She laughed. “Here’s where you come in.” She took a deep breath. “Do you and Hank have the authority under whatever unofficial department you don’t work for to arrest him or detain him or whatever it is you do to bad guys, unofficially?”
He scrunched up his face. “On what charges, exactly?”
She thought. “Well, I’m going to get him to say he didn’t log the incident as he was required to do under the CVSSA when I reported Mina’s murder. That’s a civil violation, not very sexy, I know. But if you and Hank could get one of the hired guns—McGraw or Williams or both—to corroborate that van Metier told Thale that I witnessed the murder and gave them access to me on the ship, then I can establish that he willfully violated the regulation. He deliberately didn’t log my report of Mina’s murder in an effort to protect his drug dealer. A willful violation is punishable by a fine of a quarter million dollars, up to a year in prison, or both.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders and planted a quick, hard kiss on her lips. “You’re a freaking genius.”
She smiled. She was pretty jazzed, too, but it was important to temper his expectations. “Well, to be completely honest this entire argument is premised on a fairly attenuated reading of the statute.”
He deflated. “Oh.”
“But,” she continued brightly, “it really doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m betting he’s going to have heroin on his person when he shows up tomorrow. You can definitely charge him for that, right?”
Connelly swatted her butt playfully. “You bet your sweet ass we can!”
“Language, Connelly.”
That earned her another swat.
“Stop that. It’s time for bed. Tomorrow’s a big day.” She drained her glass and placed it in the sink.
43
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Jan checked his uniform in the hotel’s full-length mirror to ensure that it was sharply pressed and wrinkle-free. The jacket hung perfectly from his shoulders. His trousers were creased precisely. And his shoes were polished to a high shine. He nodded approvingly at his reflection. The impression he made would matter.
After all, today was a big day. He needed to remain calm, educate Sasha McCandless-Connelly as to the fallacy of her thinking, and deflect her ridiculous criticism of his competence—mental or otherwise. These tasks would be facile in the extreme as long as he maintained his equanimity. He would be dispassionate, patient, and unflappable in the face of her no-doubt misguided questioning.
He patted his pocket reflexively. He had five cigarettes left. A smoke would help him relax. He consulted his watch. He had plenty of time. He unbuttoned his jacket and carefully hung it on a padded hanger. Then he removed his slim cigarette case and selected a cigarette. He lit the end and reclined on the couch under the plate-glass window. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. It was time to get loose.
* * *
Sasha arrived at the office while the sun was still just a pink-orange ribbon in the sky and shut herself in the conference room. She reviewed her deposition outline twice, went downstairs to Jake’s and ordered a large coffee, then reviewed the outline twice more.
Preparation was her watchword, always—but especially when her adversary was self-important and arrogant. A man like Jan van Metier had an inflated sense of his own cleverness. He’d been nearly insufferable on his own ship at his dinner table, when he’d insisted on schooling her on the history of the Royal Netherlands Navy. She could only imagine the performance he’d turn in on her turf—her office, her area of expertise. He’d hang himself.
Her job was simply to give him the rope, bit by bit, slowly, so slowly that he wouldn’t realize he’d created a noose until it was strung around his neck.
She shivered at her own morbid metaphor. She typically wasn’t so … pitched … before battle. But she’d had a visceral reaction to the man from the very beginning. Knowing that he tried to aid and abet her would-be killers had only made her more determined to knock him down a peg—or seven.
She checked her watch. She had time for one more mug of coffee and another read through of the outline before the court reporter arrived. She exhaled slowly and rolled her shoulders like a boxer before a match. It was time to get loose.
* * *
Hank, who was not a morning person under the best of circumstances, was grousing nearly non-stop.
Leo glanced up from the article he was reading. “What’s wrong with you today?”
Hank gestured around Sasha’s office, where they’d been holed up for the better part of an hour. “This is a dumb plan, Leo. We’re going to sit around in the office watching a live video feed of a deposition and do what again?”
Leo gave Hank a look. “I know you were listening when Sasha ran through this. She’s having the court reporter videotape the deposition, which is apparently fairly standard for pretrial discovery. We’re going to watch the feed in here on her monitor. When van Metier says something that implicates him in a regulatory violation or amounts to an admission that he’s a drug user, we’re supposed to go next door to the conference room and take him into custody.”
“Regulatory violation,” Hank muttered under his breath. “We’re just supposed to magically know he’s got heroin on him. Harebrained scheme.”
Leo narrowed his eyes. “What did you have for breakfast?”
Hank started to grumble a response, but Leo cut him off. “Cole’s got you on the low-fat, low-carb egg white diet again, doesn’t he?” He picked up Sasha’s desk phone and pressed the number for reception.
“Hi, Caroline. You know that candy bar commercial with the hungry, excuse me, hangry grouch?”
“Yes?”
“I have one of those in here. It’s getting ugly. Could you have Jake send us up a couple of the greasiest breakfast sandwiches they can put together?” He took another look at his boss. “And a couple donuts, just to be safe.”
