Losing Faith (21 page)

She pauses and then smiles at Stuart. “Do you understand what I’ve just explained to you?”

He wants to say,
Yeah, that I’m so screwed
. Instead he says, “I do.”

“And are you nevertheless willing to continue with this interview?”

Stuart turns to Jennifer, and after she offers a subtle nod, he says, “Yes.”

The preliminaries complete, Donnelly looks like a switch has flipped in her head. Her game face is now on.

“Mr. Christensen,” she says, “since you met with FBI special agent Lacey, have you had time to consider whether anything you said to him during that meeting was incorrect?”

“No,” Stuart says, following Jennifer’s instruction to answer as succinctly as possible.

“No what?” Donnelly says, as if she’s cross-examining a hostile witness. “No, you haven’t had time to consider the issue, or no, you
believe everything you said to Special Agent Lacey was completely accurate?”

“C’mon, Victoria,” Jennifer says. “Try to remember that Mr. Christensen lost his wife only a few days ago. A little more respect would be appropriate.”

“I’m sorry if you don’t find my tone sufficiently cuddly, Jennifer, but I tend to get that way when witnesses lie to the FBI. That’s true even if they’re the victim’s spouse. In fact, that pisses me off even more.”

Stuart’s heart sinks. They know about Faith’s affair. Worse, they know
he
knows.

“You’ve made your point, Victoria,” Jennifer says calmly. “Allow me to make the following proposal: let’s adjourn for the moment. I’ll talk to my client and go over his recollection of the interview with Agent Lacey, and see if there’s anything he thinks might have been misstated or which could have been misconstrued. After I’ve spoken with him, we can reconvene.”

Victoria looks to Covello, who nods. They must have assumed that it would play out exactly like this.

“We’re on a very tight time frame here, Jennifer,” Donnelly says. “Why doesn’t Mr. Christensen step outside for a little bit instead, and we’ll explain our concerns to you. After that, you can tell us what protections you’d like for your client in order to proceed with the interview.”

“Just give me a moment alone with my client first,” Jennifer replies. “To translate all this legalese for him. We’ll be right back.”

With that, Jennifer gets up and heads to the door, and Stuart follows her. Jennifer doesn’t stop walking until she’s standing in front of the elevators. Stuart wonders if that’s because the offices are bugged.

“Shit,” Stuart remarks.

Jennifer shakes her head in disagreement. “No, no. This is good. It’s a gift, actually. If they were
really
going after you, they’d be more than happy to have you lie to them right there. That gives
them far more leverage.
They want your help
, Stuart. Did you see that no one on their side took notes during the exchange I had with Victoria?” Stuart actually didn’t notice that, which he conveys with a stiff head-shake of his own. “Well, that’s because they don’t want any record that they had to pressure you to get the testimony they want.”

“What testimony do they want?”

“That’s what they’re about to tell me, but I’ll bet you anything it’s the name of whoever Faith was seeing.”

“But I already told Agent Lacey I didn’t know Faith was even having an affair.”

“They are apparently willing to give you a pass on that. That’s what Victoria meant regarding the protection I’d be seeking. They must know about the affair . . . or they suspect it, but they can’t prove it. That’s where you come in. It’s Economics 101—supply and demand. You have something they need, and so they’re willing to pay for it. When I go back in there, Donnelly’s going to tell me that you lied to Agent Lacey when you said you didn’t know that Faith was having an affair. I’ll then tell them that Agent Lacey must have misunderstood you, but that’s beside the point . . . because the real issue isn’t what Agent Lacey might think you said
then
, but that
right
now
you’re more than willing to tell them that Faith was having an affair. Are you following me?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“I’m also going to say that, before I let you talk, I have to make sure that they’re not contemplating any type of obstruction or false-statement charge against you. After they give me assurances that you get a full pass, you’ll come back in and you’ll tell them what they want to hear.” She smiles confidently. “Sound like a plan?”

“You’re telling me the promise of no charges will include the murder too, right?”

“Definitely. Stuart, they’re not offering you this deal unless they already have their sights set on somebody else as Faith’s killer. My guess
is that whoever Faith was seeing is number one on their list.”

“But I don’t know who that is,” Stuart says. “I knew . . . well, was pretty sure she was screwing around, but I didn’t know with who.”

