Directed Verdict (21 page)

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Then tell me about your case.”

* * *

Though Brad’s door was closed for privacy, Nikki barged in without knocking. She slammed the door behind her, loud enough for Bella to hear in the reception area.

Brad’s head jerked up. “Sure, come on in,” he said.

Nikki slapped a pink phone slip down on Brad’s desk.

“This time she’s really done it,” Nikki fumed. “Either she goes or I do.”

Brad put down his pen and raised an eyebrow. He glanced down quickly at the phone slip. “Can’t be that bad.”

“It is. And don’t even bother sticking up for her—she’s way out of line this time.”

“Okay . . .”

Nikki paced furiously in front of Brad’s desk. “The Trader’s Insurance Company offers $550,000 to settle the Johnson case—$550,000!” Nikki yelled. “Chump change . . . ridiculous . . . insulting! I wouldn’t even dignify it by taking it to my client—”

“Our client,” Brad interjected.

Nikki scoffed and kept pacing. “The case is worth more than a mil—easy. Anything less is just a sellout so we can keep the doors open while we chase the
Reed
case. It’s not right . . .”

“Settle down,” Brad said wearily. “Nobody’s telling you to take their offer—”

Nikki grabbed the phone slip and waved it under Brad’s nose. “She already did! Bella found out about the offer and told my client—” Nikki paused and looked directly at Brad—“
my
client—about the offer. He jumps all over it, desperate for cash, says he needs money right away, and tells her—tells Bella, who he has never met before—to take it!”

Just retelling the story made her blood bubble all over again. Johnson was her case, her bonus, her call as to whether it should settle. She looked at Brad expecting a confirmation that the firm’s matriarch had seriously overstepped her bounds this time. Instead, Brad just gave her a sympathetic look combined with a “What do you want me to do about it?” shrug.

“What?” Nikki snarled. “You aren’t going to try to defend her on this, are you?” She paused, waiting for some type of outburst, a threat against Bella, a reprimand . . . anything to indicate Bella would get what she had coming.

“Did you inform your client about the settlement offer?” Brad asked patiently.

Nikki threw herself into a chair, as if the question itself had knocked the wind out of her and sucked every ounce of energy from her body. “I knew it.”

“Look. Don’t get defensive. Bella crossed the line, and I’ll talk to her about it.”

“Talk to her about it!”
Nikki nearly screamed aloud.
That’s it?! I could have “talked to her about it” myself. . . .

“I’ll make it clear she is not to speak with Mr. Johnson again,” Brad continued, “except to take a phone message. But, Nikki, if the client wants to settle, we’ve got to settle.”

Nikki stared at Brad in disbelief, her jaw hanging open. She should have known better than to approach Brad with this mess. As usual, she would have been better off taking matters into her own hands.

Without another word, Nikki shook her head, stood up, and headed for the door.
“Talk to her about it,”
she repeated to herself.

“Her or me,” Nikki said over her shoulder. “As soon as we get past the
Reed
trial, take your pick.”

“Nikki,” Brad barked.

She stopped and turned.

“I
will
talk to her about it. And it
won’t
happen again. But if the client says settle, you settle,” he said firmly.

She gave Brad a smart salute, then marched out of the office, yanking the door closed behind her.

* * *

By now Ahmed had begun looking for the 8
1⁄2
-by-11 manila envelopes. He gloated at his good fortune in having this unsolicited, unnamed inside source, then seethed at the thought that the incompetent Barnes could not determine the identity.

As usual, the latest envelope contained a cut-and-paste message. It also contained a thick report titled “Revised Preliminary Game Plan for
Reed v. Saudi Arabia
.” This second document set forth the plaintiff’s revised strategy for the case: who to call as witnesses, what to introduce as exhibits, what objections and legal arguments to make. He would make sure Strobel received this updated information.

Like the first game plan he received, the revised game plan would prove invaluable, but the message intrigued Ahmed more:

Worthington worth every penny of $100K. The enclosed will cost you another. Same wiring. Shelhorse must come down too. More details to follow. Real-time surveillance info is now critical. We need to meet. Norfolk General District Court, Traffic Division Room #2, Monday fortnight, 9:30a. Bring three phone bugs. Come alone or deal is off.

Ahmed read the letter over and over. His elusive and mysterious ally was going to march out in plain sight! The audacity!

