by MJ Rodgers
“That doesn’t make sense,” A.J. protested as she paced around the table. “Octavia, I was there. I would have heard if Adam had refused to obey a court order.”
“Nothing was discussed in open court because the judge wanted to prevent the jury from becoming prejudiced. He issued the court order last night.”
“What court order?”
“Why don’t you sit down,” Marc Truesdale said, getting up to offer A.J. his chair.
She knew Marc was that kind of polite, well-mannered man who couldn’t stay seated in a room when a woman was standing.
A.J. waved a dismissive hand in Marc’s direction as she continued to pace around the table. “Just tell me what happened.”
“Adam filed a motion to withdraw as Linbow’s defense counsel late yesterday,” Octavia said. “Butz refused to accept Adam’s motion. He ordered him to continue to defend Linbow.”
“Why would a judge do that?”
“The trial was already approaching its third day,” Marc said. “Judges frown on attorneys who seek to withdraw their representation of a client at such a late stage. It automatically results in a mistrial, and in their minds, that is a criminal waste of time and money.”
“So Adam intentionally disobeyed Butz’s court order and forced a mistrial by refusing to challenge Bruce Harper’s key testimony. Okay, I can see that, but—”
A.J. stopped in the middle of her sentence and her pacing as a sudden realization sunk in. She grasped the back of her brother’s vacant chair and faced the three partners.
“Wait a minute. You all knew about the court order last night. You knew Adam would be cited for contempt today. You knew that he was going to be thrown in jail!”
“Yes, we knew,” Marc said quietly.
A.J. could taste the immediate anger heating her tongue. “Why didn’t you call to warn me?”
“We couldn’t,” Marc replied.
“Couldn’t?” A.J. repeated, nearly at the top of her lungs. “What was interfering? The details of your upcoming weddings?”
Kay Kellogg rose from the other side of the table and came over to face A.J. She was much shorter than A.J.’s five-eleven, but the very serious look in her eyes suddenly made her seem a lot taller.
“A.J.,” her soft voice said, “Marc and I have both postponed our weddings to focus our full energies on this case. Freeing Adam is the top priority of this firm and everyone in it, believe me. Our problem is we’re bound by attorney-client privilege.”
“What are you talking about?”
“When Lex Linbow hired Adam to defend him, he hired all of us here at Justice Inc. Adam’s motion to withdraw, Butz’s refusal to grant his motion and Adam’s intention not to comply with the court order were all confidential elements of this case until the mistrial was called this morning. We could not disclose them.”
“But I’m the investigator for this firm. I’m in on the most confidential particulars of your cases that need investigation. I’m the one who finds out all the juicy secrets for you. You know you can rely on my discretion.”
“A.J., you weren’t hired by Justice Inc. to investigate this case,” Kay said, maintaining her soft tone.
“Well, then, just hire me and let’s get on with this.”
“No, A.J.,” Octavia said. “If we hire you, you become an extension of our legal team. Whatever you learned from us you would not be able to use in Adam’s defense.”
“But Linbow is no longer Justice Inc.’s client,” A.J. protested. “Adam withdrew his representation.”
“Still, everything we learned when Linbow was our client continues to be privileged information. If we hire you, you would neither be able to talk about nor act upon any information that you learn from us. Do you understand?”
“I think I’m beginning to,” she said in a more normal voice.
Kay gestured toward Adam’s empty chair. This time A.J. sank into the offered seat. She inhaled deeply several times, getting herself in control as Kay and Marc took their seats.
“So,” A.J. began again, more calmly this time, “you couldn’t call to warn me because you couldn’t talk about the court order or what Adam was going to do about it. And that’s why Adam gave me no explanation when he asked me to be in the courtroom today.”
“He also had to be careful not to violate attorney-client privilege,” Marc said.
Kay’s soft voice once again reached across the table to A.J. “Adam warned us not to bring you in officially, either, because that would be like putting you in a legal straitjacket, just as we are currently in one.”
“You can’t help him?”
“We can appeal the contempt of court ruling,” Octavia said. “And you can be sure that we will.”
“But if you can’t reveal what you know about the case—”
“We’re moving for a closed courtroom. If we get it, the judge may allow us to disclose privileged information in Adam’s defense.”
“Has this ever been done before?”
“Only for lawyers involved in criminal cases. But we’ll set a precedent if that’s what it takes.”
A.J. looked around the table. Every pair of eyes met hers. This team of attorneys was the best. If anyone could work the legal end to free Adam, they could. And would.
“I’m sorry Marc, Kay. That comment about your being more concerned about your weddings—”
“What comment?” Marc said quickly with a smile.
His immediate acceptance of her apology made A.J. feel even more ashamed. She swallowed and stared at her hands.
“It’s just that this is Adam, my brother, and I…”
“We do understand,” Kay’s soft voice assured her after A.J.’s voice faded away. “You don’t have to say any more.”
A.J. appreciated Kay letting her off the hook. She had difficulty talking about her feelings, particularly those for Adam. They were very deep and very personal and very much a part of who she was.
