Burden of Proof

by Davis Bunn

  Durnin glanced over. “Mr. Carstairs, do you have any objection?”

  Carstairs seemed to experience the same unsteady struggle to speak as Sonya. “I . . . No, Your Honor.”

  “Very well, Mr. Barrett. You may proceed.”

  “Theoretically speaking,” Adrian began, “would it be possible to use your discovery—”

  “It wasn’t a discovery. It was a terrible, disastrous mistake.”

  “But under certain circumstances, to a particular type of group or individual, it could conceivably be seen as a discovery, could it not?”

  Sonya remained silent.

  “Would it be possible to use your discovery,” Adrian softly pressed, “and create a frequency that had the intent to halt all life functions?”

  Carstairs punctuated the question with a loud huffing sound, just like he had taken a punch to the heart. Which, Ethan decided later, he most definitely had.

  If Adrian or his wife noticed Carstairs’s reaction, they gave no sign. Nor did either give any notice to how Judge Durnin shifted in his seat, moving from rapt attention to full alert. They were too involved as Sonya replied, “Not a single frequency, no. A specific combination of frequencies, which have been calibrated to the species in question.”

  “Including humans.”

  “Humans are a biological species.” Sonya’s words came more slowly now. It seemed to Ethan that she no longer saw the courtroom at all. Instead, her gaze was fastened upon the lab. “So yes. It stands to reason that frequencies could be identified and a specific process of application designed that would have this effect.”

  Adrian tapped the podium with his pen very softly in time to his words. A drumbeat that Ethan could feel in his bones. “Could this application be designed without the use of electrodes?”

  This time it was the judge who punctuated the question with an indrawn breath.

  Sonya’s hands gripped the railing with bone-white intensity as she rocked in cadence with her husband.

  “Answer the question, please.”

  “Theoretically.” Sonya kept her gaze fastened tightly upon the unseen. “The required technology does not presently exist. But given a sufficiently powerful frequency array, and assuming it proved possible to precisely target the frequencies at the . . .”

  “Victim,” Adrian supplied. “Enemy combatant.”

  “Then yes. It is most certainly feasible that what we saw as a terrible mistake could be transformed into a . . .”

  “Death ray,” Adrian said. “Silent killer. A military game changer of exponential force.”

  Each of Adrian’s words struck Sonya with such force she winced. “Yes.”

  Adrian stood there a long moment, watching his brilliant and mercurial wife restore her composure. Finally he asked, “All right?”

  “Yes.” She used her forefingers to compress the edges of her eyes. “Thank you.”

  Adrian turned to Carstairs. “Your witness.”

  Carstairs remained planted in his chair.

  Durnin finally prodded him with, “Mr. Carstairs?”

  Carstairs did not so much rise as lumber upward. The act was a genuine struggle against whatever internal forces had robbed his features of color. “Your Honor, I withhold the right to recall this witness at a future time.”

  “You have no desire to cross-examine?”

  “Not at present, Your Honor. I have not been able to contact . . .”

  “Yes? Go on.”

  “Nothing, Your Honor. No questions at this time.”

  “Very well.” He turned back to Adrian. “Counsel, you may proceed.”

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-SIX

  “Your Honor, I respectfully suggest that this case has never been about an investor making a lawful acquisition of my client’s company and its products,” Adrian began. “We have shown beyond reasonable doubt that there is no product. Instead, by sheer accident my client has discovered a terrible side effect that does the opposite of what she intended. This accidental discovery is utterly at odds with what she was contracted to do. Instead of healing and relieving pain, she has uncovered a process with potential military applications.”

  “Objection.” Carstairs remained seated, not bored as much as disconnected. “Conjecture.”

  “Sustained.”

  “But we must accept, Your Honor, that this has become a very real possibility. I therefore request that the case be widened to include an official review of who precisely we are facing here.” Adrian looked down at Carstairs and his minions. “I doubt very much my colleague has any idea who he truly represents.”

