When she arrived at the front of the room, the judge gestured for her to walk to the stand, which consisted of a plastic chair to her left. After administering the oath, the judge looked directly at her and issued his order. “Ms. Ringel, I direct you to take the witness stand and answer Ms. Rabinovitz’s questions.”
Emma took her time situating herself in the chair. She did not look at Abe or Rashid. The prosecutor stalked over to her. “What is your name?” she spit.
“Emma Ringel.”
“Did this man”—Ms. Rabinovitz pointed to Rashid—“kidnap you?”
“I respectfully refuse to answer,” Emma said politely.
Ms. Rabinovitz slammed her hands down on the ledge cordoning off the witness stand. “You have no privilege. You did nothing that could incriminate you. Why do you refuse to answer?”
Emma’s chin rose a bit in what was a clear mark of defiance. “I can’t tell you.”
Ms. Rabinovitz stepped back and changed her tone of voice. The next question came out less angrily. Abe continued to sit with his hands folded. He wasn’t concerned about Emma; he’d spent hours coaching her on how to answer any questions the prosecution might throw at her. “Why can’t you tell me?”
Emma shook her head. “I can’t tell you that either.” Abe quickly sneaked a look at Rendi. She nodded at him to show her support.
“What can you tell me?” Ms. Rabinovitz asked snidely.
“Nothing about this case,” Emma replied, matching her tone and then holding a hand up to stop the stream of questions. “Let me help you here. I won’t tell you why I can’t answer, and I’m aware that I’m under legal obligation to testify.”
Ms. Rabinovitz crossed her arms. “Then I assume that you are aware that refusal to answer constitutes contempt of court?”
Emma smiled. “Yes, I am.”
“Are you aware that the judge can order you to jail until you agree to testify?”
“It will do no good. I will never testify, even if I have to spend my whole life in jail. Believe me. I will never testify, no matter what you do to me.” Emma said this quite calmly. Abe was so proud of how she handled herself that he had to keep himself from smiling.
At last the judged interceded, not only to silence the murmuring crowd but to move matters along. “I do believe you, Ms. Ringel, but believe me, too!” he shouted, and used his gavel to point at his second Ringel that morning. “You will remain in jail until you testify. Officer, take her away and put her in the cell downstairs.”
Now it was Abe’s turn. He stood suddenly and said, “Wait one minute, Your Honor. Before you order her to jail, she is entitled to a hearing. Although I’m not her lawyer in this case, I have standing to be heard because she was called as a witness against my client. Will you order the court stenographer to read back what Your Honor just said?”
“What I said?” the judge asked incredulously. It was clear from his demeanor that he’d had enough of this family. Rashid seemed to be enjoying himself; he looked up at Abe with an almost-smile on his face.
“Yes, Your Honor, what you said. You will see why it’s relevant.”
“Fine,” the judge snapped. “Read it back.”
The court stenographer began to read the judge’s last statement. “ ‘I do believe you, Ms. Ringel, but—’ ”
“That’s enough,” Abe cut her off. “You can’t order her to jail under Israeli law.” Abe held up an Israeli law book. Habash had proved most helpful, researching the statutes and cases that Abe thought he might need.
The judge’s face turned bright red, and he looked as if he wanted to strangle Abe. “What are you talking about, Mr. Ringel? I know Israeli law. I’ve been a judge for twenty years. When a witness refuses to answer, the judge may order her to jail until she agrees to answer.”
“That is generally correct,” Abe acknowledged. “With one important exception.” He opened the book. “Let me read from the Israeli Supreme Court decision in Siegel v. Israel. In that case a rabbi refused to testify against another rabbi in a corruption case. The court ordered him to testify and threatened him with jail. The rabbi swore that he would never testify against the other rabbi, because the chief rabbi of his sect had ordered him not to. Here is what the Supreme Court ruled:
“ ‘The sole purpose of the civil contempt power is to coerce the witness into testifying. When it is clear that the witness will not be coerced because of strongly held religious, moral, family or other considerations, then jailing the witness does not serve that purpose and may not be employed.’ The Supreme Court ordered the rabbi to be released from jail,” Abe said triumphantly.
