Bodily Harm (39 page)

Sloane looked to Reid. When they had met to discuss the settlement he had deliberately given Reid Kyle Horgan’s name, knowing that she would seek to have him found.

“Ms. Reid?” Rudolph asked.

“Mr. Sloane is correct,” she said. “We were not able to locate Mr. Horgan.”

“So he
was
disclosed.”

“Not on the witness list, Judge, but Mr. Sloane did tell me his name and the allegation that Mr. Horgan had designed the toy.”

“Then I see no prejudice.” Rudolph looked to Horgan, who stood in the gallery with Pendergrass. “Mr. Horgan, please take the stand.”

After Horgan settled into the witness chair, Sloane established where Horgan had been and why Sloane could not have disclosed him as a witness. Satisfied, Rudolph instructed Sloane to continue.

Sloane gestured to Fitzgerald, who sat forward in his chair, one hand covering his mouth and contemplating Horgan as if he were a rare artifact. “Have you ever met Mr. Fitzgerald?”

Horgan shook his head. “No.”

“Have you ever sent him any correspondence?”

“No.”

Reid stood. “Your Honor, this is really perplexing. Didn’t we just go through this exercise with Mr. Fitzgerald on the witness stand? Mr. Sloane said this man would impeach Mr. Fitzgerald and authenticate the letter. Instead he’s corroborated the testimony. This isn’t rebuttal. Mr. Horgan says he’s never met or corresponded with my client.”

“Mr. Sloane?” Rudolph asked.

“If I could ask just one more question, Your Honor?”

“It better be a good one,” Rudolph said.

But before Sloane could ask the question, the hand that had been covering Malcolm Fitzgerald’s mouth lowered.

“Oh my God,” Fitzgerald said, his voice a hushed whisper, though loud enough for everyone in the courtroom to hear.

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

CONGRESSIONAL HEARING ROOM

CAPITOL BUILDING,
washington, d.c.

Senator Joe Wallace sought to smile, but it came off as a grimace, as if he were squinting from the glare of the lights from the multiple television cameras carrying the hearing live. Wallace was no doubt perplexed. He had two reports on his desk, the first of which concluded that Chinese manufacturing plants met or exceeded the voluntary regulations enforced in the United States, and the second of which concluded that there existed no imminent threat to American consumers. Yet the contents of those two reports differed 180 degrees from the testimony a solemn Maggie Powers had just provided to California Senator Morgan Tovey, who was presiding over the hearing.

Powers had reluctantly told Tovey that a recent investigation of Chinese manufacturing facilities by a delegation from the PSA, led by its director of compliance, Albert Payne, concluded that the plants remained woefully inadequate in meeting those regulations, that most plant owners were recalcitrant toward spending the money to do so, and that corruption of government officials within the various provinces made it unlikely that any change
would take place soon. Powers had also testified that one specific problem arising in China was the use of powerful magnets in a variety of household appliances and toys that could pose a danger to American consumers, particularly children.

Powers’s report should have pleased Wallace, as it had obviously pleased Tovey. It gave the senator more than enough ammunition to ensure that the House would pass his proposed bill calling for greater funding to the PSA and stronger penalties against American manufacturers who put defective products into the stream of commerce. But Albert Payne knew that Wallace’s grimace was not from the glare of the lights.

“Are you ready?”

Payne nodded to the attorney from the Department of Justice, who sat alongside him in a room outside the hearing chambers, watching the telecast on a flat-screen television. Payne had spent the better part of his time since the night he shot Anthony Stenopolis working with the Justice Department fraud and corruption unit and with the FBI.

David Sloane had been right. Maggie Powers had not orchestrated Payne’s participation in the trip to China and ill-fated introduction to Stenopolis. Nor had Powers been responsible for getting Payne to pull the plug on Anne LeRoy’s investigation. Powers had never known about LeRoy’s report. Payne had never told her because he was concerned she would shut down the investigation. The only person Payne had confided in had been Senator Joe Wallace, who also happened to be the person instrumental in ensuring that Payne made the trip to China. When Sloane sent Payne to the senator’s home it had not been to seek his help. It had been to further flush out a snake. If Wallace was involved, as Sloane suspected, and as Wallace’s meeting with Peggy Seeley confirmed, then he would have no choice but to have Stenopolis kill Payne before Payne could take the matter
to the Justice Department. When Stenopolis showed up at Payne’s home it confirmed Wallace’s involvement.

