True. Rodney Szarnek had told them that it was cheaper and easier for the smart controller companies to use old, easily hacked software, stripped of certain functions, than write new code, to save money and get the products to market sooner.
The spamming refrigerators...
"So, negligence and strict liability. I'll probably add that breach of warranty claim too. There's nothing wrong with the kitchen sink strategy when suing a wealthy defendant."
"You'll try for a settlement, of course."
"Yes. They know I'd bring into evidence all of the other incidents--Mr. Benkoff's stove, the microwave in the theater, the cars taken control of. It would be a public relations nightmare for CIR to fight it in court. And I could get a jury to bleed them anemic, if not dry, with punitive damages. Like a vampire."
Ah, the somber lawyer had a sense of humor after all.
"I won't get fifty million but I'll negotiate a reasonable amount. Which brings me to why I'm here. There are some evidentiary issues that you'll have to address before I send the complaint to Mr. Frost, the CIR attorn
ey, and begin the horse trading."
A pause.
"I'm afraid I can't help you with that."
"No? May I ask why not?"
"I'm helping the DA prepare the criminal case. There'd be a conflict of interest if I were to continue helping you."
"I see. Of course. I'm sorry to hear that. True, I don't want to jeopardize the civil trial."
"No."
"I must say, though, it's important to marshal our cause of action as formidably as we can. There cannot be any gaps in the case we present to the defendant. And the evidence is vital to that. I need an expert. Is there anyone you can think of, Mr. Rhyme? Anyone at all?"
"Hello, Rose."
The elderly woman opened her eyes. "Lincoln. You came for a visit. Good to see you."
With her non-IV'd arm she brushed at her hair, though it was perfectly well assembled. Amelia Sachs had fixed her sleeping mother's coiffure when she and Rhyme had arrived in the recovery room not long before.
"Where's Amie?"
"Talking to the doctor about when you get to go home. What you can do and can't."
"I'm supposed to start walking tomorrow. Who would have thought? Cut you open, fix your ticker... and start you on marathons. Hardly fair. I'd hoped to bask in sympathy for at least a week or two."
Rose didn't look as pale as he'd expected. In fact, she looked healthier. The improved circulation, Rhyme supposed. He thought momentarily of Alicia Morgan. A small, obscure object, a product within the family car, had changed her life for the worse, forever. And small obscure objects here, in a hospital, had just added years to a life that, otherwise, could have ended abruptly at any minute. In the same way a variety of things kept Rhyme himself alive and functioning.
Then he chuckled at the overwrought thinking. He was here to visit his future mother-in-law.
Rose's room was a good one, and happened to look out over a park across the street, a portion of it at least. He commented on the view.
She glanced through the window. "Yes, it is. It is. Though I must say I was never one of those people who went for a room with a view. What occurs in rooms is far more interesting, don't you think?"
He couldn't have agreed more.
No questions about how she was feeling, the hospital food, the trivia that visitors ask patients by rote. Rhyme had noted on the nightstand one of Stephen Hawking's books. He'd read it some years ago. They fell into a lively discussion about the big bang theory.
A nurse arrived, a handsome man, solid, with a rich Caribbean accent.
"Mrs. Sachs. Ah, you have a famous visitor."
Rhyme was inclined to offer a dismissive grimace but for her sake simply nodded and smiled.