Gabriel's Stand

by Jay B. Gaskill

  “What is Kafka?” Alder said.

  “Alder, it may not be that clear cut,” Wiggins said. “Not in a capital case, not on the right to a jury.”

  Then Alder pulled a book down from the shelf, and thumbing open a page. “All treaties made, or which shall be made, under the authority of the United States, shall be the supreme law of the land; and the judges in every state shall be bound thereby, anything in the Constitution or laws of any state notwithstanding.” He looked up. “That is from Article Six of the Constitution.”

  Wiggins walked over and took the book from Alder. He looked straight at Dr. Owen. “I don’t happen to agree with the Google decision. And I don’t think it applies to felony cases. I believe that Google was wrongly decided. And that Court of Appeal panel is still subject to review by the United States Supreme Court…last time I looked. I have argued and will continue to argue until my last dying breath that the framers of our constitution intended only to give treaty provisions supremacy over state laws and state constitutions, not over federal laws and certainly not the Bill of Rights. But,” he closed the book with a snap, “I wasn’t exactly consulted, was I? Still, I am of the opinion that the Supreme Court will eventually overturn the Google case.”

  “But Judge Wandright won’t,” Alder said, “and you are counting on a five-to-four vote on the Supreme Court going our way on the Treaty question some day in the distant future, when at least one of the Justices is under pressure from the Commission to resign.”

  Wiggins sighed. “My young colleague is right on one thing. We have a trial judge who won’t buck the government on this. Judge Wandright is bound to follow the Google case on the jury question. He will not empanel a jury.”

  “And Wandright has already denied a jury in a Retro Order case affecting Microsoft,” Alder added.

  Wiggins shot Alder a warning glance. “We’ve got our work cut out for us. I’m sorry. John, I know this is a lot to take in at once. And it seems—” Wiggins shot a glance at Alder that would have blistered paint, “—that I wasn’t fully informed about a certain call from the prosecutor this morning. So that means that we need to get right to work immediately. I’ll want to see if I can get a panel of the Court of Appeal to take up this jury question before the trial begins. And there are other pressing matters. So if you’ll excuse us.” Wiggins placed his arm on Dr. Owen’s shoulder. Dornan stepped forward with a glare. Wiggins let go, and John strode to the exit.

  John was sick. “When will you know more?”

  “I’ll get back to you very soon. Now, don’t worry about tomorrow. What time, Phil?”

  “Nine-thirty.”

  “We can meet anything they throw at us then. And we’ll have plenty of time before trial. So I’ll see you at 9:20 right outside Judge Wandright’s Department? That is number fourteen on the fifteenth floor.” John nodded, his jaws clenched. He and Dornan left the office without saying another word.

  When the door closed behind Dr. Owen, Wiggins turned on Alder, his face redder than usual. “Alder, why the fuck didn’t you let me in on your latest news this morning? Why didn’t I know about this before Owen arrived?”

  “Sorry. You were on the other line at the time.”

  “Yes I was. Why didn’t you make a point of telling me before we let Owen in the door? We have one pissed off client and I don’t blame the man. Maybe they did things differently in the New York U.S. Attorney’s office. But if you and I are going to work together to save this man, you’ve got to be on my team. That means what I know what you know. No more surprises. Clear?”

  “Clear.” Alder’s tone was matter of fact.

  Wiggins glared at Alder. “They’re sure as hell going to try to put our boy in lock up when this new charge is filed.”

  “Do you think?”

  “Alder, sometimes you amaze me. Of course they are. They’ve already violated the custody agreement once by the last minute substitution of a version of house arrest for the promise of unlimited free movement that John relied on when he surrendered. The death penalty charge makes this a new ball game.”

  “The penalty will be overturned on appeal.”

  “Now you’re confident? Maybe. Maybe not. But it does give me an opportunity to attempt to get a panel of the Circuit Court to revisit the jury question before trial. So while I am working on that little matter, I want a brief from you on the custody issues by the end of the day.”

  “You’ll have it.”

