“According to Mr. Loban, the machine was part of a batch that initially should have been supplied from Dearborn, but that was ultimately replaced by a batch from the dismantled Ford factory in Berlin. He attributes the fault that caused your terrible accident to the deterioration of the machine. Tell me, were you aware that this replacement was carried out to save costs with the agreement of the Avtozavod’s Soviet directors?”
“No. I just operate the machinery. Well, not anymore . . .” He showed Jack the end of his stump.
“I see. And tell me, the press that cut off your arm, does it not have a safety mechanism that obliges the user to simultaneously activate two buttons, set at a distance from each other, so that when the stroke is discharged, both hands are clear of the impact zone?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“So, how is it possible that it trapped you?”
“Like I said, the machine failed.”
“Yes. But what was it that failed? I know that press, and if the safety procedure is followed, it’s impossible for such an accident to happen. Both buttons must be pressed—”
“No, sir.”
“What do you mean? I can assure you, that press—”
“That machine had two buttons, at first. Later, it just had one.”
“A single button? I don’t understand. Allow me to consult my notes . . . According to the report provided to me by the prosecution, it was a Cleveland Z25.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about the model.”
“But did you write this damage report?” He took it to the man so that he could read it. Jack had found it among the documents that he’d compiled during his inspections as a supervisor.
“I can’t remember.”
“Here it says Stanislav Prior. My knowledge of Cyrillic script is limited, but Prior can be read very clearly. In this report, you informed your superiors that the safety mechanism had broken, on a date prior to your accident. A week before, if I’m not mistaken.”
The one-armed operative looked to Sergei for help, but Jack instructed him to respond.
“Yes. But the machine was repaired,” the operative said.
“Ah! Excellent. And what did the repair consist of?”
The man looked at Sergei again.
“Please, answer the question,” Jack insisted.
The operative cleared his throat. “The broken button was bridged to remove its function, so the press worked with a single button.”
“And why was the old one not replaced with a new one?”
“Because there were no spare parts.”
“Oh! And do you know who was responsible for supplying the spare parts?”
“No. I don’t know.” His face turned pale.
“Mr. Loban.” Jack turned to the Avtozavod’s head of security. “Do you know who was responsible for supplying spares? Do you know whether it was Mr. Wilbur Hewitt?”
Sergei reddened. He eyed Jack with contempt.
“It fell to a Soviet employee who has already been purged. But if that’s the entirety of your argument, I advise you to explore other avenues. This is just one of many witnesses who have testified to the poor condition of the machinery supplied by Wilbur Hewitt.”
“I understand, but if the button had been replaced, none of this would have happened.”
Sergei considered his response carefully before replying. He looked at Jack challengingly and pointed at the accused. “And if instead of enriching himself, Wilbur Hewitt had supplied equipment fit for use, that button would never have broken, and today Stanislav Prior would be able to hold his child in both arms,” roared Sergei to thunderous applause.
Knowing the risk to his own safety that he was taking, over the course of the morning Jack tried to draw out his strategy for as long as possible, but when he called the fourth witness, Sergei exploded.
“That’s enough! I ask our great Supreme Leader to put a stop to any further statement that, rather than provide new information, merely slows the progress of the trial.”
“Esteemed representatives of the Soviet people,” Jack countered, “yesterday, nothing stopped Mr. Loban from boring us with testimonies that only demonstrated the occurrence of a series of unfortunate accidents, without at any time proving any connection between those accidents and the accused. This is what I intend to illustrate, and therefore I request—”
“Mr. Beilis!” The courtroom fell silent when Stalin himself stubbed out his cigar and stood. “I do not have all day to listen to testimonies that are already transcribed in the records, so end your turn or I will order your silence by other means.”
Jack could see that if he pushed it too far, Stalin would end the proceedings. However, he had no choice but to continue. The suspicions of the drunken lawyer had been right. If they were allowing him to defend Wilbur Hewitt, it was only because Stalin wanted to legitimize this farce of a trial. But, as soon as it was over, they would do away with him. He set aside his witness list and tried to apologize. “Mr. General Secretary, I can assure you that my only interest is to defend the truth, unlike Mr. Loban, who seems intent on laying the blame on Wilbur Hewitt, without providing even a shred of evidence to support his serious accusations. Broken machines cause accidents, interruptions, or failures in production. But these machines are broken”—he brandished his reports—“not because of some nefarious actions on the part of the accused; rather, the cause was an inexcusable lack of maintenance, negligent handling, or total ignorance of the safety warnings, the responsibility for which, under the agreement, falls to the Avtozavod itself.”
He took a volume from his case and turned to Sergei. “You accuse Mr. Wilbur Hewitt of counterrevolutionary actions, of fraudulent enrichment, and even of deliberately injuring workers he has never seen. Well, are you familiar with this manual?” He showed him the volume with a brown cover, the title in English reading Maintenance and Safety Procedure for Employees of the Ford Company Factories.
“Of course.”
“Of course. And you know it, because Wilbur Hewitt handed it to the factory’s Soviet directors in person, am I right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Good. Where is its translation?”
“Pardon?”
“Where is its translation into Russian? This is an original copy, in English, and I don’t think the Avtozavod’s operatives are capable of reading it.”
“There were problems understanding certain terms. But the translation is under way.” He cleared his throat. “At any rate, its contents do not alter the crimes Mr. Hewitt is charged with.”
“They don’t? All right. Do you know what this is?” He took another similar volume from his case, this time with a green cover. “It is the Verordnung über Wartung und Sicherheitsmassnahmen für die Arbeiter in den Ford-Fabriken, the translation of the same manual into German, which the German government made available to all of its workers in May 1928, three months before production of the Ford A began in Berlin.”