“Pretty ingenious,” the attorney for the Justice Department said, watching the television as Wallace ran his fingers through strands of blond hair. “Coauthor a bill to make it look like you’re a proponent of the agency so no one suspects you’re the guy actually behind the efforts to ensure the bill is killed.”

Payne stood and buttoned the jacket of his new suit. He had shaved his beard and cut his hair. The rash was also gone, and his wife had commented when she kissed him that morning that he looked ten years younger.

The attorney held the door open, and Payne walked down the marbled hall. Outside the heavy wooden door to the congressional chamber he paused and took a deep breath before pulling open the door and stepping in. He stood in the entry, not moving, waiting where Wallace would have no trouble seeing him. When Wallace did, Payne took great pleasure in watching the color drain from the senator’s face.

GALAXY TOYS’ HEADQUARTERS
PHOENIX, ARIZONA

MAXINE BOLELLI CLOSED her eyes, hands clenched in fists.

“How much?” she uttered.

Beth Meyers, Galaxy’s chief financial officer, cleared her throat. “We don’t have final numbers at the moment. Kendall’s stock is continuing to . . . decline.”

“How much?”

“At present? Several hundred million dollars, pretty much all of our cash reserves.”

“Can we unload it? Make up our losses anywhere?”

Brandon Craft, Galaxy’s president, shook his head but otherwise did not speak. He had been grimacing since being summoned to Bolelli’s office, and his grimace became more pronounced with each question. Kendall’s stock plummeted with the announcement that a Seattle judge had issued a temporary injunction barring Kendall from distributing the Metamorphis action figure until further testing. Reports were circulating that Kendall had cut manufacturing corners by shipping the process to China, a decision that would save the company millions in production costs but that had resulted in defects in the plastic encasing the magnets, and that Kendall had sought to hide the defect so as not to cut into the product’s profit margin. The news had pretty much wiped out a hundred years of goodwill the company had fostered. CNN had also reported that PSA Acting Director Maggie Powers had testified at a Senate hearing on Capitol Hill late that afternoon that a report by a staff investigator, Anne LeRoy, had concluded that magnets being imported from China and used in products such as the toy in question could be dangerous to American consumers and required additional study.

“How much more do we stand to lose?”

“If the banks call in our line of credit, which is highly probable in this economy, Chapter Eleven reorganization is a distinct possibility,” Meyers said.

The intercom on Bolelli’s desk buzzed. She had asked her assistant to track down Arian Santoro.

“Put him through,” Bolelli said.

“Maxine?” The voice was pleasant, friendly, and easily recognizable. “It’s Ian Hansen from Titan Toys in Chicago. I understand you’re having a difficult afternoon.”

laurelhurst washington

BATHED IN THE soft light from an overhead antique chandelier, Sloane and Malcolm Fitzgerald stood side by side in a den the size of a basketball court. A Persian rug covered the parquet floor corner to corner, and large paintings in ornate frames hung on the dark mahogany walls and above a river rock fireplace from which emanated the smell of burnt oak. The servant who had led them into the room invited them to sit in the plush leather chairs. Sloane and Fitzgerald had declined.

The servant returned pushing a wheelchair, the man in it bent, old, and frail. Sebastian Kendall wore a dark bathrobe covering green-and-white-striped pajamas. Slippers rested on the metal footrests. But despite his physical appearance, there was something in the man’s stoic, almost defiant expression that indicated to David Sloane that Sebastian Kendall was not as frail in mind as he was in body.

Fitzgerald waited until the nurse had departed, sliding paneled doors closed behind him.

“What have you done?” Fitzgerald asked. “For God’s sake, Sebastian, what have you done?”

Earlier that afternoon, Judge John Rudolph had advised Sloane that his next question had better be a good one, and Sloane did not disappoint.

