Page 139 of Hush
“Objection!” Ballard, on his feet again. “This is absolute hearsay and speculation. The witness has no direct knowledge of any participants other than the defendant!”
“I believe that was the question that I asked.” Renner played dumbfounded well, Tom thought. “Are you answering for your witness, counselor? Would you like to take the stand?”
Ballard turned his attention to Tom.Your Honor. This is the time to say it. Your Honor. “There is no basis in evidence for any conspirators in this case beyond Vadim Kryukov. There is no evidence, none at all, to support the defense’s wild conspiracy theory.”
“There’s no evidence because the state failed to investigate it!” Renner flung his hand toward Ballard and Barnes. “And, because any evidence the state may have had on the CIA’s involvement was conveniently destroyed and unavailable in the discovery process! The only documents are—”
“Your Honor!” Ballard finally broke, his voice rising above Renner. “This is outrageous!”
“Both of you!” Tom barked, his voice bouncing off the courtroom walls, a deep bellow. “Counselors, approach the bench.”
Silence enveloped the courtroom as they came close. Tom heard the fast inhales and exhales of the jury, the nervousness of their fingers clenching their notepads, anxious shoes shuffling against the carpet.
“The prosecution is doing everything they can to squash legitimate evidence, Your Honor, evidence that you allowed into trial.” Renner spoke first, hissing over the maple barrier as Tom leaned in close.
“You said yourself: evidence speaks for itself. The Russian documents you allowed into this trial have no basis to support their claims. There are no supporting facts.” Ballard growled as he argued. He was back to dropping the ‘Your Honor’, again.
“I was attempting to ascertain your witness’s knowledge of any involvement when you trampled all over my cross-examination, counselor.”
“Please.”
“That’s enough.” Tom glanced between Renner and Ballard. Two firm men, powerfully motivated to prove the other not just wrong, but catastrophically wrong. This was deeper, bloodier, than a usual courtroom battle. But of course it was. The world was at stake. “Counselor.” He fixed Renner with a hard stare. “You wish to know if the witness has any direct knowledge that could corroborate the Russian documents?”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Renner slipped into his placating voice, obsequious.
Tom said nothing as he turned to Desheriyev. “Mr. Desheriyev. Do you have any direct knowledge of any CIA involvement with the defendant? By direct, I mean something you heard from the defendant directly or observed with your own eyes.”
Desheriyev scowled, but shook his head. “I know what I see on the news.”
“But no direct knowledge from the defendant?”
He shook his head again.
“I need a verbal answer, Mr. Desheriyev.”
“Nyet!”
Tom turned back to both attorneys, still huddled by the bench. “Counselor, I trust this satisfies your curiosity?”
Renner looked like he’d taken a shot of vinegar. “Your Honor, if I could—”
“Your question has been asked and answered, counselor. Move on to your next line of questioning.” He nodded to both Ballard and Renner, dismissing them. Ballard spun on his heel and stalked back to the prosecution table. Every federal law enforcement officer gazed at him, pride, support, brotherhood, and affection mixing together. The deputy director of the FBI leaned forward and squeezed Ballard’s shoulder as he sat back down.
Renner took a moment to gather himself before walking back to Desheriyev. “You testified that you and your handler were careful with your communications. Changing cell phones, authentication codes, and dead drops. If you were so careful with your actions, then why would Vadim Kryukov use his personal cell phone to communicate with you via text? Doesn’t that sound careless?”
“Objection.” Ballard sounded drained as he stood, and a sigh crept into his voice. “Calls for speculation. The witness can’t testify to what the defendant was thinking.”
“I’ll rephrase.” Renner shook his head, seemingly shaken from the last exchange. He straightened again as Ballard sat down. Day two, and the trial was already exhausting everyone, wearing on all of their nerves. Tom felt it too, a weariness that tugged on his sanity. He could feel a migraine building behind his eyes.
“Is it a breach in your operations security to have your handler text you from his personal cell phone?”
“Yes.”
“And this single text on the Thursday before the shooting is the one time that such a direct connection was made between you and Vadim Kryukov?”
“Yes.”
“Which means that this is the one text that can tie Vadim Kryukov to you, and forms one piece of the prosecution’s very slim evidence against my client. Doesn’t that seem strange?”
