Hostage

by Don Brown

  "Yes, Your Honor. Thank you, Your Honor," la Trec gushed.

  "Very well. This court is in recess."

  "All rise."

  Mountainous terrain

  Location unknown

  Zack held her in his arms, gently caressing her hair. And then he softly kissed her. Thank you, Lord. And then he released her from his embrace and reached into his pocket.

  It sparkled in the orange light of the setting sun, a gem from the jewelers of heaven -- the most perfect diamond she had ever seen.

  "Diane, there's something I want to ask you."

  Deep affection -- love! -- danced in his hazel eyes. His hands trembled. His voice shook as he descended to one knee. She had never before witnessed anything other than boldness from this most beautiful of men. He was the answer to her prayers. And his sudden vulnerability melted the very core of her soul.

  "Yes?" A thousand thoughts whirled through her mind about the military wedding they would plan. Standing under an arch of glistening swords, to a round of applause, a couple in white, he in his choker uniform, she in her mother's wedding gown. Ladies and Gentlemen:presenting Lieutenant and Mrs. Zachary Lawrence Brewer. They would step forward, hand in hand, shielding their eyes from the bright flashbulbs and flying rice . . .

  "Would you consider . . ."

  The violent shaking in the cave brought her eyes open. Shrill whistling sounds filled the air. Rocking that grew into violent shaking threw her from her sleeping pallet. The sharp sound of rifle fire echoed, with a magnifying effect, through the cave.

  She got up and ran around the corner, just behind the entrance. Her four captors yelled frantically in Arabic and fired their weapons. Another explosion almost knocked her to her feet.

  "Get back!" someone screamed in English, then turned back to the fight coming from outside.

  More yelling in Arabic. More confusion.

  One of them scrambled for the rocket cache and fumbled around, obviously trying to set up the mortars.

  More gunfire. One of the terrorists fell back, his skull transformed into a bloody orb.

  There was a thump as one of the mortar rockets fired at the unseen enemy outside the cave.

  Then another rocking explosion.

  NCIS Ballistics Laboratory

  U.S. Naval Station

  Naples, Italy

  Shannon McGillvery felt like she hadn't showered for days. So the hot water and warm steam from the shower in the women's locker room at the NCIS ballistics lab was heavenly. She closed her eyes, inhaled, and turned up the pressure, allowing the water to massage her shoulders for a few minutes.

  She followed the trial on television when she could, and she was glad Judge Norgaard had put the court in recess so the defense could bring in Captain Constangy.

  Shannon needed more time.

  Zack was probably furious she had disappeared for three days.

  But she would have done him absolutely no good sitting in Jerusalem. He needed more evidence, and she was determined to get it for him.

  She stepped out of the shower and dried herself with a large, soft towel.

  She took a few seconds to apply mascara and lipstick. She slipped her arms into a long-sleeved black blouse and then pulled on her designer jeans. Within minutes she was ready to head back to the ballistics lab.

  "Is Agent Purcell finished yet?" she asked the receptionist, an Italian national.

  "He said to please go back. He is waiting for you."

  When Shannon walked into the room, Special Agent Joe Purcell was holding the bullet under a bright light with a pair of tweezers.

  "Shannon, this is definitely a nine-millimeter. And we've got a match on the gun. You were right."

  Shannon felt a smile crawl across her lips. "Go pack your bags, Joe. You and I have a plane to catch."

  "Yes, ma'am," he said.

  CHAPTER 59

  Courtroom 4

  Israeli District Court

  West Bank Division

  Only the sight of Diane Colcernian walking into the courtroom could have made Zack's heart leap more than seeing a smiling Shannon McGillvery striding confidently up the center aisle toward counsel table.

  "Where have you been?" he whispered as she knelt down at counsel table between him and Wendy.

  "Good news," she whispered back, smiling.

  "All rise!"

  "Here's my report." She slid a yellow manila envelope onto the table.

  "This honorable court-martial is now back in session."

  "You're not leaving again, are you?"

