The Trials (The Red Trilogy Book 2) (10 page)

“I’m presently suspended from duty, pending a dismissal hearing.”

“Why is the FBI seeking to dismiss you?”

“My supervisor feels I overstepped my authority when I provided the requested report to Colonel Kendrick.”

When the judge invites a cross-examination, Major Ogawa is so eager he springs up, stalking to the center of the floor. “Ms. England, did you inform your supervisor that Colonel Kendrick had requested this report?”

Her pale lips turn in a slight smile. “Not immediately, sir.”

“Could you explain that?”

“I compiled the evidence package for Colonel Kendrick. I began working on it shortly after he left, and worked overnight. At oh four fifty-two on November fifteenth, I transmitted the report to a secure digital locker that could be accessed only by myself and Colonel Kendrick. I spoke to my supervisor later that morning. That’s when I informed him of the report. He indicated by his reaction that he was furious. He told me he had only just received a warning that much of the evidence gathered at Black Cross had been falsified.”

“Did he say what form this warning came in, or who it came from?”

“No, sir. He refused to provide me any further information.”

“What happened after that?”

“I was immediately suspended, my security credentials were deleted, and I was escorted from the facility.”

“The report, which you left in a ‘secure digital locker.’ What became of it?”

“I do not have direct knowledge of that since I was no longer able to access the user log.”

“But Colonel Kendrick would still have had access to the report?”

“I believe that to be the case, sir.”

“Thank you, Ms. England.”

Her gaze turns again in my direction, though whether she’s angry or just curious, I can’t tell. Emotional analysis indicates it might be both.

Of course, Kendrick did retrieve the evidence package she prepared for him. He sent it to Ahab Matugo, to be used in the trial of Thelma Sheridan, a trial that it now seems will never happen, making Eve England just another meaningless casualty in a covert war to limit the political fallout of November
11
.

•   •   •   •

It’s early evening. I’m sitting on the bunk in my cell, thinking about Eve England and what she knows, and hoping no one is gunning for her, when the cell door unlocks, popping a few inches open. I lean down to retrieve from the floor the packaging from my recently completed dinner, expecting that one of the MPs has come to collect it. But it’s my uncle who appears on the other side of the glass, still dressed in the suit he wore in court.

He crooks a finger at me to come out, barely pausing as he strides down the cellblock. I leave the trash where it is and go to the door, pushing it wider. All the other doors are open. Nolan, Moon, Tuttle: They all lean cautiously out of
their cells to look around. And then, as my uncle beckons them, Harvey, Flynn, and Jaynie emerge as well. He turns around to head back up the cellblock. He’s not smiling exactly, but his expression suggests vindication: the look of a warrior who has won a hard-fought victory.

“There’s news,” he announces. “It doesn’t pertain directly to your case and maybe it doesn’t mean a thing, but you wanted to arouse people’s passions. You wanted to force questions to be asked. You wanted to trigger official inquiries. Well, congratulations, you’ve had your first victory. Minutes ago, in a joint news conference with the president, the attorney general announced she is looking into the handling of evidence in the Black Cross investigation, to determine whether that evidence was tampered with, falsified, or manipulated to protect the identities of some of the conspirators. Whether it will be an honest and legitimate investigation, only time will tell—but it’s a start.”

It takes a few seconds to process what he’s just said, then I catch Jaynie’s eye and we trade a grin. “
Hoo-yah!
” Flynn shouts, like she’s channeling Ransom, and the rest of us echo the cheer, “
Hoo-yah!
”

Uncle Brandon tells us there’s been cheering out on the National Mall too. That around four hundred thousand people are out there, demanding the same thing we’re demanding—a full and honest accounting. I imagine the misery they’ve endured in this protest: the lack of toilets, showers, food, and adequate transportation; the risks to their safety from crime, from terrorism, or from overzealous law enforcement. But they stayed on the Mall, in enough numbers to frighten the president into action. This is their victory.

•   •   •   •

In the courtroom, no one acknowledges the shift in policy.

