The Resurrection File (6 page)

“So I read in this article how the Virginia lawyer—Will—was poring over the records of the trucking company one night in his law office at three in the morning—searching for something that could tie this trucking company owner to the Nazi group and to the torture of this little Jewish boy. He went through the papers, page after page. Document after document. The
rest of his staff had already gone home and were asleep. But he wouldn't give up. Then, in the middle of these thousands of pieces of paper that had been produced to him in the lawsuit, he found a little crumpled note in the handwriting of this trucking guy, talking about ‘Kristallnacht tonight.' Kristallnacht—the ‘night of broken glass'—was the name given to the evening when the Nazis went out on a rampage through German cities, smashing the windows of Jewish stores and killing Jews. Well, the note had been written on a little calendar pad and ripped out—and the date on the calendar was the
same day
the little Jewish boy was attacked.

“Well, that broke the case wide open. Will tried the case in front of a jury and collected ten million dollars in damages against the trucking guy, and he ended up getting the trucking company as part of the damages. The company was turned over to the Jewish family. They are still running it to this day. And the former owner, based on the evidence that Will discovered, was later charged with criminal conspiracy and is now serving thirty years in prison.

“After reading the magazine article about that case I decided to come down and interview with Will's law firm when I graduated from law school. And I asked him about that lawsuit, and about why he was so certain that he could find that
one piece of evidence
to prove his case.”

The room was silent as Jacki finished the story.

“Will looked at me, and he said this: He said it's like being buried alive in a tunnel, or a cave, and you're in total darkness—but you know that as long as you keep digging, and if you are going in the right direction, you're going to break out. He said his cases were the same way. He told me that if you keep digging for truth, and you're heading in the right direction, you're bound to break through to justice on the other side.

“So that's why I came down here to Virginia to practice law with this firm. I wanted to practice with a lawyer like Will Chambers. As for these ‘personal problems'—his wife died tragically about two years ago. He had a bit of a setback. But despite that, Will Chambers is still probably the best trial advocate I've ever met.”

Angus MacCameron threw his hands up in the air as if he were a referee at a football game and someone had just scored a touchdown.

“Praise Jesus!” he exclaimed. “Did you hear that, dear Fiona? ‘Digging for truth!' He said
‘digging for truth!'”

Then he looked at Jacki, who was staring at him with a puzzled look.

“Don't you see, Miss Johnson?
Digging for truth
. That's the very same as the name of my magazine. I wrote the truth about this fraud—Dr. Reichstad—and his phony ‘discovery' in my magazine, in
Digging for Truth
magazine. And that's why I've been sued. And your boss, Mr. Chambers, is going to vindicate me and help me to tell the truth to the whole world! God has his mighty hand upon us today, can't you see it?”

The business manager tried to break in, but MacCameron interrupted him.

“Oh, Bob, I know you want to protect me, and I know that my precious daughter wants me to be careful. But God has been in this from the first. When I hired that private detective to do some investigative work for me on this lawsuit, I asked him if he knew any good lawyers. And in the very next breath he mentioned your boss, Miss Johnson. He said that Will Chambers is the best in the business. So here I am. As far as I'm concerned, it's settled. I want to hire Mr. Chambers and your firm to defend me. I want to hire Will Chambers to save the Christian church from the deception of the evil one.”

And then, patting the conference table with his hands, MacCameron added, “So, we start today, aye?”

6

F
OR
W
ILL
C
HAMBERS, WINNING IN COURT
had always been the first thing and the last thing. But now—and in fact for a long time—it was not enough. Now it merely provided him with a handy excuse for celebration, usually alone, usually drinking himself into the regions of full-blown self-pity, of which he was already hovering at the borders on a daily basis.

Driving back on Interstate 95 after winning Tiny Heftland's case, Will entertained the idea of going straight back to the office. Working through lunch. Getting things under control at the office. As he cruised along in his Corvette convertible with the music blasting he decided to turn his cell phone off. He started to sour on the idea of skipping lunch. He needed to celebrate.

Will pulled off the freeway and into Monroeville. He decided he would go over to the Red Rooster tavern and grab a sandwich and a few drinks.

At the tavern, he ordered a steak sandwich but only took a few bites. He downed several vodkas while he pretended to watch the Orioles game on the overhead television.

Will lost track of time. But he got to thinking that maybe he had had too much to drink. He figured that he would go to the office, put in an hour or so, and then go home early and sleep it off.

When he pulled up in front of the law firm building he noticed a truck parked in front with men loading it. On his way up the stairs he noticed the moving men were carrying furniture that looked familiar. Then he realized they were walking down with the lobby chairs from his office. He began to run up the stairs but missed a step and almost fell facedown.

Jacki Johnson was waiting for him in the empty lobby area of the office.

“What is going on?” Will yelled out.

“We've been trying to call you on your cell phone.”

“I turned it off.”

“Well, what can I say?” Jacki said, visibly upset. “Things are real bad. The partners voted you out, Will. They're taking you out of the firm. They pulled the plug on you. The partnership property—the furniture and everything—is being taken down to the Richmond office. They're closing the office here in Monroeville.”

Jacki could see that Will was thunderstruck.

“I'm really sorry to hit you with this,” she continued. “They're sending you a check for your share of your partnership interest—less the amounts they say are due to the firm from you. We got the message by email and then by fax just a few minutes before the moving men arrived. They've taken all the files, and they say they have contacted all the clients. You're closed out for good, Will—I'm so sorry.”

