~/*\~Satau~/*\~
“The King is traveling on his Royal Barge, up the Nile to inspect the stone reliefs, commemorating his victory over the Hittites!” Takarut declared to the public, from the steps of the Palace. “He takes the blessings of Ra with him. Traveling with him today is his son, the crown prince; and future Pharaoh. As part of his education, he will be shown the trade routes along the Nile, where our allies come to see the wonders and prosperity of our lands.”
Satau heard his voice long before he reached the Palace steps. As always, there were hundreds of people assembled to hear the daily reports. He was quite surprised to find Takarut making the announcements. It wasn’t usually his job. There were many such assignments among the Scribes, to make royal announcements to the public. Egypt was a big place, and the Palace was the most prestigious spot to report from.
After a while, the announcements finished, and the crowd broke up. Satau waited until the area had cleared and then fell into step beside his friend. “I’m amazed.” He said simply. “Were you promoted?”
“It probably won’t last.” Takarut admitted. “They needed someone to fill in at the last minute, and I was the most experienced one available. It might go no further than today, though I’ve made an effort to tell my masters that I’m willing and grateful to keep the post.”
“What happened?”
Takarut looked around. “The usual scribe, who made announcements from the Palace? He was assigned to help build those stone murals I mentioned, about the Pharaoh’s victories. He was tasked to copy over the record to the artisan reliefs… He misspelt the Pharaoh’s name.”
“What?” Satau couldn’t believe it.
“I know. It’s amazing how big a mistake one man can make. He’s already been executed, and the stone wall had to be torn down, and another block hauled up to replace it. The artisans are going to be weeks behind schedule.”
“Ah. Hence the sudden desire to go ‘oversee’ the whole thing with his son.” Satau translated.
Takarut was about to answer when the wind shifted, and he coughed. “Do you smell that?”
“I do.” Satau’s nose wrinkled. “Where did you say your predecessor was… punished?”
“Nowhere near here.” The wind blew a little harder, and Takarut gagged. “Gods! What is that?”
On the wind, there came the faint sound of screaming, then the sound of warning horns blowing. Whatever it was, it was causing alarm somewhere. Other horns blew, from much closer. The Palace Guards had heard the cries of alarm too; and were reacting by sending everyone to their action stations. A large cohort of guards came running from within the Palace, and they ran at a quick-march into the city, heading for the Nile.
Takarut looked at Satau. “We can probably see more from the guard tower.”
~/*\~
The two of them hurried up the Palace walls, heading for the observation post. Even from that elevation, it was hard to see. The distance involved made the details impossible to make out. But after a while, the details weren’t needed.
“Blood!” Someone shouted in the distance. “It’s blood!”
The scale of it was almost beyond comprehension. Satau had seen the Nile so many times he barely considered the scale of it anymore, but now he was vividly aware; as the normal, gentle surface turned a dark, rich red. So red it was nearly black where it got deep. It was a color that everyone recognized instantly.
Takarut touched Satau’s elbow. “It’s spreading upstream.”
Satau hadn’t even noticed, but he was right. The waterline was still visible, and the blood was spreading, against the flow of the river, further into the distance. The Nile stretched beyond anyone’s sight, almost beyond comprehension. It was practically the line of the horizon. The border of their city, the foundation of their world. And it was turning a thick, syrupy red.
There was a numb silence. Everyone had screamed, everyone had murmured, but after minutes, there was nothing left to say. Everyone had the same fear, the same questions.
Takarut said it first, in a helpless voice. “...how?”
Satau felt a shiver go through him. “I have no idea.”
And then the Royal Barge came back into view. Pharaoh was sailing the river of blood, with his son beside him. The rowers were grunting, hauling in unison; trying to power the craft through the thick, viscous liquid, back into dock.
“I have to go.” Satau said quietly. “His first stop will be my father.”
Takarut barely heard him, transfixed.
~/*\~
“Fear not, your highness.” Jambres told Pharaoh calmly, as Satau held up a large bowl of crystal clear water between them. “Behold the power of Hathor, made manifest by her faithful servants…” He dipped a finger in the water, and began stirring it around, hypnotic and methodical.
If Satau had been standing on the other side of the bowl, where Pharaoh was, he would not have seen the bamboo reed up the High Priest’s sleeve, pouring a flask of blood into the bowl. If Pharaoh had been standing on the other side of the bowl, he would have seen the water draining out through the hidden hole, where Satau collected it into another vessel, hidden in his own cloak. Neither of them alone could have done the trick, but between the two of them, they turned a bowl of crystal clear water a deep, rich red.
“It’s an impressive trick.” The Pharaoh conceded. “Or it would be, if I hadn't seen a much bigger one take place just an hour ago. Moses said the Nile will be blood for seven days.”
“I will go to the Nile, and summon the might of our gods, to make the water flow pure.” Jambres said with dignity. “But there’s a chance it will not work.”
“Why not?!” Pharaoh demanded. “If the Slave Sorcerer is mightier than my High Priest, then what exactly is the point of you?”
“Great King, I have warned repeatedly against taking the gods for granted.” Jambres declared, serene and certain. “They have protected our lands from disruption for centuries. If the gods chose to let someone disrupt things, it’s only because we needed the reminder.”
Pharaoh glowered at him. “Does this seem like a wise time to say ‘I told you so’, Priest?”
“The wise Pharaoh can rest assured that when I speak of the reminders of our gods, I am surely including the one that sits on our throne.” Jambres said with assurance.
~/*\~
Satau went with him, of course. The two of them were silent for a long time as the chariot sped towards the Nile. “You changed the water in a bowl. But the Nile flows constantly.” Satau said finally. “If the blood is to continue for a week, then it means the waters flowing into Egypt are being transformed as they go, non-stop, day and night.”
“That’s a matter for the Scribes. They’ll come up with some acceptable version to announce. It has to be something from the headwaters.” Jambres said plainly.
Does he really believe that? Satau wondered. I saw the blood spreading upstream. “Father?” He asked carefully. “Where did you get the water? For that trick? Where did it come from?”
“Son, people on our level don’t haul our own water. You think the Pharaoh goes to the Well and lines up with everyone else?”
(Author’s Note: The December 1st 1977 Watchtower addresses this question directly. The first Plague was to include the water in the ‘wooden vessels’ and the ‘stone vessels’. According to the article: ‘Some commentators have reasoned that… all the water already in containers’ may not have been affected.
