A large black sedan arrived at O’Connell Farm, located five kilometers southeast of Chloe’s pear orchard. The heavyset man who stepped out from the driver’s seat was none other than the Rainmaker, Harry.
His black suit, strangely enough, fit his body perfectly, and his tie was cinched tight as if it were choking him again today. Yet he seemed not the least bit uncomfortable as he walked at an easy pace, a black briefcase in one hand.
The front gate of the pistachio farm was shabbier than expected. Two wooden posts and a single rusty iron gate—yet beyond it, the pistachio trees stretching on without end made it clear this was no small neighborhood farm.
Someone came out of the small office container beside the gate. A man in a cap and sunglasses looked Harry up and down.
“What are you looking for?”
Harry wiped his forehead once with a handkerchief, then slowly took 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 only with the shape of his mouth.
“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 owner of the pistachio farm, appeared.
Perhaps because he had already been tangled up in a class action lawsuit for months, his face was gaunt, and dark circles hung heavily beneath his eyes. But his way of speaking still carried the same old habits.
“Another lawyer for the plaintiffs? Which farm are you from? Is there still something left to argue about? If you’ve got something to say, I’d prefer you speak with my lawyer instead of coming directly to my farm.”
Harry tilted his head slightly.
“Are you Mr. Jack O’Connell?”
“Yeah, that’s me. What is it?”
“I have nothing to do with the class action plaintiffs.”
Jack’s brow narrowed for a moment.
“...Then what is this? Another lawsuit?”
“I’m not here to create a new lawsuit. There are already more than enough, aren’t there?”
At the strangely barbed tone, Jack frowned.
“Then what is it?”
Harry glanced at his watch and said,
“This isn’t the place. Let’s talk indoors. It isn’t something I intend to say where everyone can hear.”
Jack looked around. Some distance away, a truck driver and two workers were glancing in their direction.
He spat out a brief curse and gestured with his hand.
“Damn it. Come in.”
Inside the container office, the air was full of the smell of documents and dust. Farm maps and papers related to water rights were piled haphazardly on the old desk, and a heap of official notices had been stacked in one corner.
“Have a seat.”
Jack offered, but Harry did not sit. Instead, he set his briefcase down in front of the desk and opened the zipper. He took out one thing, then another, and laid them neatly on the desktop.
Unable not to be curious, Jack perched behind the desk and looked down at them. The first was a soil analysis report, the second a well pressure graph, and the third a document stamped with the official logo of the NSJWCD, the NSJ Water Management District.
“What... is this?”
Only then did Harry go to the sofa and lower his massive body into it, explaining calmly.
“To begin with, my client is Chloe Harris. She owns a pear orchard near Lodi.”
Jack’s face hardened at once. Ironically, it was both the farm that had put him in difficulty and a victim, and he had found it strange that it had stayed out of the lawsuit.
“Hmph! I knew it... You acted like you weren’t going to sue, but you were planning to stab me in the back like this?”
At his sneering remark, Harry wiped the sweat running down his head and replied evenly.
“I don’t believe the expression ‘stab in the back’ applies to my client. The cause of every misfortune began at this farm, and my client is, if anything, a victim.”
“Enough. If you’re going to spout that kind of garbage, say it to my lawyer.”
“Even if I speak with your lawyer, isn’t Mr. Jack the one who makes the important decisions in the end? I came here directly because I figured I’d just have to come back and say the same thing again.”
“...What’s that supposed to mean?”
Harry draped one arm over the top of the worn sofa.
“Southeast of your farm, at a seventy-acre pear orchard about five miles from this pistachio farm, salt concentrations spiked simultaneously at the top thirty centimeters and eighty centimeters of soil starting a month ago. The well water level remained the same, but only the soil salinity rose.”
Jack flinched, then soon said as if it were nothing.
“So what do you want me to do about it?”
“My client truly had no intention of joining the lawsuit. But muddy water began coming out of the well, and the soil salinity shot up, so she wants this problem resolved quickly. That is why I came.”
“I told you, talk to my lawyer. In the end, you’re saying you’re going to sue. Then you can get in line like the other farms. There are already seven plaintiffs. What difference does one more make?”
Harry’s expression hardened. When the heavyset, narrow-eyed Harry grew serious, the atmosphere changed.
“I think you’re mistaken. I did not come to ask you for help, Mr. Jack. If you wish to bring in your lawyer, you may do so. I am merely doing my job on behalf of my client.”
“......”
“Let’s continue. As far as I know, O’Connell Farm is currently in the middle of litigation and has been going through repeated legal disputes. But no clear evidence has come out yet. At most, there is only the fact that well water levels have fallen. But what do you think will happen if clear evidence appears here?”
As he said that, Harry took a small glass vial about the size of his thumb from his bag and set it down with a tap.
“This is water that backflowed from your well and soaked my client’s pear orchard. Clear evidence that the water level fell and muddy water backflowed. What do you think will happen if this gets into the hands of the other side, the people already aiming at your farm? The defense your farm has been making in the class action—that it was ‘because of the drought’—will collapse immediately. It will show that it wasn’t an accidental water shortage, but that your well’s reverse pumping disturbed the deep aquifer.”
“......”