  “And I want to find a way to disqualify Wandright from this case.” Alder looked surprised. “What?” Wiggins bellowed. “You didn’t do that sort of thing when you worked for the other side?” Alder didn’t answer. “This is a no-holds-barred battle for a man’s life, Alder. When can I expect a brief on that question?”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Hell no. In my fat hands by four this afternoon. Get your well-paid law clerks to do something useful for a change.”

  Alder was flushing. “Four, then,” he said with forced civility.

  “Thank you. Now you better call Owen’s people and warn them of what to expect. This will get ugly.”

  “Of course.” Alder paused, as if thinking. “What if he decides to run?” Alder’s face was opaque.

  Wiggins shook his head. “Flight? John Owen? Good God, Phil. You know you can’t even suggest that. It’s our job to defend this man, not set him up to get killed in an escape.”

  Chapter 72

  The next morning, just inside the courthouse, Dornan stood face to face with a U.S. Marshal. Dornan, balding and fit, was still imposing in his post, post-middle age. After last week, he vowed, I won’t be counting the damn birthdays anymore.

  “Where are your scanners and the metal detectors?”

  The Deputy Marshal, a man in his late twenties, shrugged apologetically. “They were removed last night, Mr. Dornan.”

  “On whose authority?”

  “The Commission has issued another Retirement order. Everything is perfectly legal, sir.”

  “Retirement order? This isn’t high tech stuff. X-rays have been around a hundred years.”

  “Not our kind, sir. It was the new chips, I think.”

  “This is a fine mess. How the hell do you propose to keep this zoo safe?”

  “We’ve added Deputies. Nobody gets into that courtroom without a thorough search.”

  “Damn well better be thorough.”

  A second Marshal stepped forward. “May I inspect that pistol of yours, sir?”

  “I am licensed,” Dornan growled, slipping the weapon out of his shoulder holster.

  The second Deputy turned the semiautomatic over in his hands, squinting.

  “No TERET date stamp,” he said.

  “Technology Retirement date? You are kidding me, son. This is old fashioned technology,” Dornan said, holding out his hand. “But it works.”

  But the Deputy kept the gun. “Sorry. You can pick it up in the Marshal’s office after the session.

  “This won’t do,” Dornan barked. Then a huge entourage entered the main lobby. Dornan turned. “Here comes the Boss,” he said. John Owen was flanked by Wiggins and two of Dornan’s security detachment. Alder trailed behind with three law clerks.

  “Dr. Owen,” the new Deputy Marshal called out. “Over here, sir.”

  When John approached, the Marshal motioned and several more Deputies converged. “This will just take a minute, sir. Oh, oh. I’m afraid certain body armor is included in the current Retirement order. May I inspect that vest you are wearing under your coat?” A man in a suit stepped forward and distributed copies of the latest Commission Retirement Order to Owen, Alder and Wiggins.

  Dornan grabbed a copy from the man’s hand, and scowled as he scanned the two-page document. “Interesting timing,” he mumbled. “He’s not going into that courtroom without an armored vest.”

  “Not much choice, today,” Alder said.

  “Sorry, John,” Wiggins added. “They are playing dirty. I’ll scare up an old-fashioned one
for tomorrow.”

  “But our security agreement,” Owen said.

  “It didn’t cover technology,” Alder said.

  “It didn’t?” Dornan growled. “What about all those hi-tech cameras?”

  “Media was covered under a different section,” Alder said.

  “Yes. I insisted on the cameras,” John said. He exchanged looks with Dornan, then motioned. “Let’s get this over with. Deputies, we expect you to do your job. Come on Bill, you can sit with me at the counsel table.”

  Dornan looked at his watch. “We’re pretty early. I suggest that you gentlemen,” addressing the lawyers and clerks, “go on ahead. John and I need to talk a minute.” Dornan jerked his head toward the door. As the legal team headed to the elevator, Owen and Dornan stepped outside. A large crowd had already gathered. Owen waved and smiled at them while Dornan whispered fiercely into his ear. “They confiscated my gun. I don’t like this. Not one damn bit.”

  “On the way over, Alder said to expect a move to put me in custody as soon as the new charges are filed,” Owen said, covering his mouth with his hand.

  “Can Wiggins stop it?”

  Owen turned with his back to the crowd. “Alder didn’t think so. Bill…I think Alder was suggesting that I should split.”

