Both gravitated to the CIA where they became valuable assets because they understood the many languages and cultures in the Middle East. In fact, Zak’s mother was of Pashtun heritage. Zak worked under deep cover and ultimately became a soldier and advisor to the unsuspecting Yousseff, until his cover was blown. Zak was imprisoned in Inzar Ghar and at the hands of a psychopathic failed medical student, Hamani.. He lost his left forearm and two toes on his left foot, all removed without the benefit of anesthetic, and with surgical implements that were somewhat less than optimal. Zak had troubling psych evaluations after his escape from Inzar Ghar. He had developed an antiauthority streak, and was less predictable in tense situations.
Richard, over the years, gradually lost his alignment, but it wasn’t until the Colorado River attack that the wheels came off. He overdosed on a mixture of fentanyl and benzoids of various sorts and almost died. The admiral personally took an interest in him, got him detoxed, and into rehab. Richard went straight, and had not used drugs or consumed alcohol for almost a year.
Despite intercessions by Admiral Jackson, the CIA wanted nothing to do with either Richard or Zak. The admiral was loath to see two such talented assets go to waste. Using his connections with TTIC, and his friendship with Liam Rhodes, also an ex-Navy man, he placed them both in the employ of TTIC. While TTIC was theoretically an intelligence analysis agency, and not an intelligence gathering agency, the arrangement worked well and no one was the wiser.
Throughout the many decades that the two had known each other, there was one certainty: while Richard, sober and straight, had amazing analytical and physical skills, he had never beaten Zak at anything. Thus it was that Richard was losing Call of Duty.
“What’s going on?” asked Zak, overhearing the conversation.
“We’re going into submarine mode here in a couple of hours,” said Kumar. “We will be in that mode for about two days. You will be living in canned air during that time frame. Go upstairs for a bit, to the forward deck. Enjoy some fresh air. Stay low. We’re at fifty-five knots. Don’t get blown off the upper deck.”
Richard and Zak didn’t even get to the upper deck. At fifty-five knots, the Allegro Star was doing sixty-four miles per hour. Even with the semienclosed upper deck and the pod portion of the trimaran completely out of the water, the wind made conversation difficult. What was surprising, though, was the lack of spray and a wake that was almost nonexistent.
“I’m not sure what precisely Kumar and Jimmy have in mind here, but as we get closer to the American coastline, we are going to be visible,” said Zak.
“Not all that visible,” Richard replied, almost yelling to make his voice heard above the near-hurricane wind. “He’s got stealth technology.”
“Maybe not visible on radar, or sonar, but very visible to the naked eye. Anything that’s going at this speed stands out. The contours of this ship will be in the Navy database and they’re looking for us. The closer we get to the mainland, the greater the density of eyes in the sky. We’re definitely visible. There will be some kind of computer-driven search grid. It’s only a matter of time before they find us.”
“My guess is that there are a lot of naked eyes hunting for us out there. But they must have something in mind. They seem confident.”
“It’s Yousseff’s operation,” Zak replied. “The guy is probably the most successful drug dealer in the world. And one smart son of a bitch. And Kumar here supervised the construction of this high-tech marvel that we’re on. He’s an engineering genius.”
“You know, with the smarts that these guys have, they would have made a fortune even if they were completely legit. Why do they need to be into drugs and terrorism anyway? They’re all completely godless, as un-Islamic as you can get. They have nothing in common with Hamas or Hezbollah or the rest of those creeps.”
“Easy, Richard,” Zak replied. “I rode with these guys for almost three years. This is all they know. Yousseff grew up in the middle of an opium farming operation in the foothills of the mountains separating Pakistan and Afghanistan. Rumor has it he was smuggling opium on horseback through mountain trails to Peshawar before he was twelve. He was worth millions before he was nineteen.”
“But what about the terrorism?” Richard asked.
“Yousseff wouldn’t view it that way,” Zak replied. “For him, the whole thing was about money. A stock market play. Yes, what they did was terrorism, but not the ‘Allah is great’ kind.”
They talked for more than an hour. Zak with his pilot’s eyes pointed to a barely visible dot on the southeastern horizon. “That’s got to be it. That’s what Jimmy is heading toward.” At almost the same time, Kumar, speaking over a small PA system, asked them to get back into the pod.
