Silent Justice: A Ben Kincaid Novel of Suspense

Chapter 24

THE LAST TIME BEN had been out on a golf course, he’d managed to run up a score somewhere in the high three digits. And that was just on the first hole. This time, he decided to leave the playing to others.

He was invading the third cubicle in a South Tulsa driving range, watching in respectable silence as the man in the matching Polo shirt and shorts knocked another one well past the two-hundred marker.

“How did you find me, anyway?” the man asked. He was Dr. Abbott K. Rimland, Ph.D., specialist in hematology—the expert witness he and Jones had been trying for weeks to persuade to testify for the plaintiffs in their class action suit.

“My office manager called your office,” Ben answered. He was being circumspect, careful not to talk when the man was swinging. He knew from prior experience how much golfers hated that.

“Who? Karen?” The man shook his head. He was in his late fifties, but still quite handsome, graying at the temples. “I can’t imagine. She’s under strict instructions. I don’t get that much time off, and I don’t like to be bothered when I finally manage to escape.”

Ben cleared his throat. “I believe your secretary was under the impression that she was speaking to your wife.”

“What? Karen knows what my wife’s voice sounds like.”

Ben’s eyes darted toward the ground. “So does my office manager. He’s a very talented mimic.”

Dr. Rimland shook his head, then set another ball on the tee. “I suppose I have to give you points for determination. But the answer is still no.”

Ben grabbed an available driver, just to have something in his hands. “Doctor, if you’d just let me explain—”

“I explained my position in detail to your man on the phone. And I told him the matter was closed.”

“Which is why I came to see you in person. Your participation is absolutely vital to this case.”

Rimland glanced up, adjusting his sun visor. “Then you’re in big trouble, my friend.” He brought his club around and knocked another one high into the sky.

“With respect, sir, this is not just any lawsuit. This is important. We’re talking about parents who have lost their children for no good reason—”

“Spare me the soft-soap routine. I know all about the case. I read the papers.”

“Then you must know how important it is that—”

Rimland cut him off. “I already gave you my answer. No.” For the first time, a trace of annoyance crossed his face. “Look, you don’t need me. There are any number of doctors around who will take the witness stand and say whatever the hell you want, if you pay them what they ask.”

“I don’t want just any doctor,” Ben said firmly. “I want someone who is knowledgeable, someone who’s worked and researched in this field for years. I want you.”

Rimland lined up another shot. “I’m not the only scientist doing research on leukemogenesis.” He paused, smiling slightly. “Close, though.”

“I’m familiar with your work.”

“Then you must know how inconclusive it is.”

“I didn’t think so. I read the chapter you wrote in Coswell’s Case Studies in Hematology. You said that the existence of leukemia clusters was too prevalent to be coincidental. You wrote that the existence of such clusters was an undeniable medical fact.”

Rimland’s eyes stayed on the golf ball. “I was young. I may have been wrong.” The club whipped around faster than the eye could see. “But even if it’s so, what does it get you? So you’ve got a leukemia cluster. So what?”

“If clusters do occur, and it isn’t just coincidence, then something must be causing them.”

“Ay, but there’s the rub. Something must be causing them—but what?”

“That’s what I need you to explain to the jury. You’ve done the research.”

Rimland took the last golf ball out of his bucket and placed it on the tee. “Really? And suppose I tell them that TCE and perc have nothing to do with it. That they can’t possibly cause cancer.”

Ben’s lips parted. “You are up to date on my case.”

Rimland shrugged. “It’s my field.”

“I’ve read the results of the studies you did on the East Coast. You proved that both TCE and perc instigated leukemic diseases.”

“In laboratory animals. White mice developed cancers of the lymph system. But mice have decidedly different chromosomal structures, as defense counsel will undoubtedly point out. Different metabolisms. Those results don’t necessarily mean it happens that way in homo sapiens.”

“Common sense tells me—”

“But common sense won’t get you far in the courtroom, will it? You need proof.”

