Arms Dealers
Page 11
“Let’s see… Naked, a little bit singed, carrying a menorah and a black hat. Yep. I’m fine.” He shifted the hat from his head to cover his lap. “Can’t go to court like this, though.”
A smile quirked the side of Dru’s mouth he could see. “I could slap an illusion on you.”
“That wouldn’t help with the draft. Head back to the Two-seven. It’s on the way.” He turned a sunny smile her way. “And I can get another cup of coffee there.”
Dru shook her head but couldn’t keep the grin off her face.
12
McCoy glanced back as Leery stuck his head in through the hall door. Sam arched his eyebrows, and Leery nodded. “They’re here,” he said to Angie.
“Thank the Power,” she breathed. “It’s about time.”
“All rise!” shouted the extremely short bailiff with a long flowing beard. He banged the butt of his archaic and brutal-looking halberd on the floor. “Order, order! I call this court to order, the Just and Honorable Grimhildr Gyuki presiding.”
As everyone got to their feet, a beautiful red-haired woman appeared on the bench in a flash of sharp blue light and a cloud of white smoke. She smiled at the bailiff. “Thank you, Thoridn.”
The short man ducked his chin in a respectful salute and snapped his heels together.
The redhead turned her gaze on the prosecution table and gave McCoy a wink and a single nod. “Mr. McCoy.”
“Judge Gyuki,” he replied. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“Likewise.” She turned her attention on the defense table. “And Mr. Leibman, is it?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“I haven’t had the pleasure of your presence in my courtroom before, have I?”
“Only once, Your Honor, and it was many years ago.”
An expression of consternation wrinkled Judge Gyuki’s brow, a cloud passing before the sun on a warm spring day. “Is it so?” She picked up her gavel, but her eyes never left Paul Leibman’s. “I don’t recall, and for that, I apologize.”
“It’s nothing to concern yourself over, Your Honor. It was a trivial case, disposed of in short order.”
“Aha. Perhaps that explains it.” She lifted the gavel and snapped it down on the sound block. “And do you represent all the defendants in today’s trial?”
“Yes, Your Honor. I have the honor of representing Rose Marie Van Dee, Lothidn Oorskowkinum, and Shuten-doji.”
Gyuki treated the defense table with a single, brisk nod. “Since all parties are present, I see no reason for further delay. Court is now in session.” Her gaze danced between McCoy and Leibman. “Gentlemen, I expect a clean fight. No…drat, what’s the word…” She turned toward Thoridn. “Tvowfeldni?”
“Duplicity, Your Grace.”
“Aha. Yes. No duplicity from either quarter. No chicanery. I’ll not have it. Do you both understand?”
Both McCoy and Leibman said they did.
“Very well. Mr. McCoy, begin.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” Sam stood and walked around the table to face the jury. He looked each one in the eye, then dropped his chin and put his hands behind his back. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, during the course of this trial, you may find your ethics—and, indeed, your morals—tested. The woman seated at the defense table behind me is Rose Marie Van Dee, and she stands accused of crimes both various and sundry, but there is no charge in our beloved Canon and Covenants that covers her ultimate crime. Many of you know that this Locus has a problem with occult cabals.
“You’ve no doubt heard of the Zombie mafia. Perhaps you’ve seen romanticized movies or television programs dealing with the subject. You may have read fictional accounts that paint mafia life as honorable—misunderstood underdogs fighting against a corrupt system. Let me assure you, here and now, that there is nothing honorable or romantic about the Zombie mafia. They are nothing but thugs, extorting what they want through fear and brutality.” He spun on his heel and pointed at Van Dee. “The woman you see here, ladies and gentlemen, is Rose Marie Van Dee, the so-called Mama Zombie of the Locus of New York, and head of the Van Dee Cabal.”
Rose Marie trotted out her best grandmother smile and winked at the jury.
