“We have only your word for that,” the lawyer said, contempt dripping from his voice.
“Dr. Werner and twelve doctoral students in chemistry can attest to what is in those notebooks. I am prepared to submit them to any qualified expert in the country for interpretation.”
Judge McLaughlin raised his chin. “Dr. Werner is in the courtroom. I’d like to ask her to the stand for her assessment.”
The bottom dropped out of Rosalind’s stomach, and she felt light-headed. Oh, this was awful.
General O’Donnell nudged her, and she stood on knees that felt like water and made her way to the front of the courtroom. Dr. Leal had already vacated the witness box, and she headed straight toward it, not daring to look to her left or right, lest she catch sight of all the angry people glaring at her.
The amusement on the judge’s face was her first sign that she’d done something wrong. “Would you please return to the registrar to be sworn in?” he asked.
Only an idiot would have walked straight past the man who stood with a Bible already held forth. Heat flushed her face as she walked back to him, laid her hand on the grainy leather, and took her oath.
After taking a seat behind the witness box, she kept her gaze riveted to the table before her, but even so, she sensed Nick’s smoldering presence in the back of the courtroom. She would not let him frighten her. She had truth on her side.
“Please characterize the nature of the information you were collecting in the notebooks currently in the court’s custody,” the judge asked.
Her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth, and she wished she had a glass of water. “It is mostly an analysis of how chloride of lime affects oxygenation in the water,” she stammered. “It triggers a form of combustion as the organic matter is oxidized . . . which, of course, bacteria is organic matter, so the effects are dramatic—”
The judge cut her off. “Just characterize the conclusion,” he prompted.
“After chlorination, the water is rendered sterile. Our conclusion is that chlorine works,” she said simply.
The judge banged his gavel. “I am prepared to rule,” he said abruptly. “Dr. Leal may continue with his experiment until the expiration of the ninety-day deferment. After his report is submitted, the court will render its final verdict. For now, Dr. Werner’s notebooks will be returned, and the experiment may proceed.”
Her breath left her in a rush. Thank heavens!
The courtroom erupted into a mix of applause and angry grumbles. Reporters dashed down the aisle, racing for the few public telephone booths to call in their stories. Townspeople clustered together, looking stunned at the abrupt decision. Dr. Leal beamed at her from the front row, but all she could see was Nick painfully navigating his way through the packed courtroom toward the door.
“Nick!” she shouted, but if he heard her, he did not turn around. She angled around the people crammed in the aisles, twisting between them to make her way toward Nick. He was still moving slowly, and she caught him in the lobby, laying a hand on his good arm.
“Nick, can we talk about this?” she pleaded, but if anything, her soft tone seemed to set him off.
“Don’t pretend you’re sorry,” he growled. “Don’t try to sweet-talk me into believing anything you have to say. I saw you cozying up to O’Donnell. Trying your charm on him now?”
She gasped, but before she could defend herself, General O’Donnell was right there at her side.
“Don’t be an idiot, Drake. I’ve had a chance to review Dr. Leal’s work, and it’s sound.”
“Who told you that?” Nick demanded. “Did she smile and tell you how wonderful you were at the same time she was twisting the dial on that chlorine drip behind your back?”
She flinched at the scorn in his voice. “Nick, this isn’t the place—”
“Then where is the place? We had plenty of time over the past few weeks, and yet somehow you never got around to it. Congratulations on getting your notebooks back so you can continue with that underhanded test. You must be—”
The general cut him off. “Their methods were unconventional, but their science is sound.”
“He’s right, Nick,” she said, wishing he would at least look at her.
Bystanders bumped into Rosalind, angling around her to get to the front door, but some loitered nearby, listening in. At least one reporter had his notepad open and was scribbling down every word. The last thing she wanted was the personal details of this argument spilled out before the press, but Nick was on a roll and didn’t seem to care.