She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the conference table, eager to refocus on the business at hand.
“In order to find evidence to support Adam’s position, I have to know what that position is. What conflict did he have with Linbow that made him withdraw from the case?”
“We’ve told you all we can,” Marc said. “Whatever else you learn must be by your own independent and separate efforts.”
A.J. leaned back in her chair. “Can’t you even tell me why this crazy case has come to trial?”
“Since that information is in the first three days of the trial transcript, which is now public record,” Octavia said, “I suppose we can save you a little time by telling you how it reads. But this is the public-record rendition only. No meetings in the judge’s chambers or behind-the-scenes sidebars or such. Understand?”
“Got it.”
“Okay. When Linbow was served with this suit, Judge Butz ruled a jury should hear the evidence because no definitive studies have been conducted to determine the effects of the new science—”
“Wait a minute. A new science? What new science?”
“Fabulous Fantasies isn’t your average amusement park, A.J.,” Kay said. “It offers its patrons the latest in virtual reality.”
“Virtual reality? That sounds familiar. Where have I heard that term before?”
“Donahue, Oprah, newspapers, magazines,” Octavia replied. “Could have been anywhere. The media have been giving virtual reality a lot of attention lately.”
“And for good reason,” Marc said. “Virtual reality, or VR as it’s called, is a new interactive technology that creates the completely convincing illusion that one is immersed in a world that really exists only inside a computer. This computer world seems so real that it’s been termed virtual reality.”
“How can someone be made to believe something is real when it only exists inside a computer?” A.J. asked.
Octavia leaned forward in her chair and smoothed her waves of flame red hair as she rested her elbows on the oval conference tab
le.
“A.J., haven’t there been times when you’re so involved in a good novel or movie that you’ve found yourself immersed in the world the writer or cinematographer has created?”
“Yes, of course.”
“VR uses some very sophisticated gadgetry to help you feel even more immersed in the fictional world. Your senses are surrounded by 3-D sight and sound, and you’re even made to believe you’re touching things and feeling them.”
“Feeling things that don’t exist seems a little too much like science fiction to me.”
“But it’s scientific fact,” Marc said. “Think about it, A.J. When people were first introduced to the idea of television, many didn’t believe it possible that a box inside their home could be the receiver of both sound and pictures from around the world. Now, no one thinks anything of it. VR will soon be as commonplace and accepted as television is today.”
“How soon?” A.J. asked.
“According to some top people in the field, VR advances will result in its replacing television within ten years. Instead of sitting back in an easy chair, viewers will be interacting with programs, becoming a character in their favorite soap or being in a car chase as the good guys pursue the bad guys.”
“Or, better yet,” Kay said, “a VR user can tune into a history program and learn all about the Declaration of Independence by going back in VR time and talking to Thomas Jefferson, or switch over to a nature program and go on a VR photographic safari to see an African elephant.”
“Kay makes a good point,” Octavia said. “Although the money is pouring in to develop VR for its financially lucrative entertainment uses, the technology also has the capacity to revolutionize many other areas—particularly education. The possibilities are as endless as the imagination.”
“How does Linbow use virtual reality now?” A.J. asked.
“Linbow is the undisputed leader in the VR entertainment field,” Octavia said. “He’s perfected his technology to the point that he boasts he can provide the patrons of his Fabulous Fantasies theme park an opportunity to live any fantasy they desire by hooking up to its computer simulation.”
“Can he?”
“That’s not something we can answer,” Octavia said.
“Because of attorney-client privilege?”
“No, because none of us has been to Fabulous Fantasies.”
An intercom buzzed on the conference desk telephone. Octavia reached over to pick up the receiver.
“Yes? Okay, put him on. Hello, Brad, what do you have for me? I see. All right. Thank you.”
Octavia hung up the receiver and picked up the remote control for the TV in the corner. She switched it on and muted the sound.
“That was my news contact from a local TV station,” she explained. “A reporter interviewed Linbow after the mistrial was called this morning. They’ll be running the tape of that interview right after this commercial.”
A.J. watched impatiently as the commercial concluded. Finally, the face of the newscaster flashed on the screen.
“Earlier today the case of two husbands suing an amusement park they claim broke up their marriages took a very unexpected turn when the judge declared a mistrial and jailed the attorney for the defense. For more on this story, we go to Kathy Umley at the courthouse. Kathy?”
“Yes, Paul, I’m here with Lex Linbow, president of Fabulous Fantasies, a virtual reality theme park that boasts it can fulfill any fantasy. Mr. Linbow is the defendant in this case that has just resulted in a mistrial and his lawyer landing in jail. Mr. Linbow, what happened in there this morning?”
“Adam Justice refused to defend me in direct violation of a court order. Judge Butz did what he had to do.”
A.J. took an immediate dislike to the distinctive rusty-hinge quality of Linbow’s voice. She also caught the note of disdain he had used when he said her brother’s name. Linbow’s brown eyes looked like two dots of mud beneath his Brillo-pad hair. His stubby fingers constantly adjusted the rim of his glasses as the reporter continued with her questions.