Behind him Habash clapped his hands. He loved being able to observe Abe in action.
The judge wasn’t as impressed. “What does that have to do with this case? Ms. Ringel is not a rabbi, and she is not invoking any religious objection to testify.”
“That case is controlling, Your Honor. Remember, you made a finding of fact. My daughter testified under oath—swore—that she will never testify even if you were to send her to jail for the rest of her life. And you replied—let me quote—‘I do believe you, Ms. Ringel.’ In other words, you found her testimony credible. You believe that she will never agree to testify. Under the Siegel precedent, you can’t send her to jail if you believe she won’t change her mind.”
Ms. Rabinovitz stood openmouthed, and for a moment the judge was stymied. Then he reached for the book angrily. “Give me the case,” he insisted. After reading the passage, he rose hastily, banged his gavel, said, “Fifteen-minute recess,” and stormed out of the stunned courtroom.
“Will it work, Daddy?” Emma asked as she quietly approached her father.
Ms. Rabinovitz glared at them, furious that her chief witness was clearly conspiring with the defense attorney—even though he was her father.
“I think so,” Abe said softly, ushering Emma away from Ms. Rabinovitz’s stare. “Habash says that Judge Levin is a tough judge but an honest one. He believes you. Everyone believes you. I certainly believe you really would stay in jail.”
“Yes, I would,” Emma said, dropping her voice so that Rashid couldn’t hear. “I made a promise. I can’t break it.”
Abe gestured to his client, who was eavesdropping and had heard every word. “Even to a kidnapper who might have killed you.”
Rashid laughed ironically at this.
“That’s the point,” Emma said to both of them. “He didn’t kill me. He released me. He kept his promise. I have to keep mine.”
“I know that,” Abe said. “You are a woman of your word—for better or worse.”
Five minutes after he bolted out of the courtroom, Judge Levin returned.
“I’ve read the case,” he announced, standing behind his table. The entire courtroom waited for his ruling. “Regrettably, Mr. Ringel, you are correct. I’m not sure I agree with their decision, but I am bound by it. I will not order your daughter to jail.” Then, changing the tone of his voice, he turned to Emma. “Even before reading the Siegel case, I had qualms about jailing the victim. We never do that in rape cases when the victims won’t testify. I thought I was bound by law to jail her, but this case says no.”
“But, Your Honor.” Ms. Rabinovitz jumped to her feet in a fury. “Without Ms. Ringel’s testimony, we have no admissible evidence against a terrorist who we all know kidnapped this woman.”
Rashid looked at her blankly.
Judge Levin replied in a stern voice, “That is the way the law works, Ms. Rabinovitz. It has worked that way since the Bible required two witnesses for a conviction. If there was only one witness—even the most credible witness possible—the guilty criminal went free.”
Abe now rose to his feet, and asked politely, “Do I take that to mean, Your Honor, that the case against Rashid is dropped?”
The judge turned a sardonic eye on him. “Yes, Mr. Ringel, you get another guilty client off. Does that make you feel good?”
“It’s my job, Your Honor. Just like it’s yo
ur job to apply the law.”
“Mr. Ringel, I’m reminded of a conversation between your great Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes and one of his law clerks, who criticized one of the justice’s decisions as ‘unjust.’ Holmes replied, ‘Young man, we are in the law business, not the justice business.’ Maybe someday, Mr. Ringel, the law business will become the justice business. Court is adjourned.”
Everyone stood. The judge left the room, the prosecutor gathered her files and departed in a huff, and Emma ran from the witness stand to Rendi and Habash, who were sitting behind Abe.
Abe watched as the officers of the court approached Rashid. He stood for them and raised his hands so that they could remove the cuffs. They were going to escort him to the jail, where he’d be given his clothes and his personal belongings and then released.
