“So get fighter jets up in the air; shoot the planes down once you identify them.”
“Carpenter, with what he’ll have on board, we can’t afford to shoot it down.”
The automatic private gate to the airfield opened as the truck pulled up.
Sam and Marcus could see that it was prearranged; they were waiting for Bauer to arrive. The gate then closed behind the truck, leaving them outside.
Up ahead on the tarmac were two medium-sized jets. Sam knew absolutely nothing about aircraft, but to him they looked like they could carry maybe seventy-five passengers each. If they were hollowed out, they could handle a lot of cargo.
The backs of the planes seemed to be open, an indication that they were specially designed to haul large items. Next to the jets were large machines that looked like cranes. There was no doubt in Sam’s mind that they were there to transfer the cargo on to the plane.
Bauer pulled up next to the planes, and two men ran up to help him. There was no way to tell whether they were also the pilots, but no one else seemed to be around. Bauer opened the back of the truck and climbed on, while the other two men quickly started moving the machines into position.
“Marcus, we can’t let them transfer that stuff on to the plane. I’m going to see if I can open the gate.”
Sam got out of the car and started running toward the gate, but as he did he sensed motion behind him. He turned to see that Marcus was driving the car toward the gate at high speed.
Marcus hit the gate at seventy miles an hour, and it was no contest. The gate was obliterated, and Marcus continued driving out to the airplanes. The two men looked up, shocked at the noise of the gate getting smashed, and the car barreling down on them.
Marcus pulled the car to a screeching halt, crashing into the machines in the process. He was out of the car and on the men in an instant. If there were twelve of them it would not have been a fair fight; two of them was a total mismatch.
It took Marcus a total of two punches to end it, leaving the men unconscious on the asphalt. He then climbed up into the relative darkness of the truck to go after Bauer.
But in the process of disposing of the two men, Marcus did not realize that Bauer had exited the truck from the front, and had come up behind him.
He heard the click of the gun being cocked, and whirled. It was too late to do anything before the shot was fired, but just in time to watch Bauer blown sideways by the blast, into the wheel of the plane.
And there was Sam, about twenty feet away, unable to take his eyes off of Bauer. “I shot him,” he said, as if he couldn’t believe it himself. “I really shot him.”
“Yuh,” said Marcus.
I learn what happened from a variety of sources.
First is Sam, but all I can really get him to say is, “I shot him, Andy. He’s dead. I shot him, and he’s dead.” After a few rounds of that I’m so desperate for information that I ask him to put Marcus on the phone. That doesn’t work out so well.
Then Laurie calls. She had arrived on the scene well after it happened, but had gotten the lay of the land rather well. She describes what happened, and how the FBI and Homeland Security agents are now all over the airfield. There are also decontamination experts on hand, but no one seems terribly worried about that, as the canisters seem secure.
By the time she calls, Sam and Marcus are being questioned and debriefed by agents. Good luck with that.
I also get some information from the cable news networks, though they don’t really add much to the picture. They know that there was a shootout at the airfield, and that Homeland Security was called in.
No mention is made of any dangerous cargo, and more ominously, no mention is made of any possible connection to the Galloway case.
I have spent the three hours since I found out that Sam and Marcus were okay and Bauer was dead thinking about how I can make this impact Noah’s situation. My only possible way to do that is through Mulcahy, to have him again go to De Luca, this time armed with the weight of the night’s events.
I try him a bunch of times, but he doesn’t answer the call, probably because he knows it’s me. He finally calls me back at one-thirty in the morning, though he doesn’t wake me. He could call at any hour tonight and not wake me.
“I’ve been trying to reach you,” I say. “I want to know what happened.”
“You already know what happened,” he says.
“What was the cargo?”
“That’s pretty much the only thing I’ll tell you, because you were right. But I need your word you won’t repeat it.”
“You’ve got it,” I say. “Uranium?”
“Uranium. But not the normal kind. Not the kind seen anywhere before.”
“What kind is it?”
“More than ninety-nine percent of uranium taken out of the ground is called uranium 238. It has within it a tiny amount, less than half of one percent, of uranium 235, and that’s the part that’s needed to make a nuclear weapon, at least a basic kind. If you have enough 235, the enrichment process is easy.”
“And this uranium contained a high level of 235?”
“The current estimate is twenty-two percent. It’s never been seen before, and I hope it’s never seen again. Whoever got their hands on this would in effect be getting their hands on the bomb.”
“Who was trying to get it?”
“That’s on a need-to-know, and you are not close to having that need. But I do want to thank you. You were right about an awful lot, and you saved a lot of lives today.”
“Great,” I say, “now all you need to save is one. Noah Galloway’s.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to talk to De Luca.”
