Dead Man's Rule (40 page)

Every pew in the large sanctuary was filled with Chicago heavyweights, gathered to honor Tony Simeon. Half of the aldermen and most of the judiciary were there, as were high executives from many of Chicago’s largest corporations. Also present were representatives of the charities and museums that were the primary beneficiaries of Tony’s will, since he had no living relatives closer than cousins. A scattering of reporters and photographers sat around the sides and back of the church and in the nave.

The Corbins sat in a side pew next to Sergei and Elena. Irina Ivanovsky sat next to Elena at the very end of the pew, and her husband was in a wheelchair in the aisle next to her. His doctors had refused to release him from the hospital and had ordered him not to leave, but they relented when he remained adamant and started dressing himself. They could not keep him in his bed without physically restraining him, which would have been both illegal and medically riskier than letting him go. They finally reached a compromise with him: he could go to the funeral, but only if a nurse went with him (she sat in the pew behind him), he stayed in a wheelchair, and he promised to come back to the hospital immediately after the funeral ended.

The black-draped bronze casket lay on a table at the front of the sanctuary. Floral arrangements flanked the bier. An easel beside the coffin held a large, not particularly recent picture of Tony.

The service opened with a hymn, followed by two of the Lyric Opera’s singers performing the “O Death, Where Is Thy Sting?” segment from Handel’s
Messiah
. Then came a short liturgy and several eulogies from eminent judges and lawyers who had known Tony well. But their polished eloquence was muted and overwhelmed by the circumstance in which they found themselves.

One justice of the Illinois Supreme Court said simply, “I hold in my hands five pages of notes for a speech praising Tony Simeon, but now that I stand before you I realize that there is nothing I can say that will speak better of him than the actions of the last days of his life.” And he sat down.

Then Pastor Wilhelm ascended to the pulpit to deliver the homily. “I have been acquainted with Tony Simeon for many years, but I only came to know him recently. Tony was a gifted man who had done much in his life, but he told me that he had used his life and his gifts to serve himself. He regretted that, and he regretted having lived his adult life without God.

“Tony came to faith late, but he did so with a strength and courage that awe me as I stand here today. Tony knew the danger that awaited him along the road he chose. He knew the end to which it might lead. Yet he took it nonetheless. He did not rationalize or temporize. He did not look for an easier way. He saw the task that God had set before him, and he did it without flinching or faltering.

“Through Tony, God delivered millions—including, no doubt, many in this church—from a horrible death. Without Tony’s sacrifice, there would be many, many more funerals today. And tomorrow. And every tomorrow until there were none left to mourn the dead or bury them.

“God’s deliverance will remain with us even though one of today’s deliverers is gone. For our lives do not rest in the hands of terrorists, and the hour of our death is not appointed by men. We belong to God, who promises, ‘You shall not be afraid of any terror by night, nor of the arrow that flies by day; of the plague that stalks in the darkness, nor of the sickness that lays waste at midday.’

“God delivered Tony too, but he delivered him through death—not from it. Christ defeated death, but he did not destroy it. In the end, we all receive in our bodies the bitter legacy of the first sin. The earthen mouth opens to receive us, and the worms consume us.

“Many people do not see death at all and live happy, carefree lives—until death catches them unawares and unprepared. Others who are wiser see the loneliness, the pain, and the empty darkness of death, and they despair.

“But Christianity is a religion of hope, even in the presence of death.” He held out an open hand toward Tony’s casket. “Not because we do not see death, but because we see beyond it. We do not hope blindly, but with vision unclouded by fear or despair.

“We know that beyond the wrenching horror of death lies life such as we have never known. The infant in the womb must pass through the trauma of birth to emerge into the light of the sun and the loving embrace of his parents. So too, Tony has passed through the trauma of death and stands now in the light of the Son and the loving embrace of his Father.”

E
PILOGUE

S
ETTLEMENT

“Ninety-eight percent of all cases settle, so why hasn’t this one?” demanded Judge Ryan. The
Circuit Dynamics
trial was only two weeks away, and the judge had taken Ben, Steve Rocco, and John Weaver back into his chambers for a pretrial conference. Their meeting involved a large dose of arm-twisting aimed at settling the case.

“Your Honor, we’ve made a good-faith offer,” said Rocco. “My client has put $5 million on the table, which is frankly a lot more than this case is worth. The plaintiff hasn’t moved off of $25 million.”