Before they led him away, Abe grabbed Rashid by the arm. “Now we’re even. No more promises to keep. Next time you’re on your own. We’re finished here, except for one thing.”
“What’s that?” Rashid was as civil as he’d been throughout the trial. Abe noted the command he had of his emotions.
“When we talked in jail and you told me that your interrogators had offered you a reward for telling them who did the bombing, I said that you couldn’t and you said, ‘I didn’t say that.’ What exactly did you mean?”
Rashid smiled cryptically. “I meant that I think I could tell them who might be involved, if I wanted to, but I didn’t want to help the Israelis.”
Abe’s grip on Rashid’s arm tightened. “You mean you know.”
“I have some ideas.” Rashid looked at his arm, and Abe let him go.
“Ideas?”
“Information.” Rashid nodded his head. “Nothing absolutely conclusive, but I know some things.”
“Share them with me. I am not the Israelis. I helped you twice. You took my daughter. I think you owe me.”
Rashid hesitated a moment and then caught a glimpse of Emma. She stood just behind Abe, not close enough to hear their conversation. “I will tell you this.” He lowered his head. “They were not Arabs.”
“Were they Jews?”
“They were not Jews.”
“Christians?” Abe said, running out of options.
“They were not Christians. They were not Americans. More I will not tell you. I have paid my debt,” Rashid said, gesturing to the guards that he was ready to go. Without a word, he left Abe standing there.
Abe related to Emma, Habash, and Rendi what Rashid had said.
“Who’s left?” Rendi wondered, hoping that this new clue would finally dissuade Abe and Emma from again focusing their attention on Dennis Savage.
Emma shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe Martians,” she quipped.
“I think I know,” Habash said with a smile.
XLVI
The Hunch
HE SAID IT WASN’T ARABS. He didn’t say it wasn’t Muslims. The Iranians and the Pakistanis are Muslims but not Arabs, and they’re both involved with sophisticated explosives,” Habash whispered as they all walked away from the courthouse.
“It’s not the Pakistanis. They limit their terrorism to India. Sure, they don’t much like Israel, or Jews for that matter, but they would never endanger their relationship with the United States by killing an American president,” Rendi said with the assurance of a former intelligence agent who had spent some time in Pakistan.
“The Iranians are involved with nuclear explosives, but this explosion was plastique, not nuclear,” Abe said, slowing down about a block away from the courthouse. There was an outdoor park with tables and chairs set up. Abe sat, and the others gathered around him.
“But they are also developing other sophisticated explosives. Remember that a nuclear bomb needs a nonnuclear trigger, especially a dirty nuclear bomb,” Habash said.
“So what do you think?” Abe asked.
Habash thought for a moment and then said, “Look, if it was a group that had any connection to the development of nuclear weapons, then it couldn’t be Palestinians, because we have no nuclear program. But if we’re looking at the Iranians, the attack could be religiously motivated. The Iranian leadership believes in the coming of the twelfth imam.” Abe, Rendi, and Emma looked at him blankly. They weren’t getting the connection he was making, so he elaborated. “They are apocalyptic. They believe that widespread death will hasten his coming.”
“Like some Christian extremists who want to hasten the second coming of Christ,” Emma volunteered.
“Yes.” Habash nodded at her. “The theology is quite different, but the outcome is similar.”
“So the Iranians are non-Arab Muslims, their leadership is apocalyptic, they know how to make sophisticated explosives. They have motive and means.” Emma took off the light jacket she was wearing and placed it behind her chair as she sat down next to her father.
“But no opportunity,” Abe mused. “How the heck could Iranians get close to the nuclear football?”
“There’s no way. Maybe it wasn’t in the football but right near it,” Rendi said.
“Even so. How could Iranians get anywhere near the president with an explosive?” Abe wondered.
“Maybe they bribed someone in the security detail,” Habash suggested.
