Marine One (13 page)

"He went to Germany for facial surgery, where they did a partial jaw replacement with a titanium jawbone. He got sent back to his squadron while it was still in Iraq. So behind his back everybody started calling him T-Jaw. His officers were not impressed, and they thought he was a complete self-promoting jerk. From what I understand, that kind of conduct was pretty typical."

I was stunned. I had never heard this story. Talk like this got around in the Marine Corps. "How is it I've never heard this before?"

Britt shrugged. "Probably people were a little wary of passing it on. It could have torpedoed his career. Marines love bravery, they love real men. They love taking one in the chest for the Corps. But what they
hate
, as you well know, is a self-serving, self-promoting asshole who is only looking out for his own career." Britt took a deep drink from his coffee. "People didn't know for sure what had happened. Nobody was really there except for a couple of people. It was virtually impossible to sort it out. But I heard it. Always in the superhushed 'promise not to tell anybody' kind of talk. But I heard it from a couple of sources. I don't know if it's true, but that's what I heard."

"How did the people who were checking out his background for his job flying Marine One-how did
they not hear about this?"

"They may have, they may have given him the chance to answer it. Maybe he had a good explanation, maybe he said that the rumor was started by other Marine pilots who were envious, who thought he'd gotten promoted too quickly above others. Maybe he wasn't outside the flight area and someone just tacked that onto the story to bang him for the way he treated that captain. Don't know. Lots of possibilities. You know how that can start. Someone thinks you're bypassing them in the promotion ranks? It's not unheard of that they'll start a false rumor."

"So which is it? Was it a false rumor or did that happen? Is T-Jaw a fraud?"

Britt shrugged. "I don't know, I'm just telling you what I heard."

I looked at Byrd, who was staring at Britt. I asked him, "What do you think, Tinny?"

"Beats the hell out of me. I just thought you should hear what the man had to say. But I tell you what. The more I learn about this guy, the more cracks I see in the marble statue."

I stood up and Britt followed me to his feet. "Thanks for coming down. You didn't have to come all this way."

"No, I had to meet with a subcontractor based here. It's no problem."

He walked to his car and drove off as Byrd and I sat back down. The sky was a bright blue with golden morning sunlight illuminating the city. We could hear the lanyards of the moored sailboats two blocks away slapping against their masts as they rocked with the incoming tide.

"Tinny, I think we have to keep digging."

"I'm deeper than you know."

"One thing continues to haunt me here."

"What's that?"

"Why the hell was the president going to Camp David?"

Byrd nodded as he tossed his cup away. He zipped up his leather valise and said, "You know I'm already on that. That's one of the things that's a little bit deeper. I haven't hit the wood of the buried chest yet, but my shovel's getting close to the lid."

"How do you know there is a chest, how do you know there's a lid at all? How do you know it wasn't just some poker game with a bunch of school buddies?"

"Or strippers."

"Oh, right. The president was risking his life to fly to a stag party. Come on."

"Something big was happening. I'm talking to that other Marine. Boy from the Secret Service."

"The one our friend from State told us to lay off of."

"The same."

"You're not laying off, I take it."

Byrd frowned in disgust. "You want me to?"

"No. But Thompson seemed pretty damned serious and stayed real vague about the consequences."

"Said he'd tell people. So what?"

"Well, the implication is those other people might try to stop us."

"They can just kiss my ass. I'm not stopping for anyone."

I smiled. "So what did he say?"

"Turns out he was at Camp David that night."

"You said that. Waiting for President Adams."

"Yep."

"And?"

"That's all we know. He won't talk. Our Mr. Thompson has visited him. Told him to shut his mouth. National security."

"So that's it?"

"I'll keep pushing him. But there's no telling if he's going to come around. Thompson is pulling a lot of strings and talking to a lot of people. We need to watch out for him." Byrd rubbed his finger on the table. "I asked him about this mystery document." Tinny paused. "I saw it in his eyes, Michael. I think he still has it, or a copy. Whatever it is. I've got a feeling about him. Not only does he know a lot, I think he's dying to tell us. But there are forces out there, Michael, forces." Tinny looked at his watch. "I gotta go. Catch you later." He looked around for any unusual movement and headed toward his car.

HACKETT HAD WAITED around a day after the ENE for the required meeting of the attorneys in the case to discuss the case schedule. It is mandatory and must be in person.
Somehow
the press had received a copy of his letter requesting the meeting at my office. They were waiting for me when I returned from my meeting with Byrd. Microphones and reporters everywhere. I waved them off, pushed through the ranks, and closed the door behind me. Dolores was concerned. Several of the reporters had simply walked into the office, sat in the chairs, and waited for me. At some point Berberian had come out and told them to leave, that if I wanted to invite them in to discuss the case, I would do so, but unless they were clients, it was time for them to go. So they waited on the steps.

