Fatal Conceit (55 page)

“That's right.”

“Did you have reason to believe that she was involved in the death of Sam Allen?”

“Well, she disappeared right after.”

“What made you jump to the conclusion that she was a fugitive from justice as opposed to maybe a witness or just a frightened young woman whose lover had been murdered?”

“Well, I didn't know, but we certainly wanted to question her.”

“But that's not what you told Constable Tom Spooner,” Karp said. He walked over to the prosecution table and picked up a sheaf of papers. “I'm holding a copy of People's Exhibit 18, the transcript of your conversation with Constable Spooner the day
after Ray Baum was killed while trying to murder Miss Blair.” He walked back to the witness stand and handed it to Lindsey.

“Would you turn to page six, please,” Karp said. “Are you there?”

“Yes.”

“Could you read what I have highlighted, starting with line ten,” Karp said.

“ ‘Do me a favor and secure the area around the cabin—no one in or out,' ” Lindsey read. “ ‘We'll have another team up there as soon as possible. We are also looking for a fugitive. White female, blond, hazel eyes, about thirty years of age. Her name is Jenna Blair but she may be using an alias.' ”

“Thank you,” Karp said. “So you described her as a fugitive. Fugitive from what? A hunch that she was involved in a murder that you didn't even know was a murder yet?”

Lindsey shrugged. “I was using the term fugitive loosely. I just meant she was wanted for questioning.”

“Okay, turn to page three and read lines four through seven,” Karp said.

“ ‘Can you tell me if there was a laptop computer located in the car?' ” Lindsey began.

“Let me stop you there,” Karp interjected. “You're the one asking the question, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, now you want to explain why you wanted her laptop?”

“Because of the recording on it.”

Karp looked taken aback. “But wait a minute, you didn't say anything about knowing this recording was on her laptop.”

“It might have come up. Like I said, I was focused on finding the girl and learning what I could as fast as possible.”

“Turn to page nine, please, and read lines one through three,” Karp said.

“ ‘This is a national security case and we don't want it compromised,' ” Lindsey read. “ ‘Same thing with that computer; if it's
located, no one is to touch it; it contains highly classified material.' ”

“So did you just have a hunch that there was highly classified material on that computer,” Karp asked, “or were you worried that it had evidence of a murder that you were involved in?”

“Like I said, General Allen was acting director of the CIA and I had to see what was recorded,” Lindsey responded, sticking to the script.

Karp walked back to the prosecution table and picked up another sheaf of papers. He held them up. “This is People's Exhibit 19,” he said. “It's the transcript of a recording made of you and your team outside the 13th Street Repertory Theater.”

He handed the transcript to Lindsey. “Would you remind the jury what you were doing there?”

“We were there to apprehend Miss Blair and recover her computer,” Lindsey replied sullenly as he looked at the pages.

“Turn to page three, please, and read only the line highlighted in yellow. This is you speaking.”

“ ‘If she runs, take her down,' ” Lindsey read.

“And what did you mean, ‘Take her down'?”

“I meant capture her.”

“Really? Read the next line only please.”

“ ‘And try not to hit any civilians.' ”

“If you were only trying to capture her, why were you concerned about civilians?”

“I had no idea if she was armed,” Lindsey said.

“Okay, turn to page ten, and begin reading until I tell you to stop,” Karp said.

“ ‘You need to come with me, Jenna, I can protect you. . . . How? Sam was a general and he ran the CIA and they still killed him. How are you going to protect me? . . . We'll put you in the witness protection program. You can't keep running.' ”

“Okay, stop,” Karp said. “So now she's a witness, not a security threat or a killer?”

“I didn't know,” Lindsey replied. “I was trying to get her to give up.”

“Continue reading, please,” Karp said.

“ ‘Witness protection? Witness against who? That guy? You know and I know he wasn't acting on his own. Sam told me that people were upset with him because he wasn't going to go along with the “official” story on Chechnya. . . . What people? . . . He didn't say. I think he was trying to protect me. But he said he was being blackmailed because of his relationship with me.' ”

“Okay, stop,” Karp interrupted.

