She arrived on time, and we shook hands before taking our seats opposite each other at our corner table. I hadn’t seen Kiah for quite some time, and I’d heard that she’d had some kind of trouble that had made her close her office for a while, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. But she looked really great. There was something different about her. She was dressed less formally, for one thing. Whenever I’d seen her in the past she had looked like your stereotypical female corporate lawyer: the dark suit, the starched white blouse, the heels and all the rest of it. That had all changed. She was still smartly dressed, but there were colours now: red, green and gold; a light jacket and grey slacks had replaced the suit, and the shoes were low and comfortable-looking. There was a confidence about her, an openness. She looked around her.
I perused the menu for a moment, although I knew it like the back of my hand. A board propped up by the door advertised daily specials of chili con carne and homemade lasagna.
‘So, this is where you government boys have lunch these days?’
‘Yeah. On our salary, it’s all we can afford. We can’t compete with you rich guys in the private sector.’
‘Right. I still can’t talk you into Indian food, then?’
‘I’d love to, Kiah, but I can’t do spicy any more. I took Maria out for Mexican last week and I was up half the night with heartburn. I must be getting too old.’
‘We have some very nice mild Indian dishes, not spicy at all. You really should try. How is Maria? How’s the family?’
‘They’re great, thanks. Maria is doing some volunteer work with the library now the kids are older, and Raul and Cindy are both future soccer stars already.’
She laughed. ‘That’s great.’
‘Yeah, you should see them. It makes me tired just watching them.’
‘Soccer scholarships on the horizon, you think?’
‘Scholarships? Hey, I’m way beyond that. I’m thinking they may go play for one of those big teams in Europe, you know, Real Madrid or Barcelona. Make some money for their old man.’
We laughed together.
‘How is…?’ I paused. I couldn’t remember his name. I was embarrassed. She must have told me, because I remembered he was an attorney who did banking law or something of the kind for a mid-sized firm in the District, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember.
‘Jordan? Jordan is gone. Jordan is long gone.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Kiah…’
‘Don’t be,’ she replied, ‘I’m not.’ She paused for a moment, then smiled. ‘Best thing that ever happened to me – well, almost.’ She paused again. ‘So… what’s good here?’
We both examined the menu again until the moment passed.
‘The soup and salad is always good, same with the baked potatoes. The burger is OK.’
We both settled for soup and salad with iced tea, and returned the menus to the waiter.
‘So, I brought something for you.’
‘Oh?’
I leaned down and picked up the envelope, which I had propped up against the leg of my chair. I handed it to her. I intended the gesture to be casual. I wanted to watch her as she took it, and as she opened it. I didn’t want to ambush her. With other lawyers I might have relished the moment for its own sake, but I thought far too much of Kiah to want to embarrass her. I just wanted to see her reaction. I had overlooked the statute of limitations because the case went so far back in time, until Ellen had pointed it out to me as the first and most obvious line of defense. It seemed inconceivable that two of us could have been thrown off track by the same illusion. But could it be? Kiah was a veteran of the Claims Court; a lawyer of her calibre would surely never have filed suit without at least thinking about the limitation period. But if so, she must have worked out some strategy for getting around it, and I couldn’t even imagine what it might be. The limitation period is technical and inflexible, and 200 years is a long time. I was curious about what, if anything, she had come up with.
‘What’s this?’
‘Government’s defence and motion to dismiss based on the statute of limitations.’
It was just the briefest of moments. She hesitated very slightly in the act of unsealing the envelope, but it was enough to tell me what I wanted to know. She had been blinded by the age of the case, just as I had. I felt certain of it. I knew what effect it must have had. She would have been feeling as if someone had just punched her right in the solar plexus. The room would have gone dark for a moment, and then her heart would have started racing. She recovered magnificently.
‘Statute of limitations?’
‘Yeah. You get six years in the Claims Court. You know that. By our calculations, you missed the deadline by more than 200 years.’
She leaned forward in her chair.
‘Have you listed your motion for a hearing?’
I nodded. ‘One week from today. I didn’t see any reason to delay, but if you need an extension to respond, just let me know; I won’t oppose it.’
She nodded. ‘Who’s our judge?’
‘Tomorrow,’ I replied.
