distant gaze came back to focus. “I was just thinking … no. No, it’s crazy.”
“Everything about this is crazy,” Sands said. “Come on, Porath, out with it.”
Porath’s fingers probed through his beard. “I was just thinking that—well, presumably the government wouldn’t try to influence the judge himself. But on the other hand, they might be able to get the type of judge they want assigned to the case.”
“And what type of judge might they want?” Sands persisted.
“A type who could be expected to rule against us,” Everly said quietly.
All eyes turned to him. “Then it’s not just a crazy idea,” Porath murmured.
Everly shook his head. “If Marsh wins Ingersoll’s body, you can probably say goodbye to ninety percent of our prospective clientele. No point in spending that much money when the courts won’t guarantee you’ll get a return on your investment. We’d either have to attract private funding somehow—and I don’t know offhand what we could offer them—or else find another source of money.”
Sands swore. “And there would be the United States government with a bag of cash in each hand.”
“Something like that.” Porath exhaled thoughtfully between his teeth. “It may be just fever-dreaming, but it would be stupid to take chances. I’ll get in touch with one of the judicial watchdog committees, see if I can get a list of voting records and find judges we definitely don’t want.”
“We’ll need to do more than that,” Sommer said, his stomach knotting. Of all the ironies about this whole mess … “We need to get this in front of the public—put your famous floodlit-microscope theory to work, Frank. If we’re lucky maybe we can scare off the trial-fixers before they get going.”
“May I ask how you intend to do that?” Sands asked. “Without looking like we’re trying to fix the trial, that is?”
“I really don’t know.” Sommer hesitated. “Frank, would you happen to know if Tommy Lee Harper is still in town?”
“He is,” Everly said without hesitation. “He’s been making a tour of Capitol Hill, trying to drum up opposition to a couple of bills that are under consideration.”
“Why do you want to know?” Sands asked, a trace of suspicion in her voice.
Sommer got to his feet. It had been an exceedingly long three days, and the worst part was probably still to come. “Because,” he told her, “I’m going to ask him for his help.”
“I must say, Dr. Sommer,” Harper said, coolly polite as he waved Sommer to a chair and closed the hotel room’s door behind him, “that you were probably the last person I expected to call me this evening.”
“Proves that miracles still happen,” Sommer said, sinking into the chair and glancing around. It was one of the best suites in one of the most expensive hotels in Washington.
Harper must have caught the once-over. “You’ll excuse the luxury, I trust,” his tone a bit defensive. “The Focus people made all the accommodation arrangements for us, and since I’m taping another interview with the network tomorrow they went ahead and booked me for the entire week. I would have preferred something less ostentatious, myself.”
“Ah.” To anyone else it would probably have sounded like a rather feeble excuse. To Sommer, who’d had abundant dealings of his own with network guest liaisons, it sounded only too typical. “Yes, I’ve run into that mindset myself on occasion.”
“I expect you have.” Settling into a chair across from a coffee table patterned with stone mosaic, Harper gave Sommer a measuring look. “So. On the phone you said something about a truce. I don’t know what you could possibly have in mind, but I’m willing to listen.”
“I appreciate that, sir,” Sommer said. “I suppose truce is really the wrong word, but I couldn’t come up with the right one. I presume you’ve been following the Ingersoll flap?”
Harper’s lip twisted. “Oh, yes. A man trapped
“Everything about this is crazy,” Sands said. “Come on, Porath, out with it.”
Porath’s fingers probed through his beard. “I was just thinking that—well, presumably the government wouldn’t try to influence the judge himself. But on the other hand, they might be able to get the type of judge they want assigned to the case.”
“And what type of judge might they want?” Sands persisted.
“A type who could be expected to rule against us,” Everly said quietly.
All eyes turned to him. “Then it’s not just a crazy idea,” Porath murmured.
Everly shook his head. “If Marsh wins Ingersoll’s body, you can probably say goodbye to ninety percent of our prospective clientele. No point in spending that much money when the courts won’t guarantee you’ll get a return on your investment. We’d either have to attract private funding somehow—and I don’t know offhand what we could offer them—or else find another source of money.”
Sands swore. “And there would be the United States government with a bag of cash in each hand.”
“Something like that.” Porath exhaled thoughtfully between his teeth. “It may be just fever-dreaming, but it would be stupid to take chances. I’ll get in touch with one of the judicial watchdog committees, see if I can get a list of voting records and find judges we definitely don’t want.”
“We’ll need to do more than that,” Sommer said, his stomach knotting. Of all the ironies about this whole mess … “We need to get this in front of the public—put your famous floodlit-microscope theory to work, Frank. If we’re lucky maybe we can scare off the trial-fixers before they get going.”
“May I ask how you intend to do that?” Sands asked. “Without looking like we’re trying to fix the trial, that is?”
“I really don’t know.” Sommer hesitated. “Frank, would you happen to know if Tommy Lee Harper is still in town?”
“He is,” Everly said without hesitation. “He’s been making a tour of Capitol Hill, trying to drum up opposition to a couple of bills that are under consideration.”
“Why do you want to know?” Sands asked, a trace of suspicion in her voice.
Sommer got to his feet. It had been an exceedingly long three days, and the worst part was probably still to come. “Because,” he told her, “I’m going to ask him for his help.”
“I must say, Dr. Sommer,” Harper said, coolly polite as he waved Sommer to a chair and closed the hotel room’s door behind him, “that you were probably the last person I expected to call me this evening.”
“Proves that miracles still happen,” Sommer said, sinking into the chair and glancing around. It was one of the best suites in one of the most expensive hotels in Washington.
Harper must have caught the once-over. “You’ll excuse the luxury, I trust,” his tone a bit defensive. “The Focus people made all the accommodation arrangements for us, and since I’m taping another interview with the network tomorrow they went ahead and booked me for the entire week. I would have preferred something less ostentatious, myself.”
“Ah.” To anyone else it would probably have sounded like a rather feeble excuse. To Sommer, who’d had abundant dealings of his own with network guest liaisons, it sounded only too typical. “Yes, I’ve run into that mindset myself on occasion.”
“I expect you have.” Settling into a chair across from a coffee table patterned with stone mosaic, Harper gave Sommer a measuring look. “So. On the phone you said something about a truce. I don’t know what you could possibly have in mind, but I’m willing to listen.”
“I appreciate that, sir,” Sommer said. “I suppose truce is really the wrong word, but I couldn’t come up with the right one. I presume you’ve been following the Ingersoll flap?”
Harper’s lip twisted. “Oh, yes. A man trapped
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