by Rene Fomby
“You’re missing something.” Mehmed grabbed the laptop and brought up a picture of the cistern, turning it around to show them. “This is what it looks like now. But remember, this is the cistern as a tourist attraction, not as a holding tank. As crazy as it may seem, given all the work they did on building this, and especially considering the location of the Medusas and the Column of Tears down near the floor level, this was not the water level the secret tunnel was designed to access. The original water level was almost all the way up to the ceiling. That means the alcove with the doorway is located way up there. Does that help?”
Sanders nodded very slowly to himself. That would help enormously.
113
Houston
Gavin plucked up the phone on the first buzz. “Hey, Harry. Just sitting here with Sam and the gang chewing the fat on how the four of us are going to save the world in our spare time. What’s going on out in Houston?”
Harry laid out the situation as simply as he could. “So you see, Gavin, I’m kind of in a tight spot. I’m not going to throw your friend under the bus, but the U.S. Attorney in the case—”
“Isn’t going to just roll over and give up. No, I get it. Been there more times than you could ever know. And I can already tell you what he’s going to say. The other two videos are the fakes. Fake news, fake videos, it’s amazing what people will buy into these days. But they do. And they’ll see you as the no-talent Johnny-come-lately stirring the pot for a two-bit sand-country terrorist, some tree-hugging ACLU do-gooder trying to put him back on the streets so he can kill again. No, I get it completely. So how can I help you?”
114
Siena
“You okay, Gavin?” Sam had developed a sixth sense over the past year regarding Gavin’s moods, and after the short phone call it seemed he was now smack in the middle of a particularly sour one.
“No, Sam, I’m good. Just noodling over a career decision, what I plan to do with the rest of my life. Something that’s been coming to a head ever since your house burned down, and my friends—”
“Not your fault, Gavin. You know that.”
“Yep. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” He turned to face her, fighting the twist that was threatening to break across his face. “Actually, some part of me hopes it never stops hurting. The friend part, not the FBI. The Bureau can go screw itself.” He cocked his head toward Bob Sanders, now fully engrossed on his phone. “Did I miss much?”
Sam looked back toward the pond. “No. Mehmed’s got his head buried in the laptop, and Sanders has been yakking on his phone the whole time. How about you? Whoever you were talking to, it looked pretty intense.”
“Yeah, well, you might want to check in pretty soon with your law partner. He’s about to walk into a buzz saw with the U.S. Attorney’s office down in Houston on a no-win case—”
“The alleged terrorist.”
“Right. So you know about that?”
“Harry and I have very few secrets between us. Legal or otherwise. That’s what makes our relationship—special, you might say.”
“Special? Some announcement coming soon in the mail?” Gavin asked, raising his right eyebrow.
“No, not that! Ha!” Sam looked away. “I—I honestly don’t know where that is going, if in fact it’s going anywhere at all. I mean, he’s a handsome, talented young man, with his entire future ahead of him. I don’t know why he’d want to throw all of that away for a used-up old dowager widow with a four-year-old daughter in tow. Spend our honeymoon with Maddie wedged in tight between us in bed. Not all that sexy a proposition, when you think about it.”
Gavin hesitated, reading her eyes. “Actually, Samantha Tulley, I think he’d be lucky spending the rest of his life with you. And with Maddie. He really has a thing for her, you know. And, more to the point, a thing for you. I picked up that much in the few short days I spent around you two in that FBI safe house back in Katy.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “Pul-ease. He’s got lots of other options, that’s all I’m saying. Lots of pretty fish in the sea. But—he is pretty special. So I’m just happy to have him in my life. As a friend and a partner, if that’s all it ever turns out to be.”
Gavin snorted loudly. “Oh my God. Who is this alien, and where is the Sam Tulley I’ve grown to know and appreciate over this past crazy year? The Sam Tulley who has crushed every single obstacle anyone could possibly throw in front of her? If you want Harry, if you love him, if you want to spend the rest of your life with him, you just need to go for it! None of this pussy footing around, you know? Pedal to the metal, the way you drive that sports car of yours.”