  Dornan scanned the crowd, the cameras, and the Marshals standing close by. He nodded and whispered in Owen’s ear. “Well, that’s not feasible right now.”

  “Well?” Owen said.

  “Let’s consider all options later. Upstairs then?”

  “Upstairs,” Owen said.

  On entering the courtroom, Dornan noticed that the number of Marshals on duty had been doubled. Alder and Wiggins were engrossed in heated conversation at counsel table, while their law clerks sat in the front row of the audience. The U.S. Attorney shot a glance over his shoulder as the team of Marshals escorting Owen moved toward the front. As soon as Owen reached the table, a voice said, “All rise!”

  Alder and Wiggins stood, along with the spectators and press. The chambers’ doors opened and Judge Wandright, a portly man with graying temples and a well-tanned face, strode to the bench. He tapped the gavel. “Be seated.”

  Moments after settling in, Judge Wandright cleared his throat, smiling at the cameras. “This is the matter of Technology Licensing Commission versus John Owen. Good morning Dr. Owen.” Wandright smiled and John Owen nodded. “I am well acquainted with counsel. Can we skip the introductions? Thank you and good morning, gentlemen.” The lawyers nodded.

  “Your Honor,” U.S. Attorney Gert Frame began. “If the court pleases, the government is requesting a brief continuance.”

  “Really, Mr. Frame,” Wandright said with insincere surprise. “A delay? For how long?”

  “Just a few hours, Your Honor. The Grand Jury is meeting as I speak. We expect an additional indictment by 2:00 P.M. The charge will be aggravated genetic engineering, in violation of Commission Criminal Regulation 2.446.”

  “I believe that is a capital offense, Mr. Frame. If the government is seeking the death penalty, bail will not be permitted. Mr. Wiggins?”

  “We will strongly object, Judge,” Wiggins bellowed on cue. “Dr. Owen’s surrender agreement specifically allows my client full liberty before trial. This impliedly bars the government from seeking the death penalty. Moreover, we are confident that any showing offered as proof of the so-called genetic engineering charges will consist of tainted and incompetent evidence. To threaten Dr. Owen with custody in these circumstances—”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Wiggins,” Wandright interrupted with exaggerated politeness. “This court does not make threats. And it does not make up the law. The offense that the U.S. Attorney says the Grand Jury is considering carries the death penalty on conviction. I am sure that if the allegation is founded in evidence that is ‘tainted and incompetent,’ the Grand Jury will not return a true bill and your client will not be charged.” Judge Wandright knew otherwise, but was playing to the cameras. “On the other hand, if the charge is added to the indictment, and the government does not rule out the death penalty, I will have no discretion to grant bail.” He peered down from the bench like an overweight owl. “Mr. Frame?”

  “We will seek the death penalty if the Grand jury indicts.”

  “Well there you have it. Now, if that is all—” Wandright glared, while he paused for effect, “I will see everyone back here at 9:00 A.M. tomorrow. Court is adjourned until then.” The gavel slammed and Wandright disappeared into his chambers. The room erupted. Everyone stood up so quickly, that Karen, standing next to Cahoon, was unable to get Owen in view as he was swept from the courtroom surrounded by a brace of Marshals.

  “If Dr. Owen goes into jail before trial, can we interview him?” she asked.

  “Great idea,” Cahoon said. “…If he’ll see us.”

  “Can I bring the camera in the jail?”

  “That’s up to the Marshal’s office. I’ll find out first thing tomorrow,” Cahoon said.

  ——

  The following morning, a special service took place on the steps of St. John’s Church on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan. Because the late Bishop Gardiner’s covert Human Conspiracy Project was designed to insulate the Mother Church from retaliation, Snowfeather had quietly arranged to use a friendly, non-Catholic location to deflect undue attention on St. Patrick’s Cathedral. The crowd filled the streets and intersection as far as the eye could see. Snowfeather’s voice was amplified and carried on two networks.

  “Bishop Gardiner was a simple man, a kind man, who followed his God and valued life over death, birth over destruction, re-birth over despair. He was a friend of humanity. He would not have favored revenge for this brutal murder nor any other. But he would have counseled us to oppose evil…to fight it with every fiber of our moral being. And this day, of all days, we are here to say: Bishop Gardiner, we are with you, and the Lord is with us.”

