“Thanks, man,” Billy says.
Tyson leans closer to smile at Billy and waves a hand toward the window, beyond which the expanse of Lake Michigan stretches away to the horizon. “So? What do you think happened out there?”
Billy turns his palms up. “No idea. The NTSB report should tell us.”
The investigation will take at least two or three months. I advised Billy and Rick to keep their heads down as much as possible until the accident report is published. They’ve already been questioned by the NTSB Go Team and have turned over their maintenance records. Windy City doesn’t need to know any of that. I suspect the only reason we’re here today is to allow our hosts to pick Billy’s and Rick’s brains for ideas Windy City’s lawyers can exploit to dodge responsibility for the crash and pin the blame on their R & B “buddies.”
“Sure,” Walton says agreeably to Billy. “But what do you guys think?”
“You’re the experts,” Tyson adds while all but batting her big eyelashes. “What do you think? Bad fuel? Pilot error?”
Her second guess draws a sharp look of disapproval from Walton. No surprise there. The pilot was his niece. It looks as if he intends to protect Megan… at least at this early stage. “Structural failure seems to be a possibility,” he says, pointing the finger away from the pilot and squarely at R & B.
Yeah, yeah, you’re all in this together.
Billy shrugs uncomfortably. Rick’s eyes narrow as he says, “The maintenance was all current.”
“It was supposed to be, anyway,” Tyson says enigmatically, showing the first card the Windy City owners are likely to play in their bid to pin the blame on R & B.
Walton taps the lawsuit paperwork. “According to the plaintiff’s lawyers, our plane fell out of the sky for no apparent reason, my friends. They contend this was almost certainly due to faulty maintenance—either mechanical failure or structural failure, both of which point directly at you guys, right?”
“That’s bullshit,” Rick mutters.
“That remains to be seen,” Walton says as he sits forward and smiles at Billy. “That leaves you vulnerable, buddy. We can help. We’ll have your back, but we have to work together to do so.”
Billy’s shoulders relax. Walton, apparently seeing him as R & B’s potential weak link, is trying to lure him into the trap of trusting his so-called partners. It’s time for me to enter the fray.
I lean in and smile at Walton. “Let’s all remember that you folks are the lead defendant in this lawsuit.”
My intervention surprises Walton, whose eyes cut to me before turning back to Billy. He looks like a predator whose prey has just escaped its grasp.
“There’s a reason for that,” I continue. “R & B is just an add-on defendant. Same with the fuel vendor and the airport.” I pause and make eye contact in turn with Walton, Tyson, and Franklin. “You folks do get that, don’t you?”
The Windy City three exchange glances. Walton’s smugness has faltered, Franklin looks genuinely worried, and Tyson is once again eying me suspiciously.
“Sure, sure, but we’re all vulnerable,” Walton says as his eyes again settle on Billy. “We’ve got good lawyers, buddy. The best. The more we can tell them about possible causes for the accident, the better.”
“And the sooner, the better,” Franklin chimes in.
I think back to the video of the NTSB Go Team media briefings I watched this morning while I prepared for this meeting. I can still hear the flat recounting of the facts being delivered in the bureaucratic legalese so typical of government spokespersons. Based upon air traffic control radar, the established facts of the accident are: The Windy City Cessna was flying straight and level in an eastward direction at an altitude of 3,100 feet and a groundspeed of seventy-three knots when it began to lose speed and altitude beginning at 9:03:15 a.m. By 9:04:05 a.m., the airplane had descended to 2,800 feet and was traveling at sixty-eight knots. The NTSB had no opinion on whether the pilot was executing a planned descent, but nothing in the flight profile indicated otherwise. At least not for twenty-two more seconds, at which time the plane was traveling fifty-seven knots at an altitude of 2,100 feet. The final sentence of the briefing has stuck in my mind, perhaps because the dispassionate recitation of tragedy had been so utterly bereft of emotion. “At 09:04:27 the aircraft initiated an abrupt left turn, at which point the aircraft commenced a vertical descent. Radar contact was lost at 09:04:41.”
“Billy and Rick were right earlier,” I say. “The NTSB investigation will get to the bottom of what happened. Of course, that report can’t be used in court, so anything that gets said at this stage could turn out to be a problem. It’s probably best for all of us to sit back and let things play out.”
Perhaps aware that I’m onto their scheme, Walton gives me a long, decidedly unfriendly look.
Tyson slams an open palm on the tabletop and explodes, “You’re a fucking lawyer! You helped your father get away with murder!”
Recognition dawns on Franklin’s face, as well. “You shot down Titan Development’s plans in Cedar Heights, too, didn’t you?”
Penelope apparently called things correctly. I’m famous!
Walton shoots to his feet and levels an accusing finger at me. “You didn’t tell us you’re a fucking lawyer! That’s unethical!” A sly smile curls his lips. “I’ll have your balls for this. Kiss your law license goodbye, asshole.”
I smile back. “As Billy told you off the top, I’m just here doing a favor for a friend. I haven’t been retained to represent R & B.”
Walton snorts and waves my comment aside. “I think it’s time for you gentlemen to leave.”
I lock eyes with him as I languidly get to my feet. “With partners like you folks, it’s pretty clear that Billy and Rick will need their own lawyers.”
Walton’s color is up as he points at the door. “Get the fuck