Sam couldn’t hold back a gentle smile. “Maybe you’re right, G. But we’ll see. Meanwhile, we have the small matter of saving the world for democracy to worry about. So, back to business?”
Sanders had finally hung up his phone and was looking around, trying to catch his bearings in the present. He pointed toward Mehmed.
“It’s settled. The assault team goes in first thing tomorrow morning. And you’re going in on point. They need you to show them exactly where the hatch to the aqueduct is located.”
“Me?” Mehmed didn’t know how to react. The doctors had been very clear about his travel status.
Sanders squared his shoulders. “Yeah, yeah, I know all about what the damned doctors have been crowing about, but it doesn’t matter. The United States needs you, son. Hell, the whole damned world needs you right now. So, I’ve made the executive decision. You’re leading the team to the insertion point. And you won’t be at altitude at any point in the operation, so your leg should be fine.”
“But, I can’t—”
“Yes you can. And I have the ultimate authority on this. I need you to do this for us. Your country needs you.”
Mehmed looked puzzled. “My country? What does Turkey have to do with any of this?”
“Not Turkey. The good old U.S. of A., that’s what I’m talking about. You’re an American citizen now, if you want it. You and your whole family. The president signed off on it this morning. ‘For service above and beyond the call of duty.’ I think getting hospitalized twice in three months more than meets that standard. And it’s not like you’ll be able to return to your birth country any time soon. Your role in all of this hasn’t exactly gone unnoticed. By either side.”
Mehmed’s brows knotted briefly, then cleared as he caught Sanders’ eye. “Well, I guess, thank you, Bob. I just don’t want to slow anyone down.”
“Don’t worry about the leg, you won’t be doing much walking. We have a little mini-helicopter to get you in and out safely. You just need to point and then we’ll do all the shooting.”
“Well, I have been complaining a lot lately about being cooped up out here,” Mehmed laughed. “And I think it’s become abundantly clear I’m not some kind of chicken, so let’s do this, Colonel Sanders!”
Sam smiled. A joke. She didn’t know Mehmed had it in him. He was going to fit in to his new role as a sassy American very nicely, indeed.
115
Houston
As Harry walked into the office, United States Attorney Evan Draeger was sitting in a black leather office chair in front of a massive and immaculate mahogany desk. Only four things littered the top of the desk—a blank sheet of paper, a pen, a corded phone, a picture of a woman with three kids. And the rest of the office was equally tidy. Everything has its place, everything in its place. Draeger wasted no time. “You have five minutes, Crawford. Make it quick.”
“Okay, then, so much for the pleasantries. I guess it’s get down to business time.” Harry plopped into a seat in front of the desk. “I’m here on the Nabil Rahum case.”
“Already know that. The clock is ticking. What do you want?”
“I think we need to discuss next steps. Like you dropping the case today, then cleaning up a little of the remaining mess afterwards.”
Draeger leaned over his desk, his eyes narrowing tightly. “Sure, why not? And why don’t I go ah
ead and dismiss all my other cases while I’m at it? Because you are just so persuasive.” He waved his right hand in a shooing motion. “Look, I know all about who you are, punk. My assistant looked you up while you were sitting out there in my waiting room. Piss-ant little two-bit lawyer, ink’s barely dry on your law license, not admitted to a single federal court, much less the Southern District. So you don’t have any business even sniffing around this case, much less waltzing in here like you halfway know what you’re doing. Time’s up. Go away, little boy, and come back to see me when you’ve grown up.”
But Harry had no intention of leaving. Not just yet, not until he got what he came for.
“I’ve seen the three videos, Draeger.”
The U.S. Attorney pulled back, his eyes now widening involuntarily. “What three videos?”
