The guy shook his head. "I'm not going to go into it until I get paid."

"Let's say that we can arrange for you to be paid. Can you tell me the kind of information that you have?"

"If I tell you what I know, I'll lose my job, I won't be able to hang around here anymore. I want you to move me to a different place and find me a job. I'm not afraid they're going to like kill me or anything, but I'm going to have to get out of here. I want to go to Montana and set up my own tire store. I'll need at least a hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and moving expenses. Probably another thirty or so. So a hundred and eighty grand."

I said, "We could just subpoena you. And last time you said a hundred thousand. What changed?"

"No, you can't. You'll never find me. You don't know my name or where I work, and-"

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. There's no way you could. So I won't be there when you come looking for me. And I've been thinking about everything I will need to do. One fifty is the minimum."

Tripp said, "Let's agree in principle-"

"Can I talk to you for a second?" I said, indicating the door.

Tripp stopped, looked at me, and said begrudgingly, "Sure."

We got up and walked into Flannery's deserted lobby. I looked around and saw that we were alone. I said in a loud whisper, "We don't know anything about this guy. We can't pay him. It will taint the whole case. If this gets out-and I assume everything will get out at some point in this case-we'll be crucified. I say we shut this guy down. Challenge him to testify about the truth, or shut the hell up with this cloak-and-dagger bullshit."

Tripp's face turned red. "Mike, we may miss a chance to blow this case wide-open if we don't take this guy up on his offer. What's a hundred fifty grand in the big scheme of things?"

"It's not the money, it's the principle."

"What principle? Helping a witness who has critical information not to have his life ruined for bringing the information out? We'll tell the jury what we paid and why. They'll understand."

"No, they won't. And it's probably unethical. I could be disbarred."

"So what? You can get rebarred. We'll bring you in-house to work for us until you're cleared again."

I stood back and looked around. He started to turn. I grabbed him arm. "David, I'm advising you not to do this. Let's walk away. It smells."

"I can't. I've got to find out at least what he knows. Come on." Tripp turned and hurried back into the conference room.

Before we even sat down again he said to the witness, "What kind of information do you have that would make it worth that much money?"

The man leaned forward and looked Tripp squarely in the eye. "Are you saying you can do this? That you will?"

"I don't know. I'm saying I might. Depends on the kind of information you have. You've got to let me know why it would be worth our while."

The man spoke softly but openly, "But if I convince you that it's worth it, you're willing to do this?"

I leaned over to speak to Tripp, but he was already responding, "Yes."

The man nodded eagerly and sat back. "Smart man. What I've got are maintenance records."

Tripp waved his hand at him dismissively. "We've already got all the maintenance records. We've been through them with a fine-tooth comb."

"You don't have these maintenance records."

"What are you talking about?"

"Maintenance records on the rotor blade the day before the accident."

Tripp swallowed, not believing what he'd just heard. "You have maintenance records on the blade right before the accident? Where'd you get them?"

"Never mind. I'll give you copies, hard copies that you can then pursue. There are maintenance guys' names on them, and it shows what they did to the rotor blade."

"What did they do?"

"You'll have to wait to see. You wire the money to this law firm-I forget what they call it-"

"Our client trust account," Flannery said.

"Right, the trust account. Then I will have him fax to you and send hard copies overnight of the five pages of maintenance records."

"How do we know you have any?"

The man pulled a folded piece of paper out of his Windbreaker pocket, unfolded it, and passed it across the table. I immediately recognized it as a standard Marine Corps maintenance form. It was a copy of a sheet noting vibration in the helicopter three days before the accident. He said, "Bet you've never seen this."

We both examined it and looked at each other. We hadn't. Tripp asked, "Is this one of the five pages?"

"Yup. The juicy stuff though is on the other four pages."

"May I keep this?"

"Yup, and I want the money in this account within forty-eight hours. Can you do that?"

I couldn't just sit there. This just didn't make sense. "Let me make sure I understand. You give us an example of a maintenance record that we've not seen, you tell us there are others that have critical information on them, but you won't tell us what that information is, and we're just supposed to wire a buttload of money to you?"

"Yes, sir."

I shook my head. "It's up to my client, but I'm telling you this, I won't recommend that he do this unless you tell me right now what the content of those records is. We can't use it without you or without the records. Maybe we can find the Marine who did the work, but it sure gives us some motivation to comply with your request if you tell us what they did. Otherwise, I'm not sure why we would do it."

The man thought about my request. He had been playing with a paper clip the entire time he was speaking. This nervous habit seemed out of line for somebody who was so sure and steady. After an interminable pause, he replied, "It's about the tip weights, they had an incident with that blade. It was worked on the day before the accident. I'll prove it to you."

Tripp was about to wet his pants. "Give me the account number."

"Give me your e-mail address and I'll get it to you," Flannery said. Tripp stood. "We'll wire the money tomorrow."

20

NEVER DID I think bringing a motion for a protective order would work against us. The next day was the date set for the first lady's deposition. I was up most of the night and early in the morning doing the final preparation. I was driving to Hackett's office with Rachel when they announced on NPR that Hackett was holding a press conference to disclose "dramatic new developments" in the case against WorldCopter. He was undoubtedly holding the press conference in the very office where the deposition was about to take place, the one subject to the newly issued protective order excluding everyone except parties to the lawsuit and their attorneys. Journalists from all over the world were probably standing in the reception area of his law firm where he had placed a lectern on which to mount all the microphones. NPR switched live to the press conference, and Hackett's unmistakable voice came through our radio.

Hackett said, "Thank you for coming so early this morning. I'm sorry to get you out of your normal routine, but this development was so remarkable to me that I wanted to let you know as soon as I had heard of it. First of all, for purposes of background, the first lady's deposition is set for this morning at nine o'clock. I would like for you to be able to see it, to hear the questions asked and answers given as with Mrs. Collins, but WorldCopter is apparently unwilling to let others see the kinds of questions they ask the widows in this case. They have asked the court to keep the press, and the public, out of the deposition so I will be unable to let you attend the deposition. For that I apologize, but it is out of my hands. I believe in full disclosure, but I am not in control of WorldCopter or their tactics.