Jennifer’s smile trails off. “Back to the economics metaphor. You can’t buy something with nothing. They want the name, and I don’t see you getting a free pass without giving them that.”

“I swear, I don’t know,” Stuart says again. “Believe me, if I did, I’d be more than happy to have that motherfucker fry for killing Faith.”

Jennifer takes this in. “Maybe they know. Or at least think they know. How about this: if I can get them to give up the name, will you confirm it for them?”

Stuart pauses, his head spinning, having some difficulty breathing due to the pressure he feels. But he thinks he understands what she’s suggesting—that he lie to save himself.

“Sure,” he says hesitantly. “If you think that’s the way to go.”

She looks at him. “Stuart, I’m not telling you to lie, because that would be a crime,” Jennifer says with all the conviction of a POW denouncing his country on videotape. “But if they give us a name and that somehow jogs your memory that . . . you saw Faith with this man somewhere, I think the case against you goes away, and the full focus is on the other guy.”

She doesn’t wink at him when she says this, but it’s obviously implied.

JENNIFER REAPPEARS IN THE
U.S. Attorney’s Office’s lobby an hour later. Stuart sweated every second of this period, figuring that the longer Jennifer was with the enemy, the worse it was for him.

“Follow me,” she says without breaking stride, and heads out of the building. They walk past the security guards stationed in the makeshift structure on the bridge leading to One Saint Andrews Plaza and don’t stop until they’ve reached the center of the plaza, where there is no one within twenty feet of them.

“Aaron Littman,” Jennifer says.

“What? The lawyer?” Stuart says in disbelief.

“Yes. They have a theory that Nicolai Garkov hired him to exert pressure on Faith.”

Stuart still doesn’t understand. “Why would Garkov’s lawyer want to kill Faith?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Jennifer says, “and I’m not sure that they have evidence that he killed Faith. They played that kind of close to the vest. What they told me was that they did have evidence that he was having an affair with Faith, and they think that’s relevant to the investigation.”

“What evidence?”

“Apparently Faith and Aaron would meet at the Ritz-Carlton in midtown. The hotel has some evidence. I’m not sure what exactly, but it must not be conclusive because they need you to corroborate it. And I’m really sorry you have to hear this from me.”

Stuart rubs his face, as if trying to wake himself up. Even though he was almost sure that Faith had been unfaithful, he still clung to the hope that he was being paranoid. Proof confirming his suspicions, and worse, a name and a face being attached, are more than Stuart bargained for. In his mind’s eye he can imagine Aaron Littman, conjuring the photo of him that ran in the
Times
on the day of the Eric Matthews sentence, and he can’t help but transpose that image on top of his naked wife.

Jennifer has waited for the shock to sink in, but now she’s talking again, going over the next steps. “What they want you to say, Stuart, is that you saw Aaron Littman with Faith at the Ritz-Carlton.”

Stuart isn’t making eye contact, although he’s heard what she said. A rage is running through him now.

“Can you do that, Stuart? Can you tell them that you saw Faith with him at the Ritz-Carlton? You don’t have to know the date, although it would be at night, so you’ll have to supply some detail about why you were there, where you were standing, that kind of thing. I think the easiest thing to say is that you were suspicious and
so you followed Faith. Then you can say that you saw her enter or leave with him, and you’ve given them what they want. And in return, you get what you want.”

“Fuck him,” Stuart says quietly. “I’ll say whatever they want me to.”

31

R
achel London learns that the firm has decided to go outside for her lawyer when she receives a call from Richard Leeds, who tells her that he’s spoken to Sam Rosenthal about representing her. The immediate thought that comes to Rachel’s mind is disappointment that Aaron didn’t break this news himself. Just as quickly, she forgives him, realizing that it makes perfect sense that Aaron and she shouldn’t discuss the investigation.

As soon as she starts to feel that Aaron hasn’t betrayed her, however, Rachel begins to wonder why she needs conflict-of-interest counsel at all. She knows that the technical reason is that the firm believes that her interests conflict with those of another Cromwell Altman client. But that client certainly isn’t Nicolai Garkov, because Aaron is being represented by Sam Rosenthal, and the conflict rules prohibit the same law firm from representing clients with divergent interests.