Egypt was a desert nation; so it would stand to reason they’d have some water stored for themselves. The same article also points out that in Exodus 7:24, ‘Unaffected water could apparently be collected by digging wells in the moist soil in the area of the Nile. If Egyptians could obtain drinking water from these wells, perhaps the magic-practicing priests used a limited amount of such water in order to work their magic’.)
“I guess not.” Satau admitted. “Why blood? You had a flask of the stuff in your vault, ready for the trick. Why blood, of all things?”
“Blood is… visceral, it’s personal. It’s something everyone can recognize, but nobody wants to see. It’s something that can only mean danger, or the exercise of power. Water is life, blood means both life or death. Blood is a very powerful symbol.”
The chariot they rode came into view of the Nile at that moment, the entire river reflecting dark red in the moonlight. “Yes, it is.” Satau admitted, hushed and awed into fear by the sight.
~/*\~Julian~/*\~
It was the weekend, and Julian was home. Martine came home for lunch, and found her husband grilling burgers. “Ooh, nice.” She grinned. “One of those for me?”
“You know how the boys eat. You might want to change fast.” He returned. “It’s a warm day. How can you dress like that to go walking around the suburbs?”
“I’m still new at this, but I admit; I should have worn something cooler.” She agreed, mopping her brow. Her dress outfit looked a little rumpled from the heat. “But it was a good morning. I think I’m finally getting the hang of it.”
Julian shook his head, flipping the burgers. “I can’t imagine. A year ago, I came home and you were reading that book, I never thought you’d be going door to door with a Bible in your hand.”
“Neither did I. Neither did most of our friends, to be honest.” Martine grinned. “I ran into Darcey this morning, she was stunned to see me knocking.”
“Darcey?” Julian repeated. “From St Ambrose?”
Martine heard the shift in his tone of voice. “Is something wrong?”
“Hey, dad! Where are the burgers?” One of the boys called from the next room.
The moment was broken, and Martine went upstairs to change. Julian went back to the grill, toasting hamburger buns, promising himself that he wouldn’t raise the issue. With the Class Action against Hancock Industries starting the next morning, this was likely the last time for a while that he’d be spending a whole weekend with his family. Best to spend it on burgers and sports than any arguments about religion.
But he couldn’t shake the thought entirely. Has my wife officially resigned yet? Does St Ambrose have documentation that my wife has left the Church?
~/*\~
The trial began as expected. Sure enough, as soon as the Jury was selected, there was a row of families in the front row of the courtroom. The children were all sickly, some of them bald. During the opening statements, Pollard made a careful stride back and forth in front of the Jury, to the seats; making sure the Jury kept tracking back to them.
“Aren’t you sick of it?” Pollard made his opening salvo to the Jury. “We live in a world where rich people can do as they please, no matter who suffers. They don't care about the laws we have to live by. They don’t care about the environment. They don’t care about the less fortunate. They don’t care about us!” His passionate speech came to a dramatic halt. “They certainly don’t care about our children, getting sicker and sicker, because they poison our water.”
Julian checked. The jury was getting angry. He hadn’t said anything they hadn’t thought for themselves a hundred times. They were seeing the kids, and Pollard was giving them someone to blame.
“Well, here in this courtroom, we can do something about it.” Pollard summed up. “Here in this courtroom, the wealthy industrialist and the sick child can finally be made level by you, the Jury. Because they don’t care about our lives. They don’t care about our kids. You know what they care about? Our money. And here in this room, we’re going to show you just how much they stand to lose from the facts. And then you can finally do something that they do care about.”
Pollard sat down. It was considerably shorter than it could have been. He couldn’t respond with a long, drawn out speech. He could see that Pollard had riled them up, and made them angry at Hancock Industries, and the CEO, his new Client. It was a good move. It made sure that anything he said for his own opening statement would be rejected by angry people. He had to disarm them, break through the anger…
The Judge cleared his throat, prompting him along.
Julian stood and faced the Jury. “There was a time when my parents couldn’t decide if they wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer.” He addressed them. “I remember my father, who was a doctor, used to say: ‘when you hear hoofbeats, think ‘horses’, not ‘zebras’.’” Julian let them process that for a second. “He said that often enough that I knew I wanted to be a lawyer. You see, Doctors are trained to pick the fastest, easiest diagnosis, because it’s usually the most likely. As a result, when something more interesting is happening to their patients, it’s a long, miserable, expensive process to find out what’s really going on.”
Despite themselves, the Jury were nodding, one or two chuckling.
“Mister Pollard would like you to do the same. Stop looking, and start punishing. He’s counting on the fact that you’ll want to tear apart a wealthy man, regardless of what the facts show. I’m gambling you’re smarter than that. Pollard will use words like ‘we can’ and ‘we have a chance’ fairly often in this trial; as he did in his opening statement. It’s a standard lawyer tactic, to make you identify with his Client. A tactic I’ve used myself, in fact. But don’t let him fool you: You don’t have a dog in this fight. Your whole job is to be on nobody’s side.”
Gia glanced at the Jury. One or two of them were sitting straighter, uncomfortably. Julian had just reminded them that they weren’t getting a cut of the settlement, no matter what happened. Pollard had been treating them like they were part of the Class Action.
“There’s plenty of unfairness in the world. But this isn’t a lynch mob, it’s a courtroom.” Julian summed up. “The prosecution's counting on the fact that you won’t think of the zebra. But the world is a more interesting place than that.”
He went on for a while, now that he’d cooled tempers a little. He introduced some of the witnesses they’d be hearing from, some of the information they’d be hearing. And when it was over, he thanked them and returned to his seat.
Gia leaned over. “Your dad was a doctor?”
“Accountant.” Julian admitted quietly. “But how does that help us here?”
~/*\~
Pollard got to present his evidence and witnesses first. “Doctor Velasquez.” He introduced his first witness to the Jury. “You taught four semesters in advanced Chemistry at Yale University. You’ve taken time to review the samples gathered by the people bringing this Class Action. Would you tell us what your conclusions are?”
“The bodies of water that were tested are showing 3 parts per billion of carcinogenic chemicals. One PPB is considered unacceptable.” Velasquez said promptly.
“Doesn’t that sort of thing get regulated by the Government?”
“Yes.” Velasquez nodded. “There are specific government regulations to prevent toxic chemicals. After viewing a forensic breakdown of the samples, I’m convinced that the chemicals not only come from Hancock Industries Chemical Plant, but they must be covering it up.”
