Thankfully, liz had been a silent observer so far. Now she asked,

  “Jack, do you think they’ll let me have the cars today?”

  Why in the hell was she worried about the cars at a time like this? I

  was irritated, but determined not to lose my patience.

  “You’ll need to catch up to Micki—get Paul to go with you. She’ll

  get Maroney to let you have the cars, but how about waiting until this

  afternoon? You’re not under subpoena, but . . ."

  “Jack, I know you think I’m being ridiculous, but I need those cars.

  Trust me. Thanks to Cheryl, I can probably watch whatever happens

  this afternoon on my iPad. let’s go, Paul.”

  Debbie left to get sandwiches, and Maggie and I began to prep Stella

  for her testimony. Clovis finally sauntered in, a smirk on his face.

  “I got to watch Dub get one ass-chewing from Thompson until they

  realized they were still on camera. It’s a safe bet they’ll try to get those

  cameras turned off for this afternoon.”

  “let’s hope Cheryl took my advice. Clovis, while we’re working with

  Stella, y’all figure out how to replay the tape of their confab after

  court recessed. We may want to introduce it as evidence.”

  Micki returned with her arm through Walter’s. She gave me a wink.

  “Well, you may have to spend a few days in jail, but I’ll get you out in

  the end.”

  “That makes me feel so much better.” I turned to Walter. “For a

  minute I thought we’d actually purchased the patents and some very

  valuable research. How high do you think they were willing to go?”

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  “They were never going to let you win. The product is too valuable.

  They didn’t come prepared, but now they’ll fight you forever. That’s

  why you have to follow this through today. otherwise Doug’s research

  will be lost forever.”

  Nothing like a little pressure.

  “I know, but it would have been nice to get it fair and square,” I

  said. “okay, Micki, get ready to rescue me. I’m about to commit pro-

  fessional suicide.”

  We returned to the courtroom. A whole new set of lawyers sat at

  the opposite end of the prosecution’s table, pointedly ignoring Dub.

  Dub glanced at Debbie just before we sat down and on cue, with no

  coaching, she blew him a kiss. His reaction was worth my going to jail.

  ed Thompson gave Debbie a cold stare and spoke quietly to his bulky

  companion.

  Judge Houston strode into the courtroom and quickly called the

  hearing to order. We all sat down, and he looked at the new lawyers at

  the prosecutor’s table.

  With just a hint of a taunt, he asked, “Well, Mr. Blanchard, have you

  called up the reserves?”

  Before Dub could answer, a very tall fellow with thinning razor cut

  grey hair rose to his feet.

  “Your Honor, we are not with the prosecution. My name is Gerald

  Monday. I’m a partner with the law firm Monday, Williams, and Jones.

  These men are my associates. We represent the gentlemen who have

  been subpoenaed. We filed a motion to quash the subpoena a few

  minutes ago and request you rule on our motion before proceeding.

  I took the liberty of delivering a copy to your clerk, and I’m now pre-

  pared to argue our motion. If the court pleases, this. . . ."

  The judge interrupted. “Has Ms. lawrence or Mr. Patterson been

  given a copy of this motion?”

  Monday didn’t flinch, “We couriered a copy to Ms. lawrence’s

  office after we filed it. We had no idea where they might have gone for

  lunch.”

  I was ready to respond, but Judge Houston was well ahead of me.

  “Well, they’re right here now, and after you give him a copy and

  they’ve had time to review it, I might consider taking up your motion.

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  As of now, we’re in session. Your clients are here, and in a few hours

  your motion will be moot. So I suggest you and your five associates

  take a seat.”

  Monday and his group look offended, but knew when to be quiet.

  The gallery had swelled to its full capacity.

  Bullock rose. “Your Honor, we can’t help but notice that televi-

  sion cameras are still recording this event. Since the nature of the

  proceeding has changed, I ask the Court to order the cameras to be

  turned off and taken away.”

  “May I be heard,” came a voice in the gallery. There was no mis-

  taking the strong voice of Janis Harold. Thankfully, Cheryl had taken

  my advice.

  “Your Honor, I represent Fox News. The other networks that are

  now carrying this broadcast by feed have also authorized me to speak

  for them. We oppose the closing of the courtroom. Mr. Patterson is a

  well-known attorney, both in this state and in Washington. His repre-

  sentation of Woody Cole made national headlines, and the possibility

  that he may be held in contempt is of national interest. Mr. Blanchard

  asked for these proceedings to be carried live, and Fox News went

  to great expense to accommodate that request. This matter involves

  Mr. Patterson only. I suggest he’s the only person with standing to

  complain.”

  Micki rose carefully. “Mr. Patterson has no objection to the cam-

  eras, your Honor.”

  Judge Houston seemed perplexed, but waved Bullock down before

  he could speak.

