. He's just never done anything in court. But he can and I'm asking him to do it now. He has copies of all the expert depositions and has prepared cross-examination outlines of all the plaintiffs' witnesses, including the experts. I'd like him to do those cross-examinations and to also perhaps do the closing arguments, we'll see about that. But I want him involved and I want him at counsel table."

"Do not do this, Kathryn. It's going to look like desperation to the jury, and to the press. It's going to look like you're cutting my legs out from under me."

"I'm propping you
up
, not cutting your legs out from under you. We've got to make some changes here, Mike, because we're going down."

I was so pissed I couldn't even speak for a minute. This was exactly what we shouldn't do. "This isn't coming from you, is it?"

"That doesn't matter."

I stood. "It does to me. Is this from you?"

"I agree with it."

"It's London, isn't it? They're over there on Lime Street watching the legal experts on television and panicking. Did they call you at the end of this morning's session?"

"I talk to them at the end of every session, so, yes, they did call. But this is what we're going to do."

I tossed my pen onto the table. "Whatever you say."

She could tell I was peeved. "Well, do you have a plan, Mike? A plan to get us from here to the end of the trial with something to tell the jury?"

"Our experts are still busting their asses, and you know that. I expected to hear from Wayne Bradley this morning, but he's gone radio silent. I also expected to hear from Curtis, but I haven't yet. He's trying to find the witness Tinny was supposed to give me, but Tinny got murdered. So we're stuck. There's just lot of weird stuff going on right now, Kathryn, and I'm not really sure what's happening."

"Well," Kathryn said, still annoyed, "if you don't start laying this out soon, then Mark will have to take the lead and finish the trial."

I didn't even want to be having the conversation. "I need to go prepare for this afternoon's witnesses."

Kathryn wasn't about to let me sting her. "The next two witnesses are Hackett's experts. Mark will be handling those."

I thought Rachel was going to come out of her skin.

I turned toward Brightman reluctantly. He had a notebook perfectly prepared with outlines for each expert witness. He had his hands folded on top of it. I asked him, "You need anything from me?"

"No, I prepared cross-examinations in case I was called on to do them."

I stood up and Rachel followed me.

THE AFTERNOON DRAGGED on forever. When Brightman sat at the counsel table on the other side of Rachel, a lot of whispering and scratching of pencils came from the journalists. He had never appeared at any proceeding before, although his name was on the pleadings. The legal press wondered whether I was being elbowed out of the way in the middle of trial. They loved the reputation drama that surrounded every major trial. I sat there dutifully taking notes like a cub associate as Hackett put on two expert witnesses that afternoon: his economist, who testified about the president's likely career earnings, and his accident reconstructionist. Hackett was being smart. First build the sympathy with the widows, then show the jury the value, then you explain the liability. Easy stuff first. Brightman's cross-examinations were fine. The reconstructionist did as expected and essentially recited the preliminary NTSB report, adopting their conclusions and performing retests or identical analysis where necessary to be able to testify about it. He was polished and left the jury believing everything he said was correct.

We went back to our large conference room at the end of the day. The power had shifted to Brightman. He was fielding all the questions, telling everyone how he was going to handle the next day's witnesses.

I interjected into the discussion, "Kathryn, one thing we might consider is a settlement offer."

She was shocked. "We're at the absolute nadir of our
case;
you think now's the time to approach them?"

I nodded. "We need to get the conversation started."

Brightman shook his head. "I couldn't disagree more. I'd suggest we motor through this. If they want to try to come after us for punitive damages, maybe that would be the time to approach Hackett. Then we'll-"

"No, you don't get it. We found one of the tip weights."

The room want completely silent. "What?" Kathryn stared at me, looking betrayed. "When? When were you going to tell me?"

"Couple of weeks ago. Went up in the tree. There was a tip weight embedded in the branch. Half of a tip weight. It had fractured."

"Meaning it failed and caused the accident?"

Brightman was speechless. "You started this trial knowing there was critical evidence against us… and didn't tell the other side or the court? Are you kidding me? Is
that
your fourth theory? It's all our fault and we're screwed?"

Kathryn looked pale. "What are you doing, Mike? This could get you sanctioned. The court could enter judgment against WorldCopter for this alone."

"I thought I'd hear from Bradley. I asked him to run some additional tests on it before we turned it over. Nothing destructive. I just can't get ahold of him. I'm afraid for him, with what happened to Tinny. So I thought we should approach Hackett now, with him thinking we just don't like the evidence. Once he gets wind of this broken tip weight, he'll never settle."

Kathryn slouched in her chair, rested her head against the wall with her eyes closed, and said, "Call Hackett."

