Burden of Proof Read online

  Ethan could almost hear another small sliver of progress being fit into place. “That’s great.”

  “For real?”

  “Absolutely. She needs . . .” He had no idea how to explain the reasons for why this was such fantastic news. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “No problem.” Gary studied him. “I thought you’d be, well . . .”

  “I’m not. This is the best for us both.”

  “Okay.” He stretched out the word and extended his legs at the same time, getting comfortable. “Change the subject?”

  “Sure.”

  Gary pointed at the empty bench on the other side of the aisle, directly behind the opposing counsel’s table. “The lady you asked me to check out.”

  Ethan needed a moment to realize what Gary meant. Then he recalled the hatchet-faced blonde. It seemed like years ago. “What about her?”

  “She’s a former spook.”

  Ethan did not rise from the seat as much as spring into action. “What?”

  Gary nodded, clearly pleased with the effect his news had. “Her name is Beryl Aldain. Ever heard of DARPA?”

  “The name. Somewhere. But I don’t . . .”

  “I had to look it up myself. Stands for Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency. They develop emerging technologies, next-generation weapons, stuff like that.”

  Ethan breathed in and out, taking it in, trying to figure out what precisely it meant. “Where is she now?”

  “Gone. Took all this while to find somebody who’d talk to me. As soon as that happened, I went by her hotel. She’s checked out. A pal at the airport shows her as having left for DC.”

  Another breath. “When did she leave?”

  “The million-dollar question.” Gary smiled. “Ten minutes after my DC source gave me the goods.”

  “Whoa.”

  “The copy of her flight itinerary cost me a hundred bucks. You’ll see that in my expenses.”

  “No problem.” He leaned across the railing and took the yellow pad from Adrian’s table. “Can I borrow a pen?”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-SIX

  Ethan had just finished writing his note and replacing the yellow pad on Adrian’s table when the attorneys followed Judge Durnin back into the courtroom. The judge seemed to be in his late sixties, tall and solid with features of precisely carved obsidian. Durnin’s gaze carried a burning intensity. Ethan had the impression that he could slice his way through any fog of confusion and subterfuge, no matter how dense.

  Ethan’s attention switched to his brother. Adrian wore the same grim expression he had carried into the judge’s chambers. But there was something lurking beneath the surface now, something that had not been there before. Then Adrian winked. A swift little motion, there and gone in an instant. But enough to cause Ethan to shiver.

  A uniformed deputy and the court reporter entered through a side door Ethan had not noticed until then. The officer was old and paunchy and possessed a face that had slipped downward like melting wax. He droned, “All rise.”

  Adrian reached his table and stood looking down at Ethan’s note as the judge seated himself. His only motion was a soft tapping of one finger on the yellow pad’s corner. But something in the way he held himself caused Ethan to shiver a second time.

  “Mr. Barrett, you may proceed.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor. One moment, please.” He turned and gestured for Ethan to shift forward. Adrian gripped the rail with both hands and came in close. “This is real?”

  “Gary says it’s absolute.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “He said there was another contact he needed to chase down.”

  The judge said, “We’re waiting, Mr. Barrett.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.” Adrian recomposed his calm mask and straightened. “Your Honor, certain new information has just come to light.”

  Jimmy Carstairs said, “Really, Your Honor, there needs to be an end to counsel’s delaying tactics.”

  The opposing counsel was a massive guy in his fifties. Carstairs had to be carrying a hundred pounds of excess weight. Even so, he moved with the smooth grace of the athlete he probably once had been. He wore an expensive three-piece suit and kept his remaining hair cut so short it lay on his head like frosting. He dwarfed his two junior lawyers.

  “Five minutes, Your Honor,” Adrian said. “Ten at the very most.”

  Carstairs snorted. “Where have I heard that before.”