“She's a good actress,” Lindsey said, but his head hung.

“Yeah, I'd say she deserves a Tony,” Karp replied sarcastically. “Please turn to page thirteen, and read starting with line five.”

“ ‘I wouldn't know about that. What I do know is that you're playing a very dangerous game, and if you don't come with me now, I can't be responsible for what happens to you. . . . What's going to happen to me? . . . Nothing if you come with me. . . . What are you going to do with that recording? . . . We'll find this man . . . and if others are involved, we'll go after them too. The FBI will. . . . Is that who you're going to give the recording to? The FBI? . . . Yes. It's a bureau investigation now.' ”

“Stop,” Karp demanded. “Mr. Lindsey, you said you were after the laptop computer, right?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do with it?”

Lindsey stared at him and shook his head. “You know what I did. You had a GPS tracker. I took it to Rod's apartment. It's in my lawyer's office.”

“So you never turned it over to the FBI?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Again Lindsey just stared at him. He shook his head again, then glared at Fauhomme. “We were concerned that if we brought another
agency in, there might be a leak, and we weren't sure who was involved.”

“Read the last line of the last sentence on that page,” Karp said tersely.

Lindsey looked down and started to speak but then had to stop and cleared his throat. “ ‘Seal the doors. And get in here. I want that bitch now!' ”

Karp walked up to the witness stand and held out his hand for the transcripts. Lindsey handed them over without raising his head.

Nor did he look up when Karp asked his next question. “This was all about protecting the president's re-election bid, wasn't it?”

Lindsey let out a large sigh but didn't answer.

“It all started with a lie about what happened in Chechnya, didn't it?” Karp persisted.

“That's not true,” Lindsey said quietly.

“It's not?” Karp said. “Mr. Lindsey, let me ask you this. You've testified that you only saw the attack on the Zandaq compound after the fact, is that true?”

“Yes.”

“And that you had no knowledge of a call from someone named Wallflower, who has been identified as Lucy Karp, until after the fact, is that true?”

“Yes.”

“And that there were no orders given to fire upon trucks bearing the hostages in Chechnya, or on the mosque in Dagestan until it was clear that the hostages were safe, is that true?”

“Yes.”

Karp walked up to the witness stand until he was only a few feet from the visibly trembling and red-faced national security adviser. “What if I was to tell you that I am going to call a witness in rebuttal who can prove that you are a liar?”

“Who?” Lindsey gasped.

Karp whirled to look at the gallery. “Augie Nieto, would you please stand up!”

As the gallery murmured, the young man stood up. Karp turned back to Lindsey. “I'm sure you recognize Augie Nieto. What do you say, Mr. Lindsey?”

Lindsey stared for a long time at the young man. Tears appeared in his eyes and he struggled to speak, then he hung his head.

“Mr. Lindsey,” Karp said calmly. “Your attorney asked why you got involved in public service. I ask you now to recall your answer and then tell the jurors the truth.”

Slowly Lindsey began to nod his head and then lifted his chin until he was looking Karp in the eyes. He blinked several times, then passed a hand across his face as if wiping sleep from his eyes. “Most of what I said before was a lie . . .”

As the courtroom erupted, with reporters running for the hall to make their calls and the defense attorneys screaming objections, Karp smiled with grim satisfaction. “Then, Mr. Lindsey, I believe it is time for you to start telling the truth.”

K
ARP FINISHED HIS BRISK EARLY
morning walk and punched in the security code to open the street-level door leading into the building that housed the loft. He was about to walk in when he was stopped by a shout.

“Hey, Butch! Hold on . . . whoop whoop . . . I brought you the
Sunday Times
 . . . piss balls . . . special delivery,” Dirty Warren shouted as he came around the corner from Grand Street. “Thought you might . . . crap oh boy . . . want to get an early start on this one! Wow . . . oh boy whoop . . . read all about it!”