Pollard turned to the Judge. “Your honor, I’d like to introduce Exhibits ‘A’ an ‘B’, a breakdown of the water samples, taken over four months, as well as a series of charts that break down the results.”
While he spoke, the bailiffs and a few of Pollard’s interns began setting up the visual aids. Charts, graphs, and chemistry formulas.
What followed was nearly an hour of testimony, and after five minutes; Julian knew he was going to have no trouble refuting this. Their expert was acting like a professor, spouting acronyms and formulas, but it was clear the Jury had no idea what it meant.
By the half hour mark, Gia passed him a note. Please object to something before my brain melts out my ears.
Julian smothered a smirk, and nodded slightly to the Jury. She looked. Sure enough, the jury members were falling asleep, completely glazed over.
Pollard recognized it too. “Doctor, this evidence is necessary to prove Hancock Industries’ negligence. And it’s clear that you’re an expert in this matter; but the rest of us are not. To summarize?”
“Those poor children are sick because the lake poisoned them. The chemicals that are building in the lake are not runoff from any regular business or suburban home. It’s my professional opinion that Hancock Industries is covering up the poison that they’re putting into the wastewater.”
That much, the Jury woke up for. “Thank you.” Pollard turned to Julian. “Your witness.”
Julian stood. “Doctor Velasquez, you used to teach at Yale, but for the last six months, you’ve been a paid consultant for the EarthFirst Foundation, is that not correct?”
“I’ve consulted with several environmental firms.”
Julian picked up a folder. “I’d like to take you back three years, to the case of EarthFirst v Hancock Industries-”
“Objection, relevance?” Pollard jumped in.
Julian spoke before the judge could rule. “Your Honor, give me sixty seconds, and if you don’t see the relevance, I’ll give the court my deepest apologies.” The Judge nodded, and Julian turned back to Velasquez. “In that case, you testified against Hancock Industries. You were censured for the… liberal interpretation of the evidence you had in that case. Your own department at Yale said it was ‘bad science’.”
Velasquez was notably silent.
“The EarthFirst Foundation is one of the major contributors to this Class Action, is it not?” Julian pressed. “You’ve been paid for your opinions before, but I’m betting you’re as eager to get your own back as your employers. In fact, EarthFirst has sued Hancock Industries a dozen times, in a dozen different courtrooms, and lost almost every time.”
“Objection.”
“The evidence against them is solid.” Velasquez said heatedly. “Anyone, kindergartners can look at that chart and see the truth. There’s no ‘opinions’ in the numbers.”
Julian pulled back, satisfied. “No further questions.”
~/*\~
Court let out for the day, and they went back to the office, making phone calls; to prepare for the next round. Gia got on the phone with someone, and whoever it was, it seemed like they were giving bad news. When she hung up the phone, she was silent for a long moment, before she looked back at him. “We should talk about a settlement.”
“Why?” Julian blinked, surprised at her.
“I got the word back from our own ‘experts’? They all say the same thing. The math checks out. The duck pond is what’s making those kids sick.”
“They’re certain?”
“They are. Our client is guilty.” Gia said somberly. “We should talk about settling the case.”
“Wanting to settle was what made Hancock Industries look for new lawyers.” Julian countered. “If compromising was an option they were willing to look at, then they would have done it already.”
Gia bit her lip. “They’re the ones that made those kids sick, Julian.”
“I could have told you that before we started. I’m sure their last lawyers looked at the data and came to the same conclusion, which is why they wanted to settle, which is why Hancock called us.” Julian summed up, blowing right past that. “Hancock Industries have millions tied up in Chemical Production. If they lose this one, then all of their properties are suspect, and they know it. They’ll keep fighting, with or without us.”
Gia sighed, conceding that point. “There are moments when I can actually feel myself turning into a lawyer joke.” She moved on, nevertheless. “I couldn’t figure out what you were doing with the opening statements.” She commented. “Weird thing, nobody on the Jury could figure it out either, but by the time you were done, they were all nodding their heads.”
“People are strange that way.” Julian nodded. “It’s been a while since you were a lowly Intern, learning at my feet, but you need to adopt a little cynicism. People will ignore 90% of what they hear, as long as that last 10% was something they agree with. People like to be told they’re right. Easier to convince them that way.”
“I thought the point of being a lawyer was to change people’s minds in your favor.”
“Sometimes it is, but it’s far easier to tell them they’re right already, and they don’t have to think at all.” Julian said flatly. “Pollard knows this. He’s got the easier argument. He’s leading the charge of poor, sickly families against a wealthy man’s corporation. Courtroom dramas have won Oscars with much less.” He glanced over at her. “Speaking of that, how’s the press reaction?”
“The press is… doing what they do.” Gia sighed. “They’re playing up the sensational details, and leaving out a third of the facts. But they are clearly on the other side.” She clicked back and forth on the computer. “They’re talking about the lake where those kids play. There’s talk of roping it off until the trial is over.” She looked up, biting her lip. “How do we handle the expert witnesses?” Gia asked with a worried frown. “I mean… he’s right, isn’t he? Velasquez?”
“There are white lies, there are blatant lies, and then there are statistics.” Julian said, unconcerned. “Nobody on the Jury has a history in forensic evidence, or a degree in chemistry. They believe the numbers because someone told them to. They don’t have a clue what those charts are saying. Pollard can trot out all the chemistry professors he wants, but nobody in that courtroom can check his reasoning, because none of them understand what those charts and acronyms mean. Velasquez spitting out that kindergartners should be able to understand it made the Jury hate him.”
Gia thought about that. “So we get our own PhD’s in, use the exact same charts, and tell the Jury it actually says the opposite?”
“Right. They’ll have as much reason to believe us as anyone else.” Julian nodded. “The sick kids in the front row are what’s losing us this case, without ever taking the stand.”
~/*\~
None of the sick children were on the witness list. Their parents were, as part of the Class Action. As in most Class Action suits, they all had similar stories. In some cases, word for word. Refuting one of them was essentially refuting all of them. It was just a question of which one would break under cross examination. After studying the witness list closely, Julian had picked his most likely target.
Fintan was sworn in, and sat at the Witness Stand.
Pollard stepped up to talk to him. “Now, then. Mister Fintan, you were the one that organized the rest of the Claimants. Can you talk a bit about how that happened?”
