“Ms. Wainwright, I want you to understand a few things. My great-grandfather founded my company. My grandfather ran it during the second World War, turning out munitions for the army. We have always been honest and law-abiding, giving good pay for good work, and providing a quality product for our customers.

“Some people, however, thought that should change. That they could sweep an uncomfortable truth under a rug. Could Lie to the owner of their company." The look that he sent down the table at his subordinates should have seared flesh from bones.

“We were wrong. We did wrong. And you held us accountable. Deservedly so. So I'm asking your opinion. What do you think the odds are of getting the decision reversed on appeal? Or even reduced?"

"You're asking me?"

A glint of grim humor lit his old eyes.

“You just kicked our ass in court. Might be you're a better Lawyer than the ones I have.”

“Mr. Hardin! I have to protest!" Kincaid said loudly.

“You can't ask opposing counsel for advice, especially some, some bitch who...who went to a public university!" Rachel was stunned at the venom in his voice.

She and Kincaid had crossed swords more than once. Nothing in their previous acquaintance had prepared her for the sheer hatred she heard.

Judging by the carefully blank expressions on the other side of the table, neither had his colleagues.

“Shut up and get out," Hardin said flatly. "I went to Michigan State.

It didn't hurt me any." As Kincaid picked up his Laptop and stormed out the door he kept his eyes on Rachel. "Well?"

“You'll Lose on appeal," Rachel said bluntly. "You might have had a chance ten years ago, but President Obama has put a lot of his judges on the appellate courts. They have a lot of funny thoughts. Like that polluters should be punished.”

"Obama," his mouth twisted. "Well, I thought as much. Maybe if I'd the sense to Listen sooner I'd be in better shape now.

“But we can't pay the entire damages claim. Not at once. That's a mathematical fact. The only way we could do it is if we sold off a bunch of our assets. And then we'd be putting a lot of good, hard-working people out of a job.

“I know," he said, raising a hand to forestall her protest. "That's our problem, not yours. But I'm telling you how it is."

Rachel turned down the table to her forensic accountant. "Rosa?"

“He's right, Rachel," Rosa King said regretfully.

“From what's publicly available, he's telling the truth. They don't have enough cash assets to come close to paying."

“Property rich, cash poor," Hardin grumbled.