The arson investigators had demanded that Will provide them with some proof of having been up in New York that day. That part of his story, according to the arson squad, was not checking out. Unfortunately, Will had paid cash at all the restaurants—and for his train ticket. All the receipts had been in his raincoat. And that had been incinerated on the front porch of his house, where he’d dropped it when trying to rescue Clarence.
Yet Will was determined not to let the lurking threats of an arson charge slow down his preparation in the case.
Will’s immediate task was to sketch an outline of each point that Sherman had made in his Summary-Judgment motion. He was working on that when Angus MacCameron called him on the telephone.
MacCameron said that he had heard about the fire destroying Will’s house, and how terrible it was, and how sorry he felt about it. He asked if Will had managed to find a place to stay. Will told him that he was staying at a motel.
He initially questioned whether to tell his client that he was a suspect in the arson of his own house. But he decided to divulge it. Will explained that the investigators were demanding proof that he had been in New York earlier that day.
“I know you must think I’m chasing hobgoblins when I talk like this, but Will, I have to tell you something straight,” MacCameron responded somberly. “This is spiritual warfare. You are being opposed by evil forces from the province of hell. Forces you may not understand. The prince of darkness wants you out of my case because he knows that God himself, in his inscrutable wisdom, has hand-picked you to defend me. But don’t give up. Finish the course! Run with zeal that race that is set before you, as the Bible says!”
Will didn’t know whether it was just his increasing familiarity with MacCameron’s bibliocentric style of conversation, or maybe something else—but regardless, Will was beginning to see the logic behind MacCameron’s encouragement.
Then his client became very upbeat and said that he had some “great news” but wanted to tell Will in person. He invited Will up to Washington to have dinner in his apartment with him and his wife, Helen. He would tell Will the good news then. Will suggested they go out to eat at a restaurant to save the trouble, but MacCameron insisted he would prepare dinner for them in his apartment. That way, he said, Will could meet his wife.
Will recalled that Fiona had mentioned her mother briefly during their dinner at Luigi’s—that she had health problems—but hadn’t elaborated. Fiona had also said that she planned her tours so she could fly back to be with her parents almost every weekend. Will also remembered that Fiona was cutting her current tour short altogether to spend more time at home with her mother.
Touched by his client’s offer, Will accepted. MacCameron suggested that they dine together that very night. Will said that would be fine.
Just as he was getting ready to leave for his dinner with the MacCamerons, Will received a call back from Dr. Giovanni. She said she had considered her involvement in the case. While she still had misgivings about Will’s client, she would agree to evaluate the 7QA fragment and would testify about her findings.
Then Will hit her with the restrictions Sherman wanted to place on the analysis of the fragment. Giovanni did not like them. Will then explained how a long, drawn-out court battle over Sherman’s conditions would delay their access to the ancient piece of papyrus, which would mean that they would be playing right into their opponents’ hands.
Reluctantly, Giovanni agreed to the conditions listed in Sherman’s motion. She had to admit that none of them would likely affect the validity or accuracy of her conclusions.
“When do I get a chance to look at it?” she asked.
“As soon as I tell the judge that I have no objection to the request, he should issue an order for them to produce it. Then we will be in business.”
What Will did not explain was that Sherman might have other tricks up his sleeve to further frustrate and delay the production of the ancient fragment. With the trial date quickly approaching, Will knew that every day, and every hour, would be critical.
43
THE APARTMENT OF ANGUS MACCAMERON WAS a modest little place up in D.C. amid middle-income brownstones, and halfway between the lower-rent area and the upscale condos in Georgetown.
MacCameron greeted Will at the door with a hearty hello and a big smile. Will suddenly felt foolish that he hadn’t brought a gift—or something to add to the dinner. That’s the kind of thing Audra had always reminded him to do.
Inside, Will could see the evidence of a very simple existence. The furniture was old; much of it was worn. He noticed that in the living room a throw rug was placed over an area in the carpeting that was torn and frayed. In the corner was a small desk with a computer, with books piled on the floor around it. There were bookshelves in each room, all crammed with books, and with more books stacked in piles on top of each of them.
Will could smell dinner cooking. MacCameron urged Will to come in and meet his wife. As he approached the doorway of one room he turned to Will and lowered his voice.
“My dear Helen has a very rare form of cancer. The cancer cells take over the air sacs of the lungs. She never smoked a cigarette in her life, yet she still came down with it. They gave her a lung transplant a year ago. But the cancer turned up again in the new set of lungs. She has trouble breathing so she has to use an oxygen mask.
“I hope this doesn’t bother you. But she is such a blessing to me, such a priceless woman. I wanted you to meet her before things get any worse for her. And, of course, she knows all about you and is eager to see you. Come in to her room, won’t you?”
They stepped into a bedroom. Helen MacCameron was propped up in bed with a pink flowered bathrobe on. There was an oxygen mask over her mouth, connected to a tank next to her bed. Her right arm had an IV tube running to a metal stand from which were hanging a clear-looking solution and a darker solution, both in plastic bags.