“I’ve seen that movie,” he says.
“Then see it again. Or have someone above you see it. But get De Luca to order a directed verdict of acquittal before the jury convicts him tomorrow morning.”
“Everything about this incident is classified, Andy. There is nothing I can do.”
“I’ll talk to the media.”
“And people might or might not believe you. Or they might think you’re a lawyer trying to protect a client with information that already didn’t work at trial.”
“He’s going to go to jail for the rest of his life.”
“You’re worried about him, and I’m worried about everyone else. I can’t help you.”
I can see the strain on Noah’s face as he is led into the courtroom.
It’s the look on every defendant’s face as they prepare to hear the verdict that will decide their fate. The problem for me in this case is that I put that strain there.
If not for me, there would have been no trial. Noah would have taken his punishment well, even willingly, and would never have hoped or expected freedom. I raised his hopes, and now the jury is going to wipe them away.
Becky sits directly behind him, wearing a similar expression. When I nod to her she mouths, “Thank you.” I don’t know if Noah’s likely conviction will make her feel the guilt that I feel, because without her I never would have had the chance to take Noah down this path.
Noah sits down next to me. He smiles and says, softly, “The day of reckoning.”
Across the way, Dylan and his team are assembled. They do not seem under any particular stress; either way they are going home tonight. If I had to guess, it’s more important for Dylan to beat me than to convict Noah. Unfortunately, doing one means doing the other.
Mulcahy is also in the gallery. I would rather he were with the judge, but I saw him come in through the rear door and take his seat. He nods to me, but I don’t nod back. That’ll teach him.
De Luca is fifteen minutes late, which is not terribly unusual. For some reason I find that judges are often late on verdict day. I consider it a form of cruel and unusual punishment, at least for the defendant and his lawyer.
De Luca finally comes in, and gives a brief speech about how important it is for the courtroom to remain calm and quiet a
fter the verdict. It’s a packed house, and De Luca, realizing that, emphasizes the importance of postverdict silence even more than usual.
I see Laurie and Hike enter the courtroom through the back door, having come straight here from the airport. Coming down to the defense table would be disruptive, so they stand in the back and watch.
De Luca calls in the jury, and they come in looking properly solemn. I have no ability to read faces, so I don’t try. If they convict Noah, I’ll want to track them down and rip off those faces, so rather than read them, I should try to remember them.
De Luca asks the foreman if they have reached a verdict, and the woman says that they have. “Please give the form to the clerk,” he instructs, and she does so. He then asks Noah to stand, and I join him in doing so.
I put my hand on Noah’s shoulder, as a gesture of support but really because in the past I’ve put my hands on other defendants’ shoulders, and they’ve been acquitted. My verdict superstitions continue until the verdict is read.
The bailiff then brings the form to De Luca. He opens it and takes what seems like a month to read it. He then hands it to the clerk, and asks him to read it aloud.
“In the matter of New Jersey v. Noah Galloway, as relating to count one, we the jury find the defendant, Noah Galloway, guilty of murder in the first degree.”
I keep my hand on Noah’s shoulder as the clerk reads the guilty verdicts for the other three counts as well. The hand-on-the-shoulder thing obviously does not work.
Becky moves forward and hugs Noah, and the bailiffs respectfully allow her a few seconds to do so. I lean in to both of them and say, “This will not stand,” but I doubt they believe me.
The gallery is fairly loud, and De Luca slams his gavel repeatedly to achieve quiet. It takes a minute or so, but he finally gets it.
“First of all, I would like to thank the members of the jury for your service. You have worked hard, heard the evidence, and made your decision. Based on the facts presented to you, it is the correct decision.
“But I have just been given additional facts, some classified, that you did not have and therefore were not able to consider in your deliberations. It is for that reason that I am exercising my right to set aside your verdict and order a directed verdict of acquittal.”
The gallery is quiet for a few moments, as if trying to digest what they have heard. I’m having a bit of a digestion problem myself. Then they explode in noise, and I barely hear De Luca tell Noah that he is no longer subject to the jurisdiction of this court.
“I’m free?” Noah asks me, understandably bewildered.
“You’re not just free. You’re innocent.”
“I’ll talk to lead counsel in chambers,” De Luca says.
As I stand to obey the order, I spot Mulcahy out of the corner of my eye. He’s smiling.
“I spent the past twenty minutes on the phone with the White House chief of staff and the attorney general. They told me in no uncertain terms that Noah Galloway was innocent of this crime, and that the events in Texas last night confirmed it beyond any doubt.”
Dylan has looked stunned since the verdict was announced, but the shock seems to be slowly giving way to anger. “What specific information did they give you?”