  “Proceed, Mr. Barrett. But be aware, you are on a very tight leash.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.” Adrian moved to his right and cleared the desk. There was nothing between him and the judge now but his own bench. “For just a moment, I ask that we return to a question posed at the beginning of these proceedings. Why now? Why would a Washington-based hedge fund decide to acquire a company with no discernable assets and no saleable product at this specific point in time?”

  The other attorney remained standing. “Your Honor, I object. We are covering—”

  Durnin lifted his gavel. “It’s Mr. Barrett’s hanging. I will grant him the necessary rope.”

  Adrian continued, “Dr. Sonya Barrett is involved in cutting-edge research. Somewhere down the line, she may come up with a genuinely new and world-changing product. But that is years away. Maybe decades. And yet this group is insisting on paying twenty-two million dollars for a company that has shown no return and at this moment has absolutely nothing to sell.”

  The judge kept his gavel raised, poised in anticipation of the other lawyer objecting. “Where are you going with this, Mr. Barrett?”

  “I return to the question I posed in our first meeting, Your Honor. They know my wife will leave as soon as the acquisition takes place. She will set up another company and continue with her research. They cannot stop her. They’ve tried, and they’ve failed.” Adrian turned and faced the massive lawyer. “They’re hiding something.”

  “Your Honor, this is ridiculous,” Carstairs said.

  “I think it is in the court’s interest to ferret out what they don’t want us to know.”

  Carstairs rolled his words with the force of a professional actor. “My clients, Your Honor, claim the scientists have changed direction. Dr. Barrett and her team have thrown out the original intents of their agreement. She has completely altered course. The rule book we legally set in place has been trampled on.”

  “Give me one example of these supposed transgressions,” Adrian said.

  Carstairs continued to address the judge. “My clients feel they have no choice but to buy the company outright.”

  “Once again, Your Honor, the opposing counsel refuses to answer my question.”

  “Because your objections have no legal foundation,” Carstairs snapped. “We are not legally required to grant you any reason. The contract clearly states we can acquire your client’s property whenever we want, for whatever reason we deem valid!”

  Adrian looked at the opposing counsel for the first time. “Who is this ‘we’?”

  Ethan saw something flicker in the other lawyer’s gaze. There and gone in an instant, but he saw it. And he was certain Adrian did too.

  “Different question, same answer, Your Honor.” Carstairs settled his ample bulk against the table’s edge. “My clients’ identity beyond the corporate structure that initiated the investment is not in question.”

  “Ah, but it is,” Adrian replied. “As we have already pointed out, Cemitrex’s shares are held by two Bahamian corporations.”

  “Legal entities, with full rights to own American companies. Your Honor, we’ve been all through this. It’s time—”

  “But what are these Bahamian groups hiding?”

  “Asked and answered. They have every legal right—”

  “And exactly what role does an agent of DARPA play in all this?”

  Ethan saw the lawyer wince. Like the man had been struck hard and tried not to show it.

  Judge Durnin said, “I’m sorry, wha
t?”

  Adrian pointed to the empty place behind the opposing counsel’s table. “For the first week of this case, Your Honor, my esteemed associate’s every step was dogged by an agent of our defense department’s most secret entity.”

  “Mr. Carstairs, is this true?”

  “Your Honor, the employment records of every executive hired by my clients is hardly of concern.”

  “But I say it is of the highest possible concern,” Adrian shot back. “I ask you again. Who are your clients?”

  Carstairs turned red. “Cemitrex is controlled by two trust groups in the Bahamas. Under Bahamian law, all trustees are confidential. There are numerous legal precedents in Florida court upholding this confidentiality. For me to disclose their identities would be a serious breach of my duties.”

  “Confidentiality has already been breached. This employee was here, taking part in our case, for over a week.” Adrian turned to the judge. “Your Honor, I formally request the right to interview one—”

  “Your Honor, I object in the strongest possible terms!”

  Adrian pretended to have difficulty locating her name. “Yes. Here it is. One Ms. Beryl Aldain, agent of DARPA.”

  “Former agent!”