  “Objection.”

  “Sustained.”

  “I ask the court to force their hand, Your Honor. Make them reveal themselves. Either that or force them to unwind the deal with my client.”

  Adrian stopped and waited. The judge watched him intently and did not speak. It was as if they both were locked in silent agreement, insisting that Carstairs respond for the record.

  When the opposing counsel finally spoke, he droned his words to his hands. “Objection, Your Honor.”

  Durnin leaned back and studied the ceiling. The silence lasted quite a while before he resumed his position and said, “Here is what we are going to do. We are going to treat this as final arguments. Whatever happens from this point, we can certainly assume that the ground has shifted under our feet. As a result, we need a clear sense of where we stand. So, Mr. Carstairs, you are hereby instructed to allow Mr. Barrett space to speak his piece uninterrupted. If he crosses a line into illegality, of course you may object. But until or unless this happens, you will listen in silence, and then I shall grant you the same right to offer rebuttal.”

  Ethan found it very interesting how Carstairs did not look up once during the judge’s instructions. Even his minions looked confused by his silence.

  Judge Durnin, however, appeared satisfied by his response. “Mr. Barrett, you may proceed.”

  “Thank you, Judge. First of all, I respectfully ask this court to order Cemitrex to show us Beryl Aldain’s letter of resignation. If there is any hint of irregularity, I ask the court to declare this document a sham and serve an order on her personally. I suggest Beryl Aldain resigned merely to avoid appearing in this court. I suggest that she in fact has not unwound her connections with Cemitrex and thus should be held in contempt. I ask that you issue a writ of bodily attachment. If she fails to appear, she must be arrested by federal marshals and forced to testify. In chains, if need be.”

  Both Durnin and Adrian seemed to find nothing odd about Carstairs’s utter lack of response. His two minions, however, were clearly stressed to the breaking point. The young woman leaned over and whispered something with such intensity, the muscles of her neck stood out like whipcords. Carstairs gave no sign he heard her at all.

  Adrian stepped to the side, moved past his podium, and halted where nothing stood between him and the judge’s bench except empty carpet. “Your Honor, failing the appearance of Ms. Aldain, I ask the court to order Cemitrex to supply a witness who can testify from personal knowledge. Hearsay testimony will not be permitted. This new witness must be capable of supplying the court with complete answers. Who are their ultimate owners? Are they involved with any branch of the military, here or overseas? And what is their true purpose behind seeking to acquire my client’s company?”

  Adrian took another step away from Carstairs and his own table and the safety of the known. “Finally, Your Honor, I ask that my client be permitted to file a sealed patent, to be held in absolute confidentiality, covering every aspect of the research in question. Clearly this potential weapon has nothing whatsoever to do with her contracted research or the intended product. Separating this accidental development from what Cemitrex is allowed to purchase will, in my opinion, be the only true way to safeguard her life’s work.”

  As Adrian returned to his seat, the young woman’s protest rose further in intensity. Carstairs waved at it like he would a circling wasp.

>   Finally Judge Durnin said, “Mr. Carstairs, you are free to offer rebuttal.”

  Carstairs shook his head slowly. Whether to the young woman’s words or his own internal dialogue, Ethan could not tell. Finally he said, “Your Honor, at this point I feel I must speak with my clients before offering an official response.”

  The young woman leaned away from him, her mouth agape. Not just silenced. Poleaxed.

  Judge Durnin, however, offered a tight nod, almost as if he approved. “Very well. At this time the court finds in favor of Mr. Barrett and his client. I deem there is ample evidence that Cemitrex and its ultimate owners have willfully sought to slip between the statutory cracks and, in so doing, have subverted the course of justice. As a result, a subpoena is hereby issued for the appearance of this absent executive, Beryl Aldain. If she fails to appear, this will be replaced by a formal writ, to be served by federal marshals. I also order Cemitrex to supply us with a second executive of senior status who can and will offer corroborative testimony. And finally, Mr. Barrett, you are hereby instructed to prepare a preliminary request for a patent, which the court orders must be held in strictest confidentiality until or unless I personally approve its release. Which I will not.”

