“Sure. Except he didn't call it that. For him it was the ‘path to victory. ’ We worked it out together.”

“And what does it look like-Vaxtek's path to victory?”

“Nothing that would surprise you: Vaxtek's a small American company that has nothing going for it except the brilliance, creativity, and dedication of its handful of scientists and the protection of the American patent system. St. Gall is a multinational octopus that knows nothing about science, lacks any creative aptitude or spirit, and survives by poaching on the hard work of small companies like Vaxtek.”

“And what's Emil Thorpe's ‘path to victory’ going to be?” Thorpe, St. Gall's lead trial counsel, was a legend of the San Francisco trial bar and, for major cases like this one, was at or near the top of the list of preferred counsel for any company that could afford him. Seeley guessed that Vaxtek would have hired Thorpe if St. Gall didn't already have him on retainer.

“Bob and I never got the chance to talk about it.” Palmieri was at the conference-room door, looking down the corridor.

Seeley wondered if he was like this with everyone, or reserved his detachment for interlopers.

“You're running this case,” Palmieri said, “so you get to choose your second chair. If you want to work with someone else, that's fine with me. I'll do everything I can to support him.”

Seeley had reservations about Palmieri, but he knew that if he hesitated for a moment he would lose him. “You're the one I want sitting next to me at counsel's table.”

“Thanks”-Palmieri turned back into the room-“but you'll have to talk to the client about my being at counsel's table.”

“Why?”

“Ask Ed Barnum when you see him.”

As Vaxtek's general counsel, Barnum was the person Seeley was supposed to answer to.

“It doesn't matter what Barnum says. I want you there.”