I dialed the hotel where Hackett was staying, where he had leased one of the ballrooms as his "war room." It was probably as much square footage as my whole office building. I asked for Hackett's ballroom. One of Hackett's associates picked up the phone.

"Hi, this is Mike Nolan. Is Tom Hackett there please?"

"Mike Nolan?"

"Right."

"Um, yeah. Hold on one second." I heard his hand go over the receiver. Kathryn indicated to me to put it on speakerphone, which I did. Hackett came on the line.

"This is Tom Hackett, is that you, Mike?"

"Good evening, Tom, yes, it is."

There was a pause. "You've got me on the speakerphone. Is there anyone else in the room listening to this?"

"Yes. That's why you're on speakerphone. I want them to hear you."

"Please tell me the name of everybody in the room or this conversation is over."

I rolled my eyes, then went around the room and told him everyone who was there.

He said, "An august group. I am honored. What can I do for you?"

"When you and I last spoke on the telephone, we had discussed settlement. I wondered if you had any interest in further discussions."

"Are you serious?"

"Quite."

"So let me get this right. I made a settlement demand at the outset of this case for one billion dollars. You rejected that and essentially told me I was out of my mind. That's fine. I can live with that. But now, after you've had your head handed to you in jury selection, the first few witnesses, and the experts, you come asking to talk settlement?"

"Look, before we get all the way through this trial and send this case to the jury, we wanted to call and see if you've come to your senses yet and are prepared to discuss settlement."

"My senses? I made a settlement demand to you a long time ago, and I am not about to discuss settlement over the phone. But if you and Kathryn come over here right now, we can discuss our positions and see if there is any point in negotiations. But you must be here within fifteen minutes. I have work to do and a case to try."

I glanced at Kathryn, who shrugged, then nodded reluctantly. "We'll be right there."

I drove Kathryn to the hotel. Neither of us said a word. We parked in the hotel parking lot, went in through the lobby, and back to the ballroom, where I had attended numerous bar receptions and balls. A security guard standing at the door recognized us and opened the door. When we walked into the room, I was stunned. It was the most impressive high-tech legal setup I had ever seen. Desks with oversize flat-screen monitors were everywhere. A big-screen TV in the middle in the back-had to be seventy-two inches-had been split into four quadrants to see four networks that were following the trial, including Court TV, CNN, MSNBC, and FOX. They were all giving it essentially twenty-four-hour coverage. Hackett undoubtedly had a PR person feeding the media theories and information all the time. That person was probably sitting in the ballroom as we entered.

A huge white screen on the right side with an ELMO set up was probably used to practice the use of the trial exhibits to make sure they projected well across a large room like the courtroom. A PowerPoint projector sat next to the ELMO and a DVD player. In this mini-court, Hackett and others could practice witness examination and evidence presentation. All his associates and paralegals had their own desks and computers and were busily working. In the middle was a square conference table with six chairs set up around it. We stood there waiting for someone to recognize us. Finally, Greg Bass came over and greeted us. He pointed us to the conference table. We walked to it and stood by it. Presently, Hackett came out from behind a large black curtain or screen that I had not previously noticed but which undoubtedly constituted his office. The aluminum framing had high-quality black curtains that set up a square-walled office that took up an eighth of the ballroom in the corner. Bright lights could be seen shining from behind the curtain. Hackett had his coat off and his tie loosened. He looked more fit than I thought he was. He walked over to the conference table and extended his hand to Kathryn. "Good evening, Ms. Galbraith. I'm glad you could come over."

She shook his hand. "My pleasure."

He turned to me and shook my hand. "Mike, good to see you."

"Evening."

"Please, sit down," he said. "Would you like some coffee or tea?"

Kathryn and I both shook our heads.

"All right, then let's get down to business. You called me about settlement. What do you have in mind?"

Kathryn glanced at me, leaned forward on the table with her hands folded, and said, "We're not stupid. I realize that so far the evidence has not gone our way."

Hackett tried not to smile.

"We think that will change when it's our turn to put on evidence, but even if it doesn't, the value of your cases will not change. I'm prepared to offer you the full policy limits for settling all the cases. Two hundred fifty million dollars."

