by Webb Hubbell
Micki cleared her throat and handed the AG the copy of the court’s order that Cotton had given me.
“Thank you, Ms. Lawrence. Well, what do we have here? The court order you’ve been flashing around the room reads, ‘based on the Motion for Immediate and Emergency Relief filed today by the Attorney General of the United States.’ Donald, for once in your life, if you have any hope of keeping your job, please find a seat and keep quiet. Marshals, please remove the restraints from Mr. Patterson. He’s not going anywhere, and he’s not planning to hurt anyone. Are you?” he said, looking at me.
I almost said “No, your honor,” but caught myself. “No, sir.”
The marshals took the cuffs off, and I walked back to my place by Micki. The AG still had the microphone, and I waited to see what would happen next.
“First, let me say I came today to hear Mr. Patterson out,” he said firmly. “I had my doubts about giving him credibility, but given this morning’s article in the Post, I decided I should attend, as well as my deputy, Ms. Fortson. Now I’m glad I did. Mr. Patterson, are you comfortable proceeding? I will do my best to have the court’s order vacated by the time you finish, but you carry some risk by proceeding.”
I turned to Micki who winked and nodded her assent.
“Ms. Lawrence and I are prepared to take that risk.”
“Well, before we get to your presentation, I have a few questions,” he said.
“Fire away,” I said, forgetting for a moment the gravity of the circumstance. “I apologize, sir. I’m a little nervous.”
He smiled for the first time, then continued, “Do you have anything to say about this order that might help us convince the judge to set it aside?”
“Yes sir, I do. I have not seen the motion filed by Mr. Cotton, so I don’t know exactly what he alleges, and I’ve only had a minute to scan the order, but I do know that the order was time-stamped at nine fifty-five this morning.”
The AG asked, “And why is the time significant?”
“Many members of the press who are here are also aware that Mr. Cotton held a press conference at ten o’clock this morning. At that time he told the press he had decided not to seek an order requiring the return of the million-dollar wire transfer because he hoped we would return the money voluntarily.”
Most of the members of the press nodded in agreement. Cotton, who had pointedly pulled up an extra chair rather than sit at the table with Micki and me, lowered his head and sat staring at his shoes.
“I would also like you and every person in this room to know we have never contended that the money from oversees belongs to Rachel’s estate. Those funds were wired into her account subsequent to her arrest and represent what we believe to be a poor attempt to frame Rachel Goodman for a crime she didn’t commit. If Mr. Cotton had used his phone rather than calling a press conference, we could easily have worked out an arrangement for holding the money as evidence of that attempt.
“But Mr. Cotton’s deception goes much further than the million-dollar wire. Without notice or a hearing, he convinced a judge that the entire account at Parra Bank should be paid into the General Account of the Asset Forfeiture Division of the U.S. Attorney’s office. The Parra Bank account also contained Rachel’s widow’s pension as well as the proceeds from her late husband’s life insurance policy.
“In effect, this ex parte order litigates and decides the whole asset forfeiture case in the government’s favor. It even requires the estate to return Rachel’s wedding rings and other personal effects to the U.S. Attorney and orders me to turn over the work-product of our investigation. His actions represent over-reaching at its worst.” I had gotten a little worked up; it felt good.
The AG brought me back to earth. “All that will be resolved, Mr. Patterson. The order will be set aside, I promise you.”
Cotton and his advisors had been caught red-handed. But setting aside the order wouldn’t exonerate Rachel, so I calmed down.
“May I say just one more thing about the order?” I asked meekly.
The AG nodded yes.
“The order requires my office to turn over to Mr. Cotton’s office all copies of the design of an early warning detection system that is in our possession.”
Puzzled, the AG looked at the order and then at Cotton. “Okay, what are you doing with plans for an early warning detection system and why does the U.S. Attorney want it?”
“The system was designed by a computer expert who works for me. The system has protected my team from people who are, shall we say, up to no good. It works so well that someone must want it for his own personal gain.”
