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Zusatztext “A compelling yarn and a fascinating glimpse at one of the more notorious chapters in Hollywood history.”— The San Francisco Chronicle “It’s difficult to convey the mounting excitement with which I turned the pages. . . . the writing [is] masterful! not one wasted word. . . . A terrific read.” —Sue Grafton“Memorable [and] pleasurable. . . . Goldstein displays the keen eye and sure hand of a gifted writer.”— The Wall Street Journal “Compares favorably with the best legal thrillers of the likes of John Grisham. . . . [ Errors and Omissions ] qualifies Goldstein for a high position among recent crime fiction.”— Political Affairs Informationen zum Autor Paul Goldstein is the Lillick Professor of Law at Stanford Law School and is widely recognized as one of the country's leading authorities on intellectual property law. A graduate of Brandeis University and Columbia Law School, he is Of Counsel to the law firm of Morrison & Foerster LLP and has regularly been included in Best Lawyers in America . He has testified before congressional committees dealing with intellectual property issues and has been an invited expert at international government meetings on copyright issues. A native of New York, he now lives in Menlo Park, California, with his wife and daughter. Klappentext An astonishing novel of legal and moral suspense from Paul Goldstein! a stunning new legal literary talent.Meet Michael Seeley! a take-no-prisoners intellectual property litigator-and a man on the brink of personal and career collapse. So when United Pictures virtually demands that he fly out to Hollywood to confirm legally that they own the rights to their corporate cash-cow franchise of Spykiller films! he has little choice but to comply. What he discovers in these gilded precincts will plunge him headfirst into the tangled politics of the blacklisting era and then into the even darker world of Nazi-occupied Poland. Drawing on historical fact and legal scholarship! this is a breathless tale of deception and intrigue. Leseprobe ONE The worst part of being drunk before breakfast is the hangover that returns before noon. Michael Seeley's head throbbed. He was tall and ruddy, with an athlete's vigor, but he felt compressed by the narrow room. Like the courtroom next door, the anteroom to Judge Randall Rappaport's chambers was designed for intimidation, not comfort: high ceiling, dark wood, brass fittings, wood chairs with no padding. There were no magazines or newspapers for distraction, not even a legal newspaper or law journal. A leather-bound volume the size of a Bible was carefully centered on a mahogany side table: The Collected Opinions (1985-2005) of the Honorable Randall Rappaport, Justice of the Supreme Court of New York . The other person in the room, Noel Emmert, hadn't acknowledged Seeley when he came in, and it wasn't until after Seeley inspected the book and returned it to the table that Emmert spoke. "How's the intellectual property business, counselor?" There was an edge to Emmert's voice, as if he were delivering the punch line to a story. Emmert's law practice was in county and state courts like this one, in a gray warren of pillared buildings off Foley Square at the bottom of Manhattan. Seeley practiced mainly in the federal courts on Pearl Street, around the corner. Seeley said, "How's the real property business?" Emmert gestured, so-so. "Is this going to be a long waltz, counselor, or are we ready to settle?" Seeley said, "Precisely." Emmert's eyebrows arched and he shot Seeley a look. "You know," he said, "the law is truly humbling, if you think about it. Your guy sells a piece of crap sculpture to my guy, my guy decides to fix it up with a coat of paint, and before you know it, we have a lawsuit. Two professionals, me and you, spending our time and our clients' money...
