When the door to the suite opened again, Elliott walked through, followed by Tom and a well-dressed man with coiffed hair. He looked like he had just sauntered off the set of a Hollywood movie.
“Sam,” Tom said. “This is Victor Levy.”
“I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances, Dr. Anderson, but I assure you, I’m going to do all I can for you and your daughter. We’re going to handle this situation.”
Against his will, a flicker of hope rose inside of Sam.
The group moved to the couch and chairs, sat, and Levy opened his briefcase.
“Dr. Anderson, I’m going to start by telling you how we’re going to win this case.”
“Call me Sam.”
“Sam, do you know what mutually assured destruction is?”
“Sure.”
“That’s how we win, Sam. We attack the system itself.” Levy held up his hands. “But let me back up a second. I couldn’t be here sooner because I wanted to review the evidence against you and learn about you and the other individuals involved.” He paused a moment. “Do you know the best thing about the American criminal justice system?”
Sam shook his head. The question sounded rhetorical to him.
“Do-overs.” Levy said. “If at first you don’t succeed, you try again.”
“Appeals,” Tom said.
“That’s right, Tom.” Levy put a hand on the other attorney’s shoulder. “But Absolom changed that. You can’t get an appeal for a client who no longer exists in this universe. So we’re going to have to start right there.”
Levy waited, Sam thought for dramatic effect, then proceeded.
“The first thing we’re going to do is scare the world to death. We’re going to pose a simple question: could sentencing Sam and Adeline Anderson to Absolom end the entire world? This is going to be a different kind of trial, Sam, one that will have the public enraptured. Why? Because everyone watching is going to think their lives are on the line too. It’s going to make the O. J. trial look like a box office bomb.”
“What exactly are you saying?” Tom asked.
Levy pointed to Sam. “We have one advantage here, gentlemen. Our defendant is unique in one very important way: he is one of the inventors of Absolom.”
Elliott shrugged. “Why does that matter?”
“It might not,” Levy said. “But the question is: what if it does? What if, by the act of creating Absolom, Sam is somehow tethered to it in ways we don’t understand, by some connection of quantum entanglement or a space-time mechanism we don’t fully understand? And what if, by sending him through Absolom, we somehow break the causality bridge that created our entire present existence? What if, by sentencing Sam to Absolom, we’re sentencing our entire present reality to nonexistence? Is that a chance the world can take? To punish one man and his daughter for a crime of passion—a crime we intend to sow doubt about as well?”
Elliott rolled his eyes. “That’s not even scientifically accurate.”
“Does it have to be?”
“Yes,” Elliott said, “it has to be.”
“This is a court of law, Dr. Lucas, not a laboratory. The laws of quantum physics are a bit player in the great experiment of justice. Do you know what the prevailing force is in a courtroom?”
Sam sensed that this was another rhetorical question. They were getting a real preview of Levy’s courtroom performance skills. Elliott, however, took the bait, instantly answering: “Truth.”
“Fear,” Levy shot back.
Elliott’s eyebrows bunched together. “Fear?”
“Fear, Dr. Lucas. Everyone in that courtroom is scared of something. The defendant is afraid of being convicted. Myself, I’m scared of losing—because losing trial attorneys become former trial attorneys. The DA is scared of losing, too. Because superstar DAs become attorney generals and, if they’re lucky, senators, governors, and occasionally presidents. They’re thinking about their book deal, too—and who will play them in the miniseries. The judge is thinking about their next appointment. Or election. The jury is thinking about their own reputation. In the paper and on TV, they’ll be anonymous—juror number three and juror number nine—but let’s face it: their identities will leak. Online discussion boards will be obsessed with every aspect of this trial, including the jurors. There will be a daily—even a real-time—dissection of every witness who takes the stand and every potential tell from those twelve men and women in the jury box. Their backgrounds will be exposed. Their potential biases analyzed.”
Elliott held his hands up. “I still don’t get it.”
“You’re looking at it like a scientist,” Levy said.
“I fail to see the flaw in that,” Elliott shot back.
Levy let the silence draw out. Sam thought it was to let Elliott’s momentum fade, which worked.
When Levy spoke again, his tone was almost reflective. “Gentlemen, let’s back up for a moment. Let’s look at this from the public’s point of view. Because ultimately, that’s the true court in which our first trial will be adjudicated.”
Levy spread his hands. “First, consider what the public knows about Absolom. It’s a machine that sends the world’s worst convicted criminals back in time. Serial killers. Terrorists. Genocidal dictators. War criminals. They go into the Absolom chamber, and in a flash, they are gone from this world, sent back in time, hundreds of millions of years in the past, to the age of the dinosaurs. They’ll be alone for the rest of their life. They’ll die a terrible death. And do you know what the worst part of it is?”
This time, Levy didn’t pause for dramatic effect. He pressed on. “The unknown. That’s Absolom’s true power. That’s why every person on Earth knows the phrase, ‘A fate worse than Absolom.’ Because no one knows for sure what exactly happens to those sentenced to Absolom. We just know they disappear from our world, and never come back. And that’s terrifying, even to the world’s worst criminals.”
Elliott rolled his eyes. “We know what happens to them.”