Cotton couldn’t keep quiet, “I was told it was so good that it must have been stolen from our military.”
The AG gave Cotton a dirty look and looked back to me.
“Yes, it’s good, but it was designed by one of my employees, and I can prove it. I wasn’t aware that a U.S. Attorney could demand the surrender of private property on a whim or a tip. But here’s the real question, Mr. Cotton. How does your source know about the system’s existence, much less how good it is? The only people who are aware of its existence are the people who work for me, two individuals now in military custody who were caught by the system, and those who hired them.”
Cotton knew he had screwed up in defending the attempt to steal Stella’s system, but I had confused the AG.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
We were getting ahead of the game, but I decided to forge ahead.
“In the last week, two individuals, on two separate occasions, trespassed on the property where my team is located. One was found carrying a sniper’s rifle. The other was found attempting to launch a rocket directly at the house where we are staying. Had he succeeded, the house and those of us in it would have been destroyed, and there would have been no need for this press briefing. On both occasions, the warning system detected their presence.”
“Where are these individuals now?”
“They’re currently in the custody of military police at a location I’d prefer not to disclose in public.”
“You said ‘launch a rocket.’ One can’t carry a rocket around on one’s person as far as I know, at least not yet. What kind of rocket?”
“Several Navy SEALs who have been staying on the property recognized it as a prototype of the Pinpoint Missile System sold by a subsidiary of Rouss Military Systems to the Israeli government.”
Two men jumped up immediately, oddly crying out “Liar!” at the same time. One was the Israeli ambassador; the other was the lawyer sitting next to Eric Hartman and Carol.
The room began to buzz, but the Attorney General raised his voice again. “Please, I must ask you all to be quiet. You two, sit down right now.” The Israeli ambassador resumed his seat.
When the noise died down, I offered, “Two Navy SEALs are here today who can identify the rocket and the system.”
“No, that won’t be necessary. Where is that system now? I assume it’s not propped up in the back of a closet.”
“No, sir,” I smiled. “The rocket and its launch system are in the custody of the military police at a location that again I’d rather not disclose in public.”
“That is certainly understandable.” He smiled in return.
I heard a rustling and watched as a distinguished gentleman who I would soon learn was Deputy Secretary of State Frederick Sumner, stood and said to the AG, “Burt, a word in private, please.” “Burt” stepped away from the microphone and joined him near a window behind the podium. The room descended into chaos.
77
PEGGY WAS ON THE PHONE trying to reach the judge’s clerk to get the order rescinded. Carol, Eric, and several men who looked like lawyers huddled together, and Cotton was left sitting by himself off to one side, looking lost. I could almost feel sorry for him. I turned to Micki and said, “Still wish you’d brought along a change of clothes?”
“We’re not out of the woods yet. No one has offered to take our places,�
� she smiled grimly.
The AG approached and motioned for Peggy to join us. “I have to hand it to you, Mr. Patterson. Almost everyone in this room is pissed at you; some clearly wish you were dead. The mere mention of a Pinpoint Missile System gave the intelligence people heart failure. I also can’t have the system or the man who knows how to use it wandering around one of our military facilities, so I need to know more.
“Let me propose that we find a way to empty this room of the press and anyone else who shouldn’t be here before I allow you to continue. Peggy is getting the order rescinded, but I think Cotton still has to be in the room. What about the ambassadors?”
“The Israeli ambassador needs to stay for sure, along with the man to his right, Rabbi Strauss. The other Ambassadors represent countries that bought weapons or systems from Rouss in the last few years, so that’s up to you and the State Department. Rouss has several representatives here. You will want to witness their reaction. The people from JAG need to stay, as do the people from Pentagon acquisitions,” I answered.
“You make this difficult. How do I get the press to leave and make everyone else stay? The staffers from the Hill sure won’t leave without a fight. Got any ideas?” he asked.