“I need an expert opinion. So what’s yours? Do you believe that TCE and perc are harmless to human beings?”

“No—”

“Then you have to testify—”

Rimland raised a hand. “Stop right there. Sure, I think chemically tainted water can cause leukemia. In fact, there’s not the slightest doubt in my mind. It may not be the only cause of cancer. But I find the reticence of my colleagues on this issue embarrassing. Why do we go on pretending we don’t know what causes cancer when, in some cases at least, the causes are evident? Why do we deny as scientists what is obvious to common sense?”

Ben was barely able to contain himself. “If you’ll just take the stand and say that, sir. That’s all we need. That’s all I would want you to—”

“But it wouldn’t be all you’d ask, would it?” He paused. “You’d ask me if these chemicals could cause cancer, and I’d say they could. But eventually, either you or the man on the other side would ask if the chemicals did in fact cause the leukemias suffered by the children of the plaintiffs. That is the ultimate question after all, isn’t it? And I would hem and haw. I’d say, it could’ve. Might’ve. Perhaps even, probably did. But I can’t say with absolute certainty that it in fact did.”

“All of the children were exposed to the tainted water—”

“A compelling fact, I agree. But it is still possible that their leukemia was caused by some other instigating factor. We just don’t know enough about it to trace the disease back to a single cause with certainty. After all, there were presumably dozens of other children who drank the water and did not die of leukemia.”

“My parents" kids may have had a genetic predisposition to the disease. I can live with that. It’s the eggshell skull principle. The law permits recovery, so long as I can show the defendants caused the inception of the disease.”

“Which you’ll never get from me. All I can do is affirm the possibility.”

Ben bit down on his lower lip. “Fine. I can live with that.”

The bucket of balls was exhausted. Rimland set down his club. “Mr. Kincaid, I don’t think you’ve been listening to me. I do not wish to be your witness. I’ve testified in lawsuits before, and I found it unpleasant in the extreme. It’s a dirty process. And cross-examination—”

“I’ll be in the courtroom,” Ben said. “I’ll protect you during cross.”

“That’s what they all say. But when the opposition attorney starts in, there’ll be little or nothing you can do. He’ll use everything in his power to paint me as a lunatic, a fringe scientist, a paid mouthpiece. He’ll drag out every little secret he can find. And frankly, I have a few stones I don’t want turned over.”

“Lots of major scientists have served as expert witnesses.”

“Yes, and lots have regretted it, too. I have an academic reputation to protect. I won’t endanger it. My work is too important.”

Ben realized it was time to play his trump card. “Really? I thought your work was coming to an end.”

Rimland’s eyes dimmed. “What have you heard?”

“That your project is being discontinued.”

“That’s nonsense. Just … delayed, that’s all. A momentary funding snag.”

“Then let me unsnag it. Take this job, and use the fee to revive your project.”

Rimland shook his head. “It wouldn’t be enough. Even at my hourly rate.”

“Are you sure? Think about it. You’ll have to meet with all the parents. Do medical workups on them. Review the victims" medical records. Perhaps run some tests of your own.”

“Time consuming, yes. Which is another drawback. But it still wouldn’t be nearly enough—”

“I’ll pay you fifty thousand dollars.” Ben felt his heart stop even as he said it. But he was desperate. He needed this man in the witness chair.

“You mean—as a flat fee?”

“That’s right.” It would take every penny Ben had managed to wheedle out of The Brain. But he had no choice.

“Regardless of what conclusions I reach?”

“Correct.”

“Regardless of what happens when I take the stand?”

“I’m not looking for a mynah bird, Doctor. I just want someone with unimpeachable credentials and experience in the field to take the stand and tell the jury what happened.”

Rimland touched a finger to his lips. For the first time, Ben had the impression he was considering it. “Give me twenty-four hours. I’ll get back to you.

Ben felt his heart slowly restarting. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”