“You and your damn closing arguments.” Jake sighed in reluctant capitulation. “All right. Ten minutes. Not one second more.”
* * *
“Hello! Rental management.”
Deke knocked on the door for a second time. He had a sense of being watched and did his best to appear benign and nonthreatening. As the door opened a crack, Deke began speaking in a tone both friendly and apologetic.
“Good afternoon! My name is Nick Draper. Sorry to bother you, but I’m with the company that manages this rental, and I’m responding to a complaint made by the last tenant who reported that there was a strong gas smell in the unit. By law, we’re required to follow up.”
From behind the door a man’s voice responded. “I haven’t smelled no gas leak.”
“Our company is all about accommodating our guests, but when it comes to safety, we have to follow company protocols. If you don’t want me inside, that’s fine, but I’ll need to call the fire and police departments to come out here just to make sure we don’t have a serious problem.”
The door slowly opened, and Tío Leo showed himself. Deke kept a placid smile on his face and said, “Thank you so much.” He made a move to tip his cap, but Rodríguez chose that moment to step back.
Deke followed him into the house, but Rodríguez remained wary and watchful. It was a hot day, but Rodríguez was wearing a sports coat. He had his right hand in his coat pocket, and Deke had no doubt but that a gun was leveled on him.
Pretending to be oblivious to the threat, Deke said, “You can’t fool around with a gas leak. Better safe than sorry, right?”
“You said that you’re with the management company?”
“That’s correct.”
“And what’s your name?”
Deke recalled the name he’d used. “Nick Draper,” he said, extending his hand, but Rodríguez kept his hand inside his coat pocket and maintained his distance.
“I was told the gas smell was coming from the kitchen area,” Deke said.
“Is that so?”
There was a mocking note in Tío Leo’s reply, but Deke pretended not to notice. He made his way farther into the house, Rodríguez following behind him, and found the kitchen. What he hadn’t counted on was the electric stove and oven.
“Strange place for someone to have detected a gas smell,” Rodríguez said, facing Deke down with a shooter’s pose, the now visible gun centered on his chest.
Deke held up his hands. “Clearly, there’s been some misunderstanding.”
“Let’s see your ID,” Rodríguez said.
“My wallet’s in the car.”
“Really? Then why do I see an outline of it in your back pocket?”
Deke feigned surprise, patting his back pocket. “I guess you’re right.”
Tío Leo seemed to think that was funny. “I guess I am,” he said. “No sudden movements. Toss your wallet my way nice and easy.”
“Please lower your gun. Like I said, there’s been some mistake.”
“Your wallet. Now!”
Deke complied with the directive. With his gun raised and held at the ready, Rodríguez picked up the wallet, pocketed the cash, and then studied Deke’s license.
“Nicholas Dekey-tomb-eyes,” he said, struggling with Deke’s surname.
“Deke-eh-tome-is.”
“You work for the management company, but you live in Florida?”
“I recently resettled in Mobile.”
“Don’t bullshit me. Take off your clothes.”
“What?”
“Now.”
“Look, if you don’t believe what I’m saying, why don’t you call the cops? They should be able to confirm everything.”
“Either you start stripping, or I start shooting.”
Deke began removing his clothing, leaving on only his socks, underwear, and cap.
“Now, slide your clothes my way, and then sit on the ground, put your hands behind your back, and link your fingers together.”
When Deke complied, Rodríguez went through his clothing with his free hand, pocketing Deke’s cell phone and the keys to his truck.
“If you want to get out of this alive, I’ll need to hear answers I believe. Who are you, Mr. Dinky Thomas?”
Deke gave up on his ruse. “I’m a lawyer representing Sylvia Reyes. She retained my services on behalf of her daughter, Lily.”
Rodríguez started laughing. “You’re a lawyer?”
“I am.”
“And you came here to do what? Sue me?”
“That was one option.”
“I got another option for you, old man. Putting a bullet in you.”