“In the eyes of a jury, Mr. Jack’s farm will look like a collective perpetrator that tried to pump water only for itself and ended up contaminating other people’s land. Punitive damages will naturally be added. Wouldn’t it come out to at least three times the current amount claimed in the class action?”
Harry’s words tightened around Jack’s heart. Jack swallowed and glared at the glass vial on the table.
“Would you like to try drinking it? It’s faint, but you should be able to taste the salinity. Ah, and since it contains other unpleasant components, it probably won’t be good for your health either.”
“......”
“I’ll say this again. I did not come to ask for your cooperation. Nor did I come to notify you. If that had been my intention, I would have gone to your lawyer, just as you said.”
“Then what do you want?”
Harry lifted one corner of his mouth in a faint smirk.
“A proposal.”
Jack bit his lip. He knew it was ultimately a lawyer’s trick to force a settlement before a lawsuit, but he could not ignore it. The weapon Harry held was too powerful. It was a situation in which he had no choice but to take the hit, even knowing it was coming.
After letting out a long sigh, Jack’s eyes soon sharpened as he asked,
“Are you asking for a settlement? Hoo... How much do you want?”
Strangely, Jack’s face was not all that dark as he asked the amount. It could not be helped, because he had realized that perhaps this settlement might not be such a bad opportunity for him.
If he reached a settlement with that damnable lawyer before him, all of this evidence would disappear.
“As expected, you are not a man who cannot be reasoned with.”
“Things that can be handled simply should be handled simply.”
“That is true. However, we want the outcome in a slightly different form. I’m not sure whether it will be possible.”
In that instant, Jack’s brow twisted.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We don’t want money.”
“Then?”
“Water.”
That single short word changed the air.
“......Water?”
Harry nodded and said,
“The main well on your farm. I’m referring to the six-hundred-twenty-foot well registered as WS-3. The permitted pumping volume drawn from that well throughout the year... I understand it to be approximately three hundred acre-feet annually. We demand a portion of that right.”
“Ha, hahaha!”
At the absurdity of it, Jack could not hold back and burst into laughter. If he had demanded a large sum of money, they could at least have argued over whether it was too expensive or not, but asking for rights to the water was truly something he could not accept.
After laughing in disbelief for quite some time, Jack’s expression abruptly changed as he said,
“That’s insane. Water rights belong to the landowner. This isn’t a simple matter.”
Harry did not even blink.
“That is why I am here. If the situation were simple, I would have already submitted the litigation materials.”
Harry looked straight at Doyle.
“What we want is not ownership of the well itself, but a Perpetual Pumping Easement.”
At the shocking words, Jack drew in a breath. But Harry paid it no mind and continued speaking.
“The terms would state that our farm has priority use rights to the annual pumping volume equivalent to at least fifty-one percent of the water drawn from this well. Your farm would continue to bear the costs of well maintenance, repair, and equipment.”
Unable to listen any longer, Jack shot up from his seat.
“You’re insane! The land is mine, but you’re telling me to give up more than half the water?”
Harry shrugged.
“Then you may ignore it. In that case, for the sake of my client, I will take these materials from here and go directly to the attorneys for the class action plaintiffs to negotiate for a portion of the litigation benefits. If not, I will file a motion to intervene and make my client the eighth plaintiff. We will stand in line like everyone else and fight over the compensation ratio.”
“......”
“If you dislike that, there’s nothing I can do.”
Harry shook his head and heaved his massive body up. Jack hurriedly said,
“I need time.”
“I cannot give you long. There isn’t much time left to join the lawsuit. Let’s see... two days?”
“Only...”
Jack was about to snap at Harry for giving him only two days, but Harry’s cold gaze brought him back to reason.
“You’re giving me only two days?”
“Two days is more than enough time to consult with your lawyer, isn’t it?”
“Does it... does it have to be water?”
“Mr. Jack O’Connell, there is a saying in the wine industry. You may sell the wine, but you do not sell the land. In farming, however, that saying changes a little. You may sell the crops, but you do not sell the land or the water. Money disappears, but rights to water do not.”
“Then if... if I agree to settle?”
At the reaction that should naturally have come, the corner of Harry’s mouth rose. Harry raised his index finger.
“First, my client will not participate in the class action lawsuit. Second, all evidence we possess regarding backflow, salinity, and groundwater disturbance will not be submitted to court. Finally, third, if a request for cooperation comes in regarding the NSJWCD investigation, we will limit our answers to the position that ‘no conclusion can be determined.’”
Jack clutched his head in his hands.
“Damn it... Fifty-one percent is... too much. Lower it to thirty. No, twenty-five... I could consider that.”
Harry shook his head.
“I cannot give you an answer right now. You may bring your answer exactly two days from now, at this time. Then I will give you my client’s answer on the spot.”
“......”
“Mr. Jack, a good settlement is one in which both sides lose a little and both sides protect what is decisive. You are protecting your farm instead of your money. We are obtaining water instead of money.”
As Harry said that and left the office, Jack asked from behind him,
“You... who are you with?”
“I have no particular affiliation. It’s just that people outside sometimes call me this—the Rainmaker. Feel free to call me Harry.”
Harry showed him a deep smile, then squeezed his way with difficulty out through the narrow door of the container office.
“That pig bastard...”