Page 109 of Hush
Mike stepped aside, straightening his suit jacket. He’d brought Tom a new cup of sugared-up coffee, and now he watched Ballard and Renner and the court reporter file into Tom’s chambers, giving both attorneys the hairy eyeball. No coffee for either of these men.
“Thank you, Mike.” Tom smiled. “I’ll let you know as soon as we’re done.”
Ballard watched Mike nod and stride out of Tom’s chambers. Peggy shut the door. “You know,Idon’t have round the clock U.S. marshal protection.”
“You crave the spotlight, Ballard. You couldn’t be private if your life depended on it. My face plastered across the internet is a different matter entirely.”
Renner’s eyes darted from Ballard to Tom and back.
“Please, gentleman, have a seat.” Tom unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat at the head of his conference table. Mike had cleared his workspace clutter, hiding his stuff mostly beneath Tom’s desk.
Tension thrummed, as if a tuning fork were about to start singing. The court reporter finished setting up her tiny tripod stand and stool in the corner and nodded to Tom.
“All right. We’re meeting today in chambers to discuss the discovery process and admissible evidence in this trial. I will remind you: these proceedings are under seal. Your motions, the transcript, and any response are being kept from the public.”
Renner nodded. He held a fountain pen in his hand, one eyebrow delicately arched. He was ready.
Ballard stared at Tom, an almost-sneer curling his upper lip.
“Before we begin, let’s discuss extradition. Mr. Ballard, is Russia planning on filing for extradition?”
“No.”
Renner smirked. “I wouldn’t think so. Recent revelations are proving wonderfully embarrassing for the government and the government’s case. Russia wants to keep you twisting in the wind.”
“Russia knows that the United States has the death penalty and they do not. Russia wants your client to die, Mr. Renner.” Ballard grinned, cold and lifeless. “Which he will. After he is convicted.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“You could spare your client a lot of trauma and trouble by cutting a deal—”
“You can’t cut a deal if you are innocent—”
“All right, that’s enough!” Tom held up his hand, silencing the room. The court reporter’s keyboard click-clacked, but Ballard and Renner fell gratifyingly silent. “We’re moving on. Mr. Renner. You filed an extraordinary request for discovery. You’re asking for information that goes directly into our intelligence community and their operations. Information for which sources and methods for gathering intelligence and critical information may be exposed or put in harm’s way. Mr. Ballard is asking me to reject your requests. I want to hear your arguments.” He glared at Ballard as Ballard opened his mouth, preparing to jump in. “Mr. Renner, you go first.”
“We are entitled to all materials that exculpate Mr. Kryukov. Additionally, we’re entitled to all information that is material to our defense.” Renner grinned, the sly grin of a defense attorney setting up a trap. “Our defense, Your Honor, is that Mr. Kryukov has been framed—”
Ballard exploded. Snorting, he tipped his head back, rolling his eyes. “Framed? This is ridiculous!”
“Our position from day one has been that Mr. Kryukov is the victim of a far larger conspiracy—”
“And you think those Russian documents are going to help you, huh? Icing on the cake?” Ballard sneered. “They’renotgetting admitted!”
“That’s not your call to make.”
Ballard fumed. He turned to Tom.
“We will discuss the Russian documents later on. Right now, we’re discussing Mr. Renner’s requests.”
Renner smoothly jumped back in. “Mr. Kryukov deserves to have a fair trial. Serious questions have been raised very recently about just what truly happened that day, questions that the government seems not interested in answering. Or, seems very interested in covering up.”
“Are you accusing—”
Tom sent Ballard a scalding look. “Mr. Ballard, if you cannot control yourself, you will be removed and held in contempt of court. This is your first warning.”
“Your Honor,” Renner’s voice was silk and velvet. “I know you care about fairness and justice for all. Mr. Kryukov needs your help.”
Tom could feel Ballard shaking in his chair, rage thundering through him. Ballard clenched his pen so hard his knuckles went white, and he stared down at the conference table, harsh breaths roaring through his nose. This wasexactlywhat Ballard had feared, had warned Tom about. The defense angling for Tom’s sympathies, for his “liberal” application and interpretation of the law, giving them everything they wanted.