Her brownish-gray hair had been neatly combed. Someone had put makeup on her face, rather inexpertly applied.
Her arms were laid on top of the covers. They were thin, and the skin seemed to hang a little from her bones.
Helen lifted one arm with great effort and vaguely directed it toward Will. He took her soft, fragile hand. It was cold to the touch. As Will studied her face he saw the features of a woman who would have been a striking beauty in her day. But he noticed something else. The skin around her eyes was crinkling ever so slightly, and the muscles of her face were tightening. Helen MacCameron was smiling at him from behind her oxygen mask.
“Mrs. MacCameron, meeting you is a great honor,” Will said. “I know you’ve been a wonderful wife to Reverend MacCameron. And a great mother to Fiona.”
Angus MacCameron bent over and kissed Helen’s forehead gently, and then stroked it with his hand.
“Are you hungry, love? Would you like to eat now?”
With an effort Helen shook her head “no.” Then she looked as if she wanted to say something. So MacCameron lifted her mask and she whispered something into his ear. Then he smiled and put his wife’s mask back on, carefully adjusting it, and left the room with Will.
As soon as the two were in the kitchen together MacCameron told Will, “Helen told me you are very charming. That you are a good man.”
“Your wife seems like a very courageous woman.”
“I’ve been telling her all about you,” MacCameron said as he opened the stove to check the pot roast. “I’ve learned to be a moderately decent chef since she’s taken a turn for the worse.”
“I am sorry she is not doing well.”
“The prognosis for my dear wife—the soul of my soul—well, it’s not good. I take comfort in knowing that things really do work together for good for those who love the Lord and are called by him, and who have embraced Christ by faith. My wife loves the Lord. She may be doing cartwheels on the golden streets of glory much sooner than I would want.”
Then Angus MacCameron’s chin trembled a bit, and his voice crac
ked as he said, “She is my very best friend as well as my soul mate. I fear that I may have a rough road trying to go on without her. I look to God alone for the strength to sustain me when that day comes.” And with that he opened up his hands in front of him, as if to release his grip on some treasured but invisible possession.
“I lost my wife,” Will said as he helped set the plates on the dining-room table, “and my life fell apart.”
MacCameron was carrying in the pot roast on a large serving plate.
“The Bible says there is a kind of grieving everyone goes through, including those who belong to God. Even Jesus wept. There is the loss that God knows we must all experience. But then there is a kind of grieving for those who have no hope beyond the grave. That is the tragic, empty, lonely kind of grief. So, have you read that part yet, in the Gospels, where Jesus wept? You’ve been reading the Gospels like I suggested?”
“Straight through. All four of them. I even remembered their names. And your little rhyme helped.”
“So, you do listen when I talk!” MacCameron exclaimed. “Yes, my Sunday school teacher in Glasgow taught me that as a boy: ‘Matthew, Mark, Luke and John; saddle the horse and I’ll get on,’ he used to say. So, do you remember where it was that Jesus wept?”
“Yes. At the tomb of…” Will had to think for a moment. “Lazarus.”
“Well done. Well done.”
They both sat down to the meal, and Angus MacCameron prayed a blessing over the food.
“Oh, I nearly forgot!” MacCameron said. “The good news I had for you. I received a letter from a church I had never even heard of before. The letter was a note of encouragement for me to continue the fight against Reichstad’s 7QA heresy. And with the letter was a check made out to my magazine. A very large check from the outreach ministry committee of that church. Enough to pay what I owe you and plenty more left over. I’m transferring that whole check to you. You can take it with you when you leave tonight.”
The thought of leaving the Robert E. Lee Motel hit Will like an explosion of Independence Day fireworks. He couldn’t help from beaming ear to ear.
“I told you my boy, the Lord provides; he really does,” MacCameron said.
“Where’s that church located?” Will asked.
“Tennessee.”
“What was the name of the church?”
“Church of the Golden Road. I believe that was the name.”
Now it was clear. And Will could only smile and shake his head. Brother Billy Joe Highlighter and his congregation were now supporting the work of Will Chambers.
“So, you have a church behind you now. That would make you a missionary of a rather strange sort, wouldn’t it?” MacCameron noted with a gleam in his eye. “But if you are a missionary, then you had better know what your message is, right? So, barrister Will Chambers, what is your message? Exactly what do you believe?”
As Will thoughtfully chewed his pot roast at the humble table of his client, he knew that he did not have an answer to that question—not yet. But he also felt, just as certainly, that he was destined to discover it. Not just an answer to the mysteries of the legal case he was handling—but something even larger. He felt the powerful pull to some kind of unknown doorway. And he somehow knew that when he dared to open that door, it would lead him to something bigger than all of the battles he had ever fought. Bigger than his pursuit of justice. Bigger even than the dreams that were dashed, and the love he had lost, and the home that lay in ashes. Bigger even, perhaps, than life itself.
44
WILL WAS ON THE LINE WITH J-Fox Sherman’s office when Fiona called and left a voice-mail message for Will to call her back.
