“Eric Benjamin was part of a massive criminal conspiracy. Part of that conspiracy was the murder of John Craddock. David Kramer was investigating that murder and was in a position to expose the conspiracy.
“So Eric Benjamin conspired to either kill David Kramer or get him arrested. Either outcome was fine, because either outcome would remove Mr. Kramer and protect the conspiracy.
“Is that so hard to imagine? Doesn’t your logic and common sense say it could have happened that way? Is it unreasonable to think it’s possible?
“If you utilize the common sense and logic that I told you was necessary, you will realize that there is not only a reasonable doubt but a very strong doubt that David Kramer murdered Kenny Zimmer.
“And you will do the only thing you can reasonably do. You will vote to acquit.”
Judge Avery gives his charge to the jury and sends them off to deliberate. I hope they take a long time. If they’re going to side with us, then it means they bought into a nuanced argument that will take time to sort through.
If they go with the prosecution, then they’re more interested in the nuts and bolts. When Kramer got on that truck, Zimmer was alive. When he got off, Zimmer was dead, and it was Kramer’s gun that killed him.
Case closed.
I call Givens at the FBI even before I hear from Sam.
Once again, he comes right to the phone. “I hope you have something for me. I’m getting a little tired of chatting.”
“We have something for each other,” I say. “We need to meet tomorrow morning at 7:00 A.M.”
“I don’t get in until eight.”
“That’s okay. We’re not meeting at your office; I’m choosing a neutral site.”
“You think a meeting can have home field advantage?” he asks.
“I have my reasons,” I say.
I give him the name of a diner in East Rutherford, and he says, “You need to tell me what this is about.”
“It’s about everything you need to know. I’ve got it all.”
“Why am I not convinced?”
“Let me ask you a question, Givens. Do they have federal school crossing guards? Because if you blow this, that’s your next assignment. And you’ll have to buy your own whistle.”
I hang up before he can respond; I don’t want to give anything else away. My next call is to Sam, who starts with, “George Davenport doesn’t exist.”
“That’s what I thought,” I say.
“The phone number is in a fake name, and he sure as hell never placed an ad on Craigslist. And Kenny Zimmer never answered it.”
“Sam, can you wire me up for a conversation so it can be recorded?”
“Of course.”
“How long will it take for you to get the material? I need it by—”
“I’ve got it. I’ll bring a few sizes just to be sure.”
“Sam, you’re a little weird.”
“That’s what Hilda says.”
I ask Sam to be at my house at 5:30 A.M., and he has no problem with that. In the meantime, I explain everything to Laurie, and she says, “I’ll set it up for Ricky to go to Will Rubenstein’s after school tomorrow. Marcus and I are going to Chesterfield.”
I’m not going to argue with her; what I’m doing is risky, and Laurie and Marcus being down there cuts down on the risk, at least to some degree.
But not nearly enough.
Sam is here at five thirty sharp with enough spy paraphernalia to stock the Moscow branch of the CIA. It takes him forty-five minutes to put it on me; he does it expertly, as if for him it’s just another day at the office. He must have an interesting accounting practice.
I’m in the parking lot of the diner at six forty-five. I keep the car running, and when Givens parks and gets out of his car, I pull up to him. “Get in,” I say.
“You’ve been watching too many spy movies,” he says.
“You can lecture me when you get in the car.”
He shakes his head in annoyance, but gets in. I drive the car around to the back of the parking lot and stop. “We’re going to talk here?”
I nod. “Right here.”
“You’ve got five minutes, James Bond.”
“I know where the missiles are and how they’re going to be used.”
Givens looks at me for a few moments and says, “Then I might be willing to extend the five-minute deadline. How did you know they were missiles?”
“Because of where they are,” I say. Then, “Benjamin was responsible for the crash in value of Roboton and Victor’s Donuts. He killed Craddock and framed Andreson.”
“Is this about your stock manipulation scheme?” Givens asked. “I’ve got more important things to worry about.”
“No, you don’t. Because it’s all one thing. You think that those missiles you’re worried about are going to be used to bring down another company. And maybe a lot of people will die in the process.”
“And?”
“And you’re wrong.”
“How am I wrong?”
“I’ll get there. But first I want to talk about Dave Kramer. You know he killed Zimmer in self-defense.”
Givens feigns an amused expression. “And how do I know that?”
“Because you’ve been all over this from day one. You took over the Benjamin investigation, which means you searched Benjamin’s house. Then you ran a fingerprint of Zimmer, which must have come from that search.”
“So?”
“So it had to be the knife that he used as the weapon.”
Givens doesn’t say anything, which in itself says everything. So I continue, “You were willing to let my client be convicted of murder.”
“We would have gotten him out either way. We don’t let people go to jail for crimes they didn’t commit. It doesn’t work that way.”
“He’s already lost almost four months of his life.”
“A lot of people are going to lose their entire lives if you don’t tell me what you know. I’ll see to it that Kramer gets out when the time comes.”
“The time comes tomorrow,” I say. “Now, do I have your word you’ll intervene in the trial?”