“Thanks, Warren, you didn't have to do that,” Karp said with a smile. He nodded at the foyer. “Want to come up for a cup of joe?”

Dirty Warren's pale blue eyes lit up like diamonds behind the thick lenses of his glasses. “Really? A cup of coffee . . . bastard whoop whoop . . . in your place? Gee, thanks, Butch, that . . . scratch my balls . . . means a lot.” He looked at his watch and his face fell. “But I got to take a . . . whoop whoop . . . rain check. I have an appointment with our friend, David Grale, he wants to know how . . . holy crap fuckers . . . your new prisoner is doing.”

Karp nodded. Several nights ago, someone had pressed the front door buzzer, but there was no one in the security camera. A few minutes later, the buzzer went off again, but there was still no
one in the camera's view. Thinking it might be some neighborhood kids who could use a good scare, he went down with Marlene's gigantic Presa Canario dog, Gilgamesh, to check it out and give them something to think about.

However, when he reached the sidewalk, there was no one in sight. He was about to turn around and go back into the building when Gilgamesh suddenly whined and began pulling him down the block. Reaching the alley, the dog sat and stared into the dark with his nub of a tail twitching back and forth.

“Hello, is there anybody there?” Karp asked.

A shadow separated itself from the others and walked toward him. “Hello, Butch,” Grale said, his pale, skeletal face suddenly illuminated by the streetlight.

“Good evening, David,” Karp had replied, wondering what had occasioned this visit from the King of the Mole People.

Grale soon answered. “Am I to understand that Nadya Malovo escaped?”

Karp nodded. “Yes, but because of her, Lucy survived and Al-Sistani is dead.”

Nodding solemnly, Grale said, “Somewhere there is a spark of decency in her, though the evil that surrounds it is usually stronger. But none of us are done with her, not yet. I can feel it to the depths of my soul. But whether it will be for good or ill, only God knows.”

“I'm afraid you're right,” Karp replied. “But I guess we'll deal with that when it happens.”

“Indeed,” Grale said. “But I didn't come here tonight solely for that reason. I brought you a present.” With that he yanked on a long chain that Karp had not noticed, the end of which disappeared into the gloom of the alley. “Heel, dog!” he commanded.

A combination whimper snarl emerged from the shadows, followed by the appearance of a man crawling on his hands and knees. A collar was around his neck, attached to the chain Grale now handed to Karp. “He's yours to do with as you please,” the
mad monk said. “I have a new dog now. I found him wandering the streets outside of Ariadne Stupenagel's apartment back during your recent trial. I believe he'll do for now.”

With that Grale had stepped back into the shadows just as an unmarked police car driven by Officer J. P. Murphy pulled up. “Sorry, sir, I didn't know you were coming out to walk the dog,” Murphy said, getting out of the car. “I thought I saw something odd down the street so I drove around the block. And . . . oh, my God . . . what the hell is that?” The officer pointed at Andrew Kane, who crouched in the alley entrance.

“A lost soul,” Karp said. “If you'd be so kind as to call for emergency backup and have this individual transported to the psychiatric ward at Bellevue Hospital and notify Dr. Morris—he's in charge—I'd appreciate it.”

•  •  •

Karp patted Dirty Warren on the shoulder. “Tell him the prisoner is still at Bellevue undergoing evaluation. And give him my thanks, he did the right thing.”

“Sure thing . . . whoop . . . Butch,” Dirty Warren said with a grin. “And don't forget . . . oh boy ass . . . that rain check.”

“I won't,” Karp said, and held up the newspaper. “Thanks again.”

Riding the elevator up to the fourth-floor loft, Karp thought about Lucy's spiritually motivated understanding that her family was designated a team to confront, combat, and defeat evil. He was still thinking about it when he opened the door to see that Marlene and the twins had been joined around the kitchen table by Ariadne Stupenagel and Gilbert Murrow.

“Look what the cat drug in,” Stupenagel said.

“Hi, honey,” Marlene called out. “I was just reading Ariadne's story about the trial to the boys.”

“Oh, boy, did she at least spell my name right this time?”