by John Bowers
“Da. I suspected for a long time, for years, but I couldn’t be sure. Just a few months ago I got proof, never mind how. Orel and Stepan were in on it, and so was Lebed.”
“What about Kozel?”
“No. When I got confirmation that it was the family, his name wasn’t included in the information, so I confronted him. He admitted that he knew, but swore he had nothing to do with it.”
“And you believe him?”
“Da. I have to believe him. He is my big brother.”
“Isn’t Lebed also your brother?”
“Yes, but he’s the worst kind of asshole, as you’ve already discovered. He actually ordered the hit, after he and the others agreed on it. Those two men you killed that first day are the ones who murdered Josef. I told you I didn’t like them, and now you know why.”
Nick sagged in his seat, shaking his head slowly.
“Jeeezus!”
“Kozel and I are going to reorganize the family, with you and me running the whole show.”
“Kozel is okay with that last part?”
“I haven’t told him yet, but he won’t complain. He and I are very close and he trusts my judgment. The only thing he really cares about is running his casino and trading with Sirius. He isn’t all that interested in the rest of the operation.”
“And the other three?”
“They won’t say a word. Because they’ll be dead. You are going to kill them for me.”
Chapter 24
Department 9, Lucaston Colonial Court – Lucaston – Alpha Centauri 2
Victoria Cross tapped keys on her laptop as the prosecutor finished with his witness. Seated on her right, the defendant drummed his fingers on the table without realizing it. He was wearing the three-piece suit she had rented for him, since he was too poor to afford it and had nothing decent to wear to court. By contrast, the witness on the stand was decked out in a fashionable sport suit that probably cost more than the annual rent on the apartment she shared with Nick. He was either a very wealthy man or a desperate exhibitionist who enjoyed flaunting what wealth he did have. Two diamond rings adorned his left hand and his tie pin appeared to be sterling silver. His haircut alone probably cost several hundred terros.
“No further questions.”
The prosecutor returned to his table and settled into a chair, a smug look on his face. It was a simple case, open and shut. Police had nailed the suspect just minutes after the theft and the victim, now on the witness stand, had identified him. The prosecutor was confident of a conviction.
The judge, the Honorable Douglas Becker, turned to Victoria.
“Your turn, Miss Cross.”
“Thank you, your Honor.” Victoria finished typing and stood up, pushed her chair back, and strolled toward the witness. She made and maintained eye contact with him until she was just six feet away, standing directly in front of him. She was looking especially hot in a bright red body-skimming sheath dress that snugged her body and enhanced her curves. The witness allowed himself a brief smile as his eyes roamed her body.
“Good morning, Mr. Clinton. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Ma’am! Getting more beautiful all the time.”
“I only have a few brief questions concerning your testimony, so I’ll try not to keep you too long.”
“Take your time.” The witness smirked.
“According to the police report, the man who robbed you approached you from behind, is that correct?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“He came at you from behind you and to your left.”
“Yes.”
“What were you doing at the exact moment he approached?”
“I was talking on my pocket phone. I had just left my office and was heading to my car.”
“Okay. So you were concentrating on your conversation.”
“Yes. As well as walking toward the car.”
“At what point did you see the assailant for the first time?”
“When he grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.”
“He grabbed your left shoulder?”
“Yes.”
“I see. You were walking toward your car. How fast were you walking?”
“Your Honor…” Gavin Whetstone, the prosecutor, got to his feet. “Is this going somewhere?”
“Miss Cross?”
“I’m just trying to clarify the scene, your Honor. For the jury.”
“Proceed, but make it count.”
Victoria turned her attention back to the witness.
“Mr. Clinton, you were walking toward your car. Were you walking fast, slow, or just strolling?”
Clinton shrugged. “Normal speed. I wasn’t in a hurry, and when I’m talking on the phone I probably don’t walk as fast as I might otherwise.”
“That makes sense. But to catch up to you, the suspect had to be moving faster than you were, isn’t that correct?”
“Yeah, I think that’s pretty obvious.”
“Was he running?”
“I—don’t know. Probably.”
“If he was running, it seems like you would have heard him. Did you hear anyone running?”
The witness spread his hands.
“I…don’t know. It’s an underground parking space and there are echoes in there. I remember the sound of car engines and voices, so there may have been footsteps as well.”
“You said ‘footsteps’, but you mean running footsteps. Is that correct?”
“That’s what I meant, but like I said, I don’t specifically recall.”
“When the suspect grabbed you and spun you around, did he grab you pretty hard?”
“Yes. I almost lost my balance.”
“And then he hit you in the face with his fist?”
“Yes. He knocked me to the ground.”
“At which time he proceeded to take your watch and your wallet.”
“That’s right.”
“Did he take anything else?”
“I don’t think so.”
“He didn’t take your rings?”
Clinton held up his left hand and rotated it, causing the diamonds to flash.
“No. Thank God.”
“He took your watch and your wallet, but he didn’t take your rings. How much cash was in your wallet?”