“So the two of you are on the same side now,” Nick said, his voice dripping with contempt. “You know what he said about you behind your back on that golf course, and still you’re cozying up to him. What a convenient arrangement you have. First Dr. Leal sends you to soften me up, and now you’re going after another admirer.”
She recoiled at the insult. It was Heidelberg all over again. Even knowing she was vulnerable to matters of reputation, he stood in a public courthouse and threw mud on her anyway.
She scrambled to defend herself. “All I did was consult with General O’Donnell on a scientific experiment. To suggest anything else is just vulgar.”
“Well, I’m obviously a vulgar man,” Nick shouted. “I’ve never been to college or sailed down the Danube, so that makes me a real peasant in your eyes, right?”
“Let’s continue this conversation in the judge’s chamber,” Dr. Leal suggested. Rosalind wasn’t sure when he’d arrived, but she was grateful for it. “Both sides have legitimate—”
A reporter interrupted them. “General O’Donnell! Are you going to chlorinate the water in New York City?”
“Over my dead body,” Nick growled.
“What does the third commissioner have to say about chlorine?” the reporter pressed.
“Keep Fletcher Jones out of this,” the general said. “While you’re at it, keep Drake out of it too. I am in charge of sanitary engineering in New York, and I’ll be calling the shots. I’ll gather a team of the best consultants—”
“And the prettiest, I’m sure,” Nick said. “I wonder if she’ll let you kiss her too.”
“Now that is beyond enough!” she snapped. Normally she ran from this sort of confrontation, but he’d pushed her too far. “If you think I will be a doormat while you trample over me and Dr. Leal, you are gravely mistaken. You can follow us into the judge’s chambers to discuss this in a civilized manner, or you can stand out here and try to shout us down, but you can’t put a lid on our research. The truth is going to come out, and your tantrum won’t stop it.”
Her words took him aback, and his wounded expression made him appear suddenly vulnerable. “I don’t have a problem with the truth,” he said quietly. “I value the truth so highly that I insist upon it. I once thought you were as pure and pretty as a moonbeam, but you didn’t trust me enough to be honest. You lied and schemed and evaded.”
“I didn’t!” But she had. The truth clobbered her, and she wanted to melt into the floor. It hurt to meet his gaze. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“I am too.” He turned and stalked away.
Rosalind could still hear the clicking of cameras and the excited murmurings of the journalists as she returned to the laboratory with Dr. Leal and the research assistants. She couldn’t afford to retreat home to nurse her wounds in private. They had work to do.
Already the students were entering the data from her notebooks into the overall report. George Fuller was there to help strategize the next steps.
“I saw General O’Donnell speaking with you in the courtroom this morning,” Dr. Leal said. “What were you talking about?”
“He said I shouldn’t be nervous about the outcome. That we have the truth on our side.”
Mr. Fuller was unusually somber. “I’m glad O’Donnell sees the truth, but we need to start thinking bigger than winning in Jersey City.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Jersey City is
small potatoes,” Mr. Fuller said. “The real prize is New York City. And Philadelphia. Chicago, Boston, Atlanta. We need to make the case for chlorination to the rest of the nation.”
“But we need to win this battle first,” Dr. Leal said in a cautious tone.
Mr. Fuller shook his head. “Judge McLaughlin is only one man. Don’t put too much credence in his decision one way or the other. With luck, Jersey City will be a symbolic victory, but we need to prepare for a war on the national level. I want to roll this technology out to the rest of the country, and the battle will be fought city by city.” He turned his gaze to her. “You say General O’Donnell is supportive of chlorine?”
“He seemed to be,” she agreed.
“Then we start with him. Come. We need to plan this carefully.”
Rosalind tried to concentrate on the conversation at hand. After all, what could be more important than ensuring a pure water supply in cities all across the nation? Millions of lives depended on it.