  Judge Durnin said, “Granted.”

  “Your Honor, this is outrageous,” Carstairs said.

  “Noted.”

  “I have no idea where this executive is or what duties called her away—”

  “The moment my investigator uncovered her identity,” Adrian said, “she vanished into thin air.”

  Durnin raised his gavel, halting Carstairs before he could object. “What precisely do you mean by that?”

  “My firm has employed Gary Holt, a former detective with the city’s force, to investigate elements related to this case. This morning he finally discovered Ms. Aldain’s connection to the defense department’s secret operations. That very same hour, Ms. Aldain boarded a plane for Washington.”

  Judge Durnin turned his attention to Carstairs. “I hereby order your client’s employee—what was her name again?”

  “Beryl Aldain, Your Honor,” Adrian said.

  “—to appear before this court and offer testimony under oath.” Durnin checked his diary. “I have a hearing scheduled for first thing Monday morning. It shouldn’t take more than two hours. Is ten thirty acceptable to both parties?”

  Carstairs rubbed unsteady fingers across his forehead. “Unfortunately, I am due in Atlanta, Your Honor.”

  “This being Friday, you have all weekend to make adjustments. Mr. Barrett?”

  Adrian said, “Works fine for me, Judge.”

  “Your Honor—”

  “If need be, Mr. Carstairs, surely one of your associates can accompany your client’s employee.” He rapped his gavel. “Court is adjourned until ten thirty Monday morning.”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  As soon as they returned to Adrian’s office, Ethan’s brother was asked to field an urgent call. The receptionist waved Ethan over and passed him two messages. The first was from Gary. The investigator said his lead was taking longer than expected to develop, he was away, and he wouldn’t be available until Monday morning.

  The second was from Gina and basically repeated what Gary had already passed along. She had spoken with Sonya, had checked out of the hotel, and was staying at Adrian’s for the weekend.

  Ethan seated himself in the waiting room and found himself thinking back over the massive sweep of recent events. Starting with that first dawn, waking on the end of the pier, driving his brother’s wretched Wagoneer to the beach, the contest, the win. So much had happened. A lifetime of changes. It was all so vivid, these new recollections, the events that had not happened before. He could still feel himself sweeping through that last magnificent ride, greeting Hennie Bacchus there on the beach, laughing together over the incredible energy they shared . . .

  The idea came to him then. As he rose from the sofa and crossed the waiting room, it felt better than good to ask the receptionist if he might use her phone.

  He did not have the slip of paper Hennie Bacchus had handed him after the contest. But the agency Hennie had told him to use as a contact point was certainly easy enough to recall. He called information, got the number, and dialed.

  “Champion Agency.”

  “Hi, uh, I was told I could reach Hennie Bacchus through you.”

  “Who is calling?”

  “Ethan Barrett.”

  The receptionist on the other end brightened. “Oh yes. Mr. Barrett. Hennie asked us to contact him immediately when you called. Is there a number where he can reach you?”

  Ethan gave the receptionist his hotel number. As he passed back the phone, Adrian rushed up. “You’re still here. Great. You know about Gina?” He nodded when Ethan showed him the message. “Sonya insists we’ll be done in time to host you for dinner on Sunday. In the meantime, who knows, maybe this is best.”

  “Like you said, at least she hasn’t gone back to Orlando.”

  “Right.” Adrian turned to the receptionist. “Sonya’s due downstairs in five minutes. All fires are hereby put on hold until Monday.”

  Ethan joined the Friday afternoon crawl toward the beach. The trip from Adrian’s office to the final bridge took over an hour. He swung three times through the hotel lot before he could find a vacant space. It was almost four when he finally reached his room. He stripped off his downtown clothes, took his time through two more sets of the PT exercises, showered, and was headed downstairs for an early dinner when the phone rang.

  Hennie Bacchus greeted him with, “It was great hearing you’d called, mate. How’re things?”