  “Mr. Bullock, I have to agree with Ms. Harold. only Mr. Patterson

  has standing to object and, although I don’t like cameras in my court-

  room, it was your idea. The cameras can stay. Now, Mr. Patterson, what

  do you have to say for yourself? You have accused Mr. Blanchard of

  perpetrating a fraud. Do you have any evidence?”

  I was ready, but Dub beat me to the punch. He looked sideways at

  Thompson who nodded. “Your Honor, I have to believe that Mr. Pat-

  terson was speaking in the heat of the moment. I’ll withdraw my accu-

  sation of contempt. I think we’ve all cooled down. Surely this hearing

  isn’t necessary.”

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  His very body seemed ready to explode; I worried fleetingly about

  his blood pressure. But I could hardly hear his muttered sentences.

  Clearly, his bosses had told him to shut it down and live to fight

  another day.

  I thought this might but I hadn’t decided how to respond. I didn’t

  have to. The judge did it for me.

  “Mr. Blanchard. Contempt is for me to decide, and although you

  may be willing to let things go, I’m not. I want to hear what Mr. Pat-

  terson has to say. Mr. Patterson, it’s time for you to speak up.”

  Clearly things weren’t going as anyone had expected. Monday

  stood slowly.

  “Your Honor, we must object. Mr. Patterson’s intent is to harass

  my client. He’s disrupted a legitimate auction of patents and chem-

  ical research and now intends to slander my clients and a respected

  U.S. attorney under the protection of a lawyer’s privilege. You simply

  cannot let him get away with this travesty.”

  I think ye protest too much.

  The judge finally gave vent to his irritation.

  “Mr. Monday, I’m trying to make sense out of what Mr. Bullock

  unkindly referred to as a circus. First, Mr. Blanchard wants to hold a

  public auction on national Tv, and now it appears he wants to cancel

  it, remove the cameras, and forgive Mr. Patterson for accusing him of

  fraud. I think it’s time we heard what Mr. Patterson has to say because,

  frankly, I’m interested. What is it that Mr. Blanchard doesn’t want me

  to hear? Mr. Patterson, can you shed some light on the subject? And

  let me warn both of you. Mr. Monday and Mr. Blanchard, it’s time

  for you to sit down and be quiet. Mr. Patterson is currently the sub-

  ject of this contempt hearing, but I can expand it if you continue

  to interrupt.” He turned to me, actually smiling. “Mr. Patterson, why

  shouldn’t I lock you up?”

  “I’m happy to tell you, Your Honor.”

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  D

  “Your Honor, the fact is that our government, represented by Mr.

  Blanchard, and certain private interests, probably Mr. Monday’s cli-

  ents, are involved in an effort to appropriate Dr. Douglas Stewart’s

  research and patents, using our criminal process to perpetuate their

  scheme. Their scheme is a bold attempt to prevent Dr. Stewart from

  giving the world a major breakthrough in the search for a cure for

  cancer.”

  Another collective gasp rose from the gallery. I felt sure it matched

  the judge’s look of incredulity. Dub and Monday were visibly seething.

  I continued, “even more disturbing is that this unholy alliance is

  willing to stop at nothing, including illegal wiretapping, kidnapping,

  and even attempted murder to accomplish their purposes.”

  “Whoa.” The judge sat up. “Mr. Patterson, I can’t let you use this

  court to make scandalous charges without proof.”

  “Your Honor, I’m prepared to defend my statements.”

  “Including attempted murder?” he questioned.

  “Yes.” I didn’t hesitate.

  Monday and Dub had both risen angrily to their feet, but the judge

  thundered. “Sit down, gentlemen.” He then turned to me. “What’s

  the nature of this proof?”

  “Your Honor, if you will allow me to summarize, I will then call

  witnesses.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “It all began several years ago when a world-renowned chemist sent

  a letter to our government informing numerous officials that he was

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  w e b b h u b b e l l

  working on a major breakthrough in cancer research.” I handed a

  copy of Doug’s letter to the judge.

  Bullock tried once more. “Your Honor, again, I must ask you to

  remove the cameras. Mr. Patterson is getting into an area of national

  security.”

  Judge Houston raised an irritated hand as if to brush him away

  while he read the letter, then looked down from the bench. “I take it

  from your objection you already know of the existence of this letter

  and its authenticity.”

  Bullock realized he’d screwed up. “I am aware of its existence, but

  I’m curious how Mr. Patterson could have obtained a copy. That letter

  and the attached research outline are classified and should only be in

  the possession of the government.”

  “Are you suggesting Mr. Patterson stole the letter?” the judge asked.

  “Uh. . . ." Bullock didn’t know what to say, so he dug the hole deeper.

  “I hate to use that word, but I can’t draw any other conclusion.”

  “Mr. Patterson?”

