The Resurrection File (28 page)

Will scanned the Demand that Sherman had sent him. He was asking for MacCameron to produce to them

Any and all documents, or papers, in any way connected with, or which are purported to have ever been, at any time, part of, or
adjacent to, or appurtenant with, that document of antiquity known as the 7QA fragment.

Will read it again. It was the typical language-tortured, overcomplex information request that trial lawyers love to make during discovery. But the meaning behind it was crystal-clear. Sherman and Reichstad were obviously concerned that MacCameron might have, or know something about, other fragments that were originally part of 7QA.

Will grabbed his cell phone and punched in a number. When the voice on the other end answered, Will said, “This is Will Chambers calling on the
Reichstad vs. MacCameron
lawsuit. I want to talk to Mr. Sherman immediately.”

After a few moments Sherman's secretary answered, and Will identified himself.

She asked Will to please hold. Then, in less than twenty seconds, Will heard Sherman's voice at the other end.

“Yes Mr. Chambers,” Sherman said warmly and confidently. “What can I do for you?”

“We've got some unfinished business,” Will added.

“That we do. In fact, I was just reminded that tomorrow is our little deadline on your response to my motion for attorney's fees.”

“That was why I called,” Will replied, but then said nothing else.

After a pregnant pause Sherman spoke up.

“You know, Will, you and I are both professionals. We do what we have to do to serve the interests of our clients. I can't say that I enjoyed bringing that motion against you. Nothing personal. Just had to be done. And here in this law firm we always do our homework. We've checked up on you and on your legal career. Some nice little cases you've won around the country over the years. So you are a lawyer who can read the law and appreciate the facts of this case just like I can.”

“Hmm,” Will replied.

“And so,” Sherman continued, “I'm sure you know that we've got your client nailed down real tight on the issue of recklessness in publishing that crazy article about my client. You're dead in the water. You're going nowhere with that defense.”

“Food for thought,” Will responded.

“And that only leaves your defense of ‘truth.' And as to that—” Sherman gave a little chuckle, “well, what are you going to do here, turn this lawsuit into some kind of trial of the century? Are you going to solve the mystery of two millennia of Middle Eastern religious history using a guy like Angus
MacCameron as your only expert witness? Of course not. We both know that. I know you are starting your own office now—you are no longer with that Richmond firm any more. Need to pay the bills. Keep the lights on. Build a practice. Of course, this case could destroy you. That would be a pity.”

“Yes, wouldn't it,” Will commented.

Sherman finally began to unveil the molten core—the golden center.

“Look,” Sherman continued, “if you concede in writing that MacCameron was reckless in publishing that article, I will withdraw that motion for attorney's fees against you. And then, perhaps I bring you up here for a real nice lunch. We get special catering from Pierre's. His lobster thermador is out of this world. And you and I talk about the rest of this case—where it is going—perhaps there is something you and your client want that we can give you, and perhaps something you can give us. Negotiation rather than nuclear warfare. What do you say?”

It was now clear to Will. There was something that Reichstad wanted from MacCameron. And he wanted it desperately. He wanted it badly enough to wage a legal war to get it. And it had something to do with other fragments that may once have been part of 7QA. But whatever it was, Will was ready to do hand-to-hand combat before they would get it.

There was another long pause. Then Will said, “I have one question for you.”

“What would you like to know?” Sherman asked.

“Tell me something,” Will began, bending over his car and scratching the top of his big dog's head. And then Will Chambers smiled and put his last question to J-Fox Sherman:

“Are you ready to rumble?”

30

T
HE
W
HITE
H
OUSE ROSE GARDEN WAS SURROUNDED
by a horseshoe of reporters and photographers. The President was smiling as he shook the hand of New Jersey State Trooper Ezer Nabib. The officer and the President were both smiling, frozen in a pose for the cameras, as they held between them a bronzed plaque that read,

Officer Ezer Nabib

For valor and bravery in the line of duty

and for protecting America

After the photo op ended the President waved and was hurried back into the White House.

The President's press secretary walked to the podium. He said, “I apologize for the short notice in announcing this press conference. I know that this was originally just scheduled to be the presentation of the commendation to Officer Nabib. However, we do have some information we would like to give you.”

The reporters scurried closer to the podium, elbowing each other for position.

“First, the U.S. Joint Forces Command has finished its initial investigation of the incident involving the rental truck entering New York—the incident for which Officer Nabib was decorated today. It is their conclusion that the truck was in fact carrying a MIRV-type missile outer shell. However, it was
only a missile shell
and was carrying no nuclear load; it was incapable of detonating. Our national security was never imperiled. The U.S. Joint Forces Command had an opportunity for a real-life, real-time test, and it performed admirably.

“Second, the driver of that truck, Mr. Ajadi, was apparently an unwitting pawn in this incident. He has no known ties to any terrorist organization.
He was paid handsomely to drive that truck, but we have every indication that he never looked in the truck, and never knew its contents.”