  Ethan stood in the center of his hotel living room. A gentle breeze blew through the open balcony doors. Standing there with Gina’s note in his pocket and her absence resonating at the level of bone and sinew and heart, he found himself surrounded by the unknown.

  “Ethan? You there?”

  He swallowed hard. “To tell the truth, I have no idea how things are.”

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “I don’t know if I can find the words. But I’d like to try.”

  “Listen up. My sponsors have me in Arizona for a photo shoot. I’m working till late tonight and I’m due on set again all day tomorrow. It’s dry here, man. Dry. Six days I’ve been stuck out here in the desert, and I’m seriously into withdrawals.”

  “It also sounds like you’re seriously busy. I don’t want—”

  “You just stop right there. I’m still thinking about what you told me out there in the lineup. This is payback, mate. Where and when can I reach you Sunday morning?”

  They made arrangements to talk at nine, then Ethan headed down to the hotel restaurant. There was a distinct flatness to the atmosphere, as if Gina’s absence had robbed his existence of some unique flavor.

  Most of his lonely meal was spent reviewing his time with Adrian. He recalled each event with a singular clarity. Talking in the car while his brother’s laser-tight gaze burned a hole in the concrete. Watching his brother stand before the judge, his every action designed for the audience of one. Each gesture, the modulation in his voice, the timing of his words—all intended for maximum impact.

  Adrian was a frontline officer, Ethan saw now. It was something that had escaped him until that very moment. Adrian was the legal equivalent of a battle-hardened general. He could marshal his troops and attack the enemy with a brilliant eye to tactics.

  As he climbed the hotel stairs, Ethan remembered something his brother had often said after their parents were gone. “The Barrett brothers against the world.”

  The pleasure of having a role to play in Adrian’s future created a soft melody that carried him off to sleep.

  Ethan slept well and was awoken by gulls complaining from the balcony railing. He decided to eat breakfast first, then go for a long beach walk and fit the PT exercises into his turnaround point. All that changed, however, when he arrived downstair
s.

  A television in the lobby and another in the bar were both tuned to the weather channel. The volume was not loud, but even so the screens drew every eye like magnets. Ethan entered the restaurant and waited until the receptionist turned away from a third screen above the buffet table.

  She smiled apologetically. “Sorry to make you wait.”

  “No problem. What are they saying?”

  She looked at him more closely. “You’re a local, right?”

  “Cocoa Beach, born and raised. You?”

  “Been here my whole life.” She shifted her reply to suit someone in the know. “It’s just a cat 1. They’re expecting it to strengthen, but you know how it is.”

  “I do indeed.” Winds of a category 1 hurricane topped out at ninety-five miles per hour. Locals generally didn’t break a sweat for less than a cat 3.

  She said it anyway. “Eleven months of the year, when the weatherperson comes on, most people go see what they can find in the fridge. I mean, how much drama can you get from Florida weather?”

  “Hurricane season is the weatherman’s one chance to shine,” Ethan said, following her across the room.

  “Tell me about it. So reading between the hype, I’d say there’s less than a fifty-fifty chance it will make landfall, and if it does, the eye will be somewhere above Savannah.” She stopped by the doors leading to the veranda. “A table just opened up in the shade.”

  “I’ll take it.” He followed her outside. “You know your stuff.”

  “Hey, storms are like most guys I meet around here. They come, they make a lot of noise and maybe a little damage, they go.” She filled his water glass and handed him a menu. “That’s the price a girl pays for living in paradise.”

  Ethan was the only person in the hotel restaurant eating alone. He was surrounded by families and couples chattering and happy and thrilled to be sharing a beautiful morning in such a lovely setting, the storms of life all kept at a safe distance. Ethan minded being on his own, but not as much as he might have expected.

  Gina’s note was still in his pocket. As he ate he replayed the events and came back to the same decision as before. He had done what he was certain was the right thing. For her, not for himself. The knowledge offered a remarkable comfort.