“I will not enter any area,” Will replied, “that has anything to do with a legitimate national interest of the republic. My questions will go only to subversive activities accomplished for personal benefit—not for any official or governmental goal.”
The word “subversive” rang like a fire bell through the courtroom.
“This is outrageous,” Mullburn fumed.
Will was locked in on the witness now, watching his every move, even the smallest movements and nuances. And he noticed that Mullburn quickly thrust his tongue into the side of his check with that last question. And there was also something else.
In the last few seconds, the billionaire started glancing around the witness booth—looking to the sides, down at the floor, up at the ceiling. Little glances, mere fleeting motions. But to Will they were significant.
He had the distinct feeling that Warren Mullburn was claustrophobic. That was probably why his lawyers hadn’t wanted him testifying in that enclosed area.
So Will’s next question was preceded by a long pause. Then he delivered it in a plodding, overarticulate fashion.
“Do you have a person…in charge of the computer intelligence department…of your republic…a person by the name of…Orville Putrie?”
Mullburn—just momentarily—lost his sense of presence, allowing his torso to jerk forward, as if he’d been shoved in the back by someone.
Will noticed that too.
And so did the judges.
Mullburn’s soaring intelligence kicked in. He knew the implications and the various scenarios. The fact that Putrie’s name had come up was a huge problem, if not a potential disaster. Mullburn was certain that the little computer geek’s identity had been buried in the lead-lined computer lab on the island. Only a handful of people knew about Putrie—and President Mandu La Rouge didn’t even know that Mullburn had formed the department of which Putrie had been made the chief researcher.
There was no question now, the billionaire quickly concluded, that Will Chambers had retrieved some critical information. But he could be bluffing. The only question was the extent of the lawyer’s apparent penetration into the secret network that Mullburn had established on his island empire.
“And before you answer,” Will added about three seconds into the pause that Mullburn was taking before attempting to reply, “we have secured the service of a subpoena on your personal secretary in the palace on your island, the personal assistant with the desk on the second floor—an ornate desk, I understand…Italian design—and we’ve also subpoenaed her diary of appointments, to the extent that they may show any meetings between you and Mr. Orville Putrie.”
The witness tried to smile.
“Your recital of those facts was a waste of time,” he said. “Yes, I know we have a person by that name in the current-research branch of the administration.”
“And do you know,” Will said deliberately and painstakingly, “that Mr. Putrie has developed a program…a program to detect how and when…an unlawful entry is attempted into a computer system—one that’s protected by a process called quantum encryption?”
Mullburn was moving slightly in his chair, glancing quickly from side to side as if he were on the lookout for an errant wasp that was loose in the glass booth with him. But his mind was busy scheming—and this much he had decided. It was time to deny everything, stonewall Will Chambers, and then get out.
“No. I did not know that.”
“Well, I am holding in my hand,” Will announced oratorically with a document in his right hand, “an application for a patent—one made to the United States Patent Department—for that very system. This application was made by an individual named Orville Putrie…”
Then Will added as an aside, “Strange that someone with an open arrest warrant for him would apply for a public patent. I guess he didn’t think that one through, did he?”
Mullburn was struggling to conceal his volcanic rage, first at Will Chambers for, once again, defiling and disrupting his well-orchestrated symphony dedicated to self-aggrandizement—his pretensions to global achievement and personal empire. But his napalm-like hate burned deeper still…at the bizarre little computer genius who had apparently blundered so ineptly as to drag Warren Mullburn down with him.
“Well, let me get right to it, Mr. Mullburn.”
Will was now picking up the pace, trying to burn each question into the strike zone.
“Did you, or anyone at your command, instruct Orville Putrie to unlawfully enter the quantum-encryption-protected computer system of the Israeli intelligence department—the agency known as the Mossad—to manipulate data in that system referring to the Knights of the Temple Mount, so as to make it appear that the Israeli government had willfully permitted that religious cult to blow up the Temple Mount?”
Three of the New York lawyers leaped to their feet and began shouting out objections. The lead partner, the one in the expensive Italian suit, dashed toward the podium so quickly that he tripped over his briefcase on the floor and had to catch his balance on the run, like a halfback who had slipped out of a tackle.
“We claim the privilege under the rules of this tribunal,” he called out, “for our client to refuse to answer on the grounds of the appearance of self-incrimination…as I hasten to add, appearance, because Minister Mullburn is entirely innocent of these scandalous, slanderous, malicious lies—”
“If he’s innocent,” Will interjected, “then how can you claim that his answering my question would incriminate him?”
“I deny it—all of it!” Mullburn was now shouting from the inside of the glass booth.
“Next question,” Will bulleted out. “Did you order Orville Putrie to construct the computer hardware for the detonation system used in the bombing of the Temple Mount?”
The lead New York attorney was still at the podium, just inches from Will, leaning toward him and eyeing him like a pet owner who was trying to prevent a house cat from scampering through the front door.
“Same objection. Instruct the witness not to answer!” he shouted out.