“I’ll do what I can. Can we get on to more important things?”
“Fair enough. The man who you’re looking for, the one who has the weapons and is going to use them, is George Davenport.”
“Who the hell is George Davenport?” he asks.
“He doesn’t exist.”
“You’re starting to get on my nerves.”
“It’s not his real name. He’s the guy who owned the truck that brought the dogs north, the one Zimmer was killed on. There was a padded area in the middle of the truck; I thought it was padded because it was the area the dogs could play in and not get hurt if the truck swerved. But it was to carry and protect the missiles.”
“Why the dogs?” he asks.
“He had the rescue dogs in front and back of the missiles. If the truck was stopped for any reason, the dogs were a perfect cover for what he was doing.”
“What is he planning to do?”
“I don’t know the targets, but they’re going to be in New York and Washington, maybe even Philadelphia. I doubt that the targets are even important; just the attack itself will serve his purpose.”
“What’s the purpose?” he asks. I certainly have his full attention.
“When 9/11 happened, the stock market dropped fifteen percent in a week and twenty-five percent overall. Davenport, or whoever he is, is going to cause a market crash by firing these missiles at New York and Washington. It will be bigger than 9/11.”
Givens starts to ask a question, but I continue, “And he will have bought put options and spread them out among those industries that will take the biggest hit. For instance, defense stocks will go up, so he’ll stay away from them. The stocks he’ll hit could go down forty percent.”
“And with the options spread out, they’ll be undetected.”
I nod. “It’s all going to be dummy corporations a
nd foreign investors. Roboton and Victor’s Donuts were done for the purpose of giving Davenport more money to use in this operation. They will make billions.”
“Where are the weapons?”
“Chesterfield, New Jersey. Sitting between New York and D.C.”
“You have an address?”
“No. But I would look for a large open building, maybe a barn, and maybe recently purchased or built. And with no other buildings or people in the area.”
“You’re sure of all this?”
“Sure of some of it, confident in the rest. You got anything to lose by sending your agents to Chesterfield? They have somewhere better to go?”
I got as much as I could out of Givens.
I have to trust him, because basically he has the cards. I could not withhold what I knew; the potential disaster that could result from that would be enormous.
The truth is that I have an absolute reason to believe that everything I told Givens was correct, but that doesn’t mean I’m right. Quite a bit of it I would put in the category of very educated guess.
Right now, in the moment, I don’t know what to do with myself. Laurie and Marcus should be in the Chesterfield area by now; since they’ve gotten there so early, she and I agreed that the first place to check should be the Holiday Inn Express where Benjamin stayed. Maybe their criminal conspiracy has a company discount.
I’d like to go down there and help them look, but I’m under instructions from Judge Avery to remain close to the courtroom in case of a verdict. I don’t think there will be a verdict this quickly; at least I hope there won’t. But you never know.
I call Laurie, and she says that they are just arriving at the hotel now. I ask her to keep me posted, and she promises that she will. I also ask whether she thinks I should come down there, and she says I am better off obeying Judge Avery’s direction.
Left unsaid is her logical view that if things turn violent, in this case two is better than three. Or at least as good.
So here I am, sitting in the diner parking lot, frozen in place. I finally reach a momentous decision; I’ll go in and have breakfast. That way I can stuff my face while I’m worried about Laurie and also worried that the sudden invasion of FBI agents might spook Davenport into firing the missiles.
I order pancakes, bacon, hash browns, and coffee. Just as they arrive, my phone rings. It’s Hike, and his message is simple. “There’s a verdict.”
I wasn’t hungry anyway.
I head for the courthouse with a pit in my stomach the size of a side-by-side washer-dryer. The jury deliberated for only eight hours. That’s nothing; it takes Laurie nearly that long to decide what toppings to put on her pizza.
My theory was that a quick verdict would be bad for us. I hope my theory was wrong.
Givens obviously has not had the time to intervene with the court, and I can’t say I blame him. He’s got other things on his plate right now … more important things.
I don’t know if he will throw the weight of the FBI behind Kramer if he is convicted and goes to appeal. I have the tape of our conversation, but it can be seen as ambiguous. Also, Givens can say he lied about having knowledge of Kramer’s innocence in order to get the information about the weapons from me. It would have been a lie for the greater good.
But even if Givens comes through, the result is far from assured. The appeals process can be very unpredictable, and appeals courts don’t casually overturn jury verdicts. They are also very slow; if Kramer is convicted, he will spend considerable time in prison, no matter what.
I arrive at court with ten minutes to spare. Hike is at the defense table, and Kramer is being brought in when I am sitting down. The debate in my mind is whether to tell him about the development with Givens.
I decide against it. I don’t know that I could explain it adequately enough in the time we have for him to correctly process it. Better to let things play out; if he’s convicted, I can bring him up to speed and in the process hopefully cushion the crushing pain he’ll be feeling.
“What do you think?” Kramer asks.
“I think we’ll know in three minutes.”