Sloane left the podium, standing in the center of the courtroom. “Kyle, have you ever met Sebastian Kendall?”

Horgan nodded. “Several times.”

Fitzgerald had slumped in his chair, chin nearly touching his chest, his complexion blending with the white courtroom walls around him.

“And when did you first meet Mr. Kendall?”

“It was about six months ago; I showed him my design for Metamorphis.”

“You just walked into the company and showed it to him?”

Horgan shook his head. “I showed it to Dee first. She told me she thought it was fantastic. She was the one who suggested that I take it to Kendall.”

“And you took her advice.”

“I tried.”

“What do you mean?” Having been to the company, Sloane knew what Horgan meant, but every detail Horgan could provide would add to the young man’s credibility.

“Kendall has a fence around the building and a guard. I couldn’t get in without an appointment. I called a few times, but they wouldn’t let me speak to anyone.”

“So what did you do?”

“I sent Mr. Kendall a copy of my design.”

“Then what happened?”

“Mr. Kendall called and said he wanted to meet me.”

“Did you meet at his office?”

“No. We met at a restaurant in Pioneer Square near where I live. Mr. Kendall bought me lunch and told me he was very excited about my design. He said he wanted his design team to make a prototype to ensure the design worked. He said if it worked, Kendall would buy it.”

“Did Sebastian Kendall ask you anything else, Kyle?”

“He wanted to know if I had shown the design to anyone.”

“Had you?”

“Just Dee, but I had forgotten about that.”

“What else did Mr. Kendall say?”

“He said he would pay me two thousand five hundred dollars if I agreed not to show anyone else the design.”

“Did you sign a document agreeing to that?”

“No. Mr. Kendall said he didn’t do business that way. He said he liked to look a man in the eye and shake his hand.”

“And did you do that?”

“Yes.”

“What happened next?”

“About a month later Mr. Kendall called me and asked for another meeting.”

“Where did this meeting take place? Was it at Kendall?”

“No. None of the meetings were at Kendall. This one was at a warehouse in Renton.”

“A Kendall warehouse?”

“I don’t think so. There was no name on it.”

“And what happened at that meeting?”

Horgan smiled, a boy’s grin. “Well, Mr. Kendall paid me the money.”

“And how did he pay you? Did he write you a check?”

“No. He gave me cash.”

“Twenty-five hundred dollars in cash?”

“Actually, it was five thousand.”

Again Sloane tried to act surprised, but everyone in the room knew this had been scripted. “Five thousand? Why five thousand?”

“Mr. Kendall said he wanted to retain me as a consultant to help with the design.”

“Was anyone else present at that meeting?”

“A man trying to build the prototype, but he was having trouble with some of my calculations. Mr. Kendall wanted him to ask me questions.”

“Did you work with the man on that prototype?”

“For about three weeks.”

“What happened next?”

“Mr. Kendall said they were going to have some kids play with
the prototypes and ask them what they thought. I was pretty excited about that.”

“Did something happen to curb your excitement, Kyle?”

Horgan nodded. “When I got home I went through the design again, the one the man and I had worked on, and that’s when I noticed the problem.”

“What problem?”

“The plastic Kendall wanted to use wasn’t strong enough. I was afraid it could crack when stressed.”

“Did you tell anyone about your concern?”

“I called Mr. Kendall.”

“What was his response?”

“He said he wanted to meet with me, that we would work it out together.”

Sloane went through the steps of establishing the next meeting. Then he asked, “Tell the court what you and Mr. Kendall discussed.”

“Well, first I gave him my letter.”

Sloane approached the clerk and asked again for Exhibit Thirty-two. Taking it, he handed it to Horgan. “Do you recognize this document?”

“That’s the letter I wrote to Mr. Kendall.”

When Horgan had left for rehab he had taken his laptop, on which he kept many of his precious designs, as well as a draft of the letter.

Sloane asked, “Is this the original?”

“No. I gave the original to Mr. Kendall when we met.”

“You didn’t mail it?”

“No.”

“Did you discuss the letter?”

“I told him I had done the calculations and I believed the plastic would be too brittle and crack too easily. I was worried that the toy wouldn’t work.”