“They’ve offered $5 million on a $100-million case, Judge,” retorted Ben.

Judge Ryan rubbed his watery blue eyes. “All right. I’ll talk to you each separately, plaintiff first. Mr. Rocco, Mr. Weaver, please wait in the courtroom.”

Once they were alone, he turned to Ben. “Five million dollars is a lot of money, particularly to a small business like your client.”

“That’s true,” Ben acknowledged, “but $100 million is a lot more.”

“It is, but to get it you have to both win and collect. I’ve seen your evidence, and it’s got some holes. I also can tell you that the defendants will almost certainly take every appeal they can if they lose. Your client won’t see a penny for years.”

“That’s why we’re willing to accept twenty-five.”

“Is that your bottom line?” asked the judge. “Because if it is, we’re just wasting our time. You have to be willing to show some flexibility.”

“We can show
some
flexibility, Your Honor, but not when they’re at $5 million. This is not a case that is going to settle halfway between their position and ours. It just won’t.” The bottom line Fred Schultz had given him was actually $12 million, but Ben intended to do better than that.

“All right. I’ll see what I can do. Send those guys in.”

Ben went out to the courtroom and told Rocco and Weaver that the judge was ready to see them. Then he sat down to wait. The judge hadn’t pushed very hard, which worried him a little. If the judge didn’t apply more pressure on Rocco and Weaver, the case wouldn’t settle.

Back in the judge’s chambers, pressure was being applied.

“I don’t care how strong your case is,” Judge Ryan said. “Do you really want to try a case against Ben Corbin less than two months after that business with the terrorists?”

“I don’t see what bearing that has on—” began Weaver.

The judge cut him off. “Jurors read papers and watch the news, Counsel. I will guarantee you that someone on your jury will recognize him. By the end of the first trial day, they’ll all know the whole story. Only an idiot or a masochist would go up against him at the moment.

“Now—what are you going to do to settle this case? Don’t think about how much your damages expert told you it’s worth. Think about how much the jury will hit you for when the man who helped save them from terrorists asks them for $100 million dollars plus punitive damages.”

Ben walked into the Petrograd half an hour after he was supposed to meet Sergei for lunch. He spotted the detective already seated at a table, eating his lunch.

Ben pulled out a chair. “Sorry I’m late. My pretrial conference ran a little longer than I had planned.”

“No problem,” replied Sergei around a mouthful of
shuba
herring salad. “How did it go?”

A waitress came over as Ben sat down, and he quickly ordered lunch. “The conference went great,” he said, turning back to Sergei. “I came in offering twenty-five million, and we settled for twenty plus a license fee of a million a year for the next ten years.”

Sergei stopped chewing. “So basically you were willing to take twenty-five, but you got them to give you thirty?”

“Basically, but I was willing to take less than twenty-five.”

“Okay, I’m taking you with me when I buy my next car.”

Ben laughed. “I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that you’ll do just fine on your own. In fact, I’d like your help with some negotiations I’ll be starting shortly.”

“That’s what I figured from your call. What can I do for you?”

“I’ve gotten a lot of document and interview requests from the Bureau and the US Attorney’s Office for stuff on the
Ivanovsky
case. They haven’t said that Dr. Ivanovsky is the target of a criminal investigation, but—”

“But you’re worried and you want to know what I think they’re doing.”

“Yeah.”

Sergei nodded. “They probably have opened a file on him. After all, he did break a lot of laws. Trying to obtain bioweapons is serious business, even if his intentions were good. And he did cause the Bureau, the CIA, and several police departments a whole lot of trouble.”

“Think they’ll indict him?”

“Good question. There’s a grand jury hearing evidence against what’s left of the Vainakh Guard. It’s possible that they’re also hearing evidence against Dr. Ivanovsky.”

That’s what Ben had feared. “I’d like to get this out in the open as soon as possible so we can start dealing with it. Do you think it’s worth calling the US Attorney’s Office and asking what their intentions are?”

“Sure. Criminal-defense attorneys do it all the time. Sometimes the assistant US attorney in charge of the case will tell you, sometimes they won’t. There’s no harm in asking, though.”

“That’s what I was wondering. Thanks.”

Just then, Auntie Olga walked up with Ben’s lunch. “You must be Ben Corbin,” she remarked as she served him. “Sergei has told me a lot about you.”