“Most of us knew each other from the Duck Pond.” Fintan told the tale for the Jury. “When the kids started to get sick, it was an ongoing thing. At first we thought it was normal. Little kids and colds are not uncommon. On days when they felt stronger, they wanted to go play with their friends, or feed the animals. When the animals flew away, the kids stuck around. When they got worse, the parents needed people to talk to about it, and we all realized the symptoms were the same. I hung around the park and started asking other families.”
Pollard nodded, sympathetic. “And when you found out how many families there were?”
“We started making lists of products we used, places all the kids had in common. Then we found someone who knew how to start testing those places. Water, air samples… We found toxicity in a few places, but one was way above the average.” Fintan explained. “I wish I could describe to you how horrified we were when we learned it was the park where those kids played.”
“What did you do next?”
“We spoke to the doctors, who agreed a toxic environment could be causing the cancer cluster.” Fintan explained. “They suggested a call to the EPA. But we knew if we involved them, the case would take five years, and… well, with the medical expenses, some of the kids don’t have that long. We thought about going to the council, but a lot of the local council members had Hancock Industries as their campaign donors…” He shrugged, looking sad. “A civil suit was our only real choice.”
It was more or less the same story that all the other parents had given. Julian had declined to cross-examine them. A lawyer tearing into a row of weeping mothers wouldn’t play well to the Jury.
But this time, Julian stepped up to cross-examine. “Mister Fintan, you were the one that organized these families to work together to solve their problem. Would it be fair to say that the Class Action was your suggestion?”
“It was.” Fintan nodded.
“And you mentioned that you all ‘knew each other from the Duck Pond’.” Julian continued. “But as it happens, you’re the only member of the Class Action that has no children. You went to that park to walk your dog. Your family is not involved.”
“I don’t have to be their blood to care about sick children, sir.” Fintan retorted. “It is possible to do the right thing because it’s right.”
Julian nodded. “Those lists of places that all the kids had been to. Where else did they have in common?”
“All of them? None.”
“What about most of them? After all, it’s a terrible thing; but kids do get sick on their own. Even one or two of these poor children could have been ill, without being poisoned.” Julian gestured back at the viewing gallery. “We’ve heard testimony that even one independent case is a statistical likelihood.”
“When you’ve got a smoking gun, you don’t need to look much further.”
The Jury chuckled at the metaphor. “Mm.” Julian agreed, smiling. “But if, hypothetically, just one of these kids did develop cancer for another reason… What would the other ‘common’ places on those lists be?”
Fintan blinked. “Hm. It’s been a few months since then. Once we found the place they all had in common, the rest was focused on gathering evidence-”
“Well here, let me help you remember.” Julian pulled out a piece of paper. “Your Honor, this is Defense Exhibit ‘D’. A copy of the list the Claimants made before pursuing their Forty Million Dollar Class Action.”
“How did you get that?” Fintan asked in surprise.
“The other places on this list that 90% of those children have in common? Tell me if these sound familiar.” Julian read from the list. “Castle Grade School. Riverside Shopping Mall. Camp Downes, where they all went on their school camping trip last year, out of state.”
“We considered all those places, but none of them had any chemical traces. Believe me, we looked.”
“None of them had billionaires, either, right?”
“Objection!” Pollard broke in.
“Sustained.”
Julian kept pushing. “Castle Grade School had renovations done two years ago. The students had to leave school grounds for a few weeks, because they discovered asbestos, and had to clear out the dangerous chemicals. Riverside Shopping Mall also feeds into that Rivulet, as do many places in town. Camp Downes has been cited twice over their career for unsafe play conditions.” He brandished the list like a sword. “And this is just on your list. What about all the other places in town that you didn’t consider?”
“Those kids were getting sicker! We had to do something!” Fintan argued.
“And you stopped looking, once you spotted the money.” Julian sneered. “The first thing you did after that was start suing. You didn’t go to the cops, or the Council, or the EPA. You called lawyers.”
“Objection!”
“Withdrawn.” Julian said before the judge could rule. He’d gotten the Jury to hear it anyway. “Mister Fintan...” He moved on. “I’m given to understand that you are in extensive financial difficulty. So are most of your fellow claimants, but in their case it’s medical bills. In your case, it started long before that.” He very carefully didn’t look at the jury. “You organized the Class Action. Just out of curiosity, did the others cover your share of the legal fees? Did any of them know you needed to sue a billionaire more than the rest of them put together?”
Gia glanced at the gallery. The other claimants were all looking outraged. It was clear none of them knew about their ‘ringleader’ having money troubles. The Jury saw their reaction too. Fintan was suddenly a bankrupt huckster, using a park full of sick children to try and cash in off a billionaire.
“Hey, I’m sure you told them that it was possible to do the right thing just because it was right, huh?” Julian finished. “Nothing further.”
~/*\~
Humphrey spoke to him on the phone the next night. “You know you’re losing, right?”
Julian checked his home office door, to make sure the family was downstairs. “You’ve been following?”
“You’re a Junior Partner, on the verge of landing a Client worth Millions. Of course I’m watching.” Humphrey told him briskly. “Your rebuttal witnesses will confuse the jury. By itself, it’s enough to remove the test results as a ‘smoking gun’, but the science isn’t your problem.”
“I know.” Julian agreed. “I scored a point making Fintan look like a gold digger, but the fact that our opposition screwed up the vetting isn’t going to win us anything.”
“Those kids in the front row? They aren’t on the witness list.” Humphrey said, as if he didn’t already know it. “Their parents are part of the Class Action, but those kids are stuck in those seats, bored out of their skulls so that the Jury can keep glancing over and noticing how sick they look.”
“I told the wife I was on this case. She assumed I was defending the kids.” Julian admitted. “She sees the best in me so easily. I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth.”
Humphrey scoffed. “People get the justice they can afford, son. It’s always been that way.”
“I know. And I won’t pretend I didn’t know that when I started out in Law School.” Julian admitted. “But I didn’t become a lawyer to protect corporations from cancer babies.”
“No. Nor did I.” Humphrey admitted. “I think of it like plastic surgery. You can save the people with war wounds, birth defects… but the industry only has money on hand because of the insecure and vain people with more money than sense. We have to feed the beast, or it feeds on us.”
Julian sighed. “Having plastic surgery doesn’t make the neighbors sick.”
“Seriously, Julian…” Humphrey pressed. “I know Hancock isn’t exactly playing fair, but they don’t deserve legal representation any less because they can afford it.”
“True enough.” Julian admitted. “And if we only defended people we liked, there wouldn’t be a Firm.”
