There it was.
The statement.
The one that could break him.
Kevin Wu is seeking damages to the extent of…
Harvey drew a breath.
Leaned against the doorframe.
This was not what he wanted.
Not what he needed.
He read the line again.
There was no mistaking it.
No denying it.
…$100,000,000.
Chapter 2
The girl struggled with the door, feeling her way around, but she couldn’t find the opening.
She hated the dark.
It’s when he came.
Maybe it would be another beating. Maybe it would be another lashing. Maybe it would be something worse this time. That’s what she feared. Really feared. She could take the occasional beating or yelling. That was ok. They didn’t hurt too much, but he hadn’t hit her in more than a year. His behavior changed overnight, and he went from being full of rage to almost loving. He wanted to hug her now, not beat her.
Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t stop him.
She tried to stop him once before, two years ago, when she tried to escape, but he only beat her worse. When she made a run for the open door, he moved quicker than she ever saw. You can’t go, he said, the world will hurt you more than I can. It’s dangerous out there. Too dangerous for an angel like you.
She was twelve, maybe thirteen.
She didn’t know.
Full moons came and went, as did the seasons.
Sometimes, she daydreamed about the last birthday she celebrated, it was her seventh, with her family all gathered around the cake. She had friends. Cousins. Presents. They played pin the tail on the donkey, smashed a piñata, sung and smiled. She played that game still—the pretend one where she sings happy birthday, opens the presents, and hugs thin air. The person she pretended to hug the tightest was her grandmother; she still felt the love of that close embrace. Every time she thought about her loving grandmother, with a warm smile and a warm heart, her eyes began to water.
Not that she hated her life—thanks to the books, she was still able to smile. In the old, damp pages, she found friends, adventures, and comedy. Things that she could only dream of having one day. Every month, he brought her a new pile of books. That was her favorite day. When he opened the door, and lugged down a bag full of old books, it felt like her birthday all over again. The children in the books, they were happy. They smiled. They laughed.
Recently, he had been letting her out more and more.
She even got to see daylight yesterday. That was a special day. One of the most special days she had ever experienced. It had been months since she felt the warmth of the sun on her skin, and it filled her with joyous excitement. He even laughed and smiled as she danced in the open yard.
It’s amazing how much you enjoy the little things, he said. But to her, they were not life’s little things. They were the moments that she wanted to remember, the highlights of her existence.
Above her was one house, probably the one he lived in. She had only ever seen it from the outside and had never been allowed to go in.
Despite having food, shelter, and now love, everything she needed, she knew that this wasn’t the life for her. She had to break free and see what’s beyond the basement in his house. She was sure that there was an exciting world out there, she had read about it in the books, and she wanted to experience it all.
As the years had passed, he had become more and more sloppy—leaving the door unlocked, giving her a sniff, a taste of freedom.
Beyond the door was a yard surrounded by a six-foot wooden fence. And beyond that fence was a line of trees. Over the fence, there were two old walking tracks, covered and mostly unused. One to the east and one to the west.
She would run for the one to the west. That had been her decision for a month now. Next chance she got, she was running west. How far, she didn’t know. What to, she didn’t know either.
But whatever was out there had to be better than living trapped in a dark, damp basement.
It had to be.
Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the noise at the door. It was him again. Sometimes, she could hear a sweet and gentle woman’s voice outside. She never came in. He never let her.
The door to the basement slammed.
He was angry. That was not good.
With a thud, he dropped a sack on the floor. This week’s supplies. Food. From the thud of the sack on the floor, it didn’t sound like much. He must have had a hard week.
“You made a mess,” he growled.
She cowered in the corner, hands over her head, waiting for the first fist to come.
“I’m not going to hit you.” He moved towards her and rested his hand on her back. “Those days are gone. I said sorry for all that. I’m not going to hit you ever again.” He drew a long breath. “But things are going to change around here.”
The breath caught in her throat.
“I’ll be leaving soon, and someone else is going to have to look after you.”
Her entire body froze. Only three other men had come to the basement before; years ago. They didn’t treat her well, and they did things to her that she tried so hard to forget. Horrible things.
“I don’t want that,” she whispered, still cowering.
His hand rubbed her back. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any control over it. Things are going to change. They have to. You’re getting too old to stay here, and I can’t keep looking after you. Someone else is going to have to look after you.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“The horrible men?”
He didn’t answer, and she felt the tears start to well in her eyes, but she blinked them back. Last time she cried in front of him, he smashed a cup against the concrete wall.
“Not the horrible men. Please,” she whispered.
He shook his head, not wanting to admit the truth. He had done the best he could for her, but lives were about to change, and he couldn’t help her anymore.
“No more talk about that.” He ignored her request. “I’m leaving now, but please, don’t make a mess this week, or there’ll have to be consequences.”
As he walked away, still covering her face, still drenched in fear, she smiled.