“Have a seat, gentlemen,” he said. “Buckle in. Watch the video.” He pointed to the video screen attached to the wall behind the cockpit.
Slowly the Allegro Star began to dive. She descended about 100 feet and her speed slowed to forty knots with the increased resistance from a fully submerged pod. The huge bulk of the keel of the container ship appeared above and in front of them. Four massive propellers protruded from a region near the stern of the vessel, and an enormous rudder was located at the hull midline.
The Allegro Star began to shudder as it approached the ship. “Wake from the ship,” explained Kumar. “It will get a bit rough.”
Slowly Jimmy began to decrease the depth of his craft until the distance separating the roof of his ship and the underside of the hull of the container ship was less than ten feet. The rocking and trembling of the smaller vessel increased. A coffee cup crashed onto the floor and there was the sound of dishes clattering in the small galley. Jimmy flipped a series of toggle switches and set to work with two joysticks, one on each side of the captain’s chair. Two cameras were turned on and were toggled so that they pointed upward. Slowly, four circular posts with disc-shaped metallic protrusions at their distal ends emerged from the outriggers—one from the bow and one from the stern of each outrigger. The outriggers were wobbling from side to side in the wake produced by the keel of the container ship. The task was not an easy one, and there were several hard smacks when one of the outriggers hit the keel. Beads of sweat appeared on Jimmy’s brow.
“Damn it, Jimmy,” cursed Kumar. “You’re better than that. They can hear that inside the ship if they’re listening. And you can snap those outriggers right off the Allegro Star.” A good five minutes passed before Jimmy flipped four more switches and the four telescoping legs connected with the underside of the ship and, with a slight bump, attached to it. Like a tick on the underbelly of a Saint Bernard, the Allegro Star was firmly connected to the container ship.
“The beauty of magnetism,” said Kumar, his face forming a rare smile. “Holy cow, Kumar,” said Zak. “That solves a lot of problems, doesn’t it?”
“Three problems, actually. Fuel load. Engine wear. Visibility issues.”
Richard was looking at the two video screens in amazement. “I can see now how these guys were smart enough to blow the Glen Canyon Dam. This is damned clever.”
With the mention of the dam, the smile on Kumar’s face disappeared like smoke in the wind.
35
The Court of Appeal hearing was scheduled for 9:30 a.m. The trial would continue after that. At least this would be a little less tense for Dana, as Lee Penn-Garrett would handle the application on behalf of Lestage. Several days earleir, he had obtained the order ex parte permitting questioning on missing documents to take place in front of the jury. Court of Appeal rules allowed that when such an order was granted, the opposing party, in this case the prosecution, was entitled to apply to set it aside. This was that application.
Nine thirty came and went—no Penn-Garrett. Nine thirty-five—no PennGarrett. Nine forty slipped by and still no Penn-Garrett. Dana was beginning to squirm. The impossible run of bad luck that had dogged her from the outset of the trial was continuing. The court clerk’s phone rang. She spoke quietly and placed the
receiver back in its cradle.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Wittenberg, but their lordships wish to proceed.” Dana was almost sick. She had not prepared for this application. She had barely read the affidavits, or the applicable law, as she assumed that Penn-Garrett would handle it. The clerk retreated through a door at the side of the courtroom at about the same time that Dana felt her cell phone vibrate. She fished it out of her pocket and saw a text from Shannon Saddleton, Lee’s secretary for a good four decades. The message was brief, yet for Dana, foreshadowed yet another courtroom calamity: DANA, LEE HAS HAD A MILD, I REPEAT, A MILD HEART ATTACK. NO SERIOUS DAMAGE, AND HE IS RESTING PEACEFULLY IN ST. PAUL’S. HE IS EXPECTED TO BE BACK IN COURT IN TWO OR THREE DAYS, CERTAINLY NEXT MONDAY AT THE LATEST. GOOD LUCK, SAYS LPG.
Thus began her first ever battle in the Court of Appeal without a brief, without law, without having read the affidavits, without preparation, without a clue.