“How about this? I won’t mention specific weapons or systems, nor will I mention which countries bought what. I will give you the exhibits that lay out what we discovered, and you can decide who else should see them, whether it be the State Department, Congress, the Pentagon, or whatever intelligence agency. I will then prove Rachel’s innocence and why she was murdered,” I suggested.
“We can try it. I may have to stop you, but we can try. Anything else?”
“Yes. A few brave souls are holding three very dangerous men and a missile system at a military base in Virginia. I will give you and the JAG Commander their location, but only if you both agree to detain these men at an appropriate facility and that you won’t seek redress against the military police who went out on a limb by agreeing to detain them.”
He laughed, “Let’s deal with that first thing. I sure don’t want anyone wandering around Virginia with a rocket system. I’ll call the commander of the JAG—where are they being held?”
I gave him the name of the facility, and he nodded at Peggy, who hurried out of the room.
The AG then stepped up to the podium again. The noise lessened almost immediately.
“Thank you, I appreciate your patience. Mr. Patterson will resume his briefing in about fifteen minutes or so. Anyone is free to go or stay, but I’ve cautioned him not to get into specifics in a few sensitive areas. I’ve warned him that if he crosses a certain line I will halt the briefing. Please be back in your seats in fifteen minutes.”
*****
Maggie, Stella, and Beth met us in the small briefing room. It felt good to relax, even if for only a few minutes. Stella looked pensive and finally asked, “How did you know that Cotton planned to steal the plans of our security system?”
“I didn’t. But I worried that if they were able to seize our exhibits and work product, your plans would be gobbled up. That’s why I had you sell Red both the design and plans. I would have made sure he signed the document and paid you for the design, but at least as of the time they seized everything, the system belonged to Red. I had no idea they would be stupid enough to list the system in the court’s order. As soon as the order gets set aside, we can tear up the sales agreement.”
“Who do you think was coaching Cotton?” Beth asked.
“I don’t know, but I’ll bet a dollar to a donut that person is in this room or will be soon.”
When we returned to our table the room was a little more crowded. The President of Rouss, Dennis Maxwell, had joined Eric and Carol. Lucy was sitting with her staffer and the chair of the Senate Foreign Relations committee. I wasn’t surprised to see Red Shaw, sitting with his head of public relations.
Peggy walked up, looking relieved. “The order has been rescinded, thank goodness. I wouldn’t want to be in Cotton’s shoes the next time he appears before that judge. The judge had asked him if the AG was on board with this, and Cotton assured him he was.
“Also, the JAG commander spoke with your friend at the military base. In collaboration with the FBI, the three prisoners are being moved to a more secure facility, and the missile system will be secured as evidence. When were you going to tell me about the man from St. Louis that Clovis Jones deposited with the Montgomery County police?”
I raised my eyebrows and shrugged innocently. She was not amused.
“He has a lawyer and wants to make a deal. He claims to have information about the deaths of Harold Spencer and Rachel Goodman. Did that slip your mind?”
“I did call and ask to meet with the Attorney General, but I’m getting old and sometimes forget details,” I replied. She was still not amused.
Now it was Micki’s turn to scold.
“Clovis took an unnamed man from St. Louis to the Montgomery County police? He claims to know about both deaths? Forget her—when were you going to tell your partner? What’s going on, Jack?”
The AG stepped to the podium before I had to answer her questions.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, because of national security concerns there will be no questions after this briefing.” A groan rose from the press. “I also ask you to refrain from any spontaneous outbursts. Mr. Patterson and Ms. Lawrence have agreed to limit their remarks, also because of national security concerns. If they do not comply, this briefing will end.
“For your information, the order entered this morning at the request of Mr. Cotton has been vacated by Judge Hicks. I can also tell you that three individuals formerly in the custody of the military police are now in the custody of the FBI, as is what appears to be a missile or rocket system of unknown origin or manufacture. A joint JAG and Justice Department investigation is underway surrounding these circumstances.” He paused to take a sip of water and clean his glasses.
