Rhyme shrugged. “Vernon Griffith was—”
“An intervening cause?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, but a foreseeable intervening cause, one they should have guarded against. Negligence is determined by multiplying the likelihood of injury by the severity of that injury and comparing that against how much it would have cost to prevent it. Learned Hand. Second Circuit Court of Appeals. United States v. Carroll Company.
“Applying that rule, I take the position that, one, the probability of hacking a smart product is extremely high, given the number, ingenuity and motivation of hackers today. Two, the gravity of the injury can be extremely high. Mr. Frommer and Abe Benkoff are dead. Res ispa loquitur. And, three, the burden of adequate precautions is minimal. CIR could easily have provided for automatic security updates, as they themselves admitted and, indeed, are doing just now. They should have foreseen that a hacker would cause serious injury and it would have been a simple fix for them. So, CIR is negligent in the deaths.
“I’ll also claim the controllers are defective under the law of strict products liability. Your associate told me—and I have experts researching this further—that the software in embedded products is antiquated.”
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 a 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 attorney, 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 case 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.”
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.
The man looked her over, the incision site, the IVs.
“Looking good, looking very good.”
Rose said, “And Mr. Herrando knows what he’s talking about. Now, Lincoln, I think I’ll get some rest.”
“Sure. We’ll be back tomorrow.”
Rhyme left the room and headed up to the nurse’s station, where Sachs was finishing a call.
He said, “She’s good, getting some sleep.”
“I’ll peek in.”
Sachs stepped into her mother’s room and returned to Rhyme a moment later.
“Like a baby.”
Together Sachs and Rhyme walked and wheeled down the corridor. Not that he cared much, but Rhyme noted that he received not a single glance his way, unlike on the streets of the city. Here, of course, one would expect to find someone in a fancy wheelchair. Nothing extraordinary, nothing worth staring at. Indeed he was mobile and moving breezily down the hall beside a companion, far more fortunate than many of the people in the dim, silent rooms they passed.
In regione caecorum rex est luscus, he thought.
In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.
Side by side, they negotiated the crowded lobby and headed out into the overcast spring afternoon, turning toward the van, which was sitting in the disabled zone.
“So,” Rhyme asked Sachs. “Any more thoughts on what to do during your three-month retirement?”
“Aside from being pissed off?”
“Aside from that.”
“Taking care of Mom. Working on the Torino. Shoot a hell of a lot of lead through paper out on the range. Take up cooking.”
“Cooking?”
“Okay, not that.”
As they approached the van she said, “I have a feeling you’re agendizing something.”
Rhyme chuckled. Ah, Lon Sellitto . . . what would we do without you?
“Evers Whitmore came to see me, the lawyer. You know I’m not working for him anymore on the Frommer case. Conflict of interest, now that I’m handling the criminal side.”
“What’s this about, Rhyme?”
“I need a favor, Sachs. You’re going to want to say no, but just hear me out.”
“This sounds familiar.”
His eyebrow rose. “Hear me out?”
Sachs put her hand on Rhyme’s and said, “Deal.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
With undying gratitude to: Will and Tina Anderson, Sophie Baker, Giovanna Canton, Jane Davis, Julie Deaver, Jenna Dolan, Kimberly Escobar, Jamie Hodder-Williams, Kerry Hood, Mitch Hoffman, Cathy Gleason, Emma Knight, Carolyn Mays, Claire Nozieres, Hazel Orme, Abby Parsons, Seba Pezzani, Michael Pietsch, Jamie Raab, Betsy Robbins, Katy Rouse, Lindsey Rose, Roberto Santachiara, Deborah Schneider, Vivienne Schuster, Ruth Tross, Madelyn Warcholik. You’re the best!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A former journalist, folksinger and attorney, Jeffery Deaver is an international number-one bestselling author. His novels have appeared on bestseller lists around the world, including the New York Times, The Times of London, Italy’s Corriere della Sera, the Sydney Morning Herald and the Los Angeles Times. His books are sold in 150 countries and translated into twenty-five languages.
The author of thirty-seven novels, three collections of short stories and a nonfiction law book, and a lyricist of a country-western album, he’s received or been shortlisted for dozens of awards. His The Bodies Left Behind was named Novel of the Year by the International Thriller Writers association, and his Lincoln Rhyme thriller The Broken Window and a stand-alone, Edge, were also nominated for that prize. He has been awarded the Steel Dagger and the Short Story Dagger from the British Crime Writers’ Association and the Nero Award, and he is a three-time recipient of the Ellery Queen Readers Award for Best Short Story of the Year and a winner of the British Thumping Good Read Award. The Cold Moon was recently named the Book of the Year by the Mystery Writers of Japan, as well as by Kono Mystery ga Sugoi magazine. In addition, the Japanese Adventure Fiction Association awarded The Cold Moon and Carte Blanche their annual Grand Prix award. His book The Kill Room was awarded the Political Thriller of the Year by Killer Nashville. And his collection of short stories, Trouble in Mind, was nominated for best anthology by that organization, as well.
Deaver has been honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the Bouchercon World Mystery Convention and by the Raymond Chandler Lifetime Achievement Award in Italy.
He contributed to the anthology Books to Die For, which won the Agatha Award and the Anthony.
His most recent novels are Solitude Creek, a Kathryn Dance novel; The October List, a thriller told in reverse; The Skin Collector and The Kill Room, Lincoln Rhyme novels. For his Dance novel XO Deaver wrote an album of country-western songs, available on iTunes and as a CD; and before that, Carte Blanche, a James Bond continuation novel, a number-one international bestseller.
Deaver has been nominated for seven Edgar Awards from the Mystery Writers of America, an Anthony, a Shamus and a Gumshoe. He was recently shortlisted for the ITV3 Crime Thriller Award for Best International Author. Roadside Crosses was on the shortlist for the Prix Polar International 2013.
His book A Maiden’s Grave was made into an HBO movie starring James Garner and Marlee Matlin, and his novel The Bone Collector was a feature release from Universal Pictures, starring Denzel Washington and Angelina Jolie. Lifetime aired an adaptation of his The Devil’s Teardrop. And, yes, the rumors are true; he did appear as a corrupt reporter on his favorite soap opera, As the World Turns. He was born outside Chicago and has a bachelor of journalism degree from the University of Missouri and a law degree from Fordham University.
Readers can visit his website at www.jefferydeaver.com.