Hackett shook his head slowly. "That's a quarter of my demand before I filed, before discovery. This accident was your client's fault. That's just as clear as it could be now. The value of the cases hasn't gone
down
. You just heard my economist testify about what President Adams would have earned after his second term. This was not a president who was going to sit around as a former president and play golf or build rocking chairs. If he gave a speech every night, he could earn a million a week!" Hackett leaned forward for emphasis. "He was going to change the way former presidents lived. He was going to contribute to the economy and become a CEO of a major corporation. Kathryn, did you not hear what my economist said? Think Exxon. You know how much the CEO of Exxon made last year?" Hackett continued without hesitating, "Well, I'll tell you. He made three point six in salary, three point nine in bonuses, and twenty-eight in stock awards. That's in millions, by the way. That's a total of thirty-five and a half million dollars for one year. You think maybe President Adams wouldn't have done a stinky oil company? How about Wal-Mart then. Thirteen point one million dollars. You think maybe a bank? Citigroup perhaps? Try thirty-three million dollars. Maybe he'd run a hedge fund in New York. Some of those guys pull down five hundred million dollars a year. Maybe something more family-friendly? Mouse Ears, say? Eight million. You want to know what a former president will make? Well, how about Clinton? While his wife was running in the Democratic primaries, she disclosed their tax returns. Seven years, one hundred nine million dollars-and not much of that is from her Senate salary. So that's not too bad. I think you get the idea. Multiply any of those by his remaining work life, and you get the idea of why my settlement demand is going nowhere but up.

"Then you have the great American hero, the Marine pilot of Marine One, who was shot in the jaw in Iraq and came back to fly the president around. You've got your crack attorney here accusing him of being a homosexual or something-"

"I said nothing of the kind."

"Yeah? Well, you sure implied there was something mischievous or unhealthy about their relationship. So on the one hand you've got President Adams, who was going to set a new world record for earnings after leaving the presidency, and you've got the most sympathetic plaintiffs in the history of American civil litigation. So two hundred and fifty million dollars is a
joke
, Kathryn. We'll get six hundred million dollars in economic damages, minimum. Then the jury will double it for general damages, loss of companionship, society, and consortium. That's one point two billion. And then we'll go back and ask them for punitives. My prediction is they'll award twice what they already did, for another two point four billion, a total of three point six billion. I could be wrong. They might use a multiplier of, say, ten, and award twenty-four billion for punitive damages. This jury is just waiting to punish this evil foreign corporation that killed their president. As you both know, under
Campbell vs. State Farm
, the Supreme Court believes the multiplier of actual damages to punitives must be less than ten in order to comply with constitutional due process. Okay. I'll give you six-even though I'm going to ask for more than that from the jury at the end of this trial. Six times three point six is twenty-one point six billion dollars. So you want my demand? My demand to settle this case tonight-for all plaintiffs-twenty
billion dollars."

Kathryn was stunned. "You're out of your mind."

"Really? Who's been right so far, Kathryn? You could have resolved the case before it got filed. Your policy, a bunch thrown in by WorldCopter-which seems only fair-and it would have been done. But as usual, you weren't thinking big enough. You thought this would be some ten-million-dollar case and didn't take my demand seriously. Fine!" Hackett threw his hands up. "You don't have to. But don't come crying to me now saying I'm being unreasonable. You had your chance."

I was furious. He was toying with us, trying to humiliate us. I felt uncontrollable anger welling up, which if left unchecked would result in my punching him in the face. I looked over his head at the curtain behind him to avoid looking at his smug expression.

Kathryn replied, "This conversation is over. What you've demanded is insane. I don't see the point in even offering the policy to you. So even if we could-"

"We're done. Here." He grabbed a piece of paper and wrote $20 billion on it. "Give this to your insured. To WorldCopter. Tell them this is my demand." He gave it to me. "You are obligated under the ethical code, Mr. Nolan, to convey this offer to your clients. To WorldCopter. It will be open an unpredictably short time, and I will withdraw it when I feel like it. Since you said the conversation is over, Kathryn, I will take you at your word. Good night."

He walked back to his curtained office.

Kathryn and I left and headed back to my office in a silence even deeper than that which had enveloped us on our way to the meeting. As I pulled into my parking spot in front of my building, my secret cell phone buzzed in the glove box. I reached across Kathryn's skirt and opened it. I pulled out the phone and looked at the screen on the front, which said new text message. I opened the phone and read,
May have found something. WB.

When I headed home that night, I texted Bradley from my phone and asked him for clarification, which was not forthcoming. I then called him, trying to figure out where he was and what he was doing, and again, no response. That made me wonder if he had been kidnapped and his cell phone was now being used to torment me. Tinny Byrd killed, Wayne Bradley kidnapped. Not likely. But it was hard to get to sleep.

I spent most of that night wondering what Bradley had found and where he was. If I had thought about other things, I might have seen coming what happened the next morning. I'd have wondered why Hackett had insisted on our coming over to his "office." I assumed it was to impress us.

When I got to the office at six thirty the next morning, Dolores was there and handed me
USA Today
and the Baltimore Sun. Both had nearly identical headlines: WORLDCOPTER BEGGING FOR MERCY?