THE 21ST FLOOR hallway holds only a smattering of reporters this afternoon. There will be no courtroom shenanigans; the pretrial conference will be held in chambers. Still, a few reporters mill about outside Judge Wilson’s door hoping to land a quick statement or two from an attorney on the way in or out. They can always depend on Sparks for a snappy quote. Vera Paulson wanders over to Catherine and Emma. “Word on the street is that Britta Stein is still bedridden in the hospital,” she says. “Are you seeking a continuance?”
“How do you know that?” Emma says.
“Oh, honey, everyone knows. You can’t keep secrets in this town.”
Catherine steps in. “Vera, I’m not sure what we’re going to do yet and that’s the truth. We’ll have to see what happens this afternoon in our conference.”
Vera pouts. “I thought we were friends, Catherine. You’re not coming to court without a plan. I know you have a plan. What is it?”
Catherine smiles. “Buckle up.”
The general commotion picks up a bit as Sterling Sparks comes out of the elevator and struts down the hall. A few smiles, a few boasts, a wink at Janie, and Sparks heads into the courtroom. According to Wilson’s standing pretrial order, clients are required to be present in case there are decisions that need client approval. Ole walks in with Sparks and takes a seat in the courtroom. His jaw is set. He is ready for the face-off.
“Where is Mrs. Stein today?” Sparks asks, feigning surprise. He knows the answer. Catherine ignores the question and arranges her papers.
Wilson’s clerk enters the room, announces the case and states that the pretrial will be held in the judge’s chambers. “Attorneys only,” he says, and Ole retakes his seat. Sparks says, “I’ll come out in a few minutes, Ole. I’m sure this won’t take long.”
OBADIAH WILSON IS sitting at his desk in his corner office. Behind him through the plate glass windows, the Chicago skyline forms a majestic backdrop. There are mementos on his desk and on his bookshelves: leadership awards, civic honors, pictures with the high and mighty. Framed photographs of his grandchildren. In the center of his credenza are the two framed Playbills from the 1976 Metropolitan Opera’s production of Simon Boccanegra in which he sang the principal role. In moments of stress, Wilson stares at those Playbills and wonders what life would have been like had he stayed on that track. He gestures with an open hand to Catherine, Emma and Sparks to be seated in the three chairs before his desk.
Sparks takes his seat and immediately speaks up. “I know that Ms. Lockhart is going to ask you for a continuance this morning, your honor. Her client is not here today, in violation of your standing order. She’s going to claim that her client is ill and in the hospital. Now, I’m not casting any aspersions, but I’ve seen that trick pulled many times. People check themselves into a hospital to avoid going to court and facing the music. If Lockhart’s going to ask you for a long continuance, it proves what I’ve been saying all along: that they want to kick this can down the street until both parties are dead. I want to know if Lockhart has brought a doctor’s note with her this morning.”
“It’s Ms. Lockhart,” Catherine says curtly. “And I have not.”
The judge puts his reading glasses on, opens his calendar and turns the pages. “I heard that Mrs. Stein was ill,” he says. “I don’t have another opening for a trial until next January. I can put you in the week of January 22.”
Sparks jumps to his feet. “That’s months away. I told you she’d do this. My client is ninety-five years old and he’ll have to live with these false accusations for another seven months! That’s extremely, severely prejudicial to my client.”
Wilson disgustedly shakes his head. “She’s in the hospital, Mr. Sparks. With a heart condition that she didn’t fake, am I correct, Ms. Lockhart?”
Catherine nods. “We hope for the best, but that is her current condition.”
“Well,” Wilson says, “here’s what we’ll do: I’ll give you the January date. If one of my scheduled trials settles, I’ll give you both a call and if Mrs. Stein’s health has improved, we’ll slot you in. I think that is fair to both parties. As for today, why don’t we go ahead with the pretrial while we’re all here. Fair enough?”
“Actually, that wouldn’t be fair to Mrs. Stein,” Catherine says. “I’m not ready for this pretrial conference today through no fault of my client. Normally we would sit here and exchange witness lists and pre-mark our exhibits. I’m unprepared to do that because my client is lying in a hospital and can’t work with me. Additionally, the rules give Mr. Sparks the right to seek an order requiring me to produce my client at the time of trial for testimony, and I can’t guarantee that I can do that. I can’t tell you when I will have my witness list or exhibits ready for a second pretrial conference.”
