Page 126 of Hush
Tom knew the feeling.
“Terrorists only have to get lucky once. We have to be lucky every single day. And it’s not just luck. It’s skilled, dedicated investigations. We work hard to protect this nation. Very hard.”
“I’m sure you do. But isn’t it possible that Vadim Kryukov, with no experience in the military, no experience planning any major operation, or any connection to any terrorist group, might not be the one who planned this assassination?”
“Vadim Kryukov was associated with a terrorist organization. He was an anarchist.”
“That’s not the question I asked, Agent Barnes.”
“There is hard evidence against Vadim Kryukov. There is physical evidence that cannot be explained away.”
“Yes. The very fortunate two pieces of evidence that seem to be gifts on high graced to the prosecution. With no possibility for either the fingerprint to have been planted or the text to have come from anyone other than the defendant.” Incredulity strained Renner voice.
“Objection!” Ballard spat. “The defense is repeatedly harassing the witness. He is argumentative and trying to testify in place of the defendant. There is no place for this conduct or behavior in a court of law!”
“Please leave the rulings to me, counselor.” Tom eyed Ballard carefully. “The prosecution does have a point, though. You’ve been warned twice, Mr. Renner. Don’t make me do so again.”
“Please, Agent Barnes. The question I asked. I would like you to answer it.”
Barnes sighed, shaking his head. “If there were other conspirators, then Vadim Kryukov had an opportunity to give them up. He was offered the same deal as Desheriyev. If there are more people involved in the conspiracy, then why didn’t he save himself?”
“What if he can’t?” Renner leaned forward. “What if he knows nothing about this, and there’s no way to offer up any conspirators because he had nothing to do with the entire case?
“Objection! There is absolutely zero foundation for that wild claim.”
“Sustained.” It was Tom’s turn to sigh, silently, through his nose.
“You have one fingerprint and one text. And the word of a murderer claiming that Kryukov was the man he spoke to. Do you have any better evidence against my client?”
Barnes’s lips thinned as his eyes narrowed. “No.”
“Don’t you think that’s a pretty weak case, Agent Barnes?”
“No. I do not think this is a weak case. I think the evidence speaks for itself.”
“We’ll see if the jury agrees.”
Ballard jumped up. “Redirect.” He gave Barnes a moment to shake Renner’s cross off. “Is there any reason to believe a wild conspiracy theory? Any evidence to back up the allegation that Vadim Kryukov was framed?”
“No, there is not.”
“Is there any reason to suspect that the evidence in this case was made up? Or, as the defense so kindly put, gifted from on high?”
“No.”
Does ‘on high’ include the White House? The Department of Justice? The CIA?Tom tried to push his own doubts back. He couldn’t be seen as partial, biased, leaning to one side or the other.
“The only physical evidence in this case points to whom, as the mastermind of this terrorist attack?”
“To Vadim Kryukov.”
They broke for the day at four PM. The jury filed out, and Kryukov was led away by a pack of marshals. Tom and Mike escaped to Tom’s chambers and Mike helped him out of the bulletproof vest. Tom collapsed into his office chair, and Mike massaged his shoulders, gently kneading his tight muscles.
“Oh, I need this.” Tom let him go for a few minutes, and then kissed his wrist. “Thank you. Now, what about you? What can I do for you?”
Mike shrugged. “I’m fine.”
“You’ve been on your feet all day. I’m surprised you’re still standing. I’ll be happy to give you a foot massage.” He grinned, lopsided.