“It sounds a little strange that a court order was issued to compel your own attorney to defend you, Mr. Linbow. What happened between you two?”
“We just had a difference of opinion about the case.”
“It must have been a very serious difference of opinion for Adam Justice to face a contempt of court charge and jail term rather than continue as your lawyer. What was it about?”
“My counsel has advised me not to discuss the matter.”
“You have a new attorney already? You expected trouble with Adam Justice?”
“Of course not. Mr. Scrater is my business attorney. He’s been consulting counsel on this case from the beginning.”
“Will he be your lead counsel in the retrial?”
“Mr. Scrater is not a trial attorney. That’s why he wasn’t able to take over my defense when Adam Justice declined. I have no idea who will defend me if there is a retrial.”
“If? You think the plaintiffs may not refile?”
“You’d best ask them.”
“Mr. Linbow, how do you respond to the claim by some that you and Adam Justice fabricated this falling out in order to get a mistrial declared because you were losing the case?”
A.J. could hear the irritation rising in Linbow’s tone.
“We were not losing. We were winning.”
“Doesn’t it seem unusual that an attorney who is winning a case would suddenly withdraw from it, Mr. Linbow?”
Linbow’s tone began to border on anger. “Look, Justice and I didn’t agree. He decided to take his ball and go play in someone else’s backyard. Not a very mature response, but there it is.”
“Mr. Linbow, are you saying that the senior partner of Justice Inc.—one of the most prestigious law firms in Seattle—deserted you in the middle of a trial just because of a difference of opinion?”
“What do you want me to say? That he tried to get me to lie up on the stand? All right. He tried to get me to lie to clinch the case, and I refused. Now is that an important enough difference of opinion for you?”
A.J. sucked in a shocked breath as she watched Linbow deliberately turn his back on the reporter and stalk away. The camera lens followed his retreat for a few steps before focusing on the news reporter.
“Well, Paul, another unexpected turn of events. In that exclusive interview with Lex Linbow, president of the Fabulous Fantasies theme park, we have just heard him make the very serious accusation that Adam Justice tried to convince him to perjure himself on the stand, and when he refused, Justice withdrew as his legal counsel. You can be sure we will be following up this newest twist in this unusual case. This is Kathy Umley reporting from the King County Courthouse—“
Octavia switched off the set using the remote control. An instant, angry quiet clutched the conference room.
“Bastard,” Marc spat out beneath his breath. A.J. had always thought Marc too politely formal for her taste, but at that moment she liked him exceedingly.
“If Linbow gets away with this incredible accusation,” Kay said, “criminal charges will be filed against Adam. He could be disbarred!”
“Linbow’s not going to get away with it,” Octavia said, an uncharacteristic urgency riding her normally mellow tone as she sat forward in her chair. “We have a lot to do.”
A.J. rose to her feet. “And so do I. How soon can you arrange for me to see Adam?”
“He told us not to let you visit him in jail, A.J.,” Kay said. “I’m sorry, but he left strict orders.”
“Why?”
“He doesn’t want your appearance there to be later construed as an opportunity for him to have passed on any confidences,” Marc said. “We cannot have any further communication with you, either, until this matter is resolved. I hope you understand, this is only for all our protection.”
A.J. said nothing as she headed for the door. She did understand. She was on her own. There was nothing left to say.
“Good luck,”
she heard Kay call.
A.J. was at the door when she swung around to face Kay and the other partners. This case might be clouded by attorney-client privilege, but on one thing she was already crystal clear.
“I don’t believe in luck, Kay,” she said. “I believe in my brother’s innocence.”
A.J. WALKED into the offices of East and Elling and saw Zane Coltrane sitting in an otherwise empty waiting room, his long muscular legs crossed at the ankles, his large, black-sweatered shoulders spanning two seats. He was glancing through the current issue of the Washington Law Journal.
She didn’t know if he was taunting her by letting her see him, but she was determined to have this out now. She made for him, coming to a halt directly in front of his feet.
“You’re following me.”
He looked up at her accusation and had the nerve to smile. “I was here first, remember?”
She ignored the disclaimer. “You’ve been following me ever since that day in court. What are you after? What is your interest in this case?”
He reached into his pocket and brought out a business card. He held it out to her. “Sounds like you need a good detective. My rates are reasonable.”
She didn’t know how he could say that with such a straight face. The absolute arrogance of it almost made her grin. She batted away his business card and managed a glare instead.
“Who are you working for?” she demanded.
That combative smile was the only answer she got as he put the card into his pocket with the same huge hand that had retrieved it. She could see the power of his arm muscles moving beneath his sweater. His thick, unruly hair looked shiny and sinfully healthy—and at least two weeks past a haircut.
His dark, glinting eyes had not retreated from her face. His focused scrutiny was an unspoken dare, and a very personal one at that. That annoying quiver was forming again in the pit of her stomach.
The door to the inner office opened suddenly. A.J. swung toward it to see Gael Elling stepping out next to a young woman carrying a notepad.
