Sam had to decide who to trust. For some reason, Elliott wasn’t one of those people.
“It all just sort of caught up with me. I’m fine.”
“We’re going to figure this out. Victor Levy should be here within the hour.”
When Elliott was gone, Sam glanced at the clock on the wall.
It was 1:43 p.m.
He had a decision to make. And soon.
NINE
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.”