“I do,” Sarah said. “If you look at the documents Hector sent me,” she said, indicating one of the young associates in the room, “you’ll see all the internal memoranda about Mason Manufacturing’s labor problems. They finally had to notify their customers—including Atheena—that they wouldn’t be able to deliver their orders on time. When you compare all the various timelines, you’ll see there’s a gap when Mason fell behind by about a hundred thousand units. I’m willing to bet Atheena went somewhere else during that period of time, and found another supplier they’re not telling anyone about.”
“Why not?” Mickey asked. He wasn’t one of the attorneys working on the case, so Sarah wasn’t sure why he had been included in the meeting, but she filled him in anyway.
“Atheena makes a big deal about how their hair iron is ‘Made in America, with Genuine American Parts,’” she said. “What if they decided they needed to buy parts from say, China, to keep production moving? Not something they’d like to get out—especially if that part is catching people’s hair on fire.”
“Can we prove it?” Calvin asked.
“I asked Jeffrey,” she said, indicating another one of the associates, “to send out requests for production of documents. They’re due in a few weeks, so we’ll see what’s in there.”
“Can we prove it otherwise?” Calvin asked. “Just in case the paperwork mysteriously disappears?”
“It’s math,” Sarah said. “When you look at Mason’s shipping schedule, you can see how long it took from the time Atheena received the part, to the time they put the finished product on sale. We can track it from the serial numbers—Mason has those, even if Atheena destroys their records. Then it’s just a matter of comparing the timelines, and finding the five-month gap in the schedule. From what I’ve seen, the numbers match up perfectly. Those aren’t our parts.”
Calvin sat back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach. Then he smiled.
“And you did all this while you were on the road,” he said.
“Told you,” Mickey said, grinning with a kind of pride.
“Sarah, I have good news and even better news,” Calvin said. “I didn’t just bring you in here to discuss your memo—I already got the gist of it when I read it last night. I brought you here because it’s time you joined us.”
Sarah told herself to remain calm. To keep her face perfectly expressionless.
“Join you, how?” she asked.
“We’re bringing you in,” Calvin said. “In from Portland or wherever you were going next, and into the firm, if you accept.”
“Are you . . . offering me a permanent job?”
“That,” Calvin said, “and I’d also like you to take a more active role in this case. If we’re going to run with this defense—and I don’t see why not—I’d like you to direct it and see it through. Handle all the discovery, the motions, the oral arguments—all of it.”
Sarah felt too shocked to be pleased, but she knew the pleasure would come. In the meantime, she glanced at the faces of the three other associates working on the case, trying to gauge their reaction to Calvin’s announcement. None of them seemed particularly happy to have been passed over.
“What do you say?” Calvin asked.
“I say yes, of course,” Sarah answered, and finally allowed herself a smile. Mickey caught her eye and winked at her. Obviously he knew about Calvin’s plan.
“But . . . what about all the depositions?” Sarah asked. “I still have a full schedule.”
“Bingham can take them over,” Calvin said, nodding toward the associate Sarah knew was the most junior. “Although I think it’s going to be a while before he has to go out.”
It took Sarah a moment to process what Calvin just said. But then she asked, “Why would it be a while? We’re scheduled almost until Christmas. Then we start up again in January.”
“Nobody’s going to care about depositions pretty soon. Tell her, Mickey,” Calvin said.
Mickey gave her a look filled with wicked anticipation. “I have a friend who works at the Justice Department,” he said. “We were having drinks the other night, and he let slip he’s working on a big case involving another dirty L.A. law firm.”
Calvin interrupted. “It’s because of that guy Fitzgerald in the U.S. Attorney’s Office—he’s the one who went after your firm, too,” he told Sarah. “He has a hard-on for anyone in this town he thinks is