On Hackett's left was an attractive woman, medium height and attentive. Probably a paralegal. I didn't recognize her. The first lady was of course not there, nor was any representative of WorldCopter. This was a meeting for attorneys only.

I looked at Hackett, looked at Bass, looked at his paralegal, and glanced over their shoulders to the judge's law clerk, whom I saw looking from the door in the corner.

Since Hackett hadn't said anything to me, I returned the favor. I saw Margaret heading to the door out of the courtroom that led to the magistrate's chambers-Norris's office-and said, "I think we're all here, Margaret."

She nodded as she continued through the door, sparing me the remark that was undoubtedly on her tongue, that she had already figured that out and it accounted for her heading to the door. I, of course, knew that too, but wanted, in a childish way, to show Hackett that I knew the magistrate's clerk.

I pointed Rachel to a row of seats in the back of the courtroom. We sat down and took out copies of the filings that we had delivered to the court the week before. They were fairly innocuous, committed us to nothing, and left all roads open to us. It gave us something to do.

Hackett stood there and looked at us. After he realized I wasn't going to say anything to him, he seemed just slightly flustered. He turned around and walked through the swinging door between the gallery and the counsel tables in the courtroom, then placed his briefcase on the top of the table. He sat down in one of the counsel seats, and Bass followed suit. The woman went with them, but stood at the far end of the table looking through a notebook.

Margaret came back through the door and said, "Please come into the chambers." Hackett and his two acolytes went immediately into the chambers and the door closed behind them. Rachel and I got up from our seats, walked to the door, opened it, and entered. Magistrate Norris recognized me immediately and said, "Good morning, Mike, nice to see you again." She then turned to Hackett and said, "And you must be Mr. Hackett."

While Annapolis is the capital of Maryland, it is still a small town. The attorneys all know each other, and those of us who try cases regularly know all the judges and they all know us. Our reputations are already established, good or bad. This magistrate would almost qualify as a friend, not that we got together socially, but we saw eye to eye on most things, and she knew I didn't take ridiculous positions.

She motioned for us to all sit down on the couches and chairs placed around the coffee table in the corner of her office. It was the largest magistrate office in the small federal courthouse because she was the senior magistrate judge. Three of the walls were lined with law books, and the other wall had two colorful paintings.

The magistrate smiled at Rachel, who had appeared before her about five times. Hackett noticed and was irritated again. Norris led us through the conference professionally and quickly. We discussed what needed to be done, what discovery we anticipated, what motions might come, the primary issues in the case, and the usual civil concerns. But after fifteen minutes of the usual, with the attorneys only responding to the magistrate's questions, she said to Hackett, "One of the reasons we hold these conferences is to assess the likelihood of settlement. What are your thoughts?"

Hackett almost smiled. "My thoughts are simple. We made a time-sensitive demand, and they rejected it. I told them there would be no other offer, and I meant it. So in short, the case will not settle. We are preparing for trial."

Norris was surprised. She asked Hackett and his group to leave so she could speak to Rachel and me alone. After the door closed behind Hackett and the chambers were quiet, she said to me, "Mr. Nolan, have you seen the press? Have you seen how many people there are standing outside this courthouse this morning? This case is going to be a circus. You know that?"

"That's exactly what Hackett wants."

She didn't respond. She took a sip of coffee from the mug on the table in front of her. "I think Mr. Hackett is right. This case is going to trial."

I waited.

"Mr. Nolan, do you have any settlement authority to even begin discussions?"

"No, I don't, Your Honor. AII and WorldCopter rejected his offer out of hand and told him so. There have been no further discussions because he says not to bother. I knew you'd ask and I tried to get some authority, but we really don't know what caused the accident yet. Hackett has filed prematurely. He's in a big hurry."

"The United States government has determined what the cause is, even if it's preliminary, the first lady has asked for compensation, and WorldCopter, the company that killed the president, is stonewalling. That's what he's going to sell. You understand that?"

"Yes, ma'am, I do. We can only do so much and at a certain pace. The NTSB's findings are flawed, and we're working on the cause. I think they may have it completely wrong. I just can't prove it yet."

"What was his demand?"

"One billion dollars."

She couldn't hide her surprise. "For seven wrongful death cases? Even if one of them is the president. I guess it depends on how much you project a retired president would make, but I would think these cases altogether can't be worth more than one hundred or one hundred fifty million dollars." She frowned. "It's amazing how many cases resolve when you force them to go to trial. And I mean force. Motions for continuing trials are denied. Judge Baxter denied one last week even though one of the attorneys had a death in the family. He put in the order that it was sad, but the attorney wasn't the lead attorney and the death wasn't from her immediate family." Norris smiled. "So these dates are written in stone. And I expect Judge Betancourt will have no interest in dragging this out. A circus is bad enough. A circus that goes on too long is much worse. You do understand that?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said.

The magistrate stood up and walked toward the door. "I will now speak with Mr. Hackett and see if I can encourage him to approach you with a new settlement demand. I don't expect him to. I do not think this trial will benefit the country or heal the wound that is currently bleeding. But I believe he thinks the fact the wound is open and hurting is better for him. I will try to dissuade him of that notion." She looked up as she put her hand on the door before we went out into the courtroom. "Mr. Nolan, if you think that you can find the cause of the accident that differs from the NTSB's preliminary conclusion, I'd suggest you find it very quickly. If this case goes to trial, it is going to be the biggest case in the history of our civil court system. Don't let that happen."

The next morning at six thirty I met Tinny at the Blue Mug, a coffee shop I knew by the waterfront. I went with some trepidation-he said he was bringing a "friend." I didn't know what to make of that. Byrd scared me. He dug stuff up and found people that I had no idea where they'd come from or how he'd done it. But he had saved my ass several times. This time, much to my surprise, he brought someone I had already spoken to: Jason Britt. They were waiting for me when I arrived. I shook Tinny's hand and then Britt's as I said to him, "What the hell are you doing here?"

I looked at Tinny, who was controlling a smile. He said, "Let's get some coffee. I had to leave at an ungodly hour to get here."

"I thought you didn't want to meet in public."

"Nah, we're early. It's cool."

We ordered and sat at the table in the front that looked through the windowpanes over the water. Byrd said, "So I asked Britt here what you talked about and he told me. You left a lot of things unasked, Nolan. As usual. So I started over. He told me some things that I think you ought to hear. Some more things about your boy Collins."