“Despite what she’d like you to believe,” said McCoy, “she’s not a sweet old lady trapped in undeath by powers out of her control. No, we will present evidence to the contrary… Evidence that proves Rose Marie Van Dee is a tyrant who rules the occult cabal in this Locus with an iron fist, with the threat of torture and worse. She is responsible for a string of murders of the mundanes we share this Locus with, for the purpose of harvesting their body parts.” Several members of the jury gasped, and McCoy nodded. “Yes, that’s correct. In order to generate inventory for her chop shops, the defendant hired mercenaries to kill unsuspecting mundanes without a permit, out of season, and outside the auspices of the Covenant of Improper Action. You will hear from some of these mercenaries as they give direct testimony of their own crimes in order to implicate Ms. Van Dee.”
McCoy turned and paced back and forth in front of the jury box. “That Rose Marie Van Dee gave the orders in this venture cannot be disputed, yet we will provide evidence in the form of eye-witness zombie testimony to those orders. But”—McCoy held up his index finger like a schoolmarm lecturing her class—“her crimes and, yea, her charges, do not end with that. The People also levy multiple charges of bribery in the first degree, intimidation of a law enforcement official, obstruction of justice, and perverting the course of justice.” McCoy turned his back on the defense table and showed his best smile to the jury, eyes crinkling with benevolence. “And this brings us back to the very first thing I said to you, ladies and gentlemen—that this case may test your ethics and morality.
“‘How so?’ you might ask. Well, the answer is simple: you may be approached by Ms. Van Dee’s underlings and either wooed or threatened to influence your decision in this case.” McCoy paused and lifted his shoulders. “It has happened before, and it will happen again. But I find it necessary to advise you from the perspective of Covenancy law. If you are wooed—and this may take the form of bribery with cash, either direct or indirect, or any other thing of value—then you are committing a felony. We will discover it, and you will find yourself seated where Ms. Van Dee and her co-defendants now sit. And let me tell you, those seats are most uncomfortable. But you know all this.” Sam flashed his kind smile again. “What you may not know, and what Ms. Van Dee’s minions will take great pains to conceal from you, is that if you succumb to their threats, their enticements, they will see you as a liability.” McCoy paused and met each of their gazes. “And how do you think the Zombie mafia deals with liabilities?” He turned and looked at the defense. “Well, I think we all know how that is accomplished.”
“Your Honor, I must object to this,” said Leibman. “Mr. McCoy is casting—”
“It’s his opening statement, sir, and you will have your turn. Overruled.”
“Thank you, Judge Gyuki,” said McCoy. He faced the jury once more, but before he could begin again, Lieutenant Van Helsing drifted into the court and approached the bar. Angie leaned toward her, and Epatha whispered in her ear. Carmichael’s eyes widened, and she beckoned Sam.
“I beg your pardon, Your Honor,” said McCoy as he approached the prosecution table. He bent over it and listened, then glanced at Van Helsing. When she nodded, Sam turned to face the Court, his face set in grim lines. “Your Honor, please allow this to serve as the People’s notice that we will be amending the charges against Rose Marie Van Dee to include two counts of witness tampering, two counts of assault on a law enforcement officer, one count of battery on a law enforcement officer, and one count of attempted murder of a law enforcement officer. Let me add that we will be extending the scope of our examination of witnesses Leery Oriscoe, Drusilla Nogan, Dee Terry, and Jack Barnett.”
“It is within your purview to do so, Mr. McCoy. Clerk, please note the additions. Continue, Mr. McCoy.”
&nbs
p; “Thank you, Your Honor.” He faced Rose Marie Van Dee. “In the interest of justice, Your Honor, I’d like the defendant held in complete isolation for the remainder of the trial.”
“Your Honor, I must—”
“I understand that order is already in place, Mr. McCoy. Sit down, Mr. Leibman.”
“Thank you, Judge Gyuki. I only wish to request that the isolation order not be lifted.” Sam turned and faced the jury once more. “You’ve just witnessed another of the ways the defendant will try to manipulate this trial: violence against my witnesses. Don’t let her succeed. In this case, you will hear ugly truths like this one, but truths. The defense will try to skew those truths. They will try to cast them in a suspicious or scornful light. Do not be deceived. Thank you for your attention.” Sam turned and took his seat.
