The Steel Kiss (Lincoln Rhyme 12)

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nbsp; "A good question, Ms. Archer. Also researched by Ms. Schroeder. I'm afraid, though, that the answer is no. Because Midwest Conveyance seems to be the only escalator manufacturer on earth that makes a product with the ill-chosen feature of a pop-up access panel. However, she did find an elevator manufacturer whose cars have a cutoff--to apply the brakes in the event the car starts to move when a worker is in the shaft with the access panel open."

"And that would be a good case to cite," Archer said, "since 'escalator' sounds a lot like 'elevator.'"

Impressing Whitmore once again apparently. "It does indeed. I've found there's an art to subliminally guiding the jury to favor your client. Now, again, I don't intend to go to trial but I'll include a reference to those cases when I contact Midwest Conveyance about settlement. Now we have our theory. A sound one. A good one. I'll spend the next few days preparing the complaint. After we file I'll subpoena the company's engineering records, history of complaints, safety reports. If we're lucky we might find a CBA memo that shoots them in the foot."

Archer asked what that was; apparently her TV show legal education had failed her on this point. As for Rhyme, he had no clue either.

Whitmore added, "Cost-benefit analysis. If a company estimates that ten customers a year will die because of its carelessness in building a product and that it will have to pay out wrongful death judgments of ten million dollars in compensation but that it will cost twenty million dollars to fix the problem ahead of time, the manufacturer may choose to release the product anyway. Because it's economically more sound."

"Companies actually make that calculus?" Archer asked. "Even though they're signing death warrants for those ten people?"

"You may have heard of U.S. Auto. Not too long ago. An engineer wrote an internal memo that there could be gasoline leaks, resulting in catastrophic fires, in a very small percentage of sedans. It would cost X amount to fix it. The management decided it was cheaper to pay the wrongful death or personal injury judgments. And they went with that decision. Of course the company's out of business now. The memo came to light and they never recovered from the public relations disaster. The moral of the story, of course, is--"

Archer said, "To make the ethically right choice."

Whitmore said, "--to never commit decisions like that to paper."

Rhyme wondered if he was joking. But there was no smile accompanying the words.

Whitmore continued, "I'm assembling information on Mr. Frommer's earning potential--how he would have returned to a white-collar job like he used to have. Managerial. To increase our claim for future earning potential. I'll take depositions from the wife and his friends, former fellow workers. Expert medical witnesses on the pain and suffering he experienced. I want to hit Midwest with everything we can. A case like this, I believe, they'll do whatever they must to avoid trial."

His phone hummed and he glanced at the screen.

"It's Ms. Schroeder, in my office. Maybe some new cases we can use." He answered. "Yes?"

Rhyme noticed that the attorney had stopped moving. Completely. Not a twist of neck, shift of weight. He stared at the floor. "You're sure? Who told you?... Yes, they're credible." At last a splinter of emotion crossed the man's face. And it wasn't positive. He disconnected. "We have a problem." He looked around the room. "Is there any way we could set up a Skype call? And I need to do so immediately."

"You have a minute?" Nick Carelli asked Amelia Sachs.

She was thinking, manically because of her shock at his presence, how odd it was that he didn't look much different, all these years later. All these years spent in prison. Only his posture had changed. Still in good shape otherwise, he was now slouching.

"I... I don't..." Stammering and hating herself for it.

"I was going to call. Thought you'd hang up."

Would she have? Of course. Probably.

"I came by, gave it a shot."

"Are you...?" Sachs began. And thought: Finish your goddamn sentences.

He laughed. That low, happy laugh she remembered. Took her right back, a wormhole to the past.

Nick said, "No, I didn't escape. Good behavior. Called me a model prisoner. Parole board, unanimous."

Summoning reason, at last. If she got rid of him fast, maybe he'd try to come back later. Hear him out now. Be done with it.

She stepped outside and closed the door. "I don't have much time. I've got to get my mother to the doctor's."

Shit. Why say that? Why tell him anything?

His brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"Some heart issues."

"Is she--"