  "Not on your life." She sat in a folding chair right behind counsel table.

  "The record should reflect that all counsel and the defendant are present. And, Mr. la Trec, I understand that Captain Constangy has just been brought in by helicopter from the Truman." Norgaard's gaze locked on the skipper of the Harry S. Truman, who sat in the first row behind the prosecution table. Constangy was accompanied by the Truman's senior JAG officer, LCDR Dewey Rouse. "Is the defense ready to proceed?"

  "We are, Your Honor," la Trec said with a satisfying look. "At this time, we call Captain William Constangy to the stand."

  "Captain Constangy, please take the stand to be sworn," Norgaard said.

  In service dress blues with the four stripes of a navy captain on his sleeve and a colorful array of ribbons on his chest, Constangy walked to the witness stand and was sworn.

  "Captain, did your ship recently detain a Spanish fishing vessel in the Mediterranean Sea?"

  "We did, temporarily. Yes."

  "Where in the Med, sir?"

  "About fifty miles or so southeast of Minorca, as I recall."

  "And why did you detain that vessel, sir?"

  Constangy squirmed a little, looked up at Norgaard, then back at la Trec. "It was determined that the boat was emitting strange radio signals. They were irregular. They made no sense."

  "What sort of radio signals?"

  "They kept repeating the words Oscar India Golf."

  "So you sent a SEAL team out in a helicopter to detain the boat?"

  "That is correct."

  "And when the SEAL team arrived on the vessel, what did they find?"

  "It was manned by a crew of three. There were some small weapons on board. Nothing of real consequence."

  "What was the nationality of the crew, Captain?"

  "Two Saudis, one Spanish. What does that have to do with anything?" Constangy snapped.

  Zack cringed.

  "Please just answer his questions, Captain," Captain Norgaard ordered.

  "You weren't pleased that there were two Arabs on board, were you?"

  Constangy glowered. "I could care less about their nationality, monsieur."

  "Well, isn't it true that you wanted to capture these Arab men and take them on board the Truman?"

  "They were emitting strange signals. They might have been terrorists, monsieur."

  "Terrorists." La Trec slipped on his glasses. "Just because they are Arab."

  "I didn't say that!"

  "You just said, and I quote, 'They might have been terrorists,' did you not, monsieur?"

  "Yeah, but I didn't say they were terrorists because they were Arab."Constangy stared at Zack as if he was expecting Zack to object.

  "You don't like Arabs, do you, Captain?"

  "Objection. Relevance." Zack stood.

  "We will establish relevance, Your Honor," la Trec countered.

  "Overruled."

  "That's ridiculous."

  "You don't like Islamic people, do you?"

  "Objection."

  "Overruled. The witness will answer the question."

  "I don't have anything against 'em."

  "You don't have anything against 'em," la Trec repeated mockingly. "But isn't it true, Captain, that you said that Islamic fundamentalists are a bunch of animals?"

  "I don't remember saying that."

  "You didn't say that in the radio room of your ship, in front of your JAG officer, when you were
debating whether to detain these Saudi citizens?"

  Constangy, his face red, stared out to a spot just behind the prosecution's table. Zack turned around and figured he was making eye contact with his JAG officer, LCDR Rouse, who put his palm on his forehead and shook his head.

  Great. He said it.

  "Captain, I'm waiting for your answer."

  "Okay, maybe I said something like that. But there was a lot of pressure. It's a dangerous world, monsieur. Something your country obviously doesn't care about. Well, the United States of America does care about it."

  "Didn't you refer to a key ally of the United States of America, Saudi Arabia, as being like, and I quote, 'a horses rear'?"

  Zack glanced at Rouse, who held his head down, grimacing.

  "I don't know what I said. Maybe something like that. Look, we didn't know what was going on. It's a dangerous world. They were acting suspiciously."

  "But you did refer to the Saudis as a horse's rear, didn't you?"

  "Okay, okay. Maybe I did."

  "Your JAG officer is right here in the courtroom. Do we need to call him to find out if you said these things, Captain?"