“Very well, Mr. McCoy,” said Judge Gyuki. She waved a languid hand at Paul Leibman.
“Thank you, Your Honor,” he said, gaining his feet. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my opponent, Mr. McCoy, spoke of many things, but he left some salient points unsaid. First, he may present what he calls eyewitnesses. I call them conspirators, and even Mr. McCoy must admit to the truth of that statement. These people are testifying only to avoid prosecution for murder and more. They have concocted this insane story implicating my clients with one—and only one—motive in mind: to save their own skins. Ask yourselves if the statement of a co-conspirator in the alleged crime is enough ‘proof’ to justify a verdict of guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. Assess the character of these witnesses, examine their past behavior, and contrast both to that of my clients—two respectable small business owners and a poor troll working to better his environment. I promise you: you will find these eyewitnesses lacking.” Leibman turned and faced Sam. “And I’d like you to consider another point and another man’s character. The prosecutor-in-chief, Sam McCoy, has gone to great lengths to seat Ms. Van Dee before you. He won’t want to share those lengths with you. Suffice it to say he brought an action against the very Covenancy we all hold dear.”
McCoy chuckled and shook his head.
“This man has an agenda. This man has something against my clients. This man is the one presenting you with skewed truths. This—”
“Mr. Leibman?” asked Grimhildr Gyuki. “You allege what amounts to serious charges against an officer of the court in good standing. Are you sure you wish to proceed in this vein? I will hold you accountable.”
“I apologize to the Court and to Mr. McCoy. I intended only to illustrate the flaws of his argument, not to accuse him of criminal acts.”
“Proceed, then, Mr. Leibman, but I’ll have no more of that, if you please.”
“Yes, Judge.” Leibman turned back to the jury and offered a weak smile. “In the interest of truth, I do not mean to impugn Mr. McCoy in any way except for misguided zeal and passion for his profession. In fact, Mr. McCoy and I have known one another for decades.” He turned and smiled at Sam. “I count him as a friend, and though I may have gotten carried away a moment ago, I assure you of his good character and intentions.” Turning back to the jury, he smiled, this time with a predatory gleam in his eye. “But as his friend of so many years, I am well suited to point out his errors, his flaws. In this case, one of the qualities that makes him such a good Locus Magister has led him down the garden path, so to speak. As long as I have known him, tenaciousness has defined him in everything he’s pursued—at least in part. He is like the proverbial bulldog, locking his jaws around his prey. In this case, that prey sits at the defense table, weary, worried, and broken-hearted. Do not hold this against, Mr. McCoy”—Leibman darted a glance at Judge Gyuki—“he is only doing what he thinks just. But, please, ladies and gentlemen, do not simply take his word for it. Examine each bit of proof, listen to my cross-examination of each witness, listen to their answers, their evasions. At the end of the trial, tally up your scores. Mark those you believed, and those who left you with doubt. Compare the two, and I’m sure you will return a verdict of not guilty on all counts. Thank you.” Leibman gave the jury a little bow then returned to his seat.
“Mr. McCoy, present your case.”
“Yes, Your Honor. The People call Dee Terry to the stand.”
As Dru led her in, Thoridn narrowed his eyes at the zombie and seemed to bristle. He went as far as to growl something under his breath and sneered as she passed. To McCoy, it sounded like “trucker,” but knowing Thoridn and Grimhildr’s Nordic background, he assumed it was “truykr” the Old Norse word for zombie. Thoridn swore Dee in, taking care that they never touched by accident.
McCoy rose and approached the witness box. “Ms. Terry, good morning, and thank you for being here.”
“Good morning.”
“Before we get into your testimony, first may I inquire about your well-being? I understand you were attacked this morning by a zombie horde.”
Dee darted a scathing glance at Rose Marie, who refused to meet her gaze. “Yes, though I wasn’t personally attacked, I’m sure that my friend, Jack Barnett, and I were their primary targets.”
“Then you aren’t injured?”
“No.”
“Thank goodness. But if we could return to your statement that you weren’t personally attacked—I assume this means someone was?”