Which means it’s
her
interests and Aaron’s that aren’t aligned. And that concerns her greatly.

RICHARD LEEDS’S LAW FIRM
is called Leeds, Jonns, and Williams. Stepping off the elevator, Rachel is surprised how much it looks like Cromwell Altman.

Sometimes smaller firms have a home-office feel to them—no receptionist, cramped space, boxes in the hallways, and little, if any, natural light. But Leeds’s firm has the trappings of a mega-firm—leather furniture, large conference room, and a view of the Statue of Liberty.
If she didn’t know otherwise, Rachel would assume two hundred lawyers work there, rather than the fewer than ten who actually do.

A few minutes after Rachel arrives in reception, a woman with a disproportionately large chest and shoulder-length blond hair, who can’t be more than twenty-five years old, introduces herself as “Mr. Leeds’s assistant” and escorts Rachel to Leeds’s office. That’s enough to set Rachel’s preconceived notions about Leeds in stone. What senior partner at any law firm has a twentysomething secretary, let alone one who resembles a porn star?

“There she is, the guest of honor,” Leeds says when Rachel enters his office. Then he extends a hand. “Rich Leeds,” he says as if it’s a privilege to meet him.

Leeds is one of those men where the parts are much greater than the whole. If Rachel were to describe him—medium build, good head of sandy hair, nice enough features—it would leave the impression of someone much handsomer than Richard Leeds. She finds something extremely smarmy looking about him, however, reminding her of a carnival barker.

Also in the room is a young woman whom Leeds has not even bothered to introduce. She’s pretty too, although in that
for a lawyer
way. Blond hair, thin, and young must be Leeds’s type.

“Hi,” Rachel says, extending her hand to the woman. “I’m Rachel London.” Then she adds, “But I guess you knew that since I’m the client.”

“Alyssa Sanders,” the blonde says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Rachel surveys Leeds’s office. It’s the corner, naturally, and the views go straight out to the New York harbor, capturing Lady Liberty without obstruction.

“So, Rachel, does it feel strange to be on the other side of the proverbial table?” Leeds asks.

“A little,” Rachel concedes.

“First rule. Your job here is to be the witness. Let me be the lawyer. Okay?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, then. The AUSA wants to see you tomorrow. I would have preferred to have a few more days to prepare, but they wouldn’t budge. My guess is that they’re going to move soon with an arrest on this thing. She wouldn’t tell me who, of course, but you don’t have to have a crystal ball to see that your buddy Nicolai Garkov has a bright red bull’s-eye on his back. I reached out to Clint Broden, just to give him a heads-up, and to get whatever I could out of him. He wasn’t giving me ice in winter, but he did make it very clear that Garkov wasn’t waiving his attorney-client privilege with Cromwell Altman.”

“Did Sam Rosenthal say why I needed conflict counsel?”

Leeds looks at Rachel with a perplexed expression, as if he’s never questioned why he’s retained on any matter.

“It’s just standard operating procedure,” he says dismissively.

Rachel nods as if she accepts the explanation. She knows, however, that there is nothing standard about what’s going on here.

“Who’s the assistant?” Rachel asks next.

“Oh, I thought you knew. A woman named Victoria Donnelly.”

Rachel shakes her head. She was hoping it was someone she knows, someone who likes her. But there are lots of assistant U.S. attorneys in Manhattan, the office being the size of a large law firm. On top of that, attrition is high; a faster revolving door would be hard to find. The most common path is two years at a big law firm, three to five at the U.S. Attorney’s Office, then back to the big law firm.

“Victoria’s . . . how do I put this diplomatically,” Leeds says with a self-satisfied smile. “Well, she’s not going to win any popularity contests, that’s for sure. But even though she can be very abrasive at times, she’s smart and a hard worker. She’s also pretty experienced. I think she’s probably been in that office for at least a decade by now.”

“Funny that I’ve never had a case with her,” Rachel says.

“She’s out of the OC unit,” Leeds says. “That may be why.”

Organized crime. Most of Rachel’s cases are brought by the securities fraud unit. The fact that an assistant out of OC is handling the
case means that Nicolai Garkov
is
the main suspect, or at least was at the time when they had to decide what prosecutor to assign.