  "Okay, I said 'em. Okay? There was a lot of pressure. I could've ordered that boat sunk. But I didn't. Okay?"

  "Yes, you could've ordered that boat sunk, just like you could've ordered the attack on the Dome of the Rock."

  "Objection!"

  "Now see here, mister!" Constangy stood, his veins bulging.

  "Sit down, please, Captain," Judge Norgaard ordered.

  "I resent that, Your Honor."

  "The objection is overruled. The witness will answer the question."

  "I did not order the attack on the Dome," Constangy said through gritted teeth.

  "But that wasn't my question," la Trec persisted calmly. "I asked if you could have ordered it."

  Constangy sat, crossed his arms, and fumed. "Yes, I could have, but I did not."

  "Do you know Lieutenant Mark Price?"

  "Yes."

  "He was Commander Quasay's navigator and weapons officer, right?"

  "Right."

  "Price led a Christian Bible study on board your ship, isn't that right?"

  "Yes."

  "In fact, he invited you, and you actually attended a few times, right?"

  "Yes. Mark was a good teacher. And a good man."

  "And wasn't Lieutenant Price teaching a course on biblical prophecy and the end times?"

  "Yes. We had a number of men who'd read the Left Behind series. The Bible study grew out of that."

  "And didn't Lieutenant Price teach that the temple would have to be rebuilt here in Jerusalem before Jesus returned?"

  "Yes, I heard him say that a few times."

  "And did he not also say that the Dome of the Rock was sitting on the site of Solomon's temple, and that it would have to be removed before the temple was rebuilt?"

  "Yes. Mark felt, according to his teachings, that God, in his sovereignty, would somehow remove the Dome of the Rock."

  "Did you ever have any discussions with him about how that would happen?"

  "Maybe we had some discussions. Not many. Look, mister, I'm the captain of a United States aircraft carrier, something that the French don't have many of. It's not like I've got a whole lot of time to sit around and twiddle my thumbs or talk about Bible prophecy."

  "Did you not suggest to him, when he and Commander Quasay volunteered to fly over Israel, that maybe God had called him to that mission?"

  "I don't remember."

  "Did you not suggest that perhaps a missile malfunction might destroy the Dome?"

  "No!"

  "Didn't you, in fact, order Lieutenant Price to launch that Harpoon missile from Commander Quasay's aircraft to destroy the Dome?"

  "No!"

  "Well, you didn't order my client to do it, did you?"

  "I didn't order your client, and I didn't order Price either!"

  "Sure you didn't, Captain."

  "Objection!"

  "Sustained!"

  "I have no further questions for the Captain."

  "Very well." Norgaard looked at Zack. "Cross-exam, Commander Brewer?"

  Zack stood and rose to the podium.

  "How long have you been in the navy, Skipper?"

  "Graduated from the Academy twenty-five years ago, been on active duty ever since."

  "How long have you been skipper of the Truman?"

  "Going on two years now."

  "I see your salad row is quite colorful, sir. What are some of the awards and decorations that have been bestowed on you?"

  "Objection to relevance, Your Honor," la Trec said.

  "Overruled. The witness will answer."

  "Four Navy Achievement Medals, five Navy Commendation Medals, three Meritorious Service Medals, two Joint Meritorious Service Medals. I've had a stint with the Joint Chiefs. Five Sea Service Ribbons, four Overseas Service Ribbons, three Legions of Merit. Do you want me to continue?"

  "No, sir. I think we have a feel for your background, Captain. But tell me this: What were the rules of engagement for U.S. fighters flying off your ship and over Israel on May 9?"

  "Twofold. To take defensive measures if fired upon, and to seek out and destroy anything that looked like an enemy Scud missile launcher."

  "Did the rules of engagement include the right to fire at any civilian targets on the ground?"

  "No, they did not, Commander, and the rules of engagement have never included the right to attack civilian targets. We're Americans. We're better than that."