  “Your Honor, when I attempted to obtain this letter through the

  Freedom of Information Act, I was stonewalled time and again by the

  government. Dr. Stewart’s wife told me of its existence, and I believed

  her. Fortunately, Dr. Stewart sent a copy of the letter to my late wife, who

  was his colleague at NIH. I can give Mr. Bullock a copy of the envelope

  in which it was sent and which reflects the addressee, the sender, and

  the date it was mailed. Perhaps he’ll also allow me to put my client, Dr.

  Stewart, on the stand. His testimony could possibly be pertinent.”

  Dub couldn’t control himself. He jumped up. “Judge, don’t you see

  this is just a ruse to get access to his client?”

  “Mr. Blanchard, sit down or I will hold you in contempt. I’m

  warning you for the last time.” Dub sat down abruptly, still seething.

  “Mr. Bullock, are you satisfied with Mr. Patterson’s explanation? Do

  you wish to refute it?”

  Bullock was smart enough to say. “No, your Honor, I trust he’s

  telling the Court the truth.”

  Judge Houston smiled. “Good. Please proceed, Mr. Patterson.”

  “As Mr. Bullock implied, the letter must have caused quite a stir. The

  government doesn’t put a letter under lock and key, classified under

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  the blanket of ‘national security,’ as Mr. Bullock just admitted, if it’s

  a hoax or the work of a crackpot. our government moved quickly to

  monitor Dr. Stewart’s progress and devised a scheme to suppress his

  work if necessary. I’m also prepared to prove he and his wife’s phone

  calls, e-mails, and computers have been under government surveil-

  lance for the last three years.”

  “Why would our government want to suppress a breakthrough in

  the cure for cancer?” Judge Houston asked.

  “Because in this letter Dr. Stewart signaled his intent to offer the

  results of his research to the public at no cost, free to anyone. This

  action would create economic havoc, especially for Mr. Monday’s cli-

  ents, who make billions annually off anti-cancer drugs. These same

  drug companies work hand-in-glove with our government in hundreds

  of ways. They have opposed marijuana research for decades, notably

  with regard to its hypothesized medical benefits. every year our govern-

  ment spends billions fighting not only the illegal recreational use of the

  drug, but also any effort to legitimize it for medicinal purposes.”

  “Counsel,” the judge said, “I don’t have time to get into a philo-

  sophical argument on the pros and cons of medical marijuana. I find

  it hard to believe that our government would be involved in some

  conspiracy to prevent a cure for cancer, but that’s not the point. You

  have accused Mr. Blanchard of fraud. Please explain the basis for that

  charge.”

  He didn’t get it.

  “Judge, our government has conspired with a major drug com-

  pany to prevent Dr. Stewart’s research from reaching the light of

  day. This company intends to use that research for private gain. That

  is why I intend to put Mr. Monday’s clients on the stand. Sadly, Mr.

  Blanchard’s purpose and role in all of this goes way beyond our gov-

  ernment playing footsie with a drug company. From my point of view,

  Mr. Blanchard is small potatoes, but I’m prepared to go forward with

  that proof first, if you prefer.”

  Dub sat in stony silence. Bullock had actually scooted his chair away

  from Dub, and Monday clearly wished he were almost anywhere else.

  “Proceed, counsel. But I’ve got to say I’m skeptical of your whole

  story about Dr. Stewart’s research.”

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  “I understand, Your Honor, but ask yourself one thing: why is a

  major drug company here today bidding millions of dollars on Dr.

  Stewart’s research if it’s worthless? Mr. Magnum’s last bid was twenty-

  five million dollars. While I’m happy to know I won the bidding for

  the research at ten million, I was prepared to go to half a billion dol-

  lars. I’m sure given the chance Mr. Mangum would have matched my

  bid dollar for dollar.”

  The gallery erupted. Dub shouted, “Your Honor, he’s lying. Where

  on earth would he get half a billion dollars?”

  Judge Houston had raised his gavel, but I wanted to make my point.

  “Marshal, what is the dollar amount authorized in my letter of

  credit?”

  Maroney almost purred. “Fifty million dollars.” Now the gallery went

  ballistic.

  “Your Honor, the president of the company backing my bid is in

  the courtroom today. He is prepared to testify of his willingness to pay

  half a billion dollars for Dr. Stewart’s research. I suspect that when

  I’m allowed to cross-examine Mr. Monday’s clients, they’ll admit that

  they too would be willing to pay that amount or more. If they tell the

  truth, that is. ”

  Monday didn’t object. Judge Houston couldn’t ignore either what

  I’d said or Monday’s silence. The gallery now sat in stunned silence.

  Houston spent a minute in thought, and then said firmly, “I don’t

  think you want to go further with your objections, Mr. Blanchard, or

  I will have to question your actions at this morning’s auction. Mr. Pat-

  terson, enough about your client and his research. What about your

  allegations against the U. S. attorney?”

  “Your honor, I’m prepared to present expert testimony that after

  Dr. Stewart was arrested and Ms. lawrence first appeared as counsel,