“Order in the court.” It was not a bellow as it usually was in Courtroom 401, two floors below them. It was a tranquil, melodious voice, appropriate for the more rarified air in the Court of Appeal. The three justices strode in. Dana watched them assemble on the huge curved bench. All three had fearsome eyes and wore intimidating scowls. Justice Westin sat at the center of the panel. Dana had heard of her. An ex-prosecutor and a bully; a walking legal encyclopedia.
Westin turned to McSheffrey. He had brought Archambault with him, leaving Danson and McGhee to guard the fort in Courtroom 401.
“Mr. McSheffrey, what can we do for you this morning?” asked Westin with what she presumed was a smile.
“We are here to set aside the ex parte order obtained last week by Mr. Penn-Garrett. Justice Mordecai made a very sensible ruling that documents my learned friend says she has, from us, cannot be used by her in crossexamination.”
“Well, why not, Mr. McSheffrey? Are they relevant?”
“Yes, I suppose some of them are.”
“Then why can’t Ms. Wittenberg use them? What’s your point here?” Dana let her breath out slowly. Finally. An issue was going her way.
“The circumstances of their production are important here, and Justice Mordecai’s ruling should be seen in that context.” McSheffrey then launched into a lengthy explanation of how the documents came into the defense’s possession, concluding with the Mordecai ruling that Dana could not use them. She could not, the ruling went, pursue a “missing documents” defense until she had filed an affidavit detailing how it was that she concluded that there were indeed missing documents.
Westin grasped the point within five minutes. Once she did, she cut McSheffrey off midsentence. “You, Ms. Wittenberg, stand up. Is everything that Mr. McSheffrey just said true?”
Dana shrugged. “Yes, I can’t take issue with any of it.”
“So this comes down to you swearing an affidavit setting out what process you went through to assemble those binders? A simple affidavit from you swearing that the missing documents are indeed missing? It comes down to that?”
“Yes, I guess so.”
“You guess so. Well, Ms. Wittenberg, Judge Mordecai’s ruling, while a little odd, is not inappropriate. You’re not claiming work-product privilege or anything like that?”
“No, m’lady.”
“Well, then, this is all very simple. You swear an affidavit setting out how you read all 100,000 pages of documents and noted that, thirty or forty documents are missing. Four or five paragraphs will suffice.” “I can’t swear such an affidavit,” Dana replied.
“And why not?”
“I just can’t. Period.” She had promised Turbee that she wouldn’t reveal his assistance to anyone. She had given him her word.
“I am ordering you to. Got that, Ms. Wittenberg? Swear an affidavit.”
“I can’t.”
“I can see why Judge Mordecai was so upset with you, Ms. Wittenberg.” Judge Westin was glaring at Dana. “He obviously sensed that you were not being candid with the court and he imposed a simple remedy. You refused to swear the affidavit but continued to use the suppression of documents defense in front of the jury. The judge was entitled to ask you to do what he did and you were in contempt of his order when you deliberately flouted that order. Now I am ordering you to swear the affidavit. Just tell us that you sat down with 100,000 documents over a weekend and discovered that thirty-seven were missing.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Fine. The ex parte order is set aside. You cannot raise this issue in front of the jury.”
“Thank you, m’lady,” said McSheffrey in a smug I-told-you-so tone.
“Order granted on those terms,” said Justice Westin. “Now, as for you, Ms. Wittenberg, you have made this application when you knew or ought to have known that there was no legal foundation to make it. You’ve wasted this court’s time, twice, and the time of the court below. There are obviously no missing documents and you know that. You were in contempt of Judge Mordecai’s order, and you flaunt your contempt of this court. Your conduct is inexcusable. Costs will go against you personally. I assess those costs to be $5,000, against you, Ms. Wittenberg. Now you and Penn-Garrett stop bringing these idiotic motions.”
Dana didn’t flinch. Her ears didn’t even turn red. Another wayward order from another cantankerous judge. Dana awkwardly bounced her two-wheeled briefcases down the stairs along the magnificent concourse of the Smithe Street Courthouse and made her way back to what was becoming her personal torture chamber, Courtroom 401. She opened the door and slouched and stumbled toward counsel table. With her computer bags and wheeled cases she looked more like a pack mule than an attorney.
