Untitled (49 page)

"It's about my case," said Marshall. "May I come in?"

  "No, you may not," said Sommers. "Whatever this is can wait—"

  Marshall raised a gun from under his coat. "I insist," he said. "Don't even think about it," he said as Sommers's hand jerked. "I'll take that." Marshall took the gun. "Now, get inside."

  Marshall backed Sommers into her living room and made her take a seat. She was angry and nervous as he sat opposite her holding the gun.

  "Whatever you've done, it can't be this bad," said Sommers.

  "It's not about what I've done," said Marshall. "It's about you and your partners in this Douglas thing."

  "Partners?" said Sommers. "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm talking about the fact that Farrel Douglas was murdered by a paid assassin. That assassin is now in custody and he named you as a coconspirator."

  "Bullshit!" Sommers stood up. "You put that gun down right now, dammit. I don't care what half-assed story you heard, I'm clean."

  "The assassin's name is Cyrril Thounter, although he has many other aliases."

  "No fuckin' way," said Sommers. "Take me in, I'll confront this liar, and you'll see." She was angry and defiant. It was genuine, and Marshall had all he needed to know.

  "I bet I would," said Marshall. He tossed Sommers her gun back and lowered his own.

  "What the fuck is going on, Marshall?" said Sommers.

  "I just needed to know that I could trust you," he said. "I'm sorry, but this thing has got me spooked something awful."

  "So, you were lying about Douglas?"

  "No, that part's true. I've got the real killer. He's at FBI headquarters with one of your subordinates."

  Sommers sat back down, looking confused. "Then what the hell was Mbutu doing?"

  "I think he thought he was killing Douglas," said Marshall. "He went up there with that intent, but Thounter was already there, in a small space beneath him. I know. I saw it. Thounter fired the fatal shots, using bullets that wouldn't leave a trace."

  "Chris, what's going—" said a man behind Marshall.

  Marshall turned to see Bob Ryder dressed in a robe. Ryder expressed shock at seeing Marshall. That shock immediately turned into embarrassment. Marshall blushed and smiled at Ryder.

  "Shit," said Ryder.

  "It's okay, Bob," said Sommers. "You might as well hear this too."

  "Marshall, I know how this looks," said Ryder. "Chris and I just found each other during the case."

  "We're adults, Bob," said Sommers. "We don't have to explain ourselves."

  "That's right," said Marshall. "Agent Sommers is a beautiful woman. Whose head wouldn't be turned?"

  "Can we get back to business?" said Sommers. She was flattered but feeling a little embarrassed by the commentary.

  Marshall filled Ryder in on the details, careful to leave out the parts about Roberta's indiscretions. Ryder and Sommers got dressed, and they all went down to FBI headquarters to see their suspect.

  When they got inside, Ryder excused himself and walked off. He seemed embarrassed that Marshall had discovered his affair with Sommers. He went to watch the suspect in another room.

Cyrril Thounter sat in the little interrogation room staring at the wall. He'd been in the FBI holding facility all night and still had not said a word. His head was wrapped with a bandage and his left eye was red. His face was surprisingly calm, almost as if he were waiting for a traffic light to change. Behind him, two armed FBI men watched, their hands on their weapons.

  Marshall was frustrated. Thounter was a rock, a man who was trained in discipline. He would outlast them all in a waiting game. Sooner or later they had to charge him, and when the system was invoked, he could hide behind the Fifth Amendment until the cows came home.

  Marshall did know several things. Van Ness and Easter had been following the Douglas case because they suspected a government weapon, the disintegrating bullets called DH-9s, was used. Easter was part of the conspiracy, although his partner did not know how. It must have been Easter who killed the Johnsons and Jessica, and tried to kill Roberta as well. His partner, Van Ness, was innocent but had led Easter to Marshall and Danny.

  "He still not talking?" asked Agent Sommers as she entered the room.

  "Did you get him?" asked Marshall.

  "Yep," said Sommers. She smiled at Thounter. "Bring him in."