But trying to focus on the conversation wasn’t working. Behind her cool expression, it felt like her dreams were crumbling. A piece of her had hoped that Nick might forgive her once the court case was over, but that hope was gone. The scorn in his eyes, the awful words he’d hurled at her in full view of the press and half the town were impossible to forget. She’d seen an angry, vengeful side of Nick she didn’t know existed. It had been aimed directly at her. Even if Nick could forgive her, she would never be able to wholeheartedly trust him again.
“Rosalind?” Dr. Leal’s voice interrupted her wayward thoughts.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“Can you get General O’Donnell to provide a written endorsement of the chlorination technique?”
She barely knew the general, but he had singled her out for attention in the courtroom this morning. Yes, he’d said some unseemly things about her on a golf course, but this crusade was more important than her personal pride. Since she was ten years old, she’d known exactly what she wanted to do with her life, and General O’Donnell could be a powerful ally.
“I’ll get it,” she said.
Mourning Nick’s loss was a waste of her time, but winning General O’Donnell to their side could be a triumph.
Chapter
Eighteen
Nick headed to the office early the following morning. General Mike O’Donnell occupied a suite of offices on the opposite side of the building, and Nick had an apology to deliver.
As it happened, he didn’t even have to wait until he got to the ninth floor. General O’Donnell was waiting for the elevator when Nick entered the lobby of their office building.
“I’m sorry I acted like an angry boar in court yesterday,” he said gruffly as he drew up alongside Mike to wait for the elevator.
The general shot him a skeptical look. “Do you really think I’m susceptible to a pretty face?”
Nick had been. “Not really. I was just in a mood. I’m sorry you were in the line of fire.”
The elevator doors opened, and the attendant inside gestured them both aboard.
“Don’t worry about it,” Mike said with a hearty clap on Nick’s bad shoulder, the one still in a sling.
Nick grunted at the jolt of pain but didn’t complain. Mike knew exactly what he’d been doing with that carefully controlled smack, and Nick deserved it.
“You might have a tougher time earning Fletcher Jones’s absolution,” Mike continued. “Reporters swarmed his office yesterday afternoon, asking him about chlorine in New York’s water supply. Apparently they were under the mistaken impression that the decision would be made by a majority vote between the three of us.”
The elevator attendant chimed in. “We had six reporters in the space of three hours,” he said. “Then protesters got word of chemicals being dumped in the water, so they started rushing the building. I had to spend an extra hour last night just getting dirt out of the carpets.”
“Sorry about that,” Nick said to the attendant, digging into his pocket for a few coins. “Please accept a belated tip.”
His public spewing of anger seemed to have caused a rumpus all around, even for the staff in his building. Fletcher was a master of finance, but the mild-mannered bean counter had probably been appalled at the rush of reporters.
“I’ll swing by Fletcher’s office and apologize in person,” Nick said, regretting his outburst in the courtroom more with each passing minute. He’d wanted to hurt Rosalind, and he had. He just wasn’t proud of it, nor how others had been swept into the maelstrom.
The elevator doors slid open, and they both stepped out. “Come to my office first,” Mike said.
Nick followed, curious about the general’s enigmatic expression as they passed through a set of double doors into the suite of offices occupied by the engineers and draftsmen already planning the new aqueduct. They crossed the large workroom filled with blackboards, blueprints, and drafting tables toward the private offices.
The general’s office was a reflection of the man, with well-made but plain furniture, a sparsity of decoration, and an entire wall of bookshelves weighed down with engineering manuals. He gestured to the work table, and Nick sat. In short order, Mike grabbed three heavy binders of paperwork and set them on the table with a heavy thump.
“This is the research the army has been doing into chlorine,” he said, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table and paging through the binders. “The Americans lost more men in the Philippines to waterborne disease than combat. For months I lived in a sweltering tent and watched my men drop like flies around me. I set up latrines well away from sources of water, but even so, the mobile filtering devices we used couldn’t keep up with demand. In frustration, I finally ordered the cooks to put a few drops of chlorine into the cooking water and any water used for public drinking. Cases of typhoid and dysentery evaporated.”