“The police are going to be here any minute, Mr. Rodríguez. Or do you prefer to be called Tío Leo?”
Deke could see that got the other man’s attention. “You’ve been in our sights for months. We know all about you.”
“You don’t know jack shit.”
“By cooperating with me, you might get a reduced sentence. Let’s start by having Lily and the others go outside.”
“Who’s this Lily you keep talking about? I don’t know no Lily.”
Deke called out, “Lily? Come downstairs now.”
Rodríguez started laughing. “My three nieces from Mexico are upstairs, but there’s no Lily.”
“Where is she?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about. But I do know I’ve heard enough.”
Rodríguez pulled Deke’s belt loose from his pants and then tossed it at his feet. “Loop the belt between and around your ankles, and then pull it tight and fasten it.”
Deke slowly began wrapping the belt around his ankles. “Tighter,” Rodríguez said. “And keep your head facing forward if you don’t want it blown away.”
He circled behind Deke, who tried to keep him talking to track his whereabouts.
“All I want to do is get Lily back safe and sound.”
Rodríguez didn’t answer. Deke was straining to hear. Was there a whisper of movement behind him? Reacting was dangerous; so was not reacting.
A kitchen window shattered, and Deke swept the cap off his head and blindly swung upward. The impact was enough to throw off Rodríguez’s blow and lessen the impact of his gun’s smashing into Deke’s cheekbone.
From outside Jake’s muffled voice yelled, “Police! Drop your gun now.”
Rodríguez responded by firing two rounds in the direction of the voice. Deke swiveled his partially tied legs toward Rodríguez, trying to sweep him off his feet. The kick staggered but didn’t drop him. As he steadied himself, Deke lunged for his arm, and the two men wrestled for the gun. From his knees, Deke lacked the leverage to turn Rodríguez, but he held tight to the other man’s arm even while being kicked in his head.
Don’t . . . let . . . go . . .
The gun went off, but Deke didn’t loosen his grip. He took another vicious kick to his face, a blow that knocked him backward, but that also wrenched his opponent’s arm and sent the gun flying.
Rodríguez froze, torn between going after the gun or fleeing. The sound of Jake kicking in the back door was enough to make Rodríguez race off. Deke staggered after him, but by the time he got to the front door, Rodríguez was driving away.
As Jake ran up to his side, Deke said, “Call the police! Tell them to put out an APB on a Ford Transit van.”
As Jake made the call, Deke called up to the second floor, “Lily? Are you there?”
No one answered, but Deke heard several girls talking excitedly in Spanish.
“Lily?”
No reply.
Blood started pooling at Deke’s feet from the gashes on his face, but he barely took notice. It wasn’t his wounds that left him hurt and empty; it was his failure.
V
Deke tried not to wince as Teri applied makeup to his face, but apparently wasn’t successful.
“You’re in no condition to be working today,” she said.
“I’d feel a lot worse sitting home,” he said, but
at that moment the movement of Teri’s brush on his mangled face caused a sharp intake of breath.
“You sure about that?” Teri asked.
Deke didn’t answer.
“Concealer’s done,” she said.
Deke moved to rise, but Teri said, “Not so fast. I still need to apply foundation, and then bronzer.”
“My flight leaves in an hour.”
“I’ll be fast, even though I shouldn’t be enabling you.”
“If all goes well with today’s deposition, I’ll just be an observer,” Deke said.
“For your sake, I hope so. With all your tossing and turning, did you even sleep last night?”
Deke wasn’t sure if he had or not. His conversation with Sylvia kept replaying in his head. As bad as the failed rescue was, having to tell her what happened made it even worse. This time there wasn’t some sheriff to blame. It was all on him. The beating he was still giving himself was far worse than what Rodríguez had administered.
“Hard to sleep with a guilty conscience,” he said.
“But Lily wasn’t in the house. You couldn’t have rescued her anyway.”