“This is not the partners, I'm telling you that right now. This is all because of that twisted ‘managing partner' Hadley Bates—he's behind this, that little scumbucket.” Will ran toward the telephone in his office.

Jacki grabbed him and looked him in the eye.

“You've been drinking,” she said in an irritated voice.

“I'm going to kill that…”

“No. You're not going to pick up the phone, not right now. If you do, you'll end up saying something to Hadley that you'll regret.”

“He can't do this.”

“He can. And he did. You have to move on. I think I'd better drive you home in your car. Betty can follow us in mine.”

Will was shaking with rage, but he was too humiliated to look at Jacki, so he kept his back to her.

“Come on,” Jacki said sympathetically, putting her hand on his back. “I'm going to drive you home to that big old mansion of yours. I just wish you had someone to be with you tonight.”

“I'll be fine,” Will muttered, but his voice was barely audible.

Jacki drove Will's Corvette away from the office with Will sitting in the passenger seat.

“This is ridiculous,” Will snapped, “I had two drinks.”

“Oh? Just two?”

“Maybe three.”

“That's all you'd need now. To get arrested for DUI. You know, you don't need an assistant lawyer. What you need is a full-time nanny, a drill sergeant, and a priest, all rolled into one. And frankly, Will, that person is not me.”

“Give me a break.”

“No. You give
me
a break. I tell people you're one of my heroes. Which is really a remarkable thing considering the fact you're white, and you're a guy. But I'm tired of handling your screwups, like that client conference this morning.”

“What client conference?”

Jacki sighed heavily and shook her head.

“There is other stuff going on out there in the world, Will, besides your pain. You are going to have to get around to doing whatever you have to do—forgiving yourself for Audra—getting on with your life. Check yourself into rehab. I don't know.”

“I'm no alcoholic.”

“Maybe not. But I'm seeing you heading for a cliff. And I'd rather not go along for the ride.”

Then Jacki took her left hand off the steering wheel and, reaching over across to Will, waved her hand in front of his face.

“Look at this, Will, what do you see?” Jacki asked.

“Nice manicure.”

“The ring, Will, the ring. Howard proposed to me two weeks ago. I've been wearing this diamond on my finger for two weeks. I wanted to see how long it took you to climb out of that cave you live in and notice it.”

“I noticed it.”

“Then why didn't you say anything? ‘Congratulations.' ‘Jacki, I'm happy for you.' Anything.”

Will looked at her, then he laid his head back against the headrest, and looked out the window.

“Congratulations.”

They drove in silence for a few minutes. Then Jacki said, “We need to talk business, Will. You and me. My life is taking a different turn now. Howard and I are going to be married. I have to have my career settled. I can't afford to work in an office where I don't know what my future is.”

“Come on, you know what your future is with me.”

“Do I? Hadley said in his e-mail that the firm has secured written consents from every one of your clients in the last forty-eight hours—to dump you, now that you are out of the firm, and to continue with the firm instead.”

“Every client? He's a liar.”

“Let me amend that,” Jacki said. “Every client except two. One is that big loser Tiny Heftland. Bates said that you can have him, and any money due to the firm from him—as if you will ever recover it—you can keep. And then there's just one other client.”

“Yeah. Well, I just finished Tiny's latest case today, so I guess that means I've got only one client.”

“What happened in court?”

“We won. Great, huh? A victory for a nonpaying client, and on the same day that I get booted out of my law firm.”

“Will, stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

“Listen, Jacki, Hadley has got to know that I will be taking him to court over the way he is dissolving my partnership share.”

“You want a friend's advice?” Jacki's voice was rising. “And frankly, I may be one of your only friends right now. Let it go. If you need to negotiate the figures with Hadley, let me work on him for you. But don't make this a bloodbath.”

“Okay, so where do you fit in this mess?” Will asked.

“Hadley wants me to stay on with the firm—relocate up to the D.C. office,” Jacki said, a little bit more softly. “Which actually works out well, I guess, because I'm barred in D.C. And Howard works up in northern Virginia, so I would be closer to him and have a shorter commute. And what I guess I am saying is this—Will, I can't afford to stay on with you if you're going to go it solo now. I mean really, besides Tiny, you've got only one client.”

“Jacki, listen to me. I can build up the practice in a very short period of time. I want you to hang in there with me.”

“Will, I don't want this to be any harder than it already is. Maybe I can help you out a little here or there, on the side. You know, if you need someone to cover for a deposition once in a while or do some legal research. But I have to stick with the firm. I know that sounds like I'm copping out on you. But my mind is made up. I'm sorry.”

Will gazed ahead blankly and said nothing for a few minutes. Jacki had made her point. He had been her mentor and friend. As of late she had covered for him, and even nurse-maided him since his wife had died. But that was all changing now. As Will sat slumped down in the seat of his prized Corvette, his long hair whipping in the wind, he was simply tired of fighting—tired of caring.

Finally Jacki broke the silence.

“So, you want to know something about your sole survivor? The single client that you've got left?”

“Yeah. Who's the lucky winner?” Will asked sardonically.

“Angus MacCameron.
Reverend
MacCameron to be exact. He's the new client I took for you this morning. A little weird—he actually made me take a ‘loyalty oath'—he wanted to make sure I believed in God. I'm going to be real interested to see whether he asks you the same question.”