He pushed the binder, open to a page filled with tables and statistics, in front of Nick, but Nick didn’t want to look at it. “That’s it? Just added a few drops?”
“A few drops of chlorine, stir, and wait an hour. It didn’t taste great, but it protected my men.”
It sounded very different than the complicated system at the Boonton Reservoir, with dilution tanks and calibrated drip lines. When he pointed this out, Mike nodded.
“The setup for Jersey City is impressive, but I was under battlefield conditions in the Philippines. Disease was mowing down our troops faster than the enemy, and I needed to put a stop to it. In the years that followed, I kept in touch with the men in my unit. As far as I can tell, there has been no lingering aftereffects from the chlorine.”
Nick looked away. A battlefield decision was very different than what was going on in Jersey City. Even if Nick had been stationed in the Philippines, he didn’t know if he’d have had the nerve to foist an experimental solution on unknowing men. He said as much to the general.
“Make no mistake, we are still in a war here at home,” Mike said. “The enemies are microscopic invaders, and it takes constant vigilance to hold them at bay. Most of the time filtration can do the job, except when summer rains overwhelm the system. So we need to decide if we accept a few hundred deaths each year as the normal cost of living in a city, or do we roll the dice and stop disease in its tracks. I rolled the dice in the Philippines, and I’ve never regretted it.”
“And there were no long-term effects?”
“Chlorine poisoning shows up quickly. Burning in the nose or esophagus. Maybe some blood in the stool or vomiting. Once it is flushed out of the system, a person’s health returns to normal. With the miniscule amounts we used, we never had an issue.”
Nick glanced at the tables of statistics before him, years of carefully observing men in a controlled environment. This was the kind of long-term data he’d been searching for, and it backed up Rosalind’s theories.
He remembered the day in her laboratory when she’d showed him how quickly chlorine killed germs under the microscope. He’d told her th
at if she could prove chlorination did no long-term damage, he’d be the first man to dance in the streets in celebration. She hadn’t known about General O’Donnell’s medical studies, or she would have told him.
“Why didn’t you tell Dr. Leal about this?”
“I didn’t know what he was doing until you blew the whistle. Had I known, I would have backed him up. Scientific research shouldn’t be done in isolation. Usually we publish our research in journals or at conferences . . . except when the topic is too hot. I wasn’t particularly eager to let it be known that I used an experimental technique on enlisted soldiers, and Dr. Leal had his own reasons for wanting to avoid the glare of publicity.”
Well . . . this was good news. Extraordinary news. Chlorine could never replace filtration, but if the chemical could safely obliterate the threat of microscopic disease, it was a miracle beyond anything he’d expected to see in his lifetime.
Rosalind had been right. They now had the answer to delivering clean water safely and inexpensively.
Instead of elation, a heartbreaking sense of loss weighed on him. Things should have gone differently for him and Rosalind. If she could have trusted him enough to be honest, their lives could have been so much better. The crush of shame darkened his spirit, for his temper had done a fair share of the damage that ruined any hope of a future for them. They had both burned their bridges with each other, and his sadness was overwhelming.
In an effort to get Rosalind from his mind, Nick turned his attention to the mystery that had haunted him ever since the world-class beating he’d taken in Duval Springs. A future with Rosalind was a lost cause, but not so with Aunt Margaret and Eloise.
He needed to see Aunt Margaret to dig out the truth about Eloise. He took a carriage to the Lower East Side, trying to hold rigid to keep the pain bearable as the carriage jolted over potholes and broken pavement. He finally arrived at the school for adult immigrants shortly before the dinner hour. The school was in a modest storefront nestled between a meat monger and a cigar shop. A large sign over the door read Classes in Writing and Speaking English. Beneath the large text, the phrase was repeated in Italian, German, Russian, and Yiddish.
A Daring Venture Page 21