Chapter 140: Cause and Effect (4)
TL: Hanguk
A large black sedan pulled up to O'Connell Farm, located five kilometers southeast of Chloe's pear farm. The man who climbed out of the driver's seat was of a heavy build: none other than Rainmaker Harry.
His black suit fit him strangely well, and his tie was knotted as tightly as ever, as if to choke the breath out of him, yet he seemed not the least bit uncomfortable as he strolled along at a leisurely pace, a black bag in one hand.
The front gate of the pistachio farm was shabbier than expected. Two wooden posts and a single rusted iron gate, but behind it stretched an endless run of pistachio trees, telling anyone who looked that this was no small neighborhood farm.
Someone stepped out of the little office container beside the gate. A man in a cap and sunglasses looked Harry up and down.
"What are you looking for?"
Harry dabbed his forehead once with a handkerchief, then slowly drew out a business card and held it out.
"Howard Montis. Feel free to call me Harry."
The man looked down at the card and read it, mouthing the words.
"Attorney at Law... Water Rights & Agricultural... Disputes."
Then he raised his head.
"We don't need a lawyer."
Just then, the container door opened again.
"Who is it, Doyle?"
Jack O'Connell, the pistachio farm owner, appeared.
Maybe it was because he'd already been tangled up in the class action for months, but his face was gaunt and dark circles hung heavy under his eyes. Still, the old habit lingered in the way he spoke.
"Another lawyer from the plaintiffs' side? Which farm are you from? Got something more to argue about? If you've got something to say, I'd rather you didn't come out to the farm in person and just talked to our lawyer instead."
Harry tilted his head slightly.
"Are you Jack O'Connell?"
"Yeah, that's me. What is it?"
"I have nothing to do with the class action plaintiff group."
Jack's brow furrowed for a moment.
"...Then what? Another lawsuit?"
"I'm not here to start a new lawsuit. There are already plenty of those, aren't there?"
At the oddly barbed tone, Jack scowled.
"Then what is it?"
Harry glanced at his watch and said,
"This isn't really the place for it, so let's talk inside. It's not the sort of thing I want everyone here to overhear."
Jack looked around. Off in the distance, a truck driver and two workers were sneaking glances their way.
He spat out a short curse and waved a hand.
"Damn it, come in."
Inside, the container office was thick with the smell of paperwork and dust. On the worn desk, farm maps and water rights documents were piled every which way, and in one corner sat a heap of official notices stacked high.
"Have a seat."
Jack offered, but Harry didn't sit. Instead he set his briefcase down in front of the desk and unzipped it. He pulled out one item, then another, and laid them out neatly across the desktop.
Unable not to be curious, Jack perched on the edge behind the desk and looked down at them. The first was a soil analysis report, the second a groundwater well pressure graph, and the third a document stamped with the official logo of the NSJWCD (North San Joaquin Water Conservation District).
"What... is this?"
Only then did Harry move to the sofa and settle his heavy frame into it, explaining calmly.
"First of all, my client is Chloe Harris. A pear farm owner near Lodi."
Jack's face hardened at once. It was almost funny: the very farm that had landed him in trouble was itself a victim, and he'd found it strange that it had stayed out of this lawsuit.
"Hmph! I knew it... She acted like she wasn't going to sue, and all along she was scheming to blindside me like this?"
At his sneer, Harry wiped the sweat trickling down his brow and said evenly,
"I don't think 'blindside' is a fair word where my client is concerned. The source of every misfortune began here, on this farm; if anything, my client is the one who was wronged."
"Forget it. If you're going to spout that kind of nonsense, save it for my lawyer."
"Even if you talk to your lawyer, won't the important decisions still come down to you, Jack? I came in person because I figured I'd only end up coming back and saying the same thing."
"...What's that supposed to mean?"
Harry draped one arm over the top of the worn sofa.
"Southeast of your land, about five miles from this pistachio operation, there's a seventy-acre pear farm. Starting about a month ago, the salinity there surged at both the 30 cm and 80 cm marks below the surface, all at once. The well level held steady, yet the soil salinity alone climbed."
Jack flinched, then said as if it were nothing,
"And so what?"
"My client truly had no intention of joining the lawsuit. But when muddy water started coming up from the well and the soil salinity shot up, she came to me hoping to settle this quickly."
"Like I said, talk to my lawyer. In the end you're saying you'll sue. So you just get in line like all the other farms. There are already seven plaintiffs; what difference does one more make?"
Harry's expression hardened. When the heavyset, narrow-eyed Harry turned serious, the mood in the room shifted.
"I think you're misunderstanding. I didn't come here to ask you for help. If you want your lawyer present, go ahead and call them in. I'm simply doing my job on behalf of my client."
"......"
"Let me continue. As I understand it, O'Connell Farm is currently in the middle of litigation, going back and forth over various legal points. But no clear evidence has surfaced yet. At best, the fact that the well level has dropped. But what happens if clear evidence does turn up here?"
As he said this, Harry drew a small glass vial, about the size of his thumb, from his bag and set it down with a tap.
"This is the water that backflowed from your well and soaked my client's pear orchard. Clear proof that the level dropped and muddy water flowed back. What do you suppose happens if this lands in the hands of the side that's already coming for your farm? The 'it's the drought's fault' defense your farm has been pushing in the class action collapses on the spot. Because it shows this wasn't some accidental water shortage; it was your well's reverse pumping disturbing the deep part of the aquifer."