  The door opened, and Robert Carson was brought inside in his wheelchair. Thounter's face turned angry. The old man smiled and waved at his nephew.

  "Hey, boy," said Carson. "They told me you were on a special assignment."

  Thounter leaned over to Marshall and whispered, "Get him out now, or I'll never tell you anything."

  Marshall had Sommers take Carson out, but not before Carson asked to be wheeled over to Thounter so he could hug him. Thounter showed genuine emotion as the old man was wheeled out of the room.

  "He can't know what I am," said Thounter. "It will kill him."

  "This will all come out sooner or later," said Marshall. "Unless your uncle doesn't read or doesn't have a TV, he's going to find out. Question is, do you want to tell him, or do you want him to hear about it on the news? Now, tell me what I need to know. Who hired you to kill Farrel Douglas?"

  "You sure you want to know?" said Thounter. "People always think they want to know things until they see it, then they want to crawl in a hole and die."

  "Try me."

  "First I want a few things," said Thounter.

  "Immunity?" said Marshall.

  "That's the easy part," said Thounter.

  "I don't think you're in a position to be making a lot of demands," said Marshall.

  Thounter smiled, the nasty little smile of a man who'd been living a shadow life, engaged in the occupation of killing since he was a boy. "Wait until you hear what I have to offer," he said.

  "And what is that?" asked Marshall.

  "This thing goes up high, real high. I always carry insurance on my jobs. I can prove everything."

  "And for that you want to walk on a murder?"

  "That's my offer," said Thounter.

  "Fuck that," said Marshall. "We already have you on attempted murder and possession of illegal guns and explosives. That will keep you in prison for at least the rest of your life."

  Thounter thought about this for a moment, then: "You drive a hard bargain," he said.

  "You will do time for what you did," said Marshall. "The only thing I can promise is to make a recommendation that you don't get the needle." Marshall was referring to the death penalty imposed by lethal injection. He was giving him a chance at life in prison.

  "So you let me live and that's a deal?" Thounter laughed.

  "I think that's a pretty good trade."

  Thounter leaned back in his chair. He was caught and seemed to know it. He was smart enough to understand that since they had him on legitimate charges, he'd have to act soon, or perhaps the deal he'd been offered would disappear.

  "Okay," said Thounter. "I want my deal in writing. Then there's a package you need to pick up."

T
he courtroom buzzed as Marshall entered. He'd cleaned himself up as well as he could, but he still looked as if he'd been in a fight. Danny was in the back of the courtroom with Vinny and Chemin. Danny had come against Marshall's recommendation. Even though he was hurt, he did not want to miss out on the end of what he'd risked his life for.

  The media had heard various rumors about something important happening in the case today. Marshall surmised that it was the ballistic evidence that had set tongues wagging.

  Marshall told his team to fall back, that he wanted to do this alone. Walter didn't complain, but Ryder did. He wanted to share in the glory, but Marshall would not take no for an answer. He had broken the law and did not want to taint anyone else.

  Marshall took a seat at his table. Mbutu still looked sickly but seemed in good spirits. Rashad walked over to Marshall with an inquisitive look on his face as a bailiff rolled in a TV monitor.

  "Counselor, may I have a moment?" said Rashad.

  "Sure," said Marshall.

  "I'm curious about the rumors I've heard," said Rashad. "You have new ballistic evidence, conveniently available as soon as your DNA case falls apart. But I'd like to know about these rumors of the case ending today."

  "It will end today," said Marshall. "And the bullet we recovered was fired by your client."

  "You still have to prove that," said Rashad. "I will be asking for an adjournment so we can check the procedure under which you make the analysis."

  "You won't need to do that," said Marshall.

  "Isn't that for a judge to decide?" said Rashad.

  "Not today," said Marshall.

  "Okay, I see you want to speak in riddles. At least tell me what the TV is for. Are you going to force us to watch the killing again?"

  "No," said Marshall. "We are going to watch the reason why there was a killing in the first place."