Not because of the danger, not because of the threats, and not because of her life of torment.
She smiled because she wouldn’t be there next week.
One way or another, she would have escaped.
She had to.
She couldn’t let a new man take her.
Chapter 3
“Rough morning?”
“How could you tell?”
“I’ve never heard your briefcase slam that hard on your desk before.”
Bill Harvey drew a long breath, staring at his briefcase, wondering how the handle was still attached. The $3000 he paid for the case was clearly worth it.
“I guess the letter came this morning, like you expected?” Kate Spencer swayed into his office with a caring smile. Dressed in a pencil skirt and white shirt, she looked a picture of professionalism. Tall, slim, blonde, and growing in confidence, Kate’s organized touch had saved his sanity many times over. She had been by his side for the last four years, riding the ups and downs, listening to him go through his emotions, supporting him when needed.
Staring at his briefcase, the one that held the letter, he didn’t answer her question. Sensing his anger, Kate walked to the desk, and sat in the chair opposite him.
“Thanks for what you did last night,” she said.
He smiled, remembering the moment at the bar only twelve hours earlier. When Harvey first arrived at the bar to meet his assistant, she was being hounded by a drunken man wearing a Hawaiian shirt, proudly telling her that he was on a work trip from Chicago. When Harvey arrived to meet his friend, the man told him to keep walking, that Kate was his for the night.
Without a word to Kate, Harvey s
tood tall and whispered a few comments into the man’s ear. The man nodded, gulped down the rest of his drink, and then left the bar without another look at Kate.
With four older brothers, Kate thought hitting the bars every night was a very normal part of life. Her mother passed away when she was only four, and she was left as the only female in a house full of rowdy men. She grew up thinking it was very normal to laugh at crude jokes, drink heavily, and listen to heavy metal music all night long.
That was until she moved to Los Angeles and found that women were expected to be sipping mojitos and gently swinging their hips to pop music, not chugging pints of beer and head-banging to heavy guitar riffs. Having the occasional pint brought back memories of her late teens, the days spent smashing cans with her brothers in the yard. They were some of the best times of her life.
“What did you say to Mr. Ugly-shirt?”
“I just mentioned that you’re my employee.”
“That’s it?”
“Of course.” Harvey winked. One of the benefits of being six foot four was he could tower over most of the population, and use intimidation as a weapon of choice. “I didn’t say anything more than that.”
Kate shook her head. “I can defend myself, you know. I’ve been taking defense classes for over a year now, and I’m getting quite good. I could have destroyed an old man like him. Not that it takes much to defeat a man—one swift kick in the balls and it’s all over.”
“Ouch.” He grimaced. “Remind me not to make you angry.”
“All I’m saying is that you didn’t need to do that.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “But thank you.”
“I have no doubt you can defend yourself, Kate.”
“But I’m not here to talk about who’s defending me.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I’m here to talk about who’s going to defend you.”
“Like you, I can defend myself.” He avoided eye contact. “I don’t need anyone else up there telling me what to do.”
“A lawyer that defends himself has a fool for a client,” she quipped as she leaned back, crossing one leg over the other.
“And Shakespeare once said that only a wise man knows himself to be a fool.”
“So does that make you a fool or a wise man?”
He shrugged. “I guess we’ll see at the end of this case.”
“Well, how do you keep a fool in suspense?”
“How?”
“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“That’s not funny.” He smiled.
“C’mon, it was alright.” She laughed. “All jokes aside, does Kevin Wu really have a case against you? Do you really have anything to answer for?”
“It’s not a common case to take to the civil court, but there are precedents for this.” Harvey lifted his takeaway coffee up to his nose and took a large whiff of the extra-strong coffee. “There aren’t many modern cases, but it was previously considered a form of criminal defense in Europe during the 1800s. More recently, one of Charles Manson’s wives, Susan Atkins, claimed she was hypnotized by him, and he exerted undue influence on her, but that was thrown out by the criminal court.”
“What about the length of time? Surely five years is too long to claim any impact from the hypnotherapy sessions? The statue of limitations would have expired.”
“He claims that he has only just come out from under the ‘spell’ and has just realized what’s happening.” Harvey shook his head. “There was one case in Germany, in the mid-1800s, where the woman claimed the hypnotic spell lasted seven years. That went to court, and the therapist was found to be guilty of controlling her actions.”
“Wow.”
“Most recently, there was a court settlement for a school principal who conducted hypnosis on his students, and some of those students later died tragically. He entered a plea deal for a misdemeanor—unlawful practice of therapeutic medicine—but wasn’t charged for any of the deaths.”
“That’s heartbreaking. I wouldn’t wish the loss of a child on my worst enemy.”
“May those children rest in peace.” Harvey closed his eyes and nodded.
Kate did the same. “Rest in peace. But that means there’s a recent precedence for this?”