"......"
"In the jurors' eyes, your farm will look like a collective wrongdoer that poisoned other people's land just to keep pumping water for itself. Punitive damages would naturally come into play too. Don't you think it'd run at least three times the current class action's claim?"
Harry's words pressed in on his heart. Jack swallowed and glared at the vial on the table.
"Care to take a sip? Faint as it is, you'll still taste the salt, I'd wager. Oh, and there are some other nasty compounds in there, so it won't do your health any favors either."
"......"
"As I said before, I didn't come here seeking your cooperation. Nor did I come to serve you notice. If that were the case, I'd have gone to your lawyer, just like you said."
"Then what do you want?"
A smirk lifted one corner of Harry's mouth as he said,
"A proposal."
Jack bit his lip. He knew full well this was a lawyer's maneuver to force a settlement before trial, yet he couldn't ignore it. The weapon Harry held was simply too powerful. He could see it coming and still had no way to dodge it.
Jack let out a long sigh, then his eyes gleamed as he asked,
"You're after a settlement? Hoo... How much do you want?"
Strangely, Jack's expression as he asked the figure wasn't all that grim. And no wonder, because he'd realized this settlement might not be such a bad opportunity for him after all.
If he came to terms with the insufferable lawyer in front of him, all of this evidence would simply vanish.
"You're a reasonable man after all."
"Because what can be handled simply ought to be handled simply."
"Well said. Though we're after a slightly different kind of outcome. I'm not sure whether it'll be possible."
In an instant, Jack's brow twisted.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"We don't want money."
"Then?"
"Water."
A single short word changed the atmosphere.
"...... Water?"
Harry nodded and said,
"Your farm's main well. The one registered as WS-3, 620 feet deep (about 188 m). The permitted annual pumping volume from that well... around three hundred acre-feet a year, as I understand it. We're demanding a portion of that right."
"Ha, hahaha!"
Jack couldn't help bursting into laughter at the absurd demand. If the man had asked for a fortune, they could at least have traded blows over whether it was too steep. But demanding the rights to the water itself was something he simply could not accept.
After laughing in disbelief for a good while, Jack's face went stone cold and he said,
"That's insane. Water rights belong to the landowner. This isn't some simple matter."
Harry didn't so much as blink.
"That's exactly why I'm here. If this were a simple matter, I'd have filed the litigation paperwork already."
Harry looked Doyle straight in the eye.
"What we want isn't ownership of the well itself, but a Perpetual Pumping Easement."
At the shocking statement, Jack drew in a sharp breath. But Harry paid it no mind and went on.
"It states that our farm holds priority usage rights to at least fifty-one percent of the annual pumping volume drawn from this well. Maintenance, repairs, and equipment costs for the well would continue to be borne by your farm."
Unable to listen any further, Jack shot up from his seat.
"You're out of your mind! The land is mine, and you want me to hand over more than half the water?"
Harry shrugged.
"Then you're free to ignore it. In that case, for my client's sake, I'll walk straight out of here with these materials, go to the class action plaintiffs' lawyer, and negotiate for a share of the lawsuit's proceeds. Failing that, I'll file a motion to intervene and put my client up as the eighth plaintiff. She'll line up with everyone else and fight it out over compensation percentages."
"......"
"If you don't want that, well, there's nothing I can do."
When Harry shook his head and hauled his heavy frame upright, Jack said quickly,
"I need time."
"I can't give you much. There isn't a lot of time left to join the lawsuit. Say... two days?"
"Just..."
Jack started to flare up at being given a mere two days, but the cold look in Harry's eyes brought him back to his senses.
"You're giving me just two days?"
"Two days is more than enough time to consult your lawyer, isn't it?"
"Does it... does it really have to be water?"
"Mr. Jack O'Connell, there's a saying in the wine industry. You'll sell the wine, but never the land. In farming, though, the saying shifts a little. You'll sell the crops, but never the land and water. Money disappears, but rights to water never do."
"Then what if... what if I agree to settle?"
At the response that was bound to come, the corner of Harry's mouth curled up. He raised his index finger.
"First, my client does not join the class action. Second, none of the evidence we hold regarding the backflow, the salinity, or the groundwater disturbance is submitted to the court. And third, should a request for cooperation come from an NSJWCD investigation, we offer only limited answers, taking the position that 'no conclusion can be drawn'."
Jack clutched his head in his hands.
"Damn it... fifty-one percent is... too much. Bring it down to thirty. No... twenty-five, that I could think about."
Harry shook his head.
"I'm not in a position to give you an answer right now. You just bring your answer back here at exactly this time two days from now. Then, on the spot, I'll give you my client's answer."
"......"
"Mr. Jack, a good settlement is one where each side loses a little and each side keeps what's decisive. You keep your farm instead of your money. We get water instead of money."
As Harry said this and walked out of the office, Jack called after him,
"You... who are you with?"
"I'm not with anyone in particular. Though out there, some people call me this: the Rainmaker. Feel free to call me Harry."
Harry flashed a broad smile and, with no small effort, squeezed himself out through the door of the cramped container office.
"That fat son of a bitch..."
*****
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