Dolores had set up the boardroom for the conference and cleaned out all the materials I had been working on with the experts. I waited, and after arriving fashionably late in a limousine, Hackett and his entourage made their way through the press slowly, answering a few questions over his shoulder. Dolores showed him to the conference room. He came in, greeted us, and sat down. He and his associates took off their coats, made themselves comfortable, and grabbed coffee and muffins. Rachel was there as well as Justin, our disheveled paralegal. I had drafted a proposed scheduling order that I wanted Hackett to look at. I pulled it out of my briefcase and passed it around the table. "Here's the scheduling order that I would propose. As you know, this court is on the fast-"

Hackett handed the scheduling order back to me. "I don't think those dates will work."

"You haven't even looked at them."

"I have prepared an order that I think is in final form and I would like for you to sign it."

My face began to turn red as I glanced at Rachel, who was trying to convince me not to say what she knew I wanted to say. I took his order and looked at it. It had the most aggressive discovery schedule I had ever seen. It had all the depositions and document discovery completed within four months. This was faster than even the District Court of Maryland contemplated in its rocket-docket standard scheduling order.

"I don't know," I said, looking at Hackett. "This is awfully ambitious. It seems to contemplate that we won't have any discovery disputes and we can get this all done."

"Oh. We won't have any discovery disputes, I'm sure. I believe in turning over everything, I'm sure you do as well. I think after we take depositions, this case will be ready to go. My experts are ready to testify in trial tomorrow. I see no reason to delay."

No doubt his experts were ready to testify tomorrow since all they were going to do was recite the NTSB's preliminary opinion. I had to disprove that theory and needed time to do that.

I handed the order back to him. "Can't do it."

Hackett sat down and leaned heavily on the table as if he were dealing with a dunce or a child. "Mr. Nolan. Do you refuse to cooperate in discovery?"

I sat down across from him and leaned on the table directly toward him. "No. I don't refuse to cooperate. What I refuse to do is capitulate. If you want discovery, then do it. If you want it done fast, then do it fast."

Hackett shook his head. "As you wish. Your client's employ
ees
are the ones who will be deposed. And I love France." He reached over in front of his associate and placed his hand on the table, palm up. His associate placed a pile of documents in his hand, which Hackett retrieved. Hackett handed them to me.

"Here you go,
Mike
," he said, emphasizing Mike like it was a disease. He took a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders dramatically. "As you know, discovery may commence immediately after the Early Neutral Evaluation conference. We just had that conference." He pointed to the documents. "Here are thirty-five deposition notices of the witnesses I want to depose beginning next Thursday in Paris. I will see you there."

It was exactly what I had expected him to do. It was the biggest grandstanding move available to him. Hackett looked for a reaction from me.

"No problem,
Tom
." I looked at the pile of notices quickly. "This of course exceeds the number of depositions allowed under the rules, but I'll be happy to stipulate that you can do this. I had actually expected to begin the depositions in Paris on Monday, but you don't have them starting until Thursday." I looked at Rachel. "We can cancel our hotel reservations for those extra days, once we get done here." I turned back to Hackett. "We'll see you there. And by the way"-Rachel handed me our documents-"here is the deposition notice for the first lady and the other widows. I've set them for here, in my office, for the week after we get back from Paris. But if you want to do them in your D.C. office, just let me know. We're happy to accommodate you."

At ten o'clock that night I sat back, took off my tie, and drank a large bottle of water. I hadn't eaten since ten in the morning and I was about to pass out. I had a jar of Planters peanuts in my drawer that I reached for as Rachel walked into my office.

She sat down heavily and smiled. "What a day."

"Remarkable. You ready to go tomorrow? BWI nonstop to Paris. We've got to get our witnesses prepared. I thought he'd give us a couple of weeks. We've got to double track, with me preparing the executives, and you preparing the manufacturing workers."

Rachel chuckled, slid down in the leather chair, put her head on the back of the chair, and looked at the ceiling. "Figures."

"What?" I said as I poured some peanuts into my hand and tossed them into my mouth.

"Do you know what date today is?"

"No, what?"

"It's my birthday. My thirty-fifth freaking birthday."

"Wow. Sorry. Can't believe I missed that. Happy birthday-want some nuts?" I offered her the jar.

"Very funny. But you know what else?" She sat up.

"What?"

"I told you that I didn't want to get married again. I didn't want to make the same backbreaking mistake I made when I married that asshole-he who shall remain nameless."

"And?"

"Well, I was lying. I do want to get married again. Or at least become a mother before I'm eighty. And since I think after this it goes thirty-six, thirty-seven, eighty, I'm basically done. My womb is going to shrivel up like a raisin. The only thing I'll ever give birth to is another raisin."

"Oh, please. Thirty-five isn't that old."

"Yes, it is. Maybe I don't want to get married, I don't know, maybe I don't even want to be a mother. What I hate is not being in control." She looked down with an ironic smile on her face. She looked at me. "This Friday was going to be my first date in a year. And I'm going to miss it." She didn't sound that disappointed. "He's probably not worth it anyway. It's just Freddy."