  "Agreed, Commander. We are. But if Commander Quasay's plane fired a missile into the Dome of the Rock, was that a violation of the rules of engagement?"

  "Of course it was." Constangy fumed. "And I never have and never will order anyone under my command to fire at a civilian target. The monsieur's question was the most insulting thing anybody ever said to me during my twenty-five years as a naval officer."

  "Thank you, Captain. No further questions."

  "Any redirect?"

  "No, Your Honor."

  "Very well. You may step down, Captain," Norgaard said. "Mr. la Trec, any more evidence for the defense?"

  "One moment, Your Honor." La Trec and Quasay quietly conferred.

  "Think he's going to rest?" Wendy whispered to Zack.

  "Not in a million years," Zack whispered back. "He's putting his man on the stand. He's got to. Watch."

  Zack looked again at the wallet-sized photograph of Anna Kweskin. The cross-examination of a defendant, next to closing argument, was the most important stage of any criminal trial for a prosecutor.

  Lord, give me the strength to do your will.

  "Your Honor, the defense calls Lieutenant Commander Mohammed Quasay to the stand."

  A roar from the gallery.

  "Commander Quasay, come forward please. Place your left hand on the Bible and raise your right hand, please."

  "Your Honor, I would prefer to place my hand on the Holy Koran."

  Norgaard looked around with a confused expression. "Have we got a Koran?" he asked the bailiff.

  "No, sir," the bailiff answered. "Nobody ever asked for one before."

  "Commander Quasay," Norgaard said, looking at the defendant, who was standing in the witness stand, "unfortunately, we do not have a Koran in the courtroom at the moment. The court will be happy to accommodate you in one of two ways. First, we can recess to find one. Or you can take the oath by simply raising your right hand."

  "That is what I will do, Your Honor."

  "The bailiff will administer the oath."

  Quasay raised his hand and took the oath, then sat down as the French avocat took the podium.

  "Commander, tell us in your own words what happened on the morning of May 9."

  Quasay adjusted the tie on his service vice dress blue uniform. "It all started the day before. They called a special meeting of my squadron, Viper Squadron, and asked for volunteers for a dangerous mission over Israel."

/>   "Who is 'they'?"

  "The captain and the air boss."

  "When you say the captain, are you referring to Captain Constangy, the skipper of the Truman?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And what was the nature of this mission?"

  "The Israeli government wanted low-level flights of U.S. jets as an assurance to the population that the navy would help deter any attacks by Syria. It was sort of a PR mission, I suppose, but it was dangerous because of the large number of Stinger missiles that have been brought into the country."

  "And you volunteered?"

  "I did."

  "Why?"

  "I was the squadron commander. It's my job to lead."

  "And Commander Hosni Alhad volunteered also."

  "He did."

  "Why?"

  "You'd have to ask him."

  "All right. Tell us about the mission. What happened?"

  "Mouse and I took off first; then we circled the boat and waited for Hosni and Pip.

  "Who are Mouse, Hosni, and Pip?"

  "Mouse is Lieutenant Mark Price, my naval flight officer. Hosni is Lieutenant Hosni Alhad, the other pilot. And Pip is Lieutenant Ricky Davis, his naval flight officer."

  "Okay." La Trec nodded. "And after Hosni and Pip took off, what happened?"

  "We dropped down low, maybe two hundred feet off the deck, and shot in toward the Israeli coastline. The plan was to fly in over the Negev, turn north, and then do a flyover of Jerusalem."

  "Where over Jerusalem?"

  "The first run would take us directly over the Old City. Sort of for symbolic purposes. Then we planned to do a loop north of the city and come back over the western suburbs. After that, we were going to fly over Tel Aviv."

  "And what happened as you flew into Jerusalem from the south?"

  "As I said, we were on a course straight in for the Old City. We were about five miles out, when next thing I know, Mouse had armed one of the Mavericks."

  "And by 'Mavericks,' you're referring to one of the plane's missiles?"

  "Right."

  "And then what?"

  "And as I was turning around to ask him what was going on, next thing I know, the plane jumped."