  He rapped the gavel. “This case is adjourned.”

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Gina drove Ethan’s car and followed Adrian and Sonya to their home. Ethan rode with his window down, letting the warm humid air wash over him like gentle September hands.

  Twice during the drive, lightning flashed so close that Gina recoiled. Both times, Ethan felt himself endure another moment of partial separation. The charged atmosphere drove a wedge further between his consciousness and the physical body that would soon be no longer his. Even so, he observed the shift from an unemotional distance. Two storms were coming. There was nothing he could do about either.

  The thunder was an almost constant rumble by the time they arrived. A deep-voiced warning that great events were about to unfold.

  News of Jimmy Carstairs’s withdrawal was waiting for them. There were three messages on the answering machine, two from Adrian’s firm and one from a young woman who introduced herself as a senior associate in the Carstairs firm. She reported that Jimmy Carstairs had been unable to obtain valid responses to his queries. As a result, his firm had no choice but to halt their legal representation of Cemitrex and its pursuit of Sonya’s company.

  There was a distinct lack of celebration to the news. After all, the Washington-based group still owned fifty-one percent of Sonya’s company. But for the moment, they were freed from any threat of her company being acquired. A major battle had been won. For now, that was enough.

  Adrian and Sonya were clearly exhausted by the weeks of strain and uncertainty. They moved about their kitchen on automatic pilot. Gradually a buffet of salads and cheese and sliced melon and fresh vine tomatoes and bread took shape. Adrian pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge and asked if anyone wanted a glass, and when no one responded, he put it back.

  They ate seated on stools around the counter. Ethan broke the silence only once, to explain what he hoped would become Gina’s new role in the business. Sonya welcomed the news. Adrian merely studied his brother with a grave expression.

  When they were done and the remnants cleared away, Sonya suggested she and Gina have a word about what form this new relationship might take. Ethan and Adrian left the house by way of the rear screen door and walked the long pier down to where the Saint Johns flowed. The late afternoon sky was alight now.

  Adrian traced his hand over the shivering cattails growing alongside the pier and said, “I’ve been thinking about Pop.”

  “He always did love a good storm,” Ethan recalled.

  “It used to scare Mom to death, him hopping around the shore when a hurricane was on approach.”

  “I don’t remember that.”

  “You were what, five years old the last time a hurricane hit?”

  “I had just turned four. I remember because you and Dad used to talk about me missing all the fun.”

  Adrian laughed for the first time that day. “Oh, man. That’s right. I loved giving you a hard time about how great life was before you showed up.”

  “You went on and on about how you and Dad raced around the backyard, Mom yelling at you both to get out of the storm. The two of you laughed every time the lightning struck, singing some crazy song.”

  “‘Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head.’” Adrian kept laughing. “Pop couldn’t hit a proper note with an Uzi.”

  A canvas-topped boat hung under a covered hutch, winched free of the storm’s waves. The river was alive now, the greenish-brown waters frothing with excitement. The sky directly overhead was a pristine blue, so clear and deep it appeared almost black. Further east, however, the clouds held the dark menace of an approaching army. A wall of shadows marched toward them on a million flickering legs. More lightning flashed and boomed in the cloud bank itself.

  Ethan felt each flash inside his head, prying loose his consciousness from his body. Every passing instant became filled with an impossible beauty. The water, the sky, the storm . . .

  “You’re a great brother. And an even greater man.” Ethan reached out a hand. “Help me lie down.”

  Adrian’s voice rose to a frantic whine. “No, man, you can’t . . .”

  “Please. Don’t. It won’t help anything, and I want . . .”

