The Runaway Jury Read Free Page B

size with sales of almost two billion last year. It also happened to possess, as of the last quarter, the largest cash reserves of any of the four. The timing of this trial was lousy. With a bit of bad luck, the jury might soon be shown blowups of Pynex’s financials, nice neat columns which would indicate in excess of eight hundred million in cash.
    “We’re working on them,” Fitch said. “We have soft data on eight. Four of whom might either be dead or gone. The other four are alive and expected to be in court Monday.”
    “One rogue juror can be poison,” Jankle said. He’d been a corporate lawyer in Louisville before joining U-Tab, and he always insisted on reminding Fitch that he knew more about the law than the other three.
    “I’m well aware of that,” Fitch snapped.
    “We have to know these people.”
    “We’re doing our best. We can’t help it if the jury lists here are not as current as other states’.”
    Jankle took a long drink and stared at Fitch. Fitch, after all, was a well-paid security thug, nothing remotely near the level of CEO of a major company. Call him whatever you want—consultant, agent, contractor—fact was, he worked for them. Sure hehad some clout right now, liked to swagger and bark because he was pushing the buttons, but dammit he was just a glorified thug. These thoughts Jankle kept to himself.
    “Anything else?” Fitch demanded of Jankle, as if his initial inquiry were thoughtless, as though if he had nothing productive to say then maybe he should just keep his mouth shut.
    “Do you trust these lawyers?” Jankle asked, not for the first time.
    “We’ve covered this before,” Fitch answered.
    “We can certainly cover it again if I choose.”
    “Why are you worried about our lawyers?” Fitch asked.
    “Because, well, because they’re from around here.”
    “I see. And you think it’d be wise to bring in some New York lawyers to talk to our jury? Maybe some from Boston?”
    “No, it’s just that, well, they’ve never defended a tobacco case.”
    “There’s never been a tobacco case on the Coast before. Are you complaining?”
    “They just worry me, that’s all.”
    “We’ve hired the best in this area,” Fitch said.
    “Why do they work so cheap?”
    “Cheap. Last week you were worried about defense costs. Now our lawyers are not charging enough. Make up your mind.”
    “Last year we paid four hundred bucks an hour for Pittsburgh lawyers. These guys work for two hundred. That worries me.”
    Fitch frowned at Luther Vandemeer, CEO of Trellco. “Am I missing something here?” he asked. “Is he serious? We’re at five million bucks for thiscase, and he’s afraid I’m pinching pennies.” Fitch waved in the direction of Jankle. Vandemeer smiled and took a drink.
    “You spent six million in Oklahoma,” Jankle said.
    “And we won. I don’t recall any complaints after the verdict came in.”
    “I’m not complaining now. I’m just voicing a concern.”
    “Great! I’ll go back to the office, gather all the lawyers together, and tell them my clients are upset about the bills. I’ll say, ‘Look, fellas, I know you’re getting rich off us, but that’s not good enough. My clients want you to bill more, okay. Stick it to us. You guys are working too cheap.’ That sound like a good idea?”
    “Relax, Martin,” Vandemeer said. “The trial hasn’t started yet. I’m confident we’ll be sick of our own lawyers before we leave here.”
    “Yeah, but this trial’s different. We all know that.” Jankle’s words trailed off as he lifted his glass. He had a drinking problem, the only one of the four. His company had quietly dried him out six months ago, but the pressure of the lawsuit was too much. Fitch, a former drunk himself, knew Jankle was in trouble. He would be forced to testify in a few weeks.
    As if Fitch didn’t have enough to worry about, he was now saddled with the burden of keeping D. Martin Jankle sober until then. Fitch hated him for