“But how do you feel?” Ridge looked Terry up and down. “Dizzy? Concussed?”
“Stupid. Just sat here while two or more guys had their way with the place.”
Ridge snorted. “Shit happens.”
“Not to me, Kemosabe,” Terry said with a grimace. “But at least I figured out what they hit me with.”
“What?”
Terry pointed to a thick hard-covered book on the floor near the Vault door.
“Damn,” said Ridge. “That’s my copy of the Standard California Codes. Has only four of the 29 code sections, but the most popular ones. It’s gotta be four inches thick.”
“I felt all four inches of it.”
“Most people use the digital versions, but I like the feel of the top four in one volume.”
“You would.” Terry rolled his eyes. “Me? Not so much. Whoever hit me probably had to use two hands to swing the damn thing.”
Ridge laughed and looked at his watch. “It’s two in the morning. Shouldn’t we go to the ER?”
“And spend hours waiting for them to tell me I got bashed on the head, but I’m gonna be fine? No thanks. Let’s just lock up. Not worth calling the cops now. Nothing seems missing, and I need to get some shut-eye. But in the morning, you and Kate should re-check the files around the office. Make sure everything’s in place. And then please, ask her to file a police report. Breaking and entering. Assault. Battery. Robbery. And anything else you can think of .”
“OK.”
“And one more thing. Have her order a new edition of the California Codes for you—this time, in soft cover.”
“Roger that.”
CHAPTER 26
On Tuesday morning at 9 a.m., Ridge and Kate searched the entire office. Nothing missing. In fact, nothing seemed disturbed, except Ridge’s copy of the Codes and some individual folders, within case file drawers, that Kate found slightly out of place. “But that could just be lawyers, paralegals or interns,” said Kate, “replacing folders in the files without paying attention. Truthfully, I’m always reminding them to do it right—so we can find things when we need them. It’s an on-going battle.”
Ridge grinned. “One I know you’ll win in the end. In the meantime, please file that police report. I don’t think it’ll go anywhere, but at least we’ll have a record of the B&E. Also make sure they check the cover on my copy of The Codes for fingerprints. They’ll probably come up empty. Gloves. I’m sure. But still…and Kate, one last thing, let’s change the locks on the outside door and add a dead bolt.”
“Got it. Did Terry get a doctor to look at his head?”
“Don’t think so. He said he was fine. I know he was in a rush to get up to Goleta today. But when he calls in, don’t hesitate to remind him. A check-up won’t hurt him.”
“You know I will.”
Ridge smiled knowingly but said nothing.
By noon, Ridge was back home getting ready for Phoenix. He packed his overnight bag with his suit, his laptop and files, a baseball cap to hide the stitches, and his aviator sunglasses. His blackened eyes were now a pleasant shade of purple, and even that was fading quickly. Still, it wasn’t pretty.
On the way to the airport, Jayne reported that she’d called the vet and that Pistol was holding her own, but that Pistol, being Pistol, was restless in her cage. Worried about infection, the doc decided to keep her sedated until her stitches were fully mended. “She probably won’t be ready to come home until Friday,” she said.
“Can we visit her tomorrow evening, when I get back?”
“I’ll call the vet and ask. I miss the crazy thing,” Jayne said with a laugh. “Doesn’t seem like home without her.”
After a goodbye kiss at the curb that knocked Ridge’s baseball cap sideways, he asked Jayne to call and check-in on Terry. “He’s probably in Goleta already but tell him my return flight should get in at about 4 tomorrow. If he can pick me up, I’d like to get his updates on the Goleta trip and the Millsberg case, and make sure he’s OK—with my own eyes.”
“Will do. But if Terry can’t pick you up, I’ll be here. I don’t start my next gig until Thursday.” She reached up for another kiss, this time holding his cap in place. “You have a great flight and a helluva a day in court tomorrow. I’ll be spending the night with Mister.”
He smiled and touched the tip of her nose with a single finger. “You two take care of each other.”
Ridge entered the terminal, snaked through security, boarded, and took his seat. Just as the flight attendant said: “All electronic equipment must be shut down,” Ridge’s cellphone vibrated. A text from Jayne: Terry didn’t answer. Left vm. Will try again later.
Ridge powered down his cellphone and started looking for gold in the hearing docs.
After landing in Phoenix, Ridge took a taxi to the hotel, and arrived at 4 p.m. After checking-in and putting his clothes in the closet, he turned back to preparing for the hearing. It was scheduled for 10 a.m. but Ridge decided he’d arrive at 9. The case before his hearing involved a challenge to the CIA’s authority to conduct certain operations on U.S. soil. Having just had that conversation with Terry and since he’d once worked with the CIA, Ridge wanted to hear the arguments. In addition, it was always helpful to see the judge in action and witness his or her demeanor and attitude with other attorneys before your case was called.
Of course, Ridge’s focus remained on his client. It was a critical hearing in a drop-dead case-over motion for summary judgment brought by a defense contractor in a military air crash case. Ridge represented the family of the pilot who died after his plane caught fire and he tried to eject. When he had pulled the triggers on the ejection seat, nothing happened. He crashed in the desert, some twenty miles south of Luke Air Force Base in Arizona. The post-crash investigation determined that a solid-rocket motor in the ejection system had fizzled due to a design that packed too much explosive in too small a space. No question. The design was defective. Everyone, including the defense, agreed on that point. Easy case to win, right? Wrong.
Federal law gave the government immunity, a free pass, for a defective design that killed a serviceman, in war or peace. In fact, the military contractor responsible for the “nuts and bolts” design could get a free pass too. Even if Ridge showed that the manufacturer put profits before safety, failed to test adequately, and was motivated by greed, the same immunity applied to the contractor, with only few exceptions, whenever a defect killed a serviceman. Such was federal law, as first declared in Boyle v. United Technologies, a case that went all the way to the Supreme Court. Motions to dismiss had been brought by defense contractors ever since Boyle was decided.
This particular Boyle motion, all 1,500 pages of it, was filed by the defendant contractor to end the lawsuit and leave Ridge’s clients, the pilot’s widow and their two small children, with little recourse. Happily, Ridge’s firm enjoyed one of the best records in the country proving that the few exceptions under Boyle applied in their cases. They had already won 12 out of 12 Boyle motions brought in 12 different federal cases across the nation. But this was case 13. And each case had different facts, a different judge, and its own challenges. So, Ridge couldn’t ask one of his associates to cover the hearing. Next to actual trial itself, this was the most critical event in any military air crash litigation. Life or death for the case. Justice or not for the widow and her two fatherless children.
CHAPTER 27
It was time. At precisely 6 p.m. on Tuesday, Hess began administering LSD-laced sedatives to the Golden-Haired Boy.
“Because of this and my other arrangements, this evening will be a great success,” said Hess to One