“If we’d captured Rodríguez, it’s likely he could have told us where she was.”
“You freed three young women. That’s a good thing.”
The girls Rodríguez had called his “nieces” were Mexican nationals. The oldest was sixteen and the youngest was thirteen.
“Freeing them makes what happened not quite a disaster. At least the girls confirmed that Lily was with them until the day before yesterday.” He shook his head. “So close.”
Teri finished applying the bronzer and studied her handiwork. “Not bad,” she said. “You almost look human.”
“High praise from you.”
“Try to avoid touching your face and smudging my work,” she said. “I would kiss you, but I don’t want to mess up your makeup.”
“Those are words I never expected to hear,” Deke said.
* * *
Although Deke and Michael Carey were seatmates, neither man said much to the other during their flight to Indianapolis. Both prepared for the deposition. The philosophy at the law firm of Bergman/Deketomis was to allow their lawyers to gain experience by handing them the helm. In some ways it was the equivalent of having a child learn how to swim by throwing them into the deep end of the pool.
Usually, they started swimming.
Michael had been with the firm for about a year. Deke didn’t know the associate very well, but had heard good things from others. Michael’s background was a bit unusual. He’d been in the Air Force before being medically discharged and making a career change to pursuing law. When Michael had been hired, the firm believed they were getting a warrior.
Deke hoped so, but sometimes even promising young lawyers had trouble finding their footing. Today’s deposition would be the opening salvo in what was expected to be a protracted struggle with Parakalo Pharmaceuticals, one of the biggest and most lucrative pharmaceutical companies in the world. Bergman/Deketomis had brought a mass tort suit against Parakalo and its diabetes drug, Aeos. Deke wasn’t the lead lawyer in the action against Parakalo, but had agreed to help with the early depositions.
Over the loudspeaker, the flight attendant announced they were on final approach to Indianapolis International Airport. Corporate headquarters for Parakalo was only ten miles from the airport. The Parakalo Building was one of the biggest edifices in Indianapolis’s skyline, a monument to Big Pharma and bigger money.
Ten minutes later, the flight attendant announced the local time and temperature and said, “From all of us, we hope you enjoy your stay in the Crossroads of America, Indianapolis.”
To Deke’s ear, it almost sounded as if she had said “crosshairs.”
* * *
The two sides faced off across an oversized walnut conference table in a state-of-the-art meeting room. Judging by numbers, the Parakalo lawyers had the advantage. The Bergman/Deketomis legal team consisted of Michael, Deke, and a paralegal. Parakalo had double that number at the table, and a support system at the ready.
The court reporter had her hands poised, waiting on Michael to ask his next question. She wasn’t the only one waiting. Deke fought the urge to shift in his seat. He didn’t want his impatience to betray the doubts he was having about his associate’s cross-examination of the witness. They were almost fifteen minutes into the deposition. By that time, Michael should have been engaged in what the firm called “combat training.” You’d think that would be easy for a war vet. The associates were expected to conduct depositions in a prescribed manner only half-kiddingly referred to as “slash and burn.” Michael knew the methodology, but he was blowing it. Deke considered slipping him a note saying, Attack, attack, attack! And use the damn documents!
By dint of Michael’s softball questioning, Parakalo scientist Dr. Gerald Erskine was looking increasingly relaxed and comfortable. By now Erskine should have been feeling the heat over company emails and memos clearly showing criminal conduct by management. When a witness is in the hot seat, all the air-conditioning in the world shouldn’t keep him cool.
Michael asked, “Is it your contention, Dr. Erskine, that Aeos is completely safe in managing type 2 diabetes?”
Deke bit down on his lip. Hard. It was a classic setup question that every experienced witness hopes for, and it allowed Dr. Erskine the opportunity to take control of the narrative. Erskine smiled, ready to recite the company talking points about how no drug is completely safe, and how even the most benign drug isn’t without risks. He’d say how proud he was of his company and its important work, emphasize that the safety and efficaciousness of Parakalo’s drugs were valued above all things, and claim that the pharmaceutical company set the gold standard for drug development that was just short of miraculous.