  Standing in the back of the crowd, Cynthia Thomas hissed to a companion. “If Longworthy doesn’t stop this display, we have resources.”

  The companion nodded gravely. “If we have to, Tan can easily persuade Deputy Longworthy to help. His family may need medical attention, you see. But Longworthy may screw this up.”

  “It will be simpler if we do it directly. After all, she was one of us. You will ask K to take care of it?”

  “Of course, Sister Gloris, of course.”

  Chapter 73

  “They’re sure as hell not giving us very much time to consider our options,” Dornan muttered, glancing at the Marshal who walked a few steps behind Owen in the parking lot beneath the federal courthouse. Lars Landerman, an amiable giant in Dornan’s security detachment, opened the limousine door for Owen while another team member got in the driver’s seat. As the car rolled into the street, Dornan turned. “No bugs in here. I shouldn’t have said anything outside.”

  “They won’t know what you were talking about because I don’t. …Time for what?” Owen asked, as the car headed toward the Hotel.

  “To execute a plan to extract you.”

  “Now?”

  “Beats the crap out of a jail break. John, I’m hearing rumors that Wandright has been bought. We can’t trust anyone here right now. Once you are locked up, you are completely at the mercy of their security ‘lapses’. There is no guarantee that their security won’t look the other way…or in the worst case, that the Marshals won’t have one or more terrorists on the payroll. I CAN’T protect you there.”

  “They’re not just going to look the other way if I skate, Bill.”

  “I know. I know. That’s why the timing is critical. I’m thinking they won’t expect you to make a move until after two o’clock today.”

  “When the Grand Jury is expected to act on the new charges?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you think I should make a run for it before then?”

  Dornan nodded. “Now or stick it out in jail. …You willing?”

  “Before two o’clock, you say?�
�

  “Sooner the better.”

  “Yes,” Owen said after a moment. “Yes,” he nodded to himself. “Thurston, Standing Bear and Snowfeather are all out of jail and they will be in play in DC. My surrender accomplished that much, at least.”

  “But they can kill you in jail, John, and silence you. Outside, you can do interviews from New Kona or some other safe spot. You can talk about how you were betrayed.”

  “And I do need to be heard.” John paused. “Okay. Let’s go for it.”

  “Walt,” Dornan called to the driver. “We are going to try out our special breakfast menu at Skid’s Diner.”

  “Got it,” the driver said. “I see the Marshal’s car is right behind us.”

  “I see it, too,” Dornan said. “Proceed slowly. Don’t want to get them excited.”

  “That diner near Pike Market?” John asked. Dornan, nodded again; then sat back in his seat. A few seconds went by. “What are you thinking, Bill?”

  “I hope to hell the encryption on our phone system still works…”

  ——

  Three minutes later Walt drove the limo past Owen’s hotel and continued toward the front of the office building in Pioneer Square that held Wiggins’ offices. It stopped and Dornan got out. “See you here at two,” he said loudly. The limo pulled away in the direction of the diner.

  Lars looked out the rear window. “Marshal’s car is still behind,” he said. “Don’t want to lose ’em now, Walt.”

  “No problem,” the driver said.

  In the back seat, Lars turned to Dr. Owen. “This is the drill, sir. It all happens in the diner. Follow my lead as to seating. Before we order breakfast, I’m going to the restroom just to check things out. Keep your jacket on inside the restaurant. Take your time with the menu. Order a coffee first. Then, after I get back, go ahead and order a meal. The Marshals will probably be seated nearby. When their breakfast comes, use your cellphone to call Colonel Dornan. Expect the Marshals to be within earshot. Just be casual. Talk to the colonel about your meeting with the lawyers at 1:45. As soon as you disconnect, get up and say you need to use the bathroom. Hustle right in there. Make sure your phone is in a secure pocket. You will need it. From the moment of your call to the colonel, the clock will be ticking. There should be only one other guy inside the restroom. He will introduce himself by giving you a note from your daughter. He’ll take your coat. Then he will go back into the restaurant—as you. That’s it. You change into the clothes he gives you and hang out in a toilet stall. Keep the door closed.”