“Yes. The zombies came at us, but Detectives Leery Oriscoe and Dru Nogan stood in our defense.”
“And one of the detectives was the one you meant?”
“Yes. First, Nogan lit them all aflame, and then Oriscoe waded into their midst in wolf form, distracting and delaying them so we could escape with Nogan.”
“I see. Now, you mentioned a zombie horde. I take it you do not mean the kind of mindless zombie hordes seen in video games, movies, and television?”
“No, not at all. Those shows are insulting.”
“Then, may I ask, what do you mean when you say, ‘zombie horde?’”
“It’s what the Zombie mafia calls a group of enforcers sent out to do wet work.”
“Wet work?”
“Sure. Kill someone. Beat someone up. Draw blood.”
“I understand. And how do you know that the Zombie mafia calls these hit squads by the term ‘zombie horde?’”
Dee flashed a lopsided smile at the jury. “Because, until recently, I was a member of the Zombie mafia.”
“And were you asked to participate in these hordes?”
“From time to time,” said Dee with a shrug. “We all are.”
“What message do you draw from this morning’s attack?”
Dee’s expression darkened. “That Rose Marie doesn’t want us to testify.”
“That seems reasonable. Tell me, Ms. Terry, did you recognize any of the zombies attacking you?”
“Sure.”
“And you will testify against them at their trials?”
Dee barked a harsh laugh that echoed throughout the chamber. “Sure, why not?”
“Why not, indeed. What do you expect their defense will be?”
“Your Honor?” said Leibman, getting to his feet and raising his hand.
“Yes, Mr. Leibman?”
“I fail to see how any of this is relevant to the case at hand. Does Mr. McCoy intend to demonstrate a link to my client?”
Grimhildr arched an eyebrow at Sam.
“Yes, I do, Your Honor. Subsequent to further testimony.”
“Then, I’ll allow it.” Leibman opened his mouth to protest, but Grimhildr shot him a look that could break glass. “Your continued objection is noted and tabled until Mr. McCoy succeeds or fails in demonstrating this link.”
Leibman nodded. “Thank you, Your Honor. And the testimony will be stricken if he fails?”
Judge Gyuki nodded, and Leibman regained his seat.
“Ms. Terry? What do you expect the members of the attacking horde to present as their defense at trial?”
“They will claim it was a misunderstanding. That the officers attacked them when they were just playing a prank, and
that from there, they were only defending themselves from unjust injury.”
“I see. How do you know this?”
Dee chuckled. “That’s what Mama Rose Marie told us all to do.”
“I see. And to say it explicitly, do you believe Rose Marie Van Dee is behind the attack this morning?”
“Of course.”
“Fine. Let’s leave the events of this morning for now and turn our attention to the day of your arrest.”
“Okay.”
“In what activity were you engaged that afternoon?”
“Me and Jack were minding one of the shops.”
“Please tell us what is sold in these shops you mention.”
“Illegal body parts. Arms, mostly.”
“Chop shops?” He waited for her nod, then continued, “And who is your primary clientele?”
“Zombies, of course, though we do get the occasional golem with delusions of grandeur.”
Sam tucked his chin against his chest. “Where did your inventory come from?”
“At first, we robbed fresh graves, but demand was heavy, and the butcher, John May, told us a new supplier would bring the parts.”
“John May? Is he also a zombie?”
“No. He’s one of Rose Marie’s playthings.”
“Who brought you the new inventory?”
“Sometimes it was a troll, sometimes a bugge.”
“An unseelie and a troll? Strange bedfellows.”
“They didn’t like each other much; I can tell you that.”
“Do you know their names?”
“The troll was Lothidn, the big brute at the defense table, and the bugge went by Carden, though I got the feeling that was an alias.”
Sam scratched an eyebrow. “And could you identify him?”
“Sure. I already have, for the police.”
“Yes, and your identification led to his arrest.” He turned to the jury. “We’ll hear from him later in the trial.” Sam turned and walked back to the prosecution table, taking a sip of water from the glass there. “Tell me, Ms. Terry, do you know where those body parts brought by Lothidn and Carden came from?”