“Wouldn’t even be a legal system.” Humphrey agreed. “Don’t underestimate Pollard. He’s not an idiot: He knows your jury is getting bored. He knows that not one of them can understand a word of those chemistry textbooks the researchers have brought out.”
“I know. Part of me wonders if that’s the strategy.” Julian offered. “Just letting us all talk about things they don’t care about, until they get their chance to punish a rich guy for having more than they do. My tactical victories against the witnesses are just making the Jury angry at everyone.”
“Mm. Even so, your opponent will find a way to wake them up. Something theatrical. Something symbolic.”
“Mm. I agree.” Julian admitted. “If I figure out what it is, I can get ahead of him; and I’ve won.”
~/*\~
Humphrey was right. The shakeup came a few weeks later, after the ‘expert witnesses’ had all had their turn.
“Your honor, I call Mister Alverson Hancock to the stand.” Pollard declared.
It wasn’t unexpected. Even so, the few members of the press that were present sat up straight in their chairs. This is what they were waiting for.
Hancock, one of the wealthiest men in town, strode up to the stand and put his hand on the Bible, swearing his oath by ritual. He’d appeared in Court many times before. It was routine for him.
As Prosecutor, Pollard got to ask questions first. “Mister Hancock,” He began. “I have here a copy of a memo from your office, detailing the methods used to save money on safety procedures. It has your signature, sir.”
“True.” Hancock admitted. “It’s a basic fact of Industry that you seek to make savings wherever feasible.”
“Does that include cutting employee wages?” Pollard asked. “Withdrawing health benefits?”
“We’re competitive.”
Pollard nodded agreeably. “Since you’ve been taking money from your own employees, it stands to reason that you’d be saving money on safety, too.”
He hadn’t asked a question yet, and Julian was hoping Hancock wouldn’t rise to the bait.
Hancock spoke anyway. “Safety is the one area that never stops. The dirty little secret is that even if you spend a million dollars on safety, you can find another layer to add and spend two million. And if you do that, you can find another level of protection and spend three million. Every company, in the world, has to decide what’s relevant in terms of safety and security; and what’s wasteful overkill.”
“So, a determination is made.” Pollard pounced. “Would you mind telling the court how exactly you decide how much safety is ‘cost effective’? How is the threat to the public weighed against cash savings? How do you decide how much toxic waste is too expensive?”
“Objection.” Julian said dryly. “That’s three questions, and at least two of them are leading the witness.”
“Sustained.” The Judge ruled.
What followed was ten minutes in which Pollard challenged every step of Hancock Industries, and Hancock responded. Julian had to restrain himself from mouthing the answers they had prepared and rehearsed a dozen times.
Gia tapped her knee against his under the table. She was watching the Jury, who were watching the back and forth. Like the chemistry, they didn’t have any experience with what was being discussed. Julian got the message. They’re bored.
Julian scribbled down a note. Pollard knows that too.
“Mister Hancock, let me ask you: Purely hypothetically, if it was proven that your plant was making these kids sick, would you want to see them compensated?”
“Objection. Hypotheticals are just another way of leading the witness.” Gia put in.
“Overruled. I’d like to hear the answer.” The Judge ruled.
“If it could be proven that we’d made a mess; I’d want to see it cleaned up.” Hancock said. “That was my mother’s rule when I was five years old, and I’ve never forgotten it.”
Even as Hancock spoke, Pollard picked up his suitcase and placed it flat on the table. He took a thermos from it and poured a glass of water. “Your honor,” The Prosecutor said powerfully. “I’d like to ask Mister Hancock to drink this.” To the watching Jury, the water seemed clear enough. “This water was taken from the park in question. If he is so certain it’s perfectly safe, I’d like him to drink it down.”
The Judge glanced at Julian, expecting him to do something.
“No objections, your honor.” Julian said easily. “And if it’ll help settle this question, I’ll have some myself!”
The Prosecutor blinked, surprised. He was certain this was going to be his ace. “What?”
Hancock held out his hand for the glass, completely unconcerned. Julian jumped up, and went over to stand beside him at the witness stand. Hancock didn’t hesitate, drinking half the glass down easily. Julian took it from him, raised it in a toast to the jury; and then drank down the rest.
As Julian made his way back to his seat, he was aware that the reporters, the Jury, and the Judge were all watching him for any sign of illness, or even for a sign that they disliked the taste. There was none.
“Any further questions, Mister Pollard?” The Judge finally had to move them along.
The Prosecutor had no idea what to say to that.
~/*\~
“You must have a cast iron stomach.” Gia commented. “You and Hancock. I thought for sure you’d puke before the Judge let the jury go.”
Hancock came out of the courtroom behind them, and shook Julian’s hand. “I owe you one, Julian. Keep in touch.”
“Glad I could help.” Julian assured him. “But do me a favor and get that plant up to code before school lets out for the year?”
“I’ll work it out with the City Council.” Hancock promised, but they could both tell he was lying.
Once their client left, Gia looked over at him. “He owes you one? For what? Because I know he’s not talking about the case. That’s what he pays us for.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Julian demurred. He glanced around and opened his briefcase, pulling out a thermos, identical to the one the Prosecutor had produced. “But before you go home tonight, pour this down the toilet, and then throw the thermos away. We should probably make sure nobody drinks out of it ever again.”
Gia burst out laughing. “You switched the water he brought in? How did you even know he was planning this?”
“I had our investigators keeping tabs on the DA’s interns ever since this case started. They’ve been pulling soil and water samples out of that park for months, gearing up for this case. Jurors don’t want to think, or learn about chemistry. The Prosecutor knew that. So he needed to put on a show. Something the Jury would understand easily.”
“And everyone understands spitting out water.”
“Our investigator sent me a picture of the thermos they were filling at the park, I got one just like it; and our client knew to drink deep from the nice clean vending machine water I got while our worthy opponent was in the men’s room.” Julian said smugly.
Gia smothered a laugh, when the kids came out of the Courtroom, walking slowly, they looked exhausted. “It’s been a long trial for them.” She commented quietly. “How much time do they have to waste in courtrooms?”
“Try not to think about it.” Julian offered. “Focus on what it means for us.”
~/*\~
Gia discovered what that meant when they returned to the office, and were immediately summoned up to Humphrey’s office.
As the two of them walked in, they were met with a round of applause. The Senior Partners, who decided the fate of their careers, were all there, with big smiles on their faces.