“I don’t care!” says Sparks with a sneer. “I don’t need to see her witness list or her pre-marked exhibits, and I’ll waive my right to an order that Mrs. Stein appear at trial. The only reason that I would call her is to prove that she wrote all those despicable and defamatory signs on my client’s property. I don’t care why she wrote them, or how she wrote them, or what hobgoblin came to her in the middle of the night and instructed her to paint those lies. I only need to prove that the words are hers and that she painted them.”
“Oh,” says Catherine, “in that case, we’ll stipulate to the signs, your honor. We don’t deny that Mrs. Stein wrote those words. As to the court’s suggestion, I do think it’s fair. Both the plaintiff and the defendant are in their nineties, and we don’t know how many more days God will grant them. A long-term continuance may not work. Especially for Mrs. Stein, whose health condition is perilous. As long as I have Mr. Sparks’s waiver of witness lists and pre-marked exhibits, I propose that we not give up our trial date next week in the hopes that Mrs. Stein’s health improves. Next week, if she’s not any better, then we can do what you suggest and wait for an opening.”
“Agreed,” Sparks says quickly.
Judge Wilson raises his eyebrows. “Under the circumstances, with the agreed stipulation, and barring notification from Ms. Lockhart that Mrs. Stein is not well enough to proceed, we will keep our trial date next Monday as scheduled.”
Sparks leaves the courtroom with a Cheshire grin and the reporters flock around him. “Trial next week, folks. Lace ’em up,” they hear Sparks say. Emma and Catherine stroll over to the elevators. “So, we followed Bubbe’s instructions and didn’t continue the case. And Sparks is going to trial next week, and he doesn’t know who our witnesses are, and he doesn’t know what our evidence will be,” Emma says quietly. “That was masterful.”
Catherine shrugs. As the elevator doors open, Vera catches up with them.
“Sparks says you’re going to trial next week. Is that right?” Catherine nods. Vera smiles. “That was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” Catherine winks and holds her finger to her lips.
TWO DAYS LATER, five days until trial, Catherine and Emma are sitting with Liam in Catherine’s office prepping for trial. Several documents and booklets are spread on the conference room table. Much of it consists of materials Liam has brought with him from Denmark. “I don’t read Danish,” Catherine says. “We need to get all of this translated right away. This registry from the Copenhagen harbormaster, the one identifying boat BC2342, has it been authenticated?”
Liam taps on the corner of the document. “That is the government seal. The document is authenticated, but I don’t know what it says either. Something to do with the city of Copenhagen and the authority to operate the harbor, and that it is an official government document. I’ve been told that the information on the two pages concerns the ownership and disposition of boat BC2342.”
“Were you ever able to get the employee roster from Simmons Manufacturing?” Catherine asks.
Liam shakes his head. “I don’t think it exists anymore, so I don’t think we can prove he worked there. But I was able to obtain information about the products manufactured and sold by Simmons to Nazi Germany. Like I told you, they manufactured ball bearings and turrets to German specifications for use on the Panzer tanks. They also made the swivels that supported the machine guns on the hoods of the tanks.”
“How do we prove that?”
Liam takes out another sheaf of papers. “These are official records from the German archives. They were developed postwar to identify companies that supported the Nazi war effort. They were sent to me by Gunther Strauss. Do you remember him?”
“Is he the lawyer in Berlin?”
“Right. He helped us when we were litigating Gabi’s property in Italy by producing the official trust records for VinCo Winery that proved the beneficiaries were former Nazi officers and their sons. Last week, Gunther sent me copies of pages from the postwar trials. They clearly show Simmons was a supplier of war materials, and again, those are official government documents, and they have been authenticated.”
“Did you find any records of a Blue Shirt Club or the Blue Storm Club?”
“No. There were lots of teenage clubs in those days; some were saboteurs, some were sympathizers, and I assume many were just social clubs. Not that many clubs are officially identified. I did bring you authenticated court records from prosecutions of other clubs and club members.”
Catherine turns to Emma. “I need to know what shade of blue the boys in the Blue Shirt Club were wearing. Let’s take an assortment of blue paint samples and see if Britta can remember the color of the shirts. You saw her this morning, what’s the word on her condition?”
“Determined. She had the nurses put her into a wheelchair and push her around the fifth floor twice before I got there. After a while, I took her for a ride myself. With help, she can get in and out of the chair but it’s hard for her. Her left side is useless.”
“How is her speech?”
Emma grimaces. “Very slow and deliberate, but better. Sometimes it’s not easy to make out what she’s saying.” Emma shakes her head. “Words don’t sound like they should. It’s hard for her to articulate, but she’s trying.”
“Will the doctors release her for Monday?”
“It doesn’t seem likely.”
“In the event she is released and can come to trial, we need to prepare her. Let’s do that tomorrow.”