Ahmed agreed about Shelhorse. She was a powerful expert; her toxicology evidence was the most damaging in the case. How could Carson possibly win without an expert in toxicology?

On the other hand, Ahmed was not convinced that bugging the office, which he presumed the informant planned to do, was the right strategy. It was risky and probably would not reveal much more than his source could provide.

Ahmed understood immediately the purpose of holding the meeting in Norfolk General District Court. The place would be crawling with police officers. The metal detectors at the door would screen out all weapons. The court would be incredibly hectic, with masses of people milling around. The best place for their meeting to go unnoticed was the middle of a large crowd.

Ahmed thanked Allah and started making plans for the rendezvous. Once he learned the identity of this source, he would again be in control.

2
2

AS BRAD PREPARED TO BOARD
the plane for Saudi Arabia to attend the depositions of former church members, he was unsure of how destructive to the case those depositions might turn out to be. Strobel had scheduled them. Sarah warned Brad that these particular church members, with the exception of Rasheed Berjein, had never really made all-out commitments to Christ or the church. They would probably say anything the Muttawa wanted. Unfortunately, because they lived outside the jurisdiction of the court, their videotaped depositions could be used in lieu of live testimony at trial.

Brad decided to take Nikki on the trip both because she knew her way around and because she knew Rasheed. Nikki’s presence might give Rasheed some security and confidence. Besides, Brad would have fun seeing how Nikki handled the customs of this chauvinistic country. Bella had objected based on cost, but Brad overruled her and promised to pinch pennies while abroad.

Money would prove to be the least of their problems.

Weather delays caused Brad and Nikki to arrive late at Reagan National Airport and miss their connection to Riyadh. Hours later they boarded the next international flight, which promptly suffered a mechanical problem. After two hours of broken promises, the airline conceded defeat and announced that the next flight to Riyadh would not leave until the following morning.

While Nikki ranted, Brad contacted Sa’id el Khamin and told him they would be late for the depositions. They wouldn’t arrive until late afternoon; get a one-day continuance, Brad instructed Sa’id.

The next morning Brad and Nikki slipped into their seats in coach, fulfilling their promise to Bella to avoid first class no matter what. Brad squeezed in between two heavyweights, one male and the other undecided. Nikki had the honor of sitting between a talkative and nervous older lady on one side and a six-year-old kid on the other. The flight seemed interminable.

* * *

As Brad and Nikki suffered over the Atlantic, Mack Strobel surveyed the small army of lawyers gathered in a plush office in the heart of Riyadh and prepared to commence the depositions.

The defense side of the conference table was full of dignitaries and heavy hitters. Ahmed himself was there, sitting next to Mack, along with another partner from Kilgore & Strobel and three local lawyers. The local lawyers had retained an interpreter, reputed to be one of the best in Riyadh. His language skills were good, the lawyers said, and whenever a controversial issue of interpretation arose, he always remembered who paid his bill.

The court reporter and videographer were poised and ready, and the first witnesses waited in a conference room down the hall. Nearly every witness had rehearsed their testimony ad nauseam, with Mack himself practicing the direct examination and his partner performing Brad’s role on cross-examination. They had done this for all the witnesses except Rasheed Berjein, who steadfastly refused to practice what he would say.

The plaintiff’s side of the conference table was inhabited only by the lonely-looking Sa’id el Khamin, who would act as local lawyer and interpreter for Brad and Nikki. Sa’id had apologetically explained to Mack that Brad and Nikki were having flight problems and could not be there until the next day. Mack nevertheless insisted on proceeding with the depositions, and at 9 a.m. sharp, he marched the first witness into the conference room and had him sworn in.

“For the record,” Sa’id said, his voice hoarse and shaky, “the plaintiff objects to beginning this deposition without Mr. Carson present. Mr. Carson called late last night and said that his flight had been canceled due to mechanical problems. We therefore respectfully request that the depositions be started one day later.”

“For the record,” Mack replied, his authoritative voice filling the conference room, “this deposition has been scheduled for more than three weeks. Mr. Carson is well aware of the vagaries of international travel and could certainly have scheduled himself a little lead time. Mr. el Khamin is a capable local lawyer retained by Mr. Carson and can handle the cross-examination of these witnesses. The depositions will go forward as scheduled. You can object if you want and take it up later with a judge, but the depositions will start on time.”