Kramer has spent enough time with Hike to know not to ask him. So we just sit here and wait until Judge Avery comes in. He then brings in the jury. Three of them look at the defense table as they walk in, which is a good sign. On the other hand, nine of them don’t.
The foreman confirms that they have, in fact, reached a verdict. The bailiff takes it and hands it to Judge Avery, who reads it. Then he hands it back, and the bailiff brings it to the clerk to be read.
Kramer leans over and says to me, “I didn’t know it was possible to be this nervous.”
Judge Avery directs Kramer to stand and face the jury. Hike and I stand as well. My legs are shaking; my legs always shake before a verdict is rendered. It is impossible for me to imagine a more stressful time, and I’m only the lawyer.
I put my arm on Kramer’s shoulder, an awkward gesture because of his height. If they don’t read the verdict quickly, I’m going to tear my rotator cuff.
The clerk stares at the verdict, possibly reveling in the knowledge that she is aware of what is about to be said before everyone else. Finally, she begins.
“As it relates to the case of New Jersey v. David Kramer, the charge being murder in the first degree for the criminal death of Kenneth Zimmer, we, the jury, find the defendant, David Kramer, not guilty.”
I can feel Kramer sag with relief, he sags so far that’s he’s almost my height. Then he turns and hugs me. He’s really not that great a hugger; I don’t know what the hell Laurie saw in him.
“Laurie was right; you’re the best,” he says.
I can feel my cell phone vibrating in my pocket, and I reach for it. “Speak of the devil,” I say. “It’s Laurie.”
“Hello?”
“Andy, we got him. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.”
“Did you find out where the weapons are?”
“Yes. I called Givens. Anything new with the trial?”
“You could say that. Hold on; somebody wants to talk to you.”
I hand the phone to Kramer and shake hands with Carla, who has come over to congratulate me. She has a gracious smile on her face; I don’t know if I’d do the same if the roles were reversed.
“You’re as advertised,” she says.
Givens alerted his superiors, who in turn called in the military.
This was not something within the FBI’s area of expertise.
Reconnaissance showed that the barn was filled with Russian-made Iskander-M missiles, on their mobile launchers, ready to be aimed and fired. It is likely that they could have just been removed, with no danger to anyone.
However, there was always the possibility that they were programmed to be launched remotely, on a timer. The fact that they were not rolled out of the barn and in position to launch did not mean that programming had not taken place. The odds were strong that there was no remote programming yet, and no timer, but they couldn’t take that chance.
Air force bombers were called in, and bombs were dropped on the barn, with the missiles inside. The concussion destroyed everything in the building but did not cause the explosives in the missiles to detonate. However, the massive heat generated ignited the solid fuel, and that did the trick. The resulting explosion was massive.
It would never be revealed to the public, but it was certainly the first time, and hopefully the last, that the United States military ever bombed New Jersey.
To his credit, once the all clear was given, Givens called Andy Carpenter to thank him and to offer his immediate help with the trial. He wasn’t aware that a verdict had been reached.
“Marcus was amazing, Andy. We got to the hotel, and the desk clerk looked up Davenport; that’s the name he used to check in. I showed him my badge, an illegal act but worth it in this case, and he told us the room number.”
Laurie has been off the force for years. She managed to keep her badge;
this is only the second time I can recall her showing it and pretending to be active on the force.
She continues, “He asked if he should call hotel security, but I told him I brought all the security I needed with me. So we go to the room and knock on the door. I pretend to be there to deliver towels, and he opens it just a crack, with that chain lock still on the door.”
“Marcus,” I say.
“Right. Chain locks don’t work very well with Marcus. He kicked the entire door down, and we were in the room. I had my gun drawn, but Davenport, or whatever his name is, goes at Marcus.”
“Smart move,” I say.
“Yes. It turns out the guy was special forces, and he goes into one of these martial arts poses, and he kicks Marcus in the head. And Marcus starts to bleed.”
“Marcus bleeds? Actual blood?”
She nods. “If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed it. Anyway, Marcus stayed calm, and the guy kicked again, and Marcus grabbed his leg. He twisted it in a way that legs don’t twist; I mean, I’ve seen some tough things, and I couldn’t watch it.
“But Marcus wasn’t finished; he pounded on the guy to the point that I thought he was going to kill him. Finally, he stopped, and the guy was sitting on the floor, back against the bed. So I asked him where the weapons were. At first he didn’t answer, and I told him that he was never going to get to use them anyway, that they were going to be found, and that Marcus was going to break every bone in his body until he told us.
“The scary thing is I was telling the truth. Marcus had this look in his eyes that scared me; I don’t think he likes bleeding very much. So Davenport told us, and I called Givens right from that room. They must have had a lot of agents in the area, because they showed up in less than five minutes.”
“Marcus bleeds?” I ask. “Are you sure?”
As always, our post-trial victory party is at Charlie’s.
Present are Laurie, Edna, Willie, Sondra, Hike, Sam, the Bubalah Brigade, Ricky and his friend Will, and Dave Kramer. Vince and Pete are also here, because Vince and Pete are always here, and since I’m paying for them anyway, they might as well join the party.
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