Black Horizon by James Grippando Read Free Book Online Page A

to keeping me out of the electric chair, this has to be a piece of cake.”
    “We need to talk about this,” said Jack. “First, the fact that an oil rig exploded does not make this an open-and-shut case. To win a wrongful death lawsuit we have to prove that the oil consortium’s negligence or other wrongdoing caused the explosion.”
    Rick was unfazed. “BP coughed up twenty-three billion dollars. I find it hard to believe that the safety standards on Scarborough 8 were any better than they were on Deepwater Horizon.”
    “That’s probably true,” said Jack. “But in the Deepwater Horizon case, lawyers had court-issued subpoenas, and they used all the regular channels of discovery to get evidence and place the blame where it belonged. In this case, it’s possible, maybe even likely, that no one will ever uncover the truth about what really caused the explosion. Suing the Chinese, the Russians, and the Venezuelans for negligent operation of an oil rig in Cuban waters is the legal equivalent of running headlong into a stone wall.”
    Theo grabbed the last french fry from Jack’s plate. “Which is why they came to you, Jack. You’re the world’s foremost legal expert on banging his head into walls.”
    “Thanks so much,” said Jack.
    Bianca was no longer gazing down shyly at her hands on the table. She looked right into Jack’s eyes. “Please, Señor Swyteck. I am new in this country and my husband is dead. Don’t make me look all over Florida to find a lawyer who I can trust. Can you take my case?”
    It was a double-barreled shot of pain for Jack. Not only was there a young widow at the table, but she was about to become the hunk of bloody red meat in the proverbial shark tank of lawyers who lived by the mantra “Have you been injured?”
    Rick said, “I’m happy to help work out the business side of it, if that would make it easier for Bianca. But I’m sure your standard contingency arrangement will be fine.”
    Theo literally kicked Jack under the table, and then he said what Jack himself was only thinking: “You’d have to be a horse’s ass to say no, Swyteck.”
    Jack knew that “standard contingency” in this situation could well mean pro bono, but he wanted to help. “All right. We’ll work something out.”
    “Gracias ,” said Bianca.
    “But fair warning,” said Jack. “This stone wall I’m talking about could prevent us from gathering the evidence we need to prove a case in court.”
    “Sí, claro.”
    “And even if we overcome all the hurdles and win, I want you to understand something very important.”
    “What?”
    Jack paused, adjusting his tone to make sure that his words did not come across as insensitive. “Closure for you—and by that I mean the peace you might get from knowing what truly happened to your husband on that rig—is not something I can promise. I can’t stress it enough: we will be filing a lawsuit in U.S. court against a Chinese, Russian, and Venezuelan oil consortium operating in Cuban waters. Transparency will not come easy.”
    “I understand.”
    Rick reached across the table and shook Jack’s hand. “Thank you, counselor.”
    Jack glanced at Bianca. She wasn’t crying, but it wouldn’t have taken much to push her over the edge. “It’s the very least I can do,” said Jack.

Chapter 9
    H avana. The capital city that defined Cuba for revolutionaries and dissidents alike. For Josefina Fuentes, it was simply home.
    “What a mess,” she said under her breath, no one near enough to hear her.
    Josefina was on Avenida Salvador Allende, just west of a ten-block neighborhood that was once the largest and most vibrant Chinatown in all of Latin America. A half-century of communism and racial assimilation had dulled the influence of thousands of Chinese immigrants who had risen from slavelike conditions in sugarcane fields to become shop owners and businessmen in pre-Castro Cuba. A few signs of Chinese culture remained, but on that Wednesday afternoon,