“Not much, and what they did provide was classified. They relied on my security clearance from my days in Army Intelligence.”
“So you took their word for it?” Dylan asks. “And disregarded the will of the jury?”
De Luca’s eyes flash some anger, but he controls himself. Dylan has put a lot of hard work into this case, and won, and then lost. I think De Luca is giving him some leeway because of it.
“That’s exactly what happened.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” I say, smiling sweetly for Dylan. “What you did was courageous.”
When I leave, the gallery is empty, except for Laurie, Hike, Noah, Becky, and Mulcahy, who is sitting alone near the back. I walk over to him first.
“You’ve got some pull,” I say.
“When I want to, and when it’s necessary.”
“I thought you didn’t consider it necessary.”
“I changed my mind,” he says.
“I’m glad you did.”
He looks over at Noah and Becky. “Me too.” Then he turns and walks out of the courtroom.
Whenever a jury rules in our favor, we have a victory party at Charlie’s.
Tonight’s is a particularly festive one, and we all get drunk toasting Becky and Noah.
Willie Miller is here. He’s drinking club sodas, because he is a recovering alcoholic. He’s leaving next month on a book tour, and the book has already gotten a rave advance review.
Pete and Vince are here as well. Pete is particularly grateful to me for getting this one right; as much as he wanted the case solved, he wanted justice to prevail. So this was pretty much a perfect resolution for him.
Things happened so fast at the end that Noah was out of the loop, and he has some questions for me. “How did you know that Bauer was alive?” he asks.
“I wasn’t positive, but it seemed like a safe bet. Lockman flew to Philadelphia after Texas, and the only reason I could think of for that was to talk to Bauer. He had discovered the uranium, and rather than just tell his bosses at Milgram about it, he saw a way to make a fortune by letting Bauer go after it. Also, when I heard the car was incinerated by napalm, I thought that it was an attempt to hide who the victim really was.”
“And that was Fowler?”
“That’s my best guess. Bauer was getting rid of everybody who knew what was happening.”
“Where did Ricci fit in?”
“Just provided the muscle, and was paid well for it. I think once he saw the publicity and the danger it represented, and he found out that Petrone was pissed off, he stepped aside.”
“But why me, Andy? Why did they set me up?”
“You were a backup plan. My guess is they scouted customers for the drug dealers in that house, and made you as a possible person to pin it on. Maybe you were unconscious from drugs, or maybe they injected you, but they were able to burn your arms, and get your DNA on that can. When the police started investigating the baby angle, they trotted you out to stop them.”
Laurie comes over to join in the conversation. “I can’t figure out why Bauer came to us,” she says.
“To make himself look like one of the blackmail victims, so that when he faked his death, no one would be looking for him. With what he was doing, if people thought he was alive, there would be no place in the world that he could hide. He wasn’t the type to live in Pakistani caves.”
When I get a chance to talk to Becky alone, I take out a check that I had in my pocket and give it to her. She looks at it and sees that it is for forty-one hundred dollars. “What is this for?”
“It’s the money that was in the box with Danny Butler’s head,” I say. “I figured you’d rather have it this way than the cash.”
“Andy, you should keep it. We owe you this and a hundred times more.”
“Noah gave me Tara,” I say. “I’m still ahead of the game.”
She kisses me and says, “I’m afraid to ask, but where’s the head?”
“Marcus hasn’t told me, and I don’t want to ask.”
Later, as the night is coming to an end, Noah comes over and says, “You know there is no way I can ever thank you. You gave me back my wife, and my son, and my life.”
“Any chance we could give you back your dog?” I ask.
He laughs. “You don’t like Bailey?”
“Actually, we love her. She’s a gentle giant, and sweet as hell. We just can’t afford to feed her.”
“Can we come by tomorrow and get her? I’m also dying to see Tara. She saved my life; I want to thank her.”
“Words won’t do the trick,” I say. “Better bring some biscuits.”
ALSO BY DAVID ROSENFELT
ANDY CARPENTER NOVELS
Dog Tags
New Tric
ks
Play Dead
Dead Center
Sudden Death
Bury the Lead
First Degree
Open and Shut
THRILLERS
On Borrowed Time
Down to the Wire
Don’t Tell a Soul
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
ONE DOG NIGHT. Copyright © 2011 by Tara Productions, Inc. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.minotaurbooks.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Rosenfelt, David.
One dog night / David Rosenfelt.—1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-312-64799-5
1. Carpenter, Andy (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. 3. New Jersey—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3618.O838O55 2011
813'.6—dc22
2011007136
First Edition: July 2011
eISBN 978-1-4299-7035-8
First Minotaur Books eBook Edition: July 2011
One Dog Night Page 28