Erskine could have come out of Hollywood casting playing the avuncular voice of reason. He had gray hair, sympathetic eyes, and a calm voice. That’s why it was essential that his mask be pulled back; Parakalo wanted Dr. Jekyll on display, but Bergman/Deketomis needed to reveal Mr. Hyde. Erskine and his team were putting out poison and calling it a miracle drug.
“As I am sure you are aware,” said Erskine, “the safety protocols at Parakalo are second to none . . .”
Deke had heard enough bullshit, and knew Erskine was just beginning. He coughed hard, reached for his throat as if in distress, then began coughing all the harder. Deke’s manufactured fit was enough to interrupt the direct examination. The way he looked, even with the damn makeup he was wearing, made believers of everyone there.
“Are you all right?” asked Michael.
The associate handed him a bottle of water; Deke managed to swallow a few gulps between bouts of violent coughing.
“Can we please have a short recess?” asked Michael, helping a still coughing Deke to his feet.
The two men exited the meeting room. When they were out of ear-shot of the others, Deke’s voice magically returned.
“I’m going to have to drive this deposition,” he said.
Michael couldn’t hide his wince. “But I know this case inside out.”
Deke tapped his head. “You know it here,” he said. “But you either don’t know it here”—he tapped his heart—“or you’re not showing it.”
“I can do better.”
Deke was glad the kid didn’t want to come out of the game. This was his first real experience coming to bat in the big leagues, and he clearly expected better from himself. As a young lawyer, Deke remembered a time when he’d had the reins taken away from him by a more experienced lawyer who hadn’t liked the way he was handling a case. It had been a harsh but necessary lesson. In fact, there was something about Michael that reminded Deke of when he’d been a wet behind the ears lawyer.
“And you will do better, but not today,” Deke said. “These opening depositions are critical to our ability to develop and control the themes we’ll be showcasing in the trial, and we can’t have you allow
ing this witness to develop their story line at the expense of ours. We need a blitzkrieg. We need rage. Every good trial lawyer has to channel controlled rage. If you’re not angry, no jury is going to get angry. Where’s your passion?”
Michael took a deep breath. “I was trained to be clear-headed.”
Deke could tell there was more to that story, but there wasn’t time for him to hear it. “And that’s a problem,” Deke said. “Righteous indignation needs to be a big part of your legal arsenal. How many people do you think Aeos has killed?”
The drug had been on the market for the better part of a decade. As Aeos sales had increased, so had the deaths associated with its usage.
“No one is sure what those numbers are.”
Deke raised his voice. “You make that sound as if it’s relevant. It’s not. What if this drug had killed your wife? You think you could show a little rage then? We need to speak for the dead. It’s our job to do that, whether we’re talking about one individual or a thousand. We’ve got the documentation linking Aeos to a murderer’s row of ailments suffered by its users, and you haven’t brought in even one of those documents in the fifteen minutes you’ve been deposing this witness. We’re talking about clinical data that shows bladder cancer, kidney disease, and liver failure, just to name a few. Parakalo’s own internal company documents show us everything in black and white, but you’ve been wasting our time asking this corporate shill where he went to school and what courses he took. Really?”
Deke shook his head. He didn’t like upbraiding an associate, but at the same time knew a wake-up call was absolutely essential to Michael’s development as a lawyer.
“If all those documents we’ve accumulated showing Parakalo’s cover-up of a dangerous drug don’t make you angry,” said Deke, “then I’ll have to get angry for you.”
* * *
Erskine and the two Parakalo lawyers were laughing about something when Deke and Michael returned to the conference room. When the proceeding was resumed, Deke said, “Dr. Erskine, isn’t it true that you suspected Aeos was a dangerous drug the very first time you reviewed the clinical data?”
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