And with that the press secretary smiled, and turned the page of his notes.

“And that leads to our third point. The State Department and the Justice Department have informed us that the new Islamic Democratic Republic of Iran has taken into custody three individuals who they believe were involved in the MIRV missile incident. While this investigation is still in its tentative stages, this much we know: The MIRV missile was American-made.

“We can only surmise that it must have been stolen from an American base during the time of the prior administration and under the watch of the prior President. Apparently, a Russian crime syndicate was given this weapon, and it in turn arranged for its transportation into the United States for reasons that are not now clear. But there is every indication that the Russian operatives were smuggling the missile into the U.S. at the behest of someone with great power and influence—the international terrorist Abdul el Alibahd, we suspect.

“The President believes that we are witnessing a triumph of cooperation between America and its Arab partners in peace in stamping out the threat of terrorism. After all, it was Ezer Nabib, an Islamic Arab, who courageously apprehended and secured a truck carrying a device that may well lead us to the world's number-one terrorist.

“We have Saudi Arabia apprehending, and bringing to swift justice, the two perpetrators of the Wall Street bombing—both of those criminals, of course, were operatives of Abdul el Alibahd.

“And today we have the announcement of Iran's cooperation in the capture of three suspects in the MIRV missile incident. All of the bridge-building that our President has accomplished with the Islamic and Middle East appears to be bearing fruit. And of course, a special thanks goes to the State Department, and particularly Undersecretary Kenneth Sharptin for his visionary diplomacy in aiding that bridge-building process.”

A flurry of hands shot up but the press secretary ignored them and indicated that no questions would be taken at this time. Someone shouted out,

“The Convention is still six months away, but already there is a lot of talk about Kenneth Sharptin as the President's choice for replacing the vice president in light of his advanced colon cancer. Can you comment on that?”

The press secretary smiled but did not answer, and waved as he walked toward the French doors of the White House.

Jack Hornby was in the back of the news pack. He had his notepad flipped open to the triangle he had previously drawn. He pulled out his pen and wrote down, off to the side of his triangle, the words “nuclear scare.”

Hornby looked at “nuclear scare” and wondered how it might fit into the picture he was trying to put together. Perhaps it didn't fit in at all.

The reporter looked down at the list of people he was calling. Each name was a candidate who Hornby thought might be able to make some sense out of the three points of his triangle. Attorney Will Chambers was next. He hadn't spoken to Will since the ill-fated Reichstad story, but it looked like this was the time to reconnect.

31

W
HEN
W
ILL RETURNED FROM
N
ORTH
C
AROLINA
he drove straight to Generals' Hill. After dinner he wandered through a couple of the rooms in the first floor. They lay in various stages of incomplete renovation. Each room had its own fireplace, but the tuck-pointing in the brick and stonework was not finished. The walls were still demolished down to the studs. Bringing back the Virginia mansion to its original charm and elegance had been a dream of Will and Audra's.

That evening, for the first time in a long while, Will started thinking about completing this job. Maybe he could start spending his weekends doing some of the carpentry work himself. It would be a welcome relief from the pressures of his law practice, and a way of starting to get his life back together.

When Will went to sleep that night, Clarence was already curled up at the foot of the bed. Will's sleep, since Audra's death, had been fitful and restless. But that night he would sleep deeply and peacefully. And when he woke up, somehow things would feel better.

When he arrived at the office the next morning, Betty was not at her desk. On the desk there was a telephone message that Jack Hornby, reporter from the
Washington Herald,
had called.

There was also an envelope addressed to Will. He opened it up. It read,

Dear Will:

In light of your repeated failure to follow through with my raise I am hereby tendering my resignation, effective this very moment.

Yours very truly,

Betty

“Great,” Will muttered to himself. With the Reichstad lawsuit starting to build up steam and the trial only a few months away, this was no time to train a new secretary.

The telephone rang and Will picked it up. It was a lawyer from the public defender's office in New York.

The man explained that he had met Will once, many years ago when Will was trying cases for the Law Project of the South. He had been a law student at the time and had sat in on one of Will's trials. Will had sued a rundown mental health institution that had covered up the deaths of handicapped children who were being abused while in its care. The public defender explained how, after the winning verdict was announced, he had come up and congratulated Will on his victory.

Will thanked him for remembering the case he had handled but no, he did not remember him.

“How can I help you?” Will asked.

“It's only because I remembered your name. That's why I'm calling.”

Will wondered why this lawyer was not getting to the point.

“So, what's up?”

“Well,” the public defender said, “I don't know how much I want to discuss over the telephone.”

“Can you give me a hint what this is about?”

“I am the lawyer for Rahji Ajadi.”

Will paused for a moment. The other lawyer spoke as if that name were supposed to mean something.

“You must have read about my client. He's the guy who was driving the rental truck in the MIRV missile incident.”