“The two heroes of the hour.” Humphrey reported. “Took a multi-million dollar lawsuit they were certain to lose, and won the jury over. Hancock Industries has already been in touch. Their regular legal team was pushing them to settle, and thanks to you two, one of the wealthiest men in town knows that our Firm doesn’t surrender so easily. They’ve already been making overtures towards bringing us on for their corporate needs. Their old firm is going insane; but that’s what they get for giving up so soon.”
The Partners laughed, and applauded again. Someone put a drink in Julian’s hand, and he didn’t even see who.
“Julian, Gia...” Humphrey raised his glass. “You’ve gained this Firm an account worth millions of dollars per year. You’ve proven not only to be good lawyers, but a great investment. Right now, there are more law students than there are actual lawyers in the country. Every year, there are more and more people doing the same. Most of them don’t have what it takes. A fair few will never graduate, let alone make a career. A lot of the rest will be ambulance chasers for the rest of their lives. You two have the magic touch we need. Rest assured, we’ll be following your careers with great interest. One can only imagine what you two could become when you reach the senior level. Look around you. This is the twenty-fifth floor of a twenty-seven story building. The air smells good up here, doesn’t it? That’s the smell of money and power. Breathe it in, because today, it’s all thanks to the two of you.”
“Here here!” Everyone cheered, and the toast went up.
~/*\~
What followed was an hour or so where Julian and Gia ‘told the tale’ of the trial. They embellished the details to make it sound more cunning and exciting than it really was.
Gia noted that not one person mentioned the children. Not even her.
Somewhere during the impromptu party, a few of the assistants came in and delivered phone messages, and the Senior Partners started to thread out. One of them had a brief word with Humphrey, who sobered and gave a quick nod.
“Alright, time to get back to our real jobs. Not that brandy and cigars aren’t more enjoyable.” Humphrey told the room, and everyone made noises of agreement, heading out of his office.
“That’s us too.” Julian said to Gia, and took one last moment to take it all in. The plush carpet, the dark wood paneling, the expensive furniture and decorations, the incredible view of the city… One day, I’ll have an office like this.
“How’d you like to start your ‘Senior’ experience right now?” Humphrey asked them before they could go, heading over to his desk. “There’s a new case that some of the Senior Partners need to give their attention to urgently. Our caseload has to be adjusted accordingly, and… the two of you have proven yourselves equal to the task.” He gestured over at a small stack of folders on his desk. “We’d like you to start taking on a few senior-level cases. Just to see how you can handle them.”
“Always glad to help out.” Gia nodded. “If you don’t mind my asking, what’s the new case you’re on?”
“I’m afraid that’s confidential. That’s why the Senior Partners are the ones handling it.” Humphrey dodged that one. “You two have done some excellent work this week. The Name Partners have an annual meeting. Next one is six months from now. You should expect your names to come up favorably.”
Gia and Julian traded a look, smothering their reaction.
Taking the big stack of files back to the elevator, the two of them waited until they were alone. “Promotion.” Gia said carefully. “That’s what it sounded like.”
“Sounded that way to me too. At the very least, we’re on the inside track.” Julian fought to stay calm. “You see that office? We’ll have our own soon.”
“I’ll be the first woman senior at this Firm.” Gia breathed. “When they realize the kind of clients that can bring in, I’ll have my name on the building by the end of the decade.”
“Son of a gun! We made it! We actually-” Julian stopped talking immediately. The elevator doors were closing, but as they did, the other elevator opened, and it looked an awful lot like Bishop Fitzpatrick was walking out to meet the Senior Partners, shaking their hands as he arrived.
“Was… was that Bishop Fitzpatrick?” Gia asked, blinking.
“I believe it was.”
“I thought he was your client.”
“So did I.”
Gia bit her lip. “Don’t ask.” She said finally. “We landed a whale for the Firm this afternoon. If they’re handing you their clients so that they can poach one of yours, you’re still ahead on points. You kick up a fuss; and it could cost you a lot.”
“You’re right.” Julian agreed. “If I make trouble for anyone in the next six months, then I could lose that promotion, and the corner office.”
“It hasn’t been promised yet. Cutting you out is easier than letting you in at this point.” Gia nodded. She studied his face for a moment. “I can see you still thinking it.”
“Building rapport with Clients is the golden ticket to keeping their business.” Julian offered. “Fitzpatrick is more than my client. He’s a friend, he was my Priest for a few years as well… If there’s something going on, something that needs a legal team, let alone something at Humphrey’s level, then he should have told me.”
“You’re assuming that he’s here to talk to Humphrey, or that his visit has anything to do with that ‘Priority Case’ at all.” Gia offered. “Could be anything. The town’s heavily involved with the Church. Could be anything from a Council matter to a Press Release.”
“...Yeah.” Julian said finally. “Anyway, we aren’t on the top floor yet. Let’s get back to work.”
~/*\~
The two of them went back to work, examining their new caseload. But Julian couldn’t shake the thought, and after work, he took the long way home, driving around to the Bishop’s office. He knew the hours Fitzpatrick worked.
He didn’t have an appointment, so he had to wait. The assistant warned it was late, and the Bishop might not want to talk. Julian nodded and waited for him…
When the Bishop’s office door opened, Julian felt his jaw drop slightly when Father Eaton came out, carrying a clipboard, clearly there on business himself.
Father Eaton didn’t even notice him, heading off to his next task.
Bishop Fitzpatrick was in the doorway, happy to see him. “Julian!” He welcomed grandly. “I understand you had a good day.”
“Why is Eaton still on staff?” Julian asked quietly as he entered the office.
“Nobody wanted the scandal.” Fitzpatrick waved it off. “We know not to leave him in charge of finances, and that’s all we have to worry about.”
Julian said nothing.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Fitzpatrick said, infinitely forgiving. “You’re thinking that in literally any other workplace, he’d have been fired so fast he’d leave skid-marks on the floor.”
“Yes, frankly.”
“The Church isn’t like any other workplace. We work according to our tenets.” Fitzpatrick explained. “Our culture is one of forgiveness and mercy; and we take the long view of many things. In most cases, longer than most people live. We’re an organization that predates every world leader, and most nations. I assure you, our ways have worked for two thousand years. How many legal firms, law enforcement agencies, financial institutions, or governments can say that?”
“None.” Julian admitted, slightly awed by the whole thing.
“We will stay true to our ways. He may never be allowed to handle our money or property again, but Eaton still has much to offer the world, in service to the Lord. We’ll make sure he won’t be able to make the same lapse in judgment again.” Fitzpatrick assured him. “But this is not why you came by?”