“There were overlapping security details. Americans, Israelis, Palestinian Authority, Hamas. It wouldn’t be easy,” Rendi said, growing perturbed. Habash was merely thinking out possibilities, but Rendi feared that any suspicion about the security details would reignite Abe’s suspicions of Dennis. This was still a sore point between the two of them, though Rendi had set aside her displeasure for the duration of Rashid’s trial.
“Wait a minute,” Emma interjected. “If the Iranians did it, why would the Mossad cover for them? They’re Israel’s worst enemies.”
“Maybe they bribed an Israeli security person,” Habash surmised.
“Or maybe they weren’t covering for them. Maybe they wanted Faisal convicted because of his group’s connection to Iran,” Rendi surmised.
The four of them lounged for a while in the sun, until Abe felt he was beginning to burn. All he wanted was to solve this case and get his daughter on a plane back to Boston. “Look,” he said, “so far we have only a lead—a speculative one to be sure. In the first place, I don’t know whether to believe anything Rashid told us. But the Iranian angle is one we haven’t fully explored. We do know that Faisal Husseini’s imam has connections to some radical Iranian mullahs, but that seems like a dead end if Faisal’s group wasn’t involved.”
“But if they were involved,” Emma speculated, “that could explain how Faisal’s brother would know of an Iranian connection.” She paused, then added, “Just because you got him off doesn’t mean he didn’t do it.”
Abe understood her unspoken subtext. A decade earlier, Abe had secured an acquittal for a famous basketball player who’d been charged with rape. It later turned out that he in fact was guilty. He subsequently tried to rape Emma. It was a horrible experience for the then high-school senior.
“I know that, Emma,” Abe said softly. Glancing around at his team, he instructed them, “Look, we’re back in the realm of speculation, which is no substitute for hard research. Let’s get to work. Rendi, check out everyone in the security detail. Particularly those who survived. If someone did it for money, he wasn’t a suicide bomber. Habash, you check out the Iranians, through your sources, with an eye on whether Faisal’s group had any connections with them. Emma, I want you in the library. Away from danger. You’ve been kidnapped, threatened with jail. Enough. Stay out of harm’s way.”
“Oh, Daddy, I can take care of myself,” she scoffed.
“Need I remind you who got you freed from the kidnappers and from jail? You may be running out of luck. The library work is important. First you can research more about Dennis Savage’s weird friend in Megiddo. Does he have any connections to Iran? Stranger things have happened. Then I want you to find out everything you can about this twelfth-imam busin
ess and what these zealots believe is needed to help him come back. It’s important. It may hold the key.”
“I’ll help Emma and keep an eye on her,” Habash volunteered.
Emma smiled shyly and lowered her head. Their eyes met, and Rendi nudged Abe to see if he saw the lovebirds as she did. Apparently he didn’t—he still felt that there was some tension between them.
“That’s fine, but I need you to do something else, too. I need you to snoop around the Shia rumor mills. Find out what they’re saying to each other. See if they’re talking about any Iranian connections. You must have Shia friends.”
“More like acquaintances, but my family has some connections. I’ll find out what I can.”
“And everyone be careful. No one seems to want us to get the truth here. Everyone seems to be covering for someone. The closer we get, the more dangerous it will be.”
XLVII
The Rest of Avi’s Story
THE PAST COUPLE OF WEEKS had been torture for Habash Ein. Emma was back, and they were dating casually—afternoon coffees, walks after work—but she was distant. She wasn’t her usual vibrant self.
At first Habash suspected that it was the aftereffects of her kidnapping. She deflected the topic whenever he broached it, and Habash decided it was the rift with Rendi over Dennis Savage that was weighing on her. And then Rashid was arrested, and Abe took the case. Emma’s mind was on the possibility she might go to prison for not testifying.
So as the two of them walked through Independence Park, Habash realized that since that first date Emma had never let him take her to Shimshon’s. And while they worked during the day, Emma kept a respectable distance from him, especially if Abe and Rendi were present.
The Trials of Zion Page 23