I glanced at Carol. She was pale and tight-lipped, and she stared straight ahead.
Micki leaned over and whispered, “Who’s the woman sitting between the two men on the third row? She’s been staring at you the whole time, and she isn’t flirting. If looks could kill, you’d be deader than a doornail.”
“That woman, my dear Micki, is Carol Madison.”
Micki giggled. “The famous Carol Madison? You did move up in class, present company excepted.”
“The one and only.”
“Got to be awkward,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a laugh.
“You have no idea.”
78
THE AG GAVE A LITTLE COUGH and said to us, “Mr. Patterson, Ms. Lawrence, the podium is yours.” Micki squeezed my hand under the table, and whispered, “You’re on.” I returned the squeeze, walked to the podium, and surveyed the crowd.
I was sure my voice quivered. “Thank you for coming. It’s been an interesting afternoon. I asked for this briefing because after Rachel Goodman’s death, no one, and I mean no one, was interested in determining why a bright, intelligent young American would have committed espionage. Everyone took it as gospel that she was America’s Mata Hari, as U.S. Attorney Cotton is prone to call her.”
I made it a point to stop and look at Cotton. I so wanted to shove his words down his throat. Stay calm, Jack.
“No one, including the U.S. Attorney, lifted a finger when that same young woman was found dead in her cell—the victim of an apparent suicide—when only hours earlier she had been upbeat and in good spirits. I met with her that very afternoon. The last thing she said to me was ‘it’s not what it seems.’ Our meeting, though brief, had convinced me of her innocence. An FBI agent and the Deputy U.S. Attorney witnessed our entire exchange, and I am sure they will back up what I say. So would the video of our meeting, except that after Rachel’s death that video inexplicably went missing.”
I paused.
“Rachel was held at a military base in Virginia under tight security. Neither the De
puty U.S. Attorney nor I knew where she was being held. On the day of our visit, we were transported to and from her location in a windowless van. So, you might ask, if her own attorney and a Deputy U.S. Attorney didn’t know where she was, how could anyone have gotten to her? I learned just yesterday that someone had attached a tracking device to the underside of the van that took us to Rachel’s location. My visit to see my client actually led her killers straight to her.”
Very few people knew about the tracking device. Cotton perked up a bit. From his look, it was clearly news to him.
“Now that we know how her killers found Rachel, let’s turn our attention to why someone wanted to frame and murder her. That story begins two years ago. Rachel Goodman’s husband, Ira, was a rabbi working and living in Washington, DC. But he also worked for the Israeli government. The Post once described Ira as ‘a bright light’ trying to bring peace to the Middle East. One day when he met friends for coffee at an open-air café in Sderot, a rocket attack took his life and the lives of twenty others. The Israeli government blamed Hamas, and this bright light for peace was extinguished.
“When Rachel flew to Israel to make arrangements for her husband’s burial, she went to see the remains of the café. She saw something there that only an analyst at the Pentagon would notice. Shell fragments from the rocket or missile bore the markings of a weapon made in the U.S. She made notes on everything she saw and brought them back to the States.”
The Israeli ambassador interrupted, “Do you have proof of what you say, or are you merely speculating?”
The AG was about to admonish him for interrupting, but I answered first, “I have her notes which I will give to the Attorney General after this briefing.
“At first, she thought an American weapon had been stolen and sold on the black market to Hamas. A logical assumption, but she couldn’t find any record of the rocket and its delivery system in our military’s inventory. It wasn’t a weapon used by any of our soldiers.
“She continued to search until she discovered the weapon, its manufacturer, and why it was so difficult to locate. It was part of a missile system designed, built, and tested by the Pentagon, but ultimately rejected. It wouldn’t be the first weapon system that didn’t live up to its potential, but she knew something was amiss. You see, if a weapon fails testing or is rejected by the Pentagon, the weapon is dismantled so it can’t fall into anyone else’s hands.