“Couple of hundred terros.”
“So the rings were more valuable than the wallet.”
“Yes, definitely.”
“Did he even attempt to take them?”
“The rings? No. He rifled my pocket and then he took off. Maybe he didn’t see them.”
“But he took your watch, which means he must have seen your hand. How could he miss two expensive rings?”
Clinton smiled. “I’m left-handed. I wear my watch on my right wrist. The rings are on the left.”
Victoria also smiled. “That must explain it. Thank you.
“Now, Mr. Clinton—how long did all this take?”
“It was pretty quick. Probably not more than thirty seconds.”
“From the time the suspect grabbed your left shoulder, spun you around so hard you almost lost your balance, knocked you to the ground with his fist, and stole your watch and wallet—all of that took about thirty seconds?”
“Again, I’m only guessing, but I think that’s probably accurate.”
“Were you startled?”
“Startled? Hell yes, I was.”
“Were you scared? Shocked? Shaken?”
“Yeah. I didn’t know if he had a weapon or what. He took me completely by surprise and could have killed me if he wanted to.”
“I understand. It must have been pretty traumatic.”
“It was.”
“And yet, in spite of the brevity of the attack, in spite of your shock and fear, you still believe that you got a good look at the suspect.”
“I did. He wasn’t more than a foot away, right in my face. I saw him clearly.”
“Mr. Whetstone has already elicited testimony tha
t the lighting in the parking garage was adequate for you to see the suspect, so that has been established. What I’m concerned with now is the accuracy of your identification. Mr. Clinton, are you absolutely certain that my client—” She pointed. “—the defendant, is the man who assaulted and robbed you in that parking garage?”
Clinton gazed at the defendant and nodded.
“Absolutely sure.”
“Beyond a reasonable doubt?”
“Beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
“I see. Mr. Clinton, let me put this another way. If this were a death penalty case, and the defendant was facing the vacuum chamber, are you so certain of your identification that, in the event my client were put to death based on your testimony, you could sleep at night?”
“For the rest of my life.”
“For the rest of your life. I assume that’s a yes?”
“Yes.”
Victoria turned and walked back to the defense table. Her client, Ricardo Guzman, stared at her with tortured eyes. Clearly he was scared to death. To reassure him, she winked, then picked up a document and returned to the witness. She took a moment to page through it, then made eye contact with Clinton again.
“According to the police report, you described your attacker as young, probably between eighteen and twenty-five; about five feet six to five feet ten; about a hundred fifty to a hundred sixty pounds; dark complexion, black hair, and probably Spanic. Is that right?”
“Yes.” Clinton nodded at the document in her hand. “If that’s what the report says, then yes.”
“Mr. Clinton, it sounds to me like you described him only in general terms. You never cited any identifying marks such as scars or moles or tattoos, no jewelry, no eye color, and nothing specific about his build or posture or manner of movement. Nothing specific as to clothing or shoes, no unique smells such as cologne or body odor.”
Clinton scowled, as if not accustomed to being challenged.
“If he had any scars or tattoos, I couldn’t see them. He was wearing long sleeves. And like I said, it all happened pretty fast. I didn’t have time to study him for details.”
“Mr. Clinton, do you realize that your description of the suspect fits eighty percent of all young Spanic males in this city?”
“No, but I don’t see how that’s my fault.”
“Do they all look alike to you?”
“Objection!”
“Withdrawn. Mr. Clinton, are you aware that, based on your description, the police detained four different individuals and hauled them in for questioning?”
Clinton’s face had turned red. He glared at her with something that looked suspiciously like hatred.
“Yes, I know they did. They were all in the lineup, and I picked out the man who did it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Objection, asked and answered.”
“Overruled.”
“Mr. Clinton, you picked my client out of a lineup in which four men matched the description you gave officers; the fifth man in that lineup was six feet tall and white, so it obviously wasn’t him. But didn’t the other four subjects in that lineup look suspiciously the same?”
“They were the same general height and build, but only one of them robbed me.” Clinton pointed at Ricardo Guzman. “Him.”
“Are you aware that, when he was arrested, my client was wearing a short-sleeved shirt?”
Clinton’s eyes expanded a fraction, but he didn’t back down.
“He probably changed it. He had time.”
“Are you also aware that my client was not in possession of your stolen watch and wallet at the time of his arrest?”
“Yes, I am aware of that. I never got them back. He probably ditched the goods before the police got him.”
“I see. He probably changed his shirt. He probably ditched the stolen goods. And I suppose he is probably the man who robbed you.”
“No! He is the man.” He pointed again. “I identified him, and that’s him.”
Victoria turned and strolled toward the jury, her blue eyes roving over them to gauge their reaction. She saw several frowns and narrowed eyes. She stopped and turned back.
“Mr. Clinton, have you ever been made aware that for several centuries, so-called ‘eye-witness’ testimony has been considered the least reliable form of testimony?”
“Objection! Prejudicial.”
“Sustained. Miss Cross, step away from the edge of the cliff, please.”
