Sparring Partners

By Jacob V. Lamar Jr

His interrogation of Oliver North was barely under way when Arthur Liman, chief counsel for the Senate committee, zeroed in on the black ring binder on the table in front of North. During lengthy questioning from the other lawyers, the Marine colonel had frequently consulted the book before giving his answers.

"What is in the book, sir?" Liman inquired. North began to explain that it contained notes that he and his attorney, Brendan Sullivan, had prepared. Sullivan abruptly cut his client off: "Don't tell him what it includes." He angrily asserted that Liman had no right to know.

Impervious, Liman continued with North: "Are you able to recall your conversation with Admiral Poindexter . . . without looking at that book?"

"That's none of your business either," Sullivan said. "You just ask him the questions!" Pointing and glaring at Liman, Sullivan shouted, "Get off his back!" So began a battle between combatants whose styles were as divergent as their appearances.

On the offense: the craggy-faced Arthur Liman, 54, a New York City trial lawyer whose sharp questions had already lacerated such witnesses as Richard Secord and Albert Hakim. A partner at the prestigious firm of Paul, Weiss, Rifkind, Wharton & Garrison, Liman (estimated annual salary: $1.1 million) is a specialist in white-collar crime. Last January he joined the Iran-contra investigation for what he calls the greatest challenge of his career. For the defense: Brendan Sullivan, 45, a partner at Washington's best-known criminal- law firm, Williams & Connolly. Despite his mild appearance, Sullivan is a tireless worker and tenacious courtroom fighter.

Liman was expected to treat North as he had earlier witnesses, using a blend of relentless hammering and withering sarcasm. Instead he addressed the Marine calmly but sternly, pressing forward to expose the contradictions in North's answers. While some thought Liman may have been intimidated by North's popularity, others viewed the chief counsel's cross-examination as a cagey shift in strategy. Says one Liman associate: "By staying in low gear, he got more out of North in part of a day than ((House Counsel John Nields and George Van Cleve)) did in 2 1/2 days."

On the other hand, Sullivan was startlingly contentious. He ferociously attacked Nields and Liman on procedural points and claimed they were not treating his client fairly. While accusing the panel of stalling, he proved himself a master of the same technique: whenever Liman seemed to have North cornered, Sullivan would interrupt the questioning with an objection or whispered advice for his client. Says a friend of Sullivan's: "He objects when he wants North to be able to think about his answer. He also tries to throw off the timing of the opposing counsel."

Despite the intensive sparring, there was a palpable undercurrent of mutual respect. At one point Sullivan demanded to see a passage from prior testimony cited by Liman. "Fortunately," Liman said, smiling wryly as he reached for the document, "I am prepared." Sullivan smirked and shot back, "I knew you would be!" As the crowd tittered, Liman asked, "Can I read you something? Will you trust me to read this?" Replied Sullivan almost playfully: "If I did, I wouldn't admit it." In that moment it was clear that these adversaries, though locked in high-stakes combat, were enjoying the fight.

With reporting by Hays Gorey/Washington