Mack glared at el Khamin, practically daring the little man to provide any further argument. When none came, Mack turned to the court reporter, also hired by Mack, and told her, “Swear the witness in.”

El Khamin quietly mumbled, “We still object,” and the depositions were on.

Tariq Abdul took the oath first. He testified that he and his wife, Semar, had been members of the Reeds’ church. He described the enterprise, through the translator, as an attempt by the Reeds to proselytize Muslims and recruit them for a drug ring. Tariq and Semar attended several meetings of the group but, according to Tariq, were never converted to Christianity. Therefore, Tariq said, he was never fully trusted and never given an opportunity to use or sell the drugs that were in such plentiful supply for those who did convert. He quickly added, without being asked, that he would never have participated in such an insidious enterprise even if he had been given the opportunity.

Although he never personally used or sold any drugs, Tariq did witness others doing so firsthand. He provided specific names and instances. While he was not there the night of the arrest, it did not surprise him to learn that Dr. Reed had resisted arrest. He had seen the normally mild-mannered Reed lose his temper on more than one occasion, especially if anyone challenged his authority. All in all, Tariq was sorry that Dr. Reed had died while apparently resisting arrest, was sorry that he, Tariq, had been an unwitting part of this criminal enterprise, and was sorry that he had not reported these activities to the police earlier.

The necessity of translation made the testimony stale and laborious. Tariq stayed on script but testified without emotion. His direct examination lasted nearly two hours and didn’t pack much punch. Worse, the man’s eyes darted all over the conference room whenever he talked about drug use by the Reeds or other church members. Mack had coached him to look only at the camera, but apparently that advice was too difficult for this frightened witness to follow in the heat of the moment.

By the rules of court, the video shown to the jury would consist of a static headshot of Tariq. Mack made a mental note not to show this tape after a big lunch or in a warm courtroom. No juror could be expected to stay awake for two straight hours while watching a talking head testify with no emotion. On the other hand, with those shifty eyes darting this way and that, maybe sleeping jurors would be a good thing.

After a short break, Sa’id began his cross-examination, which consisted of only three questions, all translated by Mack’s paid translator.

“You were not there when the Reeds were arrested, right?”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“So you have no firsthand knowledge as to whether they were tortured or beaten by the police?”

“As I said before, I was not there, and I do not know.”

“So it could have happened just the way Mrs. Reed described it?”

“I don’t know how to answer your question because I don’t know how Mrs. Reed described it. But if she said the police planted drugs, I don’t believe it. There were already drugs in that apartment.”

“Thank you, Mr. Abdul, that’s all I have for now.”

Mack could hardly conceal his excitement. Three questions! And none of them even remotely tough! El Khamin was weaker than Mack had imagined.

So weak, in fact, that Mack shot a sideways glance at Ahmed, just to judge the man’s reaction. Ahmed did not seem at all surprised by this turn of events; his intimidating glare never changed. Could el Khamin be in Ahmed’s back pocket too? It seemed that every other person Mack met in Saudi Arabia, including each of the witnesses now testifying, was more than anxious to cooperate in this case. It made him wonder how far Ahmed’s influence reached and what means had been used to gain such far-reaching complicity.

After el Khamin’s anemic performance, Mack changed his strategy. He dispatched a local lawyer to find out when Brad’s flight would land. He called and questioned the next witness quickly. With any luck at all, Mack figured he could blitz through five of the six witnesses before the end of the day, leaving only Rasheed Berjein for tomorrow.

By the mandatory midday prayer break, Mack had dispensed with the first four witnesses. In addition to Tariq and Semar Abdul, another couple also confirmed the Reeds were selling drugs and then pressuring Muslims, particularly young children and their mothers, to convert to Christianity. The second couple went a step further than the Abduls by admitting their own use of drugs, ultimately resulting in a guilty plea and a suspended jail sentence. Again the cross-examination was short and sweet, establishing nothing more than the uncontroverted fact that this couple had not personally witnessed the arrest of Dr. and Mrs. Reed.

After the prayer break, Mack swore in his fifth and final witness of the day—Omar Khartoum. Mack was anxious to get Omar finished before Brad Carson arrived, and therefore decided to skip most of the preliminary questions.