I frowned. "Freddy, the dentist?"

"Yes. The dentist. The balding dentist."

"Jeez, you
must be desperate."

"You're a real encouragement, Mike. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

"You can't marry
him
. You're gorgeous. He's… Freddy."

Rachel stood up. "All right, I'll send him an e-mail and tell him our big date is off. I think he wanted to go look at coin shops or something anyway. I think he collects nickels. Buffalo nickels. What an incredibly interesting guy." She looked at me as she stood by the door. "Are we going to be up all night? Do we have the materials we need to fly to Paris to begin preparing for these depositions tomorrow? Are we out of our minds? Are you sure you don't want to go before the magistrate and beg for mercy?"

"Nope. Legal jujitsu. Take his energy and throw him over on his back. I expect to be up all night myself. Debbie doesn't even know I'm going yet. This'll go over well. I'll get your ticket. Assume we're leaving on the eight thirty AM flight. We can drive together, but we'll need to leave at about four o'clock. I'll call you at home as soon as I get the info."

I picked up Rachel, drove to BWI, and we boarded our American Airlines flight to Paris. Rachel had called Justin and had him load the documents we had so far onto CDs, which she had brought with her. We spent the entire flight reviewing the documents on our laptops plugged directly into the seats and prepared questions that we anticipated Hackett asking.

We checked into our hotel on the Left Bank, got a bad night's sleep, and went to WorldCopter headquarters the next morning by taxi. We spent the next five days preparing each witness for the questions that might come up. Each day we had lunch in the WorldCopter conference room where we were preparing the witnesses. The food was outstanding, and each night we would have dinner with one of the WorldCopter officers. Marcel was still in the United States investigating the accident, as were most of the investigation team. But most of those who were actually involved in building Marine One were still in Paris.

One night we were free and Rachel insisted on eating at a fancy restaurant, called George. I agreed as I was happy to eat somewhere other than the restaurant we had eaten at each night with the WorldCopter officers.

The restaurant sat atop the Georges Pompidou Center, a combination museum, display area, multicultural center, and concert center. Rachel had reserved an outdoor table for us overlooking Notre Dame. European techno pop music pounded in the background.

Rachel took a sip from her wine and asked, "How do you think the preparation is going?"

"I think we're on track. Hackett's going to be surprised. I think they'll stand up pretty tall."

She pushed her hair back. "Don't you feel like our time would be better spent out in the woods looking for tip weights? We're just playing defense here."

"Our entire expert team's going to be out at the scene all week. They'll be tearing it apart while Hackett is here listening to himself talk."

"Won't his experts be doing the same thing?"

"I doubt it. The fewer new facts they have, the better. They want to just roll into court, say, 'Tip weights,' and wait while Hackett rings us up for a few hundred million. Plus, I've asked our new guy, Brandon- "

"Braden."

"… to start preparing a summary judgment motion to dismiss punitive damages while we're gone. We'll get the rough transcripts electronically, incorporate the testimony into our motion, and serve it on Hackett the day he flies home. He'll say it's too early in the case, but let's put him on his heels a little bit. He's the one who's in a big hurry."

"I called the dentist before we left our hotel."

"Tonight? Really? What for?"

Rachel smiled and shook her head. "I just wanted to give him the details of why I missed our date. He said it figures. It's par for the course for him to be drilling the teeth of angry patients while I run off to Paris. Then he said he always figured I was out of his league anyway. He never thought he had much of a shot. He knew I'd come up with some reason not to go out with him."

I frowned. "That doesn't even make sense. He thinks you made this whole thing up so you wouldn't have to go out with him? So what, you persuaded Hackett to notice a bunch of depositions just so you could avoid a date with him?"

"I don't think he's quite that linear in his thinking, more like he knew events would conspire to make sure that I didn't go out with him."

"So when you said yes that was just a cruel joke of fate."

"Something like that. I don't think he's really my type."

"Don't worry, it'll happen. The right guy's out there."

Rachel looked up at me with a sharp glance. "I don't think so."

"Well, what are you looking for? What kind of guy is the right one?"

Our waitress brought our food and set the hot plates down in front of us. "Enjoy," she said as she turned away.

"There are good men out there. All my friends are married to them. They've been married for ten years. They have kids. They're happy. They're working or not working. It doesn't matter. They're happy."

We finished our meal in relative quiet, listening to the pounding, now annoying, music through the ultra-high-quality speakers hidden somewhere. I paid the shockingly large bill and stood. "We'd better get back to the hotel. You know who we meet with tomorrow."

"Jean Claude Martin.
El presidente."

"Wouldn't it be
la president?"

"Le."

"All I know is he's really not very happy. After that debacle at the Senate hearings, all he wants is to answer more questions from some American attorney. You sure we did the right thing by letting Hackett go at him this early in the case?"

"Hackett won't have our documents until the deposition. He'll do way less damage now than in six months when he's a lot smarter about WorldCopter. We've got to let him do this, and then start turning this case back on him."