“Your brother always was an idiot,” said Rinko, after she poured a second whiskey for each of them. Maybe that was why the insult didn’t land too heavily. Or maybe it was truth that kept Rinko’s assessment from stinging; hadn’t Lillian said the same thing about him any number of times?

“Wasn’t he sent down from Ellerslee?” Rinko went on, capping the bottle and settling back in her chair. “I remember hearing someone mention it.”

“Nearly. He did take his degree, but it was complicated. I know after, Daddy was very keen to get him into a line of work that would … shape him up. I always assumed that’s how he was funneled into the FOCIS. I never got many details.”

“That’s good. If it comes to a trial, I can use that. If I get a little more information.”

That took Lillian slightly aback. “I was really only here for a consult. Or to see if you knew someone. I … you’re largely corporate defense, aren’t you?”

“There isn’t much precedent in this country for the kind of thing Frye is proposing, and therefore very little applicable law. There would be lots of room to maneuver. Lots of room to improvise. Besides, is it such a leap from corporate to war crimes? Taschen, Taschen, and Nooz certainly defended contractors accused of worse than what your brother has done.”

“And it would be a good way to get your name into a couple of books, I imagine.”

Rinko shrugged, and sipped her whiskey.

“You have an idea already, don’t you?”

Her laugh came out a little huffy, like she was insulted Lillian thought it would take her any more time than this to create a defense strategy for a hated Ospie collaborator. “Don’t you? I kept an eye on your career when you were in the corps. I wanted to see what you did. And you were good at your job, but I taught you most of it.”

“People like stories,” said Lillian, remembering late-night preparations before debates, Rinko’s hair escaping from its pins, papers strewn across the floor of a lecture hall, half the team asleep on the benches. “The law likes facts. But the law is made and held by people. The transitive property applies.”

“So, what story would we tell about your brother, if it came to it?”

“He endured horrors,” Lillian said tentatively. Then gathering confidence, as though this were an oral exam. “And continues to endure them.”

“Start earlier,” said Rinko. “It has to feel inevitable, or he’s still at fault.”