Julian took a breath. “There’s been a flap at the Firm. Some of our senior people are handing off their cases. But when that happens, it’s usually because they’re being called to something more… high profile.” He took a breath. “Now, that’s nothing unusual, of course. But when there’s something that requires our senior partners, it’s not a secret. Not in the office.”
Fitzpatrick blinked slowly. “Why come to me about it?”
“Well, some of the senior partners are assigned a company car and a driver. I checked the receipts. They were coming to you on the days when they had to cancel court appearances.”
Fitzpatrick chuckled. “Lawyer and detective, eh?”
“Have to be a bit of both in my job.” Julian chuckled, keeping it light. “Look, I know I’m a relatively low man at the Firm, but lawyers cultivate their client relationships. We’re pretty competitive over them, to be honest. The Clients we bring are how we measure our worth to the Firm. If I leave my current post, I can take my Clients with me. If my superiors have seen fit to take over, I should have at least been informed…”
Fitzpatrick nodded, understanding. “You haven’t been forgotten, I assure you.” He sighed. “Julian... Some cases, we need a gentle touch, some cases we need a sharp mind. What’s needed for this particular matter is something different.” Fitzpatrick said gently. His tone was always gentle, kind, soothing. “We need people who are sound, for cases on this level. You see, being in the Church means we don’t just concern ourselves with the well-being of people’s actions, but with their immortal souls as well.”
“With all due respect to my boss, Fitz; I’ve known Humphrey for a number of years now, and he’s no more priestly than I am.” Julian said honestly.
“No.” Fitzpatrick admitted. “But he is sound. This matter isn’t just about law, it’s about people. There’s nothing more important than that. Churches have to concern themselves with the future of people who are… just tragically broken by the harshness of this world. Times being what they are, sometimes that plays out in a courtroom. Humphrey’s known to us. He’s helped us out in these matters before. I know all lawyers have to be bound by privileged conversations and confidentiality contracts, but this goes beyond that. It’s not just about us, it’s about the people coming against us too. We have to be merciful to our opponents. These people are not our enemies. Our legal team has to understand that.”
“I can appreciate that, sir.” Julian said respectfully. “I just… I had hoped that I had demonstrated these qualities also.”
Fitzpatrick smiled warmly. “You have, my son. But you are young, and patience is not a quality that comes naturally. Humphrey is like us. One of us, really; after this long. In time, you’ll be the same, I promise. Remember; the Church takes the long view. Lawsuits are entirely a product of the last hundred years. Time was, these matters were decided by public floggings and appeals to the king directly. Out-of-court arbitration? That’s progress.”
Julian laughed, despite himself. “I asked Humphrey, and he said no. I assumed I had been removed from consideration by someone further along. If the client had a problem with his lawyer, it’s not uncommon for the Senior Partners to give the case to someone more highly placed.”
“And you feared that had happened?” Fitzpatrick guessed. “Nothing of the sort, I assure you. You’ve done fine work for us, and we’re all appreciative. It’s a question of seniority. We give the important, delicate cases to the more experienced legal experts. It’s just good sense.”
“It is.” Julian said lightly. “The catch-22 of it, is that advancement is often less about experience, and more about relationships with valued clients. The Church is a major one for us. The way to become a senior partner at a law firm is to keep a client like you happy.”
“And I’m sure, in time, we’ll have no doubts about you at all. But for this one, I’m afraid our roster is full.” Fitzpatrick assured him.
‘In Time’. Julian repeated the magic words to himself. Which means they have doubts now. But why? What’s keeping me on the outside? Is it just that I’m young? He keeps talking about the ‘long view’. If he has a full legal team on a high profile case, then most of the people involved will be fact-checkers and investigators, and interns. I don’t have to be his Co-Counsel, but there has to be a reason Humphrey and Fitzpatrick have both kept me on the outside of this one…
There was only one reason he could think of.
~/*\~
Julian came home and sniffed the air. “Something smells amazing.”
“Dinner.” Martine said with a smile. “I’m making your favorites.”
“Mm. What’s the occasion?”
Martine smiled prettily at him. “Do I need an occasion to show my husband how much I love him?”
Julian kissed her sweetly. “Where are the boys?”
“Spending the night at Chad’s. They haven’t had a sleepover in a while, and I figured we could use a date night.” She smooched him again. “And there was one or two things I wanted to talk to you about while we had the house to ourselves.”
“That's funny, because I needed to talk to you about something too.” Julian said lightly. “Our accountant called me today. He wanted to double-check something from our checking account.”
“Oh?” Martine had turned back to the stove and scooped up a spoonful of sauce. “Try this. What do you think?”
Julian tasted it. “It’s perfect. Garlic, oregano, with just a hint of… is that ‘bribery’?”
Martine sighed, knowing he’d catch her out. “I wanted to talk to you about it tonight. I was hoping to tell you before our accountant did, and I figured a difficult conversation would be improved with favorite meals.”
Julian rolled his eyes. “You canceled the boys’ tuition?”
“I didn’t cancel it. I just asked him to put the payment on hold.” Martine assured him. “I wouldn’t make a choice like that without involving you, but I do want to talk about it before we’re committed to another school year.”
“St Clarence is the best Prep School for a thousand miles.” Julian said seriously. “The boys would be all but guaranteed a spot in an Ivy League College. Their grades are excellent, their extracurriculars are good. They get on with the other students. Their teachers think well of them… Your only problem with the school is that it’s run by a Church.”
“Yes.” Martine confirmed. “I’m not comfortable with our children being raised in a Catholic school.”
“They’re being raised by us. And while I haven’t tried to stop you; I’m still Catholic. And I think that your religion is now intruding into all sorts of things that should stay in Church. I know for a fact that the Jehovah’s Witnesses don’t push higher education for their own kids; which is patently absurd in this day and age. The boys getting a good education has nothing to do with your beliefs.”
“Your career path shouldn’t have anything to do with your beliefs either, but it does.” She countered. “Are you angry because I’m getting more out of studying with a friend than I have at the regular family Church, or are you angry because my religion is messing up your career?”
“It’s 2001, love. Nobody cares what religion you are anymore.”
“Well, I do.” She said seriously. “And so does the Bishop you’re trying to win over. I saw the way you went pale when I turned him down for the Fundraisers. You don’t care what religion I am, you’re worried about the controversy.”