Caroline’s silvery laughter tinkled in his ear. “I’ll make sure to feed the bear.”
“Thanks. You might want to put a rush on it. I’m unarmed in here.”
He ended the call.
“I might be cranky,” Hank admitted. “But it’s not egg whites this time. It’s oatmeal. Unsweetened, unflavored oatmeal.” He shuddered at the memory. “You better not have been telling the truth just now—are you really not carrying?”
“Why? You going to shoot me if Jake forgets the bacon?”
“Leo,” Hank warned.
“I have my Glock. I just didn’t think I should announce it to the world.”
“Or Sasha’s receptionist,” Hank shot back.
“That, too.”
Hank managed a half-laugh.
Good, Leo thought. They should treat this just like any other stakeout. It was important to stay loose.
44
At precisely ten o’clock, after positioning the camera so that the deponent was centered in the frame, the stenographer/videographer pressed the buttons to begin recording. Through some magic that Sasha couldn’t fully understand but always appreciated, the final video and the typed transcript would sync perfectly. Then the court reporter swore in van Metier and gave Sasha the nod to start.
She glanced down at her outline, then closed the folder, and pushed it to the side. She folded her hands in front of her on the table and smiled at Captain van Metier. He did not smile back at her.
“Good morning, Captain. As you know, my name is Sasha McCandless-Connelly. This deposition arises in a somewhat unusual procedural posture, so let me state for the record that this is a pre-complaint deposition taken to elicit information sufficient to allow me to state my claim in the matter of McCandless-Connelly v. van Metier. This deposition is limited to the two areas of inquiry set forth in the Notice of Deposition served in this matter.”
She pushed a copy of the notice across the table. “Do you recognize this document?”
“Yes. These are the legal papers that were handed
to me when I returned from a six-day international cruise between Quebec City, Canada, and Baltimore, Maryland.”
Sasha managed not to smile. He was a dream deponent. The answer to her question—the full and complete answer, which any attorney worth his or her salt would have prepared a client to give—was simply ‘yes.’
“Let the record reflect this is a true and correct copy of the Notice of Deposition of Jan van Metier, which has been pre-marked as Exhibit A.” She passed a copy to the court reporter then continued.
“Now that we’ve got that out of the way, could you please state and spell your full name for the record?”
“I am Captain Jan van Metier, J-A-N V-A-N M-E-T-I-E-R, Captain of the Sacred Lotus ship The Viola, previously Captain of The Water Lily, and retired from the Royal Netherlands Navy with the rank of Warrant Officer 1.”
The court reporter shot Sasha a ‘is this guy serious’ look? Sasha didn’t react.
“Captain van Metier, are you represented by counsel?”
“Do you see another attorney here?”
Ordinarily, Sasha would have reined him in right away, but she was perfectly content to let him get on a roll. So she simply said, “I’ll take that as a no.”
“You take it any way you like.”
She ignored the commentary. “Have you ever been deposed before?”
“No, I have not, and if you would kindly cut to the chase and ask me your questions, I could dispose of them in short order and we could both get on with our days.”
She decided it was time to rile him up a bit more. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. It’s important that I explain how this process works so you’re not confused. I know the legal system can be hard to understand.” She smiled sweetly.
His ruddy face reddened to a shade deeper. “I’m not confused in the least.”
“All the same, I need to make sure there’s no misunderstanding. In this deposition, I’ll ask the questions and you’ll answer them. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Do you understand that you’ve taken an oath to answer my questions fully and honestly to the best of your ability?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Is there any reason, such as being under unusual stress, suffering from a physical or mental condition, or being under the influence of any substances, that would limit your ability to give truthful and complete answers to my questions today?” Her mind wandered to the last deponent who had answered that question in the affirmative—Laura Yim, who was distracted by what she perceived as a threat and who was later killed by a dirty FBI agent. She forced her focus back to the present. This was the money question; she needed to be attentive.
“Of course not,” he bristled. He patted his right jacket pocket.
“Are you certain?”
“Am I certain? Madam, what are you suggesting?”
“Please remember, Captain, I ask the questions, you answer the questions. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good. Please state your current home address for the record.”
* * *
Hank groaned. Leo knew the feeling. He propped his feet up on Sasha’s desk and tried not to scream as she walked Captain van Metier through his educational background and military service in excruciating detail. Sasha’s deposition had been underway for at least thirty minutes, and she still hadn’t asked him any real questions.
On the live feed, Sasha paused, breaking the monotonous rhythm of her monotonous questioning. He leaned forward, hopeful. Hank sat up straighter. Maybe this was it.
“Let’s move on to your employment history,” Sasha said. “We’ll start with your first position after you retired from the Navy. Who was your employer then?”
Back in her office, Leo felt something like despair settle over him.