* * *

After wrestling his way through customs and surviving a frenzied taxi ride from the airport to the law firm, Brad Carson burst through the conference room door. Chairs and startled faces swiveled in his direction as if he were a junior-high teacher who had just entered class in the middle of a spitball war. He sported jeans and a T-shirt, disheveled hair, and he smelled like a man who had spent all night on a plane. A flustered receptionist speaking rapid and forceful Arabic followed on his heels, complaining because Brad had ignored her protests.

Brad stopped in the doorway and pointed at the witness. “What’s going on here?” he demanded of Strobel. The receptionist bumped into his back. Brad ignored her.

On the other side of the conference table, Strobel stood. “Counsel, we are in the middle of our fifth deposition of the day. We started this morning at the agreed-upon time, and you were not present. Unfortunately for you, the world does not suspend all of its activities while it waits for the great Bradley Carson to stroll in.”

After a long day and little sleep, Brad was in no mood for Strobel’s condescension. “You arrogant jerk . . .” Brad lunged around the conference table toward Strobel, but the granite figure of Ahmed Aberijan blocked him. Brad was lucky to be restrained, as the older but more powerful Strobel had two inches and fifty pounds on him. The two lawyers traded insults while Ahmed acted as a human barrier between Brad and Strobel and slowly nudged Brad back to his side of the conference table.

Brad got no backup from Sa’id, who sat frozen in his chair, his mouth wide open and his eyes even wider.

After the yelling subsided, and Brad had placed every objection fathomable into the record, Strobel concluded his direct examination. The parties took a ten-minute break while Sa’id briefed Brad on the testimony. Sa’id made his own cross-examination of earlier witnesses seem impressive enough, and Brad calmed down a little. From the sounds of things described by Sa’id, the little man had done a good and thorough job of discrediting the others. Brad was thankful that they had retained this quirky little lawyer, even if he was costing them nearly three hundred bucks an hour.

* * *

Forty-five minutes into the cross-examination, Nikki slipped into the conference room dressed no better than Brad and took a seat right next to him. She handed him two plastic bags under the table—one full of a substance that resembled marijuana, the other full of a white powder. She leaned over and whispered in Brad’s ear.

“This better work, babe. It’s not easy getting this stuff.”

Brad squeezed her knee. “Thanks,” he whispered.

He carefully placed both bags on the table in front of Omar Khartoum.

“I would like the court reporter to mark, for purposes of identification, plaintiff’s Exhibits 1 and 2. And I would ask the witness to please identify these exhibits.”

“I object,” Strobel proclaimed loudly.

“There’s a surprise,” Brad said.

“This is obviously some kind of trick by Mr. Carson to bring in substances that look like marijuana and cocaine. Of course, if they were the real thing, Mr. Aberijan here is an officer of the law and would have to arrest Mr. Carson.” Strobel said it calmly but forcefully, just the right tone for the video camera.

Khartoum heard the objection and seemed to take the hint. He looked at the materials in the bags. He reached in and touched the materials, then tasted a small portion from the tip of his finger.

“It is fake cocaine and fake marijuana,” he announced proudly.

“How did you know it was fake from tasting it?” Brad asked. “How is this substance different from the real cocaine that you’ve tasted?”

After the translation, the witness pondered the question. “This substance is sweeter.”

“Is that how you tell whether a substance is cocaine? You see how sweet it is?” Brad’s toxicologist, Dr. Shelhorse, would testify that the telltale sign for cocaine was the numbness it caused on the tongue and mucus membranes.

“Yes,” Khartoum replied; this time his tone of voice was a little less sure.

“But these exhibits at least look like the types of drugs you bought from Mr. and Mrs. Reed?”

“Yes.”

“Did you buy these drugs by the gram?”

“Yes.”

“How much did you pay for the marijuana, and how much did you pay for the cocaine?”

Khartoum was actually prepared on this point and answered quickly and confidently. “Two hundred riyals per gram for the marijuana. Fourteen hundred per gram for the cocaine.”

“How many grams would you say are in this bag that we have marked as ‘Exhibit 1’?” Brad asked, holding up a bag of oregano.

Khartoum stared at the bag for two full minutes. “I don’t know,” he said at last.

“Guess,” Brad insisted.

“He doesn’t have to guess,” Strobel said. “If he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know.”

“Humor me,” Brad said. “He says he paid big money for these drugs. But he doesn’t have the foggiest idea how much these substances weigh?”