Harry held up three fingers, ticking them off. “Video number one, a clean recording of the blast, with Nabil nowhere in sight. Number two, taken several weeks earlier, showing Nabil kneeling down and fiddling with something on the ground. And, finally, video number three, the recording you shared with the news media, showing my client at the scene of the explosion, obviously a very expert video Photoshopping of the other two recordings. Pretty impressive, I must say, except for one small glitch that managed to sneak through, a glitch that proves the recording is not authentic.”
“I see.” Draeger drummed the fingers of his right hand on the top of his desk. “And you think that proves something? You think anyone’s going to believe you, an upstart baby lawyer who can barely handle himself in traffic court versus a full-fledged United States Attorney, vetted and voted on by no less than the White House and the United States Senate?” He leaned forward again. “You know what I think? I think you’re the one who did the Photoshopping, trying to make a name for yourself in this town. Kids like you, you’re all into the digital world, probably didn’t take you more than a day or two to pull it off. Pretty impressive, I’ll have to say, even if it is a felony, manufacturing false evidence in an ongoing case.” He stood up, pointing toward the door. “I ought to charge you with evidence tampering right now, but I’ll tell you what, I’ll cut you a break this one time. Chalk it up to you being so young and stupid, you didn’t know what you were in for. Go ahead, get out! Run home to your mommy right now and never let me see your piss-ant face again!”
Harry had sat back leisurely in his chair all during the tirade, but now he leaned forward again, resting both elbows on the desk.
“Yeah. About that. I don’t think that’s going to work for me. In fact, I think when all’s said and done here, you’re going to be done for as well.” He reached down and pulled a short stack of papers out of his briefcase, plopping them on the desk. “All the evidence I need, proving you colluded with the lawyers from the refinery to frame Nabil Rahum. Read ’em and weep.”
Draeger’s eyes fell on the papers, and even upside down he could tell what they were.
“Those are my personal notes on the case. How in the hell did you—” He caught himself before he said anything more, biting down hard on his lower lip, thinking. “Well, that’s an even less credible forgery than the videos. Anyone could have mocked all that up in Microsoft Word and printed them out. It proves nothing. But I think maybe I was too rash in just blowing you off, after all. It seems you really do need a lesson in proper manners, your proper place in this world.” He pressed a button on the phone. “Louise? Call downstairs and have a U.S. Marshal come to my office right away. I have someone here they need to arrest.”
Harry sat back and smiled. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. More witnesses and all that. Won’t look good at your sentencing hearing.”
“Sentencing hearing? Why you—”
Harry was still smiling, enjoying this little game of cat and mouse, a game he had watched Sam Tulley play over and over again the summer before, back in Blair County, Texas. “Haven’t you even stopped to wonder how I got my hands on all this? The videos, your own private notes on the case. Notes that prove you knew almost at the very beginning that Nabil Rahum was innocent, but continued the prosecution of an innocent man anyway. Not only that, but filed for the death penalty in the case. And those videos. Hmm. I think when folks start digging through your file cabinets, they’re gonna find receipts for whoever did the doctoring, whoever spliced those two recordings together to form that damning but totally fake video you gave to the press.”
Draeger slowly collapsed into his seat, his eyes drilling into Harry’s even while his mind spun, trying to figure out some way to escape all of this. “So, how did you get access to my files?”
“It was easy, really. You see, even though you might think of them as your files, in reality they’re the property of the United States Government. And that means a handful of other people in the government have access to them, as well. In particular, the FBI. You know, mutual oversight and all that.”
Draeger couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You mean the FBI gave you that?”
“Well, obviously not the whole agency,” Harry answered. “Just one agent. An old friend, someone I originally met when he was assigned to protect my sorry butt from a gang of criminals who no longer wanted me walking around alive. Along with my law partner and her daughter. You may have heard of him, in fact. Special Agent in Charge Gavin Larson.”