“Next question,” Will said, hammering it out. “Did you provide, through your network of connections in the former Soviet-bloc countries, a sufficient quantity of Semtex to the Knights of the Temple Mount to decimate the structures on the mount and kill the hundreds of people who were in or near them at the time?”
Mullburn was shouting indecipherably inside the glass booth. His lawyer was yelling even louder, that they would not permit their client to answer “these mindless, criminal, absurd accusations…”
Finally, Will reached into his briefcase and quickly pulled something out. Then he went for the last pitch.
“Did you arrange a meeting with defense amicus curiae Mira Ashwan in order to covertly obtain intelligence on our strategy for the legal defense of Gilead Amahn?”
“I don’t even have any idea who that person is, you fool!” Mullburn cried out.
“Well, then perhaps Ms. Ashwan can explain,” Will held up a colored envelope, “why she flew to the Republic of Maretas just before the start of this trial—and why she has an open-ended, one-way ticket back to Maretas—I have the ticket stub and the ticket right here—”
Mira was on her feet.
“You went in my purse!”
“You bet,” Will snapped back. “Mira—how could you?”
Judge Mustafa, sensing a loss of control over the trajectory of the trial, quickly and loudly gaveled the hearing to an adjournment for the day, instructing Mullburn and his entourage to leave the courtroom, and all of the participants to exit immediately.
Mullburn’s security detail rushed to the glass booth and, followed by his dazed lawyers, led him quickly out of the courtroom—out of the Orient House to the back of a waiting limousine.
Only Mr. Himlet was in the backseat. He raised the privacy glass behind the driver.
Then Mullburn exploded in a molten rage of threats—against Himlet for ever finding Orville Putrie in the first
place, and then against Putrie, who Mullburn vowed to personally execute, but only after a prolonged session of unimaginable torture to find out the sum total of the information the computer genius had allowed to leak out.
“Call the island!” Mullburn screamed. “Find out where Putrie is this very moment and have him put in chains in a locked room in the basement of the palace, till I can get to him myself!”
Himlet had something to say. He paused, his expression still blank, and in his calm voice he answered.
“I’m afraid that may not be possible.”
“Why not?” Mullburn shrieked, now red-faced.
“Because it appears,” Himlet continued, “that Mr. Putrie has disappeared.”
64
WILL WAS LOOKING AT A PICTURE that was indexed within the section of his trial notebook containing his anticipated direct examination of Dr. Daoud al-Qasr. The picture was a photocopy of an ancient Egyptian mural. It depicted several mythological characters gathered around a large weighing scale.
After Will had led Dr. al-Qasr through questioning about his professional and educational credentials and his writing and teaching experience, the witness had easily been qualified as an expert in the fields of Egyptology and cultural anthropology by the tribunal. And he had also been certified as an expert in the current esoteric religions of the Middle East—the “mystery cults” that professed secret knowledge based on ancient, long-dead religions.
In the witness booth, al-Qasr was now waiting for the next series of questions. He was a large, tall man in his forties, with a broad, pleasant face and a balding head.
“Now, I would represent to you,” Will continued, “that the parties to this criminal case have stipulated that the handwritten documents, notes, and journals we will discuss, were all in Yossin Ali Khalid’s handwriting and found in his apartment. So you can assume that to be true in giving us your opinions.”
“Very well,” he said.
“How did the Knights, and in particular Khalid, calculate the date of the appearing of the last Caliph, the supposed reincarnation of al-Hakim—their religious messiah?”
“Well, the Druze, the group from which the Knights broke away, believed that he will reappear literally one thousand years from al-Hakim’s disappearance in Cairo in 1021—which means the appearing is supposed to be in the year 2021. But Yossin and his father, Omar—actually going all the way back to Omar’s grandfather—calculated it differently. They believed that the calendars were different back in 1021. Further, they were convinced that the Caliph was influenced by the ancient Egyptians. As a result, the Knights had always believed in a sooner return than the Druze. But they had been unable to agree on a precise calculation. Then Louis Lorraine, who had an extensive background in ancient Egyptian religion, joined their group. Lorraine and Yossin Ali Khalid worked together to finish the determination of the year of the appearing of the Caliph al-Hakim.”
Will led Dr. al-Qasr through questioning that established, in precise detail, the convoluted system of logic and ancient historical research used by the pair to recalculate the “true date of appearing” of the last Caliph. Khalid’s journals had laid it all out.
In them it was explained how the ancient Egyptians, in their calendars, would exclude five days per year. Those days were considered to be yielded up to the first five of the Egyptian gods—Atum, Shu, Tefnut, Geb, and Nut.
The ancient Egyptians also excluded, every third year, a sixth day—in honor of the god Thoth. But the Knights decided not to deduct that day because, in their thinking, Thoth, the god of wisdom, secrets, and writings, was actually the pre-incarnation of the Caliph al-Hakim.
“Therefore, the Knights figured the appearing of the Caliph–messiah would be calculated by starting with the year 2021, then subtracting five days multiplied by a thousand years—or in other words, a total deduction of five thousand days.”
“And that date just happened to fall around the same date that Gilead Amahn landed in Cairo from the United States?”