Sheff had apparently texted McGhee and Danson, advising them of the dressing down Dana had received from the Court of Appeal. “Hey, Little Puppy, I hear you had a good time in appeals. Fined another five grand. Wow, you’re going backwards.”
“Fuck off,” said Dana, loud enough for the clerk, the court reporter, and other court staff and counsel to hear. It was the first time she’d used such language in a courtroom, but she didn’t care. Maybe she should pull the pin on this idiocy: deliberately mistrial the case or pretend to have lost her mind. In fact, the way things were going, she probably had lost her mind. Maybe feign a cardiac event of some kind and connect with Penn-Garrett in St. Paul’s. This was getting ridiculous. Life was too short for this. She dropped her three computer bags on the table and began to set up. This would be her first and last trial, and when it was over, she would take the MCAT. Or maybe apply to vet school. Or pharmaceuticals. Had she known there were in fact thirtyseven documents locked away in McSheffrey’s office, she would have been far less tranquil.
“Ooh, Dana Dana. Be careful with that language,” McGhee smirked. “That’s conduct unbecoming, you know. That’s a Law Society thing. We might have to report you for that.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dana snapped. “I’m forgetting my manners. Please, please, fuck off.”
McSheffrey leaned over and whispered to Archambault, “She’s losing it. Why don’t we hasten the process and screw her up some more?”
“How so, Sheff?”
“That was conduct unbecoming. That’s Law Society stuff.”
Archambault’s face lit up in a grin as the judge strode in. “You’re the master, Sheff,” he said.
“Order in the court,” bellowed the clerk in her now-familiar lusty tones.
Mordecai came in looking unhappy as usual. Before any evidence was called, and before the jury was let back into the courtroom, Sheff proudly stood up and advised the judge of the proceedings earlier in the morning at the Court of Appeal.
“So when it was actually a fair contest, when you were actually there, and could argue all the issues, the Court of Appeal vacated the ex parte order, did they?”
“Yes, with costs against my learned friend personally.”
“Oh, Ms. Wittenberg. Tsk, tsk,” crowed the judge, shaking his head. “You need to be more careful when you do nutty things like that. Anyway, bring i
n the jury, and I will advise them that they are to ignore all evidence or submissions about alleged missing documents.”
The jury came in and the judge advised them of the Court of Appeal ruling and how it affected the evidence of the case. Then he turned to Mr.
McSheffrey. “Your next witness, please.”
The rest of the day was boring and uneventful. The prosecution put a computer expert, Malcolm McKillum, on the stand. McKillum was a recent addition to the witness list, called primarily because Dana had challenged the veracity of the emails. McKillum had analyzed the hard drives of Leon’s computer, and compared them to the computers the FBI had seized from the four members of the Los Angeles terrorist cell. While it was painfully boring, the message was coming across clearly in spite of Dana’s various objections, every one of which the judge overruled. There was no doubt Lestage had been communicating with Afghan drug lords, with various dirty cops of the Pakistani Drug Interdiction Police, and with the four members of the Los Angeles cell. The evidence was deadly, because it showed intent and an agreement to perform a criminal act. The emails were very clear that the target was the Glen Canyon Dam, and that for $25 million, Leon would permit the terrorists to use Devil’s Anvil as a point of entry for the Semtex.
Cross-examination of Mr. McKillum proved tricky. Dana started with the obvious. “Is it not possible, sir,” she began, “that someone placed those emails on Lestage’s hard drive?”
“What do you mean?”
“That someone broke into his home, got into his computer, and loaded those messages onto the hard drive to make it appear as though Leon Lestage had sent them, although he had nothing to do with the conspiracy?”
“Well, sure, Ms. Wittenberg. I suppose anything is possible, but that would mean that whoever the person was, he would have had to break into Mr. Lestage’s computer on twenty-two, no twenty-three, umm, let me count, twenty-five, yes, on twenty-five separate days. Twenty-five separate breakins over a two-month period. That would be like breaking in every second day to put another one of the emails on his computer. I guess conceptually that’s possible, but practically, I just don’t see it.”
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