“How do you know?” Levy asked, his voice reflective.
“Entanglement proves—”
Levy quickly pointed at Elliott. “Exactly. Exactly, Dr. Elliott. Your entanglement data shows that Absolom payloads arrive in the past. And the reason the entire system works is that they don’t arrive in our past. Absolom activation branches our timeline. It makes a copy and it sends the criminal back to an alternate universe. A copy of our universe, where nothing they do can impact our reality. That’s why it’s safe, isn’t it? Because they’re utterly and truly gone from this universe. That’s why the public accepts it.”
“I wouldn’t say everyone accepts it,” Sam said.
“True,” Levy replied. “Every Absolom departure sparks protests. Since its introduction, the efforts to shut it down haven’t stopped. Because a lot of people think it’s too cruel and unusual. And even more people are, to some degree, afraid of this mysterious box. They like what it has done for society. They like getting rid of the world’s worst criminals. But they also fear it. And that fear is what we will use.
“Again, our question to the world will be: what if, in the case of Dr. Samuel Anderson, because he is one of the six inventors of Absolom, he’s entangled with it in a unique way? What if, by trying to tear him from this universe, it rips the very fabric of our reality? Can the world take that chance? Would you risk ending everything to punish one man?”
The room was quiet until Levy continued. “Fear, gentlemen. We’re going to give that courtroom a new fear. A greater fear. One that will light the world on fire. One that will apply pressure—from inside the courtroom and from outside, from every corner of the world. Mutually assured destruction. That’s what we’re talking about here.”
“Forgive me,” Tom said, “I’m not trying to throw cold water on this, but the evidence is still pretty bad.”
Levy stood, looming over the other three men. “Tom’s right. The evidence is bad: Dr. Thomas’s blood is on your hands, Sam. Actually on your hands. Adeline’s, too. They have the house on camera. You two were the only ones who entered the home before she died. You’re the only ones who could have committed the crime. I’m not going to lie to you, Sam, or give you false hope. Based on the evidence, you and your daughter will be convicted of this crime. What I’m proposing isn’t trying for an acquittal. At least, not in the first trial.”
“Then what’s the plan?” Elliott asked.
“We use the fear that an Absolom sentence could end the world to get a life imprisonment sentence. Maybe the DA will crack under the pressure and do a deal. Maybe we convince the judge at sentencing. Or perhaps we get the jury to convict of a lesser crime—one not eligible for Absolom.” Levy held his arms out. “And that’s when the real work begins, Sam.”
“Do-overs,” Tom said.
Levy drew a deep breath. “That’s right. Appeals. The world will be enraptured by Sam and Adeline’s first trial. But the sequel won’t get as much attention. And the one after that will get even less press time. Every time we appeal the case, the world will be less interested. There will be less pressure on future judges and juries. Like a ball of string, we’ll pull at the threads, and we’ll keep pulling—as long as we have to—until it all unravels and the world has virtually forgotten about Sam and his daughter. And then, one day, they’ll walk free. It’ll take years. Probably decades. But, one day, we’ll beat it.”
Sam tried to imagine what a trial like that would do to Adeline. What would years, maybe decades, in prison do to her? That only made him more sure about what he had to do.
“There’s not going to be a trial,” Sam said. “Or any appeals.”
Levy paused, studying Sam, then broke into a smile. “A man after my own heart. I like the way you think, Sam. If we can get the charges dismissed, we skip it all. But it’s a long shot. We’ll have to dig into how they collected the evidence. They’re very careful about that these days. They use robots mostly, so we can’t pick apart any biases the officers may have had.”
“Mr. Levy,” Sam said, “you’re paid to get the results the client desires, correct? Not necessarily to win.”
Levy nodded slowly. “That’s right. I work for you and your daughter, Sam. To get you the outcome you want. We take a holistic approach at the Levy Group. That includes PR and post-trial services. We can get you transferred to any prison you want—if it ends up that way.”
“What I want,” Sam said, “is to confess.”
Elliott’s head snapped around to stare at Sam.
Levy’s face was a mask of concentration.
“I’m going to tell the police that there was an altercation. During that incident, I killed Nora. Adeline tried to stop it—that’s why her prints are on the weapon. She’s innocent. I’ll take Absolom, and she goes free. That’s what I want. And I want to minimize the PR around it. I want it to be handled as quietly as possible.”
For a few seconds, no one said anything. And then Elliott exploded. “Sam, you’ve lost your mind!” He spun and spoke to Levy. “Our client is insane. We need to plead insanity. He had a nervous breakdown an hour ago.”
Sam focused on Levy. “Do I seem insane to you?”
“I’ll bite, Sam. Why do you want to confess?”
“I have my reasons.”
Levy studied him. “In my entire career, I’ve never asked a client this. But I’d like to know: did you do it, Sam?”
“I’m going to confess. With or without your help. Can you live with that as an answer?”
“I can live with that. In my work, ambiguity is the rule, not the exception.”
“How do we go about this?”
Elliott stood and gripped Sam’s shoulders. “Sam, what are you doing?”
Sam pushed Elliott away. “Stop, Elliott. I have to.”
“You can’t.”
Sam stared at his old friend. “I have to, okay? I have to.”