  Speech became impossible then. His ability to shape any sound at all became something that belonged to a fading past. He would have collapsed had Adrian not caught him.

  “No, no, no . . .”

  Ethan looked at the glorious sky, the majestic storm, the beautiful day . . . his brother. And then, with a clarity that came from that instant of further separation, he saw himself.

  He was the prodigal son, the scourge of his family, the man who threw away his heritage and only took from life what he wanted. And only when he could do so in utter selfish abandon.

  He had been granted the opportunity to come home. Not because he deserved it. Far from it. Even so, he had returned to the only family left to him. A brother who had abandoned Ethan to the fate he had demanded for himself. And then welcomed him back with open heart and arms.

  This impossible gift of second chances had carried the immense challenge of making peace with a woman who before had loathed him, and who now counted him as her brother. And who trusted him with her own life’s aims.

  And then there was Gina.

  It felt so good, so very good indeed, that his last thought was of her.

  CHAPTER

  ONE

  The entire Beverly Hills Jail was nonsmoking and air-conditioned. Four inmates to a cell. No overcrowding. Decent food for a prison. Three hours each day in the central pen rather than the customary one. Showers with hot water. And most importantly, the inmates were safe. All violent offenders were sent to Men’s Central Jail, which was a totally different story. The threat of being reclassed and shipped out kept the Beverly Hills inmates meek as kittens.

  Not that Daniel Byrd had much experience with prisons. Just one stint in juvie, convicted when he was twelve and released three days before his fourteenth birthday. For robbing a bank.

  This time was different. For one thing, he was innocent. Totally.

  Of course, he was guilty of a whole host of other offenses. The difference was, the things he had gotten so terribly wrong were not actually against the law.

  Trusting the wrong partner. That was a lifetime felony, for sure. This being the same person Danny had called his best friend since childhood. But that was before John Rexford had cleared out their accounts and skipped town with a would-be actress. Leaving Danny to take the fall.

  It was probably just as well that Danny had no idea where the louse was, since the vengeance he spent so many imprisoned hours imagining was definitely on the wrong side of legal.

  Which was exactly how Danny was spending the morning when his world shift
ed on its axis.

  The first notice he had of pending change was when his cell door opened and the guard said, “Let’s go, Byrd. Gather your belongings. You’re being moved.”

  Danny protested, “I’m not due in court for another three weeks.”

  The guard was a pro at ignoring anything a prisoner might cast his way. “Don’t keep me waiting, Byrd.”

  His three cellmates were an Israeli smuggler arrested with half a pound of conflict diamonds, a Rodeo Drive salesclerk who tried to play hide-the-turnip with an emerald pendant, and a professional cat burglar from Freeport, Bahamas, dark as the nights he loved. The smuggler shifted on his bunk, turning his back to the world. The salesclerk offered Danny a grimace. The thief said, “You just remember what I told you.”

  “Take a chill pill,” Danny replied. “Keep my eyes on the next step. See nothing, say less.”

  The thief offered Danny a palm. “You stay cool now.”

  The guard pointed to the invisible line in the corridor. Danny’s month and a half in jail had taught him to keep his mouth shut and wait. The officer locked the door and started down the long hall. Danny fell into step behind him. His gut was one solid block of dirty grey ice.

  Beyond three more steel doors loomed the shadow world of California’s general prison population. Gangs. Drugs. Brutality. Danny knew with every shred of his being that he would probably not survive.

  The guard’s name was Escobar. Danny suspected he was the only prisoner who knew that. Most inmates in the Beverly Hills Jail were just passing through, held here for a few months or less. Once their convictions were set, they were processed into the California penal system. There was no need to bother with such trivialities as learning guards’ names. But Danny had been memorizing people’s names for so long the habit was ingrained. He knew the identity of every guard in their wing.

  Escobar led him through four of the five steel doors separating Danny from daylight. They entered the octagonal booking chamber, and Escobar pointed him onto a side bench. “Sit.”