“The parents of the deceased children took the school board to the civil court for damages. The school board decided not to test the case in court, and agreed to a settlement.” Harvey looked down at his drink. “And then there’s the Svengali defense, to add to it all. It’s a tactic that purports that the defendant is a pawn in the game for an influential mastermind. Kevin could be pushing for that by saying that I was unlawfully influencing his actions to conduct his criminal activity and benefit from it.”
“He’s calling you a mastermind? He doesn’t have a chance.” Kate laughed.
Harvey didn’t.
“If all his illegal operations have been shut down, he must have a lot of time on his hands. Maybe that’s why he’s coming at you? He’s just looking for some excitement.” She studied the concerned look on his face. “He can’t have enough evidence to prove that you’re responsible? How would he even prove it?”
“I guess we’ll see over the coming weeks, but I had heard that he takes annual brain scans—due to the history of brain tumors in his family. His proof is supposedly built around the fact that there was a change in the brain scans after the hypnotherapy sessions, and that change has continued to this day. Everything else is going to be his word against mine.”
“Is that enough?”
“Unfortunately for us, the standard of proof is very different in a civil case. He only needs to build a case that has “the preponderance of the evidence”, which essentially means that it was more likely than not that something occurred in a certain way.”
“Could you do it? If you wanted to, could you exert that sort of control with hypnotherapy?”
“Possibly.” His fingers tightened their grip on the cup. Although he loved coffee, right now, he would prefer his cup contained whiskey. “It would need to be a very well-thought-out plan, and include a number of triggers in the therapy, but yes, it’s possible that someone could exert that sort of control.”
Kate leaned forward again, sighing as she rubbed her fingers on the outside of her skirt. She was used to her boss being focused on work, she was used to most of their conversations being about their current case, but today felt different. There was a stiffness in his movements and a tension in his shoulders that she hadn’t seen before.
“Have you responded?” She nibbled at the short nail on her index finger, the nerves becoming too much for her.
“Not yet.”
“Are you going to respond at all?”
“I have to. He has too much evidence to risk him going to court alone.”
“So you’re going to file a general denial?”
“I can’t. I can’t deny what he’s saying—only that I hold no responsibility for it. There’s little denial in my case. Yes, he came for hypnotherapy sessions. Yes, those sessions may have changed his brain patterns, the same way meditation changes the brain—that I can’t deny. I can’t say that the complaint is not verified. And a general denial will limit my defense in court. Without discovery of all his evidence, I don’t know what I’m defending against.”
“You could lodge a demurrer—say that you have no case to answer with a legal requirement.”
“And that would admit that everything he’s saying is true. I can’t do that either.”
“So how will you respond?”
“With a motion to strike. I have to argue that what he’s claiming can’t be legal—it’s got to be an irrelevant matter. I can’t be held legally responsible for his actions, even after a session of hypnotherapy. He was totally in control of his actions. Hypnotherapy is not about controlling someone; it’s about guiding them into their subconscious.” Harvey’s jaw clenched. “And even if in those lucid moments of his, I am legally responsible, then he has had the option to correct
them in his sane moments. He can’t claim that I’ve had an undue influence over his actions. That can’t be a legal defense.”
“And if it’s legal?” Kate asked.
“Then we’re going to court, and I get to test my foolishness.”
“But surely you don’t have $100,000,000?”
“I wish.” He shook his head. “But that’s not his target—he wants to take me for all I’m worth. He knows that I’ve done alright over the last few years, and he wants all that money.”
“So you think he would settle?”
“I assume he would settle for a lesser amount, but I won’t. This is about money for Kevin Wu. That’s what he’s coming at me for. It’s a pre-emptive strike—him lining his pockets before something, or someone, hits him big. He’s building a defense against something else.”
“Do you know what for? What are they pressing him on?”
“I don’t know yet, but it must be big.” Harvey swirled his coffee cup before taking the last swig. “And if it’s big enough, it won’t take long to find out what it is.”
“Why don’t you just go and talk to him? Sort it out man-to-man?”
“Because Kevin Wu is one of the most dangerous men in the Chinese-American population here in L.A. He’s ruthless, cunning, and brutally callous. If I come within a mile of him right now, I’ll come off second best. This guy isn’t going to play nice.”
Kate bit her nails again. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to do what I always do, Kate.” He looked at his friend. “I’m going to fight.”
Chapter 4
Finding food was easier tonight.
The moonlight trickled through the small gap he made last year; he dug a hole on the outside and placed a piece of glass at the top end of the room, near the door, just so she could see more sunlight. She gave him the biggest hug that day.
She couldn’t sleep, not that she wanted to. She liked the night.
The day was too bright, too noisy with all the birds outside. And there was nothing to do during the day, only work through the puzzles and books that he left for her. Every month, he left a new puzzle book—this month it was a Sudoku book. It challenged her mind, taking her away from the trapped life that she led in the underground.
Bill Harvey Collection Page 46