Day three extends our legal education as Major Fong
calls expert witnesses to the stand to lecture the panel of officers in the jury box on the meaning of their sworn duty as members of the United States military, discussing the implication of the oath of office required of every officer, and the oath of enlistment which binds the soldiers under their command.

The last witness is an academic, a bearded professor steeped in political science, dressed in an expensive suit my dad would admire, with gold cuff links because he can. He speaks to the court with the assurance of a man accustomed to being listened to:

“Huge responsibilities are placed on our soldiers. It’s their everyday duty to safeguard the deadliest technologies known to humanity. Every day, they have within their reach weapons that could destroy cities, countries, the very Earth on which all our lives depend—but we trust them with this duty because they are loyal to the chain of command.

“We do not grant to individual soldiers the right to decide when to attack—when tanks should roll through a city, when artillery bombardments should commence, when a nuclear missile should be launched. Such decisions
must
descend through the chain of command.

“When a soldier steps outside the chain of command to take vigilante action based on limited knowledge, that soldier is in violation of the law. When a soldier colludes with a foreign power to subvert lawful orders issued by superiors, that soldier is in violation of the law, and is guilty of treason besides. There are legal means for soldiers to voice their objection to policies. Vigilante action is not one of those means.”

On cross, Major Ogawa looks thoughtful. “Sir, I believe you’ve served as an expert witness before the United States Senate, where you testified concerning the conflict in Bolivia
and recommended that the United States enter into that conflict.”

“Strategic needs demanded it.”

“And I believe you testified later that US military intervention in the Sahel was demanded for humanitarian reasons.”

“That is still the case. This cease-fire will not hold.”

“I believe you occupy an endowed chair at your university. Where does that endowment come from?”

“I don’t know what this has to do with my academic opinion.”

“Please answer the question, sir. Where does the endowment come from?”

“The endowment is provided by Niall and Jenkins.”

“And what business is Niall and Jenkins engaged in?”

“It’s a think tank concerned with defense issues.”

“And is it also a lobbying firm?”

“I am not sufficiently familiar with all of Niall and Jenkins’s business activities to be able to answer that question.”

Ogawa nods. “Thank you. No more questions.”

Major Fong has no more witnesses. The prosecution rests, and we break for lunch. It’s only Thursday, but in the afternoon session, Major Ogawa begins our defense by calling his first witness: me.

•   •   •   •

“Lieutenant Shelley, on November eighteenth through twentieth you participated in the abduction of Thelma Sheridan, delivering her, an American citizen, into the hands of a foreign power. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir. It is.”

“Why did you believe this course of action necessary?”

“When we stormed Black Cross, we took Blue Parker prisoner. We learned from him that Thelma Sheridan was
a central figure in the Coma Day conspiracy and that she had provided the INDs—”

“INDs?” Ogawa asks me.

“The improvised nuclear devices used to immolate and injure—”

“Objection,” Major Fong says as she stands.

I keep speaking. “—hundreds of thousands of people and bring down the communications structure of the United States—”

“Objection!”

The judge just wants to get this over with. “Overruled.”

I continue. “No charges were brought against Thelma Sheridan. She was never detained. She was never officially under suspicion. It was a whitewash. A cover-up by a corrupt command and political structure determined to protect the individual who had long been their patron—”

“Your Honor! This is hearsay. This is
gossip
. The witness does not have personal knowledge of the relationship between Thelma Sheridan and unnamed elements of the command structure.”

“They’re unnamed,” I counter, “because no one has the guts to name them, or investigate who they are.”

“Your Honor!”

“Major Fong,” the judge says in a tired voice, “the lieutenant is testifying as to his motivations. His beliefs are key to answering this question, whether or not they are based in fact. Please let him continue. There will be time later to dissect the validity of his beliefs—if you should wish to dive deeper into that line of argument.”

The way she says it: like she’s daring Fong to do it, to expand the scope of our case, to compel witnesses to name those who relayed the order for silence, and to trace that order to its source.