“As it turns out, that is correct.”
“In any of Khalid’s journals, is Gilead Amahn ever discussed?”
“Well—not directly.”
“His name does appear on one document?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll return to that in a moment,” Will noted. “Now these date calculations you mentioned appear to be very complex, requiring a great deal of historical knowledge. Do Khalid’s journals ever indicate that anyone other than he and Louis Lorraine ever discussed those calculations?”
“No.”
“Now Scott Magnit, a member of the Knights, has testified for the prosecution that he was told, by Lorraine and Khalid, the date that had been calculated for the appearing of the Caliph–messiah. And he then tried to paint Gilead Amahn as the impersonator of the messiah by saying that Gilead knew the exact date to present himself in Cairo because Magnit had divulged that date to him when the two had met at a Bible study in Jerusalem last year. Now Dr. al-Qasr, in all of the records and writings of Khalid, coupled with your knowledge of the Knights, is there anything to suggest that Scott Magnit was ever privy to the secret doctrine dealing with the date of the appearing of the last Caliph?”
“I saw nothing to that effect. Khalid’s papers only suggest that the date was known to him and to Louis Lorraine.”
“Would the date of that predicted appearing have been a critical element of their secret cult?”
“It would have been of utmost importance—very tightly guarded information.”
“Scott Magnit also described the initiation ritual of the group—fasting in the desert. Was this group quick to accept people into leadership?”
“Clearly not,” the witness said with assurance. “In fact, they would screen people for months before they would let them know that the group was something other than a ‘nondenominational Bible-study group,’ which is how they would usually introduce themselves to new members. But from my research, only four members ever made it into the inner circle of leadership. Scott Magnit—and he was a little on the outside of the circle—along with the taxi driver who drove the accused over to the Golden Gate after the bombing…but he was slightly below Magnit in authority. And then there were Lorraine and Khalid—they were at the top.”
“What are the odds that Gilead would have received entrée into the inner circle of the Knights in just a matter of weeks…as the prosecution would have us believe?”
“The odds would be heavily against that,” al-Qasr replied.
“Lastly, you said that Gilead’s name did appear on one of Khalid’s papers. Which one was that?”
“It was a photocopy of an image of an ancient Egyptian mural, typical of those found etched on the walls of the tombs of the pharaohs. We Egyptologists call it the psychostasia—the weighing of the conscience of the dead. You Westerners would probably refer to it as the last judgment. The Egyptians believed that, after death, the heart of the deceased, along with all of its good deeds is balanced on the great scales of justice—against the weight of a feather. If it fails, the person goes into condemnation and destruction. If it passes the test, the deceased enters paradise.”
“And this particular mural is of an ancient Egyptian named Ani—he died, and this picture represents his last judgment?”
“Yes. The characters in the mural are well-known figures in ancient religion. Off to the right side of the great balance scales we see the man with the head of a hawk, called Thoth—he is writing down the results of the divine weighing process.”
“Did Khalid write down a note underneath that figure?”
“He did. He wrote the name ‘Louis Lorraine.’ ”
“And what is the figure crouching underneath the center post of the great scales—the one that looks like a man with the head of a jackal?”
“That is Anubis, the mythological character who is actually doing the weighing of the heart.”
“What did Khalid write on the picture under Anubis?”
�
�He wrote his own name—Yossin Ali Khalid.”
“And where is Gilead’s name mentioned on this picture?”
With that, Will clicked on the computer, and an enlarged image of the mural appeared on the screen of the courtroom.
“Khalid jotted Gilead’s name,” al-Qasr was raising his voice slightly to emphasize the importance of the point, “underneath the oblong container sitting in the tray of the balance scale—the jar containing the heart of the deceased.”
“Based on your expertise in understanding the theology of the Knights of the Temple Mount and your review of this document, what is your opinion as to the religious significance of the placement of Gilead’s name on this picture?”
“It seems clear that Gilead Amahn was considered a person who would be put to the ultimate test—weighed in the balance. That if he were the true Caliph–messiah, he would survive the test. If not—he would be destroyed. But it is clear that Khalid was not convinced himself that Gilead was the messiah they were looking for—the outcome had not yet been determined. Gilead’s heart, so to speak, had not yet been weighed. It was about to be weighed.”
“And would Khalid’s notes written on that picture, suggest that Gilead was a decision-maker within the Knights of the Temple Mount?”
“To the contrary—they would suggest that Gilead was the one about whom decisions were being made. And that Khalid and Lorraine were the decision-makers in charge of that process.”
Will rested, and Zayed hastened to the podium. He looked confident.
“In the original mural Ani was having his heart weighed by the gods. Who was Ani in ancient Egyptian history?”
“He was the chancellor for a pharaoh. He was in charge of the revenues for the temples at Thebes and Abydos. Lived around 1500 BCE. Give me a minute and I can try to remember the precise date of his death…”
“Don’t bother,” Zayed said with a smile. “The point is, the accused, Hassan Gilead Amahn, was associated with the ancient person of Ani, as indicated by Khalid. Is that true?”
The Last Judgment Page 33