  Toby Newhall and Nate Williams entered the courtroom and took a seat behind Marshall. There was a commotion within the ranks of the media as every camera in the place covered the couple as they sat down.

  It had been difficult to get Toby to come. After the case started looking bad, she'd receded from the spotlight. But Marshall had informed her that the case was back on track, that she should be there in court to see him close it.

  "Mr. Jackson, I hope for the sake of my jet lag that you make good on your promise," said Toby.

  "I will," said Marshall.

  "Is this about the new ballistic evidence?" asked Nate.

  "Yes," said Marshall. "I wanted you both here to witness what I am about to do this morning."

  "You don't look so good, Counselor," said Toby. "Have you been in an accident or something?"

  "I'll explain it all in a moment," said Marshall.

  The bailiff called the court to order. Langworthy entered and started the case.

  "Mr. Jackson, is the government ready to proceed?"

  "Yes, Your Honor," said Marshall.

  Marshall then called Serrus Kranet and admitted the new ballistic tests, which proved that Mbutu's gun had shot Wendel Miller. Rashad requested a continuance, but it was denied. He tried to cross-examine Kranet, but the witness and the evidence held up. Finally, Marshall got to the matter he'd come for. With Mbutu firmly connected to the Wendel Miller shooting, it was time to close the case.

  "I have another witness as to this matter," said Marshall. "I'd like to call Cyrril Thounter."

  "We don't know this witness," said Rashad.

  "He's not on the list," said Langworthy.

  "He couldn't be," said Marshall. "We just found him last night. I remind the court of Mr. Rashad's surprise rebuttal witness to the DNA evidence."

  "That witness was on the list, Your Honor," said Rashad.

  Langworthy took a moment to think. He glanced around the courtroom, then: "I'll allow it," said Langworthy.

  It was not an appropriate ruling, but Langworthy could sense that something special was going on. He saw the U.S. attorney for his district and the U.S. attorney general sitting just a few feet from him. He was not about to let procedure ruin the moment. "Mr. Rashad, you can have a continuance for your cross if you wish, but let's get the direct examination this morning. Mr. Jackson, what will this witness testify to?"

  "The murder in this case," said Marshall.

  Marshall signaled two FBI men, and Thounter entered, restrained in leg irons, and took the witness stand. The FBI men stayed close to Thounter on either side. Their side arms were on their hips, exposed instead of inside their jackets. Marshall was not taking any chances with a dangerous man like Thounter.

  Toby and Nate looked dumbfounded as the assassin walked in and was sworn in.

  "State your name," said Marshall.

  "Cyrril Baker Thounter."

  "Do you have any aliases?"

  "Yes."

  "How many?"

  "About sixty or so."

  The murmur in the court was loud. Langworthy gaveled to quiet them.

  "In what profession do you use those aliases?" asked Marshall.

  "I'm a paid assassin," said Thounter calmly.

  "And did you shoot and kill Farrel Douglas?"

"Yes, I did."

  The courtroom erupted in noise. The reporters headed for the door, but bailiffs stopped them.

  "No!" yelled Mbutu. "He's lying!"

  Rashad pushed Mbutu back in his seat and made him shut up. He'd just gotten an acquittal and didn't want to blow it.

  "Sit down," said Langworthy. "Bailiffs, station yourself by the defendant. Mr. Jackson, continue."

  Mbutu took his seat as a bailiff stood next to him.

  "Tell the court how you planned the murder."

  "I was told to set up a patsy for the kill," said Thounter. "I was given Mbutu's name and address. I started writing him angry letters railing against Douglas. Then I told him I had connections to people overseas who could help us kill him. He bought the whole thing. He never knew who I was. I used a false name, and I would only contact him by phone or letter. I planned the whole distraction, the man with the gun was used to break the security so Mbutu could get out of the building."

  "Mr. Thounter, what kind of gun did you use to kill Farrel Douglas?"

  "A Wagner .308WIN. It's a small, light, compact gun."

  Marshall went to the evidence table and took Mbutu's gun and showed it to the court and then to Thounter.

  "Is this the kind of gun you used?"