Draeger’s eyes went wide as he suddenly recognized the name. “You mean the guy whose agents—”
“Died in the fire. Yeah, the very same. Nowadays, by the way, I understand he’s smack dab in the middle of our government’s response to the recent events out in Istanbul. William Tulley, and all that. In fact, Tulley is the former father-in-law of my law partner, Samantha Tulley, currently one of the richest women in the world. So, yeah, Agent Gavin Larson is ready and willing to testify that he personally arranged for me to get access to all of this. He evidently takes the ‘Justice’ part of the ‘Justice Department’ seriously, unlike some people around here. So, what do you think? With Agent Larson vouching for the authenticity of all this evidence, I think some people might just believe me after all.”
But Draeger wasn’t quite ready to give up the fight. “The notes, they aren’t admissible—”
“Attorney work product privilege, yeah, I know. But the thing is, that doesn’t apply when the documents themselves are proof of an illegal scheme, and when the person on trial is you. So, not so helpful, here, I’m afraid.”
Draeger finally saw it. The end of the road. This case was supposed to be his ticket to something bigger, maybe even a federal judgeship. But not any longer. With an FBI agent vouching for the authenticity of the videos and his notes—no way he was going to escape all this. “What do you want?” he asked in a halting voice.
Harry pulled another sheet of paper out of his briefcase and tossed it across the desk. “It’s all right there. First, your resignation, and the surrender of your law license. Second, before you execute on all that, I’ll want indictments against all of the crooked lawyers for the refinery and the insurance company who cooked up this whole scheme, just to save their companies from having to pay out millions to the real victims in all this. I’m talking about the dead and damaged refinery workers, all injured because the refinery had delayed routine maintenance on the pipelines running through the plant. As you so carefully noted in those papers there. Third, I want letters releasing the two refinery workers who were duped into making false statements. I want them released from any criminal liability for their actions. That’s it. Just three simple things.”
Draeger’s eyes drooped. It was all over. His entire career, gone, just like that. “But the other lawyers. If they’re indicted, they’ll implicate me—”
Harry nodded. “They will, and you’ll have to testify against them. It won’t be pretty. But without those notes of yours to prove up your complicity, it’ll be just your word against theirs. A former U.S. Attorney against a bunch of hoodlum lawyers. And you can serve up some bullshit story about how you decided to r
esign in shame when you realized how you’d been suckered into falsely accusing an innocent young engineering student of terrorism, falsely playing the old Muslim card. And of course, there’s your sick wife, don’t forget about her.”
“Sick wife? I—oh, I get you. Yeah. Her.”
Just then the door opened and a Deputy U.S. Marshal stepped into the room, his eyes darting from Draeger to Harry and back. “You sent word that you wanted someone arrested?”
“Just a little mistake,” Harry answered. “It’s all just a simple little mistake. Nobody’s going to be arrested here today.” He stared across the desk at the now-shrunken figure of the soon-to-be-former United States Attorney. But tomorrow may be another story, my friend, if you don’t follow my instructions to the letter. He reached down and plucked up Draeger’s notes on the case file and shoved them back into his briefcase. “And, Mr. Draeger,” he added as he stood up to leave. “I’ll keep these in the meantime, if you don’t mind. A little something to commemorate our agreement. And—thank you again for being so understanding with all this. I’ll expect my client to be released today, if you don’t mind.” With that, he tipped his head toward the Deputy Marshall and stalked out, the corners of his lips already curling as he left.
116
Venice
“Thank you all for joining me at such short notice.” Carlo Rossi was staring up at a large video screen, where NATO representatives from most of the major powers in Europe were arranged in neat little rows of boxes, like an oversized version of the Brady Bunch. Notably absent from the list of countries was the United States. The Turkish representative was present but did not look happy.
“Carlo, it’s your meeting, so why don’t you take the lead?” suggested the representative from Great Britain.
“Certainly.” Rossi gave them a curt nod. “I’ve forwarded a short agenda to each of you. You should have it by now.” None of the representatives protested that they hadn’t, so Rossi continued.