“And you must be Olga,” replied Ben. “I understand you hosted the whole Spassky clan for Christmas.”

“She even invited Elena,” put in Sergei. “She couldn’t make it back to Russia because a snowstorm cancelled her flight.”

“She’s a nice girl, but I don’t see why she wants you to eat more Chinese food,” said Auntie Olga with a wink.

“Chinese food?” asked Ben.

“Elena gave me a wok for Christmas,” Sergei explained.

“Hi, Curt,” Ben said into the phone. Curt Grunwald was the assistant US attorney handling the Vainakh Guard investigation. “I just thought I’d call and touch base with you about a couple of things regarding Dr. Ivanovsky.”

“Fire away.”

“First, is your office considering criminal charges against my client?”

“Sorry, Ben. I can’t tell you anything one way or the other.”

“Okay. The second thing I’d like to talk about is the judgment in
Ivanovsky v. Zinoviev
. There’s a final and nonappealable judgment that gives my client the rights to a set of lab notes and a sample of Variant D. I believe those are currently in the possession of the federal government.”

The line was silent for several seconds. “So? I could get that judgment vacated a dozen different ways.”

“Probably, but not quickly and not without giving Dr. Ivanovsky his Fourteenth Amendment due-process rights. At the very least, you would have to explain the whole story to a federal judge, which I suspect you’d rather not do.”

“All things being equal, no, I’d rather not. But all things aren’t equal here, are they?”

“Nope,” said Ben.

“All right. I assume you have a proposal to make.”

“I do, but it won’t be worth either of our time unless the government is willing to forgo prosecution of Dr. Ivanovsky.”

“We might be, under certain circumstances,” Grunwald said thoughtfully. “I’ll call you back.”

Forty-five minutes later, Grunwald was back on the line.

“We’re willing to agree not to prosecute,” he said, “if we can agree on a few points. First, Dr. Ivanovsky will assign to the United States all rights he has under that judgment. Second, we’ll need him to sign a confidentiality agreement similar to the one you signed. Third—”

“Hold on a sec,” said Ben as he scribbled. “I take slow notes. By the way, my client has an additional condition.”

“What’s that?” Grunwald asked warily.

“He’ll have to be involved in any further work on Variant D,” said Ben, choosing his words carefully. If there was going to be a sticking point, this was it. “As you know, he’s concerned that it might be developed into an offensive weapon. This will let him verify that it isn’t. Involving him will also give the government access to his extensive—and in many cases unique—knowledge of biodefense and decontamination.”

Grunwald chuckled. “The last point on my list says, ‘Must make Ivanovsky available to DoD as consultant re Variant D countermeasures.’ We’ll need to paper this, but I think we have a deal.”

Fort Detrick, home to the United States Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases, is a collection of utilitarian-looking buildings scattered over roughly three square miles outside of Frederick, Maryland. USAMRIID’s nerve center is a huge tan building on the fort’s grounds, and it was to this building that two large MPs escorted Ben and Dr. Ivanovsky.

Dr. Ivanovsky was there to meet with the team of scientists that was probing the secrets of Variant D. Ben was there at the insistence of Dr. Ivanovsky, who now treated him as something of a security blanket. They spent the morning discussing protocols for storing and handling the organism, a subject that Dr. Ivanovsky and his new colleagues found endlessly fascinating. Only an iron will and four cups of coffee kept Ben awake.

Over lunch, Dr. Ivanovsky asked the head of the USAMRIID team, a general who also had a PhD in molecular biology, “What do you think of this Variant D? It is brilliant, no?”

The man frowned. “No offense to your countrymen, but I think they created an abomination. It’s a death sentence hanging over the whole human race. We don’t know when the ax will fall, but we need to be ready to catch it when it does. If I was sure that we had the only culture of it, I wouldn’t be so worried—at least not about this bug, anyway. I’d heat it in the autoclave and count my blessings that it was dead.

“But you know as well as I do that when the Soviet Union fell apart, so did their bioweapons program. Things disappeared, especially valuable things.” He pointed to a partial analysis of Variant D’s genome. “Things like this. Every morning when I wake up, I wonder if today will be the day that some terrorist or rogue nation lets loose one of these superbugs. And every night when I go to bed, I thank God that it didn’t happen.”