“Yes, your Honor.
“Mr. Clinton…let me ask you a different question, and maybe we can get a clearer picture of things. You’re a businessman, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“An executive?”
“Yes.”
“As a businessman working in an office setting, I suspect that you use v-mail on a daily basis. Is that accurate?”
“Sure, all the time.”
“Good. I also use v-mail, and also hard-copy correspondence when necessary. It has been my experience that, when I receive a v-mail, or communication of any kind, I usually read it twice. Do you ever do that?”
The witness frowned, as if sensing a trap.
“Yes.”
“Good! Can you tell the Court why you read your v-mails twice?”
“To make sure I didn’t miss anything.”
“To make sure you didn’t miss anything. Any other reason?”
“Well, to make sure I understood everything correctly.”
Victoria bathed him with her smile.
“Exactly! You know, a few years ago, when I was still a U.F. Attorney, I got a v-mail from my boss one day and I thought I had been fired. I was devastated. My boss and I were in disagreement over the details of a trial, and I thought he had canned me. But when I read the v-mail a second time, I realized that I had misread it completely. I wasn’t fired at all.”
Whetstone was on his feet again.
“Your Honor…”
“Overruled. Make your point, Miss Cross.”
Victoria never took her eyes off Clinton.
“The fact is, Mr. Clinton, that when something unusual happens, we often see what we expect to see, instead of what is really there. I was halfway expecting to be fired, and I was sure I had been. You were expecting to find your robber in that lineup, and so you did. You had four men to choose from, and you were so certain that one of them was guilty that you found the man you were looking for. Isn’t that what really happened?”
“No.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I saw what I saw.” Clinton’s face was now so red it looked ready to bleed.
“One final question, Mr. Clinton. Please cover your eyes with your hand.”
“Objection! To what purpose?”
“Miss Cross?”
“It’s my last question, your Honor. What’s the harm?”
Judge Becker stared hard at her for a moment, then shrugged.
“Overruled. The witness will cover his eyes.”
Clinton glanced at the judge, glared at Victoria, then placed both hands over his eyes. Victoria stepped up right in front of him.
“Mr. Clinton, with both your eyes covered—and please don’t peek—what color necklace am I wearing?”
Clinton sat still for a moment, his hands still tight over his face. Finally he heaved a deep breath.
“Silver.”
“Thank you. You can open your eyes now.”
He did, and his lips parted in surprise as he stared at her.
Victoria smiled, then turned to face the jury.
“Wrong, Mr. Clinton. I’m not wearing a necklace.”
She turned to face the witness again.
“You and I have been talking for fifteen minutes, with no pressure, and you’ve had a good look at me, but apparently your powers of observation aren’t very sharp, are they?”
“Objection!”
“Sustained. Save it for closing, Miss Cross.”
Victoria smiled again.
“No further questions.”
The Rodina – Periscope Harbor – Beta Centauri
Nick felt light-headed. Part of his mission was to decapitate Bratva, or at least severely cripple it. That was expected to be the hardest part of his mission, but no one in their wildest hallucinations had ever anticipated this!
He swallowed hard, and not just for Diana’s benefit. His shock was genuine.
“You want to decapitate the family on the eve of a war with the Patushkin family?”
For the first time since he’d met her, Diana Petreykin-Stepurin looked scared, her eyes naked and vulnerable. This was the most critical part of her pitch; if he turned her down, she would probably have to kill him—unless he killed her first. Any other course and he might tell the cousins what she planned, which would mean her own execution.
“Hear me out, please! If we do this, there won’t be a war. We’ve already taken out Gregor Patushkin, Kozel and me. Gregor’s sons are scrambling over each other for control of their family, but Vasily Patushkin is ready to merge with us if we can arrange it. His older brother is the one behind this week’s attacks. We have to move fast to avoid a full-blown war.”
“Do they know you assassinated Gregor?”
“Vasily does, but I’m not sure about the others.”
“How did Vasily find out?”
“It was his idea. He approached me. He’s the one who told me who murdered my husband.”
“And you believe him? Maybe he’s setting you up.”
She shook her head. “Kozel confirmed it, so I know it’s true. Vasily recommended that the families merge and expand our profits; he’s tired of the violence between our families…and so am I. It’s bad for business. He suggested it to his father, but Gregor quashed the idea.”
“Why?”
“Because he hated us. It’s a long story, and I won’t bore you with the details, but—his oldest son is doing fifty years in prison and he blamed us for that. Vasily realized the only way it could work would be if his father were out of the picture.”
“Would he accept me as the top honcho?”
“Yes. He would have to take out his brothers, but we can help with that. To be completely honest, we would have to take out some of our own people, too, those loyal to Lebed and my cousins; the Patushkins would have to do the same, but when that’s done, and the two families merge, we’ll be stronger together than we ever were alone, and we would have Molograd as well as Periscope Harbor. For that matter, we would have the whole planet, because the other Bratva families are much smaller and weaker than we will be.”