“Yes, I am.” Julian nodded. “But here’s the thing, when you talk about Church, you’re talking about God. When I talk about it, I’m talking about nine generations of my family. I’m talking about the earliest memories I have of my father, the Christmases with my gran… Martine, even when my aunts and uncles couldn’t speak to each other, we always met in the Church. Funerals, weddings, Christmas, Easter… They were ironclad. The Church was the school I went to, the camp I spent my summers at… It’s the only place where my employers go regularly without work being involved. The only place where the homeless can turn during Public Holidays, the only place that puts out food without-”
“You haven’t mentioned God once.” She said seriously. “In my life, I’ve never felt closer to God, as a person; than I do now. The Church couldn’t give me that. Even the Padre has said, once or twice: Christianity isn’t about rituals, it’s about a relationship with God. And I finally feel like I have one. In fifteen years of Mass, I can’t remember a time when St Ambrose would say His name. If God is real, then He’s a person. Why did we never treat Him like one?”
Silence.
“You can have both.” He said finally. “I don’t begrudge you your studies, or your door-to-door work, or your meetings with those people. Why do you have to stop doing everything I care about? Why do you have to take the boys with you? Nine generations, and… And now it’s over. The tenth generation goes someplace I’ve never heard of, because you can’t meet me halfway?”
Martine looked at him sadly. “It’s the first commandment, in your Bible and Mine. ‘Thou shalt have no other gods before me’.”
Julian nodded. “Don’t we worship the same God? Different denomination, same Lord?”
“I’ve spent a year studying the Bible carefully, trying to answer that question. And after a lifetime in Church, I didn’t have an answer that made sense. Now I do. Meeting you halfway isn’t the issue, Julian.” Martine spread her hands wide. “There’s nothing back there, love. The Church doesn’t have anything to offer. No truth about God, no comfort from Him-”
“I don’t need comfort from Him!” Julian snapped, fed up. “Our lives are great. We have everything we need, and most things we want. And with what’s going on at the Office, it’s only going to get better for us. What else do we need?” He glared. “When I need comfort, I don’t turn to God. I turn to you. I turn to the real world. The home we built.” He looked around, as if looking for something to contradict him. “Is all this really so empty to you?”
“I love you.” She said sincerely. “And of course I take comfort from you. But there are things we can’t control. Things we can’t help but… Our lives are pretty good. Especially in comparison to others. But I’m worried about the future of the world.”
Julian just looked at her. “I’m worried about the future of this family.”
Martine winced, and came over to hug him, but he shied away, and went downstairs.
~/*\~
She brought him dinner soon after, kissing his cheek softly when she put the plate down. All his favorites, as promised. Neither of them said anything. There was no further argument. They hadn’t settled the question, because their argument had spiraled into a much larger topic, but they both knew the matter of which school the boys attended would come up again.
Julian slept in the basement, which doubled as a game-room. He tossed and turned half the night; so he ended up sleeping late the next morning. The boys arrived home in time for breakfast, unaware of the tension.
Down below, there was little daylight to wake him. So when his wife came hurrying downstairs, shaking him awake, he jumped. “Oh.” He grunted, waking up. “What time is-”
“Something’s happened.” Martine told him, and she looked shell-shocked enough that Julian was suddenly wide awake.
~/*\~
The television was tuned to the news. The screen was showing the New York skyline. Clouds of smoke billowed from one of the tallest towers. The newscasters were hurried, trying to flesh out the details on a story they didn’t have the facts for yet. After listening for just a few minutes, Julian turned to his wife. “Plane crash?”
“Yeah. Passenger jet.”
“How does a pilot fly into a building on a clear blue day?” One of the boys asked. “That must have been one heck of a malfunction.”
“Unless it was deliberate.” Ryder suggested.
“You’re not serious!” Nate scorned. “I mean, anyone at the controls had to know they wouldn’t survive an impact. Who does that?”
Julian traded a look with his wife. How do we explain something like this to our kids? He asked her with the near-telepathy that came with years of marriage.
Maybe we don’t have to. It could be an accident. She seemed to say back.
The news kept going, with reporters down at street level describing the falling debris and the people staring. Martine gestured for him to follow her into the kitchen. Once they had privacy, she put bread in the toaster on automatic pilot, pulled out a pan and a carton of eggs. He watched her work for half a minute before he stepped closer and hugged her from behind. “I’m sorry. About last night.”
She tilted her head back out towards the living room. “The boys didn’t even notice you slept downstairs last night.” She whispered. “It was a bad fight, and one I didn’t want to have. I think it was bad because I lost track of what we were fighting about.”
“I know. To be honest, I’m still not sure.” He said into her hair. “You’re changing. And I have to admit, I like the result, but I worry that if I don’t change the same way, I will lose you. That said, I went too far-”
“DAD!” The boys called in unison.
The tone of their voices set off the deep parental instincts in both of them, and Martine barely bothered to turn off the burner before they both rushed to the living room. On screen, the newscasters were in shock, as flames belched from the second tower. “Another plane! Another plane has struck the second tower, and this is clearly not an accident…”
~/*\~
They kept watching the television well into the day. Julian didn’t even notice when it was time to leave for work. An hour later, his phone rang; and he went into his home office. “Humphrey?”
“The Office is closed today. Pretty much every office building over three stories tall is doing the same.” Humphrey reported. “Besides, half the staff is staying home, and the other half are too glued to the news. Everything else has gone to hell, anyway; what does it matter if we take a day off?”
“You’ve got friends at the Justice Department. Are they willing to tell you what’s going on?”
“Nobody knows anything.” Humphrey sounded exhausted, though it wasn’t even late in the morning yet. “The Senior Partners are having a conference call. Some of our corporate clients have holdings in New York. The Market’s been closed.”
“The Market is in the World Trade Center. It may never reopen.”
“Mm. Either way, we can expect a war to begin by tomorrow morning, just as soon as they decide who to blast into the stone age.” Humphrey sounded dark. “The list will be long, I’m sure. I called Dencell, to let him know we were closed today? He’s already typed up his resignation.”
“Why?”
“He’s joining the Army. You believe that? Apparently he has friends in New York. He’s already enlisted.”
“Odds are the war will be over by the time he graduates.” Julian offered. “Depending on who did it.”
“I hope so.” Humphrey admitted. “You’ve never fought in a war; and neither have I. But I know people who have fought in two or three. Trust me, wars have a way of escalating before they end.”
No comments:
Post a Comment