I didn’t mean I would tell her tomorrow. Our judge was to be the Honourable Thomas Oliver Morrow, one of the more senior judges of the court. Given his name, the nickname became almost inevitable, and the bar had bestowed it on him just after his appointment some fourteen years before. The allocation of judges is in theory random, though I have always suspected that the clerk occasionally assigns a case on the basis of a feeling about what kind of judge the case needs. I wasn’t sure whether that had happened here or not. I started with the assumption that none of the judges would be too enthusiastic about being asked to order the government to pay out however many billions of dollars Kiah was claiming. On the other hand, there would be those who would relish a brush with history, as I did.
I found it difficult to predict Tomorrow’s reaction to it. He is a good, thoughtful lawyer, and more than capable of rising above the mundane world of insurance claims and government contracts that occupy most of his working week. But as to which way he would go in our case if presented with an arguable question, I felt far less sure. Tomorrow had been a Marine legal officer earlier in life. In one way that might be good for the government. He would be mindful of the need to protect the federal budget from any damage that might impact military spending. Harry and Ellen both thought that was the way he would go, for that reason alone. I wasn’t entirely persuaded. As a former military officer, he might also have some sympathy with the idea that an unsung hero who had saved America’s earliest army deserved proper recognition. And that was an idea Kiah might be very well equipped to sell him.
She nodded again, but made no comment. She smiled.
‘I’m disappointed in you, Dave,’ she said. ‘The statute of limitations? Are you really going to get technical on me just because of 200 years?’
I returned the smile.
‘Yeah, sorry about that. Government work. You know how it is. We have to tick all the boxes.’
I couldn’t leave it at that.
‘Kiah, to tell you truth, I’m really sorry to have to do this. I’m going to miss this case.’
‘You seem very confident that Tomorrow will grant your motion to dismiss.’
‘He has no choice. In the Claims Court, failure to file in time takes away the court’s jurisdiction. You know that as well as I do. What else can he do?’
She was giving nothing away. She waited for some time.
‘So, Dave, tell me: why will you miss the case?’
I laughed out loud.
‘Kiah, are you kidding me? Do you know what I usually do all day?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Then you’ll understand. This is the most interesting file ever to cross my desk in all my years of practicing law. I actually look forward to getting up in the mornings. The entire office is jealous of me. They all want in on this. Hell, we practically have to keep the file locked up in case somebody steals it.’
‘Well, in that case, why don’t you forget about the statute of limitations? Fight me on the merits. Dive into history with me. Have some fun.’
‘You know what? I really wish I could.’ I meant it. ‘But unfortunately, I have people higher up in the office, not to mention the Attorney General, not to mention the President, who seem to think that getting rid of this as quickly as possible is the way to go.’
We were silent, awkwardly, for a minute or so.
‘Kiah, can I ask you something?’
‘Of course.’
‘You don’t have to answer, but I’m curious. What do your people want out of this? Assume you had a fairy godmother who could wave her magic wand and find you a way around the statute of limitations. I don’t think that’s possible, but just suppose for a moment. What is it you want? I assume you realise that there’s no way the government could pay even a fraction of what you’re asking for?’
‘We’re open to reasonable offers. Perhaps a small state no one would miss? How about Rhode Island?’
We laughed together again.
‘Hey, why not? Tell you what, I’ll speak to the President about it and get back to you. What else?’
‘Dave, the van Eyck family aren’t crazy people. They’re not vindictive. They’re as patriotic as you or me or the next family. They don’t want to bankrupt the country. They just want Jacob to be recognised for the hero he is. He deserves his place in history.’
‘So…?’
‘So the government will erect a statue to Jacob van Eyck in Philadelphia,’ she replied, ‘and the President of the United States will unveil it.’
I must have stared at her for a long time. I could have said nothing, I suppose, but that wasn’t the way I felt. Her words had had an effect on me.
‘You know what, Kiah, if the facts are as you say in your Complaint – if Jacob van Eyck really did what you say he did – I wouldn’t have any problem with that. I truly wouldn’t. But there are some people above me who probably don’t share that view. So first, you’re going to have to find a way to beat the statute of limitations, and I don’t see any way you can do that.’
‘I have a call in to my fairy godmother,’ she smiled.
‘Tell her I said good luck,’ I replied.