* * *
Sasha scanned her notes to confirm she’d covered all the preliminaries then said, “Let’s get to the substance, shall we?”
“Yes, let’s,” the captain agreed through clenched teeth.
“Are you familiar with the Cruise Vessel Safety and Security Act of 2010?”
“Yes, of course. It requires a cruise ship operator, such as Sacred Lotus, which is owned by an American company, to report and document certain crimes that occur at sea under certain circumstances, none of which exist in this case, I assure you.”
“Let’s explore that. When you say ‘this case’ are you referring to the incident in which Derek McGraw and Austin Williams boarded The Water Lily in an attempt to abduct and murder me?” She kept her voice perfectly level, but surprise sparked in the court reporter’s eyes. She should have warned the poor woman that this was unlikely to be a run-of-the-mill deposition.
“I’m talking about the incident where those gentlemen boarded the ship while we were docked in Thai waters, which—if you would read the Act closely—is not a situation where it governs. We were under the jurisdiction of the Thai authorities and I properly reported that regrettable situation to the Royal Thailand Police, as you know, as well as your embassy, even though I was under no regulatory obligation to do so. I simply thought it was the right thing to do.”
Sasha arched a brow at that characterization. “We’ll get back to the attempted abduction later, but can we agree that Mr. McGraw and Mr. Williams are both citizens of the United States?”
“I suppose we can agree to that,” he said, answering carefully, as though he suspected a trick but couldn’t quite tease out what she was up to.
She smiled. “Great. Good. So, it’s your position that even though two American nationals boarded your ship with the intent to commit a violent crime against me—a third American national—you were under no obligation to note the incident in your log book or to report it to the authorities because it did not occur at sea. Do I have that right?”
“Yes, exactly.” His tone was one of a teacher taking pride that a particularly slow student had finally figured out a difficult concept. She half-expected him to say ‘Well done!’
“If they had boarded the ship at a different time, say, for instance, when we were in the Gulf of Thailand in the area that is contested, would you have reported it then?”
“Certainly,” he said immediately. He puffed out his chest, “There are several nautical miles that could belong to either the Thai or the Vietnamese or the Malaysians—or even the Cambodians. In that situation, I would have reported it forthwith to the nearest United States Legal Attaché.”
“Why?”
“Because the portion of the gulf that is so hotly disputed as to be under no nation’s control would, under any reasonable reading, fall under your country’s CVSSA. Do you see the difference?” He leaned forward, eager to embarrass her with his superior knowledge.
“I think I do, but let’s make sure. If a U.S. citizen committed a violent crime in that part of the sea and it was brought to your attention by a passenger, you’d report it, right?”
He licked his lips nervously and patted that right jacket pocket again. “I would if the crime occurred on my ship.”
He knew where she was going. So much for walking him into a trap.
“Why do you draw that distinction, Captain?”
He hesitated. “Because you did come to me on the morning of the third day of the cruise, when were in an unclaimed, or contested area in the South China Sea, claiming to have witnessed a crime on a nearby fishing boat.”
“What crime did I say I saw, Captain?”
“You know full well.”
“For the record, please.”
He gave her a sour look, then he seemed to remember he was being filmed. “You said that you saw two men shoot a woman on another boat.”
“Did you note that in your log?”
“No.”
“Did you report it to nearest Legat?”
“No, I did not. And from what I’ve heard, the dead woman was a citizen of Malaysia.”
“You heard she was Malaysian?”
“That’s right.”
“From whom?
He stammered. “I … don’t recall.”
She didn’t actually care where he’d heard it, but she sat in silence for a moment, letting him stew.
He patted his pocket.
“When did you hear this rumor? Do you recall that?” She used an acid tone.
“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Let’s stick to reality. Mr. McGraw and Mr. Williams are American citizens, correct? You haven’t heard otherwise from any mystery sources, have you?”
He glared. “No.”
“When did you report that incident?”
“I didn’t.”
She feigned surprise. “You didn’t? But you received a report from a passenger on a U.S.-owned cruise ship of an incident involving U.S. nationals who were perpetrating a violent crime in international waters. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes.”
“The Act requires you to report that, doesn’t it?” She smiled.
“I don’t … well, I don’t know. The incident didn’t occur on my cruise ship.” He was visibly rattled now.
“Does the Act say anything about that?”
“I’m … not sure.”
“Let’s consider a hypothetical. If a pair of pirates were shooting at your ship in international waters, but they missed, would you report that?”
“Well, yes.”
“Why? In that case, the incident wouldn’t have occurred on your ship.”
“But it would have involved my ship.” The statement came out more like a question.
She fired again. “Is it your position that a report of a crime made to you on your ship by a passenger on your ship somehow doesn’t involve your ship?”
He opened his mouth. “Uh … no. I mean, I don’t … I’m not sure.”
Got him.
Sasha counted silently in her head. One. Two. And there it was. The pat.
“Tell you what. We’ll come back to this. Let’s move on for now, shall we?”
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