“Not tonight. But soon.” She cocked her head to one side. “One question will do for now. She knew the general was coming to America, didn’t she?”
“I can’t say for certain, but I think so.” Marcus felt the fatigue and the release down deep in his bones. “My guess is that she was hoping whoever took over the factory wouldn’t be so, well, controlled.”
“She wanted to provoke them into doing something that would expose them so that they would wind up in our courts. She wanted it all to happen while the general was over here and in range.” Gladys Nicols shook her head. “That poor girl.”
“Her poor parents.”
“Yes. Them too. How are they?”
“Not good.”
The look she gave him was etched with shared sorrow. “And how are you?”
“Surviving.” Marcus stretched his back, knew there was no putting it off. “Your Honor-”
“We’re done with court for the moment. You may call me Gladys.”
His gaze was enough to draw her up tight. “This case will not be finished,” he replied, “until we know exactly what happened to Gloria. And maybe not even then.” He sat and listened to the fire crackle, then continued, “Next week I’m going to file papers for a new civil action. I felt I owed it to you to see if you wanted me to pass the pressure on to another judge.”
She hesitated a long moment. “I am both tired and tempted. But all my life I have heard words about passing cups.”
“There is a federal statute framed in the days of the Soviet empire,” Marcus explained. “Back then Russia tended to escape responsibility for the misdeeds of state-owned companies by claiming sovereign immunity.”
“I imagine we will find the same objection raised when the Chinese government appeals this decision.”
Marcus nodded. “I want to head them off at the pass. This particular law says that a foreign government involved in a company for wholly commercial reasons can be held directly liable for the actions of that company. And for all damages.”
Judge Nicols sat up straighter still. “My, my.”
“Not only that, but there is a legal exception to sovereign immunity. It states that if a single action can be shown to be part of an overall pattern, then the state can be held liable for fomenting this action.”
“You want to up the ante, don’t you,” she demanded softly. “Hit them with more bad publicity. Continue the pressure until they come up with answers.”
“As soon as I can get the papers together, I intend to file a civil action against the Chinese government for human rights abuses in its lao gai prisons and forced-labor factories,” Marcus finished. “Nationwide.”
“Then I suppose my questions about Gloria will have to wait a while longer.” Judge Nicols rose to her feet, drawing Marcus with her. “I will see you in my office at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”
EPILOGUE
The late November day wore a dress as dark as Alma’s. The airport windows overlooking the runway were veiled in a mist so fine and soft it could not be called rain at all. The vast crowd of press and photographers and mourners gathered beside the runway was washed a uniform gray. Marcus stood with one arm around Kirsten’s shoulders and looked to a group of television newscasters standing in somber shades and chattering to a horde of electronic eyes. Marcus wished he could somehow grow as impervious to the tumult as he was to winter’s approach.
They were all there with him, all the strangers bound to him now, knit into the fabric of his life. All but Gladys Nicols, who had sent Jim Bell in her absence. The retired patrolman and Amos Culpepper had stood sentry at the doors since their arrival two hours earlier.
Together they all had watched the plane land and the passengers disembark. The metal courier stood silent and waiting now, drenched in the same gray sorrow as all the rest of this mournful day.
Jim Bell walked over and said, “You know Judge Nicols would be here if she could.”
Marcus nodded, both to the words and his understanding that it was far easier to address him than Austin or Alma Hall. He had two new cases winding their way toward a new jury trial in the judge’s courtroom. “It was good of you to come.”
Jim Bell offered a paper stiff as folded parchment. “She asked me to give you this.”
Marcus unfolded the sheet, read the contents, then called out, “Darren, come over here, please.” He handed the tall young man the paper and said, “At the request of Judge Nicols and Charlie Hayes, the governor has agreed to expunge your record. As far as anyone is concerned, you are walking out of here with a clean sheet.”
Amos Culpepper joined them. “You still want to join our team at the sheriff’s office, Darren?”
The man did not look up from the paper shivering slightly in his hands. “Y-yes sir.”
Amos gave a solemn nod. “Nice to know there’s some good coming out of this day.”
There was a knock at the door. All eyes watched as Amos walked over and exchanged soft words with a uniformed patrolman. He then turned to the couple tucked into the corner shadows and announced, “They’re ready to unload the coffin.”
Deacon Wilbur rose first, one hand on each of the parents. “Stand tall, now,” he said, his voice carrying against the tide trying to press through the open door. “The whole world is gathered out there, ready to watch your Gloria come home.”