He was in the process of telling Sherman’s associate that he was agreeing to every single one of their conditions for the production of the 7QA fragment to his experts, and that he was overnighting to Judge Kaye his formal consent to the terms set out in Sherman’s motion. He was faxing his consent as they were speaking.
Despite all that, Sherman’s legal associate was hesitant to commit to an exact time when the fragment would actually be produced.
“The written order of Judge Kaye to produce 7QA to our experts should be signed by day after tomorrow,” Will countered. “I do not want any delays. If there are, I will be filing a motion for contempt of court against your office.”
The associate lawyer assured him that he would be in touch with J-Fox Sherman, who was presently in trial in a complicated antitrust case in New York, and that he would relay Will’s concerns to his boss.
Will called Fiona back. “I’m looking at the area code on your voice mail; that’s North Carolina, isn’t it?” Will asked.
“Yes,” Fiona replied, “I’m getting ready for a concert in the coliseum down here in Greensboro. Thanks for calling me back.”
“Sure. How are you?”
“Well, I got your present. That was very kind. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. But I did want to thank you for the dinner. And it just seemed to have your name written all over it.”
“I heard about your house burning down. When I heard I just cried. How awful. Da says that he finds the whole thing very—I think ‘sinister’ is the word he used.”
That reminded Will of the problems he was having over the claim, and the cloud of suspicion hanging over his head.
“Fiona, this may come as a strange request. But I just wanted to ask you something. Was I thoughtless enough to include the sales receipt in the box I sent to you?”
“Gee, I don’t remember. I don’t think so,” Fiona replied hesitantly.
“How about the box? Did it have the logo or name of the shop where I bought it?”
Fiona thought for a few seconds.
“I don’t think it did. Just a plain white box with tissue paper and Styrofoam in it,” she said. And then she asked, “Will, does this have something to do with your house fire? Da told me that they’re trying to blame you. They are questioning your word on where you were that day.”
“Well,” Will replied, “I really don’t want to burden you with anything else. Please just let me know if you recall anything about where I bought that statue. I’m sure this fire investigation will come out all right. No reason to worry.”
“I sure will try to remember anything I can,” Fiona responded. “By the way, I heard that you had dinner with my father and that you met my mother.”
“Yes, I did.”
“This is the last leg of my tour. I’m going home to be with her full-time. I really need to be with my mum now.”
Will could tell that Fiona’s voice was trembling slightly.
“It meant a lot, meeting her,” Will said.
After a moment’s silence, Fiona spoke again. “Will, I did have one other reason to call you.” Her voice had changed a little.
“What is it?”
“Well—I guess when I received that package from you with that very thoughtful gift, I thought we ought to talk.”
Somehow, Will knew what she was going to tell him.
“Remember our dinner together? You asked whether I was going out on dates. I told you I was single by choice. Like I said, I feel that it is probably God’s choice for me. But even if I felt that God had prepared someone for me, it would have to be someone who knows Jesus personally and loves him with all his heart. I think that probably puts us light-years apart.”
Will could hear her draw in a shaky breath. “You are a wonderful guy. So much love underneath that thick skin of yours. And a brilliant lawyer. My father was right—I think you are God’s choice for his case. But I can’t see how you could be God’s choice for me. I hope you don’t think I am being too harsh in saying this—this is not easy for me. You have such a precious place in my heart. But I just don’t want you to have any expectations.”
“No,” Will said quietly. “I could see this coming some time ago. Just a feeling I had.”
He could hear Fiona crying softly.
“Please forgiv
e me,” she said composing herself. “With my mum getting worse and everything else, this has been hard. But God has really been so good to us in the midst of all this.”
“I wish I could make it easier,” Will said. “I would do anything not to see you hurt. Listen, you’ve got to get ready to sing. I ought to let you go. I want you to sing like an angel tonight. How should I say this—how about, ‘give ’em heaven tonight!’”
Fiona laughed, and promised she would.
After hanging up the phone Will knew he had heard a door close. He had no choice but to move on. The problem was, he had no idea what that meant, or how he was going to do it. Somehow he had to keep moving straight ahead, and not look back. He sat and stared out the window for several minutes, thinking about the hurt and the sadness he felt because of Fiona’s call. He had to face the truth—he had allowed Fiona to become a major force in his heart, like the moon pulling the tide.
Will tried to pull himself together, while he trudged over to the conference room to where the papers for the MacCameron case had now expanded. He had to prepare for Dr. Reichstad’s deposition. But he knew now that it would be impossible to get his experts in to evaluate the 7QA fragment before he would be asking Reichstad questions under oath. Thus, he would not have that arsenal of ammunition to use in his questioning. That fact would be a major hindrance.
As a result of questioning hundreds of witnesses over the years, he had learned the sad truth. When something really important was at stake, you had to corner the witness with the facts—force the truth out through well-placed and expertly timed questions. Truth-telling was not, with a biased and self-interested party like Reichstad, a matter that could simply be taken for granted. Rather, the truth was something that would have to be squeezed out like the last bit of toothpaste from a toothpaste tube.
And in just a few days, Will would have his opportunity to start squeezing.
The Resurrection File Page 26