Later, long after Phil had gone home, Nate huddled by the fire and began another letter to Rachel. It was his third. He dated it Saturday, February 22. "Dear Rachel," he began. "I have just spent a very unpleasant week with your brothers and sisters."
He talked about them, beginning with Troy Junior and ending three pages later with Ramble. He was honest about their shortcomings and the damage they would inflict on themselves and others if they got the money. And he was sympathetic too.
He was sending a check to World Tribes for five thousand dollars for a boat, a motor, and medical supplies. There was plenty more if she needed. The interest on her fortune was about two million dollars a day, he informed her, so a lot of good things could be done with the money.
HARK GETTYS and his conspirators at law blundered badly when they terminated the services of Drs. Flowe, Zadel, and Theishen. The lawyers had rebuked the doctors, offended them, and caused irreparable damage.
The new batch of psychiatrists had the benefit of Snead's newly fabricated testimony upon which to create their opinions. Flowe, Zadel, and Theishen did not. When Nate deposed them Monday, he followed the same script with all three. He began with Zadel, and showed him the video of the examination of Mr. Phelan. He asked him if he had any reason to alter his opinions. Zadel, as expected, said no. The video happened before the suicide. The eight-page affidavit was prepared just hours afterward, at the insistence of Hark and the other Phelan lawyers. Zadel was asked by Nate to read the affidavit to the court reporter.
"Do you have any reason to change any of the opinions set out in that affidavit?" Nate asked.
"I do not," Zadel said, looking at Hark.
"Today is February twenty-fourth, more than two months after your examination of Mr. Phelan. Is it your opinion today that he had sufficient mental capacity to execute a valid will?"
"It is," Zadel answered, smiling at Hark.
Flowe and Theishen smiled too, each genuinely happy to turn the screws on the lawyers who'd hired them and fired them. Nate showed each of them the video, asked them the same questions, and received the same answers. Each read his affidavit into the record. They adjourned at four, Monday afternoon.
At eight - thirty sharp, Tuesday morning, Snead was escorted into the room and placed in the chair of honor. He wore a dark suit with a bow tie which gave him a brainy aura that was undeserved. The lawyers had carefully selected his wardrobe. They'd been molding and programming Snead for weeks, and the poor man doubted if he could utter a spontaneous or honest word. Every syllable had to be right. He had to project an air of confidence, yet avoid even the slightest hint of arrogance. He and he alone defined reality, and it was crucial that his stories were believable.
Josh had known Snead for many years. He was a servant whom Mr. Phelan often talked of getting rid of. Of the eleven wills Josh had prepared for Troy Phelan, only one mentioned the name of Malcolm Snead. A gift of a million dollars had been designated for him, a gift revoked months later with yet another will. Mr. Phelan had removed Snead's name precisely because Snead had inquired as to how much he might expect to receive.
Snead had been too preoccupied with the money to suit his master. His name on the witness list for the contestants meant only one thing-money. He was being paid to testify, and Josh knew it. Two weeks of simple surveillance had discovered a new Range Rover, a newly leased condo in a building where the prices started at eighteen hundred dollars a month, and a trip to Rome, first class.
Snead faced the video camera and was somewhat comfortable. He felt as though he'd been looking at one for a year. He'd spent all of Saturday and half of Sunday in Hark's office, getting himself grilled again. He'd watched the videos of himself for hours. He'd written dozens of pages of fiction on the final days of Troy Phelan. He'd rehearsed with Nicolette the bimbo.
Snead was ready. The lawyers had anticipated questions about the money. If asked whether he was being paid to testify, Snead was trained to lie. It was that simple. There was no way around it. Snead had to lie about the half a million bucks already in hand, and he had to lie about the promise of $4.5 million upon settlement or other favorable outcome. He had to lie about the existence of the contract between himself and the lawyers. Since he was lying about Mr. Phelan he could certainly lie about the money.
Nate introduced himself and then asked, quite loudly, "Mr. Snead, how much are you being paid to testify in this case?"
Snead's lawyers thought the question would be, "Are you being paid?" not, "How much?" Snead's rehearsed answer was a simple "No, I certainly am not!" But to the question still ringing around the room he had no quick response. Hesitation sank him. He seemed to gasp as he looked wildly at Hark, whose spine had become rigid and his stare frozen like a deer's.
Snead had been warned that Mr. O'Riley had done his homework and seemed to know everything before he asked the questions. In the long painful seconds that followed, Mr. O'Riley frowned at him, cocked his head sideways, and lifted some papers.
"Come on, Mr. Snead, I know you're being paid. How much?"
Snead cracked his knuckles hard enough to break them. Beads of sweat popped out in the creases of his forehead. "Well, I, uh, I'm not-"
"Come on, Mr. Snead. Did you or did you not purchase a new Range Rover last month?"
"Well, yes, as a matter of-"
"And you leased a two-bedroom condo at Palm Court?"
"Yes, I did."
"And you just returned from ten days in Rome, didn't you?"
"I did."
He knew everything! The Phelan lawyers shrank in their seats, each cowering lower, ducking their heads so the ricocheting bullets wouldn't strike them.
"So how much are you being paid?" Nate asked angrily. "Keep in mind you're under oath!"
"Five hundred thousand dollars," Snead blurted out. Nate stared at him in disbelief, his jaw dropping slowly. Even the court reporter froze.
A couple of the Phelan lawyers managed to exhale, slightly. As horrible as the moment was, it could certainly have been bloodier. What if Snead had panicked even more and confessed to the entire five million?
But it was a very small comfort. At the moment, the news that they had paid a witness a half a million dollars seemed fatal to their cause.
Nate shuffled papers as if he needed some document. The words still echoed through all the ears in the room.
"I take it you have already received.this money?" Nate asked.
Unsure whether he was supposed to lie or go straight, Snead simply said, "Yes."
On a hunch, Nate asked, "Half a million now, how much later?"
Anxious to begin the lying, Snead answered, "Nothing." It was a casual denial, one that appeared believable. The other two Phelan lawyers were able to breathe.
"Are you sure about that?" Nate asked. He was fishing. He could ask Snead if he'd been convicted of grave-robbing if he wanted to.
It was a game of high-stakes chicken, and Snead held firm. "Of course I'm sure," he said with enough indignance to seem plausible.
"Who paid you this money?"
"The lawyers for the Phelan heirs."
"Who signed the check?"
"It came from a bank, certified."
"Did you insist they pay you for your testimony?"
"I guess you could say that."
"Did you go to them, or did they come to you?"
"I went to them."
"Why did you go to them?"