I swear Fong looks wistful, like she’s thinking about it,
about what it would be like to shine a light into the shadows, about what it would be like to be the knight in shining armor, facing down a dragon. “Yes, ma’am,” she says softly, and she returns to her seat.

I turn again to the jury box and I try to explain to my fellow officers why we did what we did. “We knew the truth. But as the days passed it became clear Thelma Sheridan had used her influence to buy off an investigation, to buy innocence, to buy clean hands. We knew she was guilty of mass murder and insurrection, we had seen the evidence, but no one in authority gave a damn—”

“Lieutenant Shelley,” the judge warns, “you will conduct yourself with decorum when you are inside my courtroom.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I turn again to the jury box. “Silence is consent. We could have done nothing. We could have cooperated in the silence. But then we would have been just as guilty as those involved in the conspiracy to protect Thelma Sheridan. It was our duty to defend the Constitution of the United States. The only way we could do that was to step outside the chain of command and seek justice where we could, and that is what we did.”

My uncle calls it true-believer shit.

So fuck me. I do believe it.

•   •   •   •

Major Fong isn’t done with me, though. When her turn comes to cross-examine, she is in control. “Lieutenant Shelley, we have heard testimony from Special Agent Eve England and from General Brittney Ahmet regarding a document that ostensibly links Thelma Sheridan to the nuclear terrorism of November eleventh, but for reasons of national security, this document has not been introduced into evidence. I would ask if you, personally, have seen this document?”

“No. I have not.”

“Were you aware of its existence before you undertook the First Light mission?”

“Yes. Colonel Kendrick told me about it. He said the evidence it contained was incontrovertible.”

“Did he offer you proof of that? Did he share the contents of this document with you?”

“No. I didn’t ask to see it. There wasn’t time.”

“Because you were deploying immediately on the First Light mission?”

I hesitate, realizing what’s coming.

“When did Colonel Kendrick inform you of the existence of this document, Lieutenant Shelley?”

“On November seventeenth, after he picked me up from Kelly Army Medical Center.”

“And what time was this?”

“It was around noon.”

“Your Honor, I would introduce into evidence exhibit sixty-nine, a certification from Kelly AMC showing that the lieutenant checked out at eleven forty-eight.” She turns back to me. “At what time did Colonel Kendrick inform you of this document?”

“A few minutes after he picked me up. We talked in the car.”

“So you had roughly twelve hours from the time you knew of this document’s existence to the time you deployed, yet you never asked to see the evidence of Thelma Sheridan’s guilt for yourself?”

I’m in full stonewall mode and I answer like a robot. “I did not ask to see it, ma’am.”

“Was this because, on the night Mr. Parker was taken into custody at Black Cross, you yourself heard his allegations against Thelma Sheridan, and you found his statements a sufficient basis for your actions?”

“That is not the reason, ma’am.”

“Lieutenant Shelley, were you even present when Blue Parker made his allegations?”

“No, ma’am.”

“So how did you learn of them?”

“Colonel Kendrick told me.”

“Lieutenant, what were you doing during the approximately twelve hours that elapsed between the time Colonel Kendrick told you of this document’s existence and the time that you deployed with him on the First Light mission?”

“I was with my girlfriend, ma’am. Lissa Dalgaard. I knew I might never see her again, and I was right—”

“Twelve hours, Lieutenant! And not once did you try to verify the evidence against Thelma Sheridan. You wanted to believe her guilty. You didn’t ask to see the document because you didn’t want to risk even an iota of doubt on your next heroic adventure. Isn’t that true, Lieutenant?”

“No, that is not true—”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Shelley. I’m done.”

Major Ogawa isn’t. On redirect, he says, “Why didn’t you ask to see the document, Lieutenant?”

“I didn’t need to, sir. Colonel Kendrick was my commanding officer. We went through Black Cross together. I trusted him, and that trust was not misplaced. The evidence contained in that document was sufficient to convince an international court to accept the case. It would have been sufficient to convince any American court to accept the case—but no American court was ever going to be allowed to hear it.”