David Rosenfelt - One Dog Night

I spend some time on a computer trying to figure out what could possibly be on that land that could be of consequence to a foreign power looking to develop WMDs.

One of the things I examine is the possibility that certain plants or bacteria could be growing there, perhaps a rare growth that could be used to make biological or chemical weapons. So I spend hours reading scientific stuff online, only to discover I have no idea what I’m reading, or what I’m talking about.

“Let’s look at where we are,” I say to Laurie. “We know from Mulcahy that there is the potential for a country to be helped in its WMD program from Entech buying Milgram. It can’t be intellectual property; there’s no secret formula in the Milgram safe, with Entech now having the combination.”

Laurie nods. “So it has to be something substantive, something tangible.”

“Right. Plus, I’m positive that Lockman’s disappearance ties into this. And Lockman’s profession was to analyze what materials are in the ground. I don’t know what that material is that is so important, but it doesn’t matter for our purposes. We just know it’s there, and that Entech now owns it.”

“This is the endgame for the bad guys,” Laurie says. “All the other blackmails were small potatoes. Killing off Bauer, and especially Loney, means that they want to eliminate everyone who knows anything. The payoff from this is big enough that they are willing to dismantle the operation.”

“What about the people physically taking the stuff out of the ground?” I ask, knowing the answer as I ask the question.

“I wouldn’t want to be holding their life insurance policies.”

“Ricci behind this?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I could be wrong, but I don’t think so. I think he provided the muscle, and maybe some financing, but that’s it.”

“Why didn’t he get revenge for Loney?” I ask.

“Maybe he did. Or maybe Petrone got him to back off. That’s still to be learned.”

“So where are we?”

She thinks for a minute. “I’m not sure, but I know where we should be. East Texas.”

Laurie, Marcus, Hike, and Sam are on a flight to Dallas, when I get the call.

FBI lawyers have petitioned De Luca to grant status to address the court in camera this afternoon. That literally means “in a chamber,” but in the non-Latin world means “in private.” De Luca has granted the request, which was a formality. The meeting is called for two P.M.

We had no real strategy for sending the “east Texas delegation,” even Laurie admitted that. We just felt that was where the real action was, so that’s where they should be. I would have gone along, but I needed to be here to deal with the court.

They’re going to drive around the land owned by Milgram, which is now owned by Entech. It’s an enormous area to cover, and the chances of them actually hitting on something are minute. They’ll ask people about unusual activity, but chances are what is going on does not seem unusual to anyone.

The plan is to split into pairs to cover more area, and I can just imagine the maneuvering going on to avoid being paired with Hike. I hope Marcus doesn’t draw the straw, because Sam or Laurie would just throw Hike out of the car when he got annoying. Marcus would kill him.

Dylan, Mulcahy, and I assemble in De Luca’s chambers at the appointed hour. De Luca has invited lead counsel only, which is just as well, since my “staff” is driving around Texas looking for bad guys. Mulcahy brings a bureau attorney with him.

“To what do I owe this interference in the workings of this court?” is how De Luca opens the session. I would have to say that as opening lines go, that one is not a particularly good sign.

“We have information which leads us to strongly believe that a conviction of Noah Galloway would represent a miscarriage of justice.”

“Very well,” De Luca says. “Let’s hear it.”

Mulcahy turns it over to the FBI attorney, who proceeds to give a dry recitation of facts, head down and reading every word. Worse yet, it’s basically just a rehash of the case we’ve already presented. Since De Luca turned down our request to reopen the trial, there is nothing here to make him reconsider, other than possibly the fact that the FBI is doing the talking, instead of me.

De Luca seems as unimpressed as I am. “That’s it?” he asks.

“Not quite,” Mulcahy says. “There are two more things. The fire that killed Bauer in his car was started with an almost identical mixture of chemicals as that of the house fire.” This surprises me, and I assume it was left out of the media reports for investigative purposes.

“Second, and far more important, is the fact that there are serious national security implications to this case.”

That gets De Luca’s attention. “Are you officially telling me that the national security of the United States is threatened by the jury reaching a verdict in this trial?’

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. But I am saying there are serious connections between this case and matters of national security.”

De Luca considers this for a few moments, and then says, “Okay, gentlemen. Here’s where I come out on this. Basically the information before me has not changed. What I am being told is that the FBI thinks Mr. Galloway is innocent.”

Mulcahy nods. “We do, Your Honor.”

“However, the reason this trial ever started, the reason Mr. Galloway was arrested in the first place, was because the FBI conducted an investigation and came to the conclusion he was guilty.”

“The facts have changed,” I point out.

De Luca nods. “Maybe, or maybe just the interpretation of those facts have changed. In any event, even though the FBI originally thought Mr. Galloway was guilty, our system decided in its infinite wisdom not to just accept that and convict him. It decided a jury was better equipped to make that decision.”

This is heading south.

De Luca continues. “I’m going to side with the system, gentlemen, and let the jury make the call, without interruption.”

The FBI lawyer starts packing up his briefcase. He couldn’t have cared less which way De Luca was going to rule; it was simply his job to present the case and get out. Mulcahy looks at me with some sympathy; I think he wanted the right thing to happen here, and he knows it didn’t.

Dylan hasn’t said a word since “good afternoon,” but I think he’s never been more eloquent.

I leave the court, having accomplished absolutely nothing. The only way the visit could have been worse was if I was there to hear the verdict.

When I leave I call Laurie, who sounds like she’s had a worse day than I have.

“We’ve accomplished absolutely nothing,” she says.

“Join the club,” I say, and then update her on the meeting with De Luca.

After that’s over, she says, “There’s a lot of land out here, Andy, especially since we have no real idea where to look, or what we’re looking for.”

“And you’re asking people that you see?”

“When we can find any. But of course they have no idea what we’re talking about, because we have no idea what we’re talking about. And that’s not the worst part.”

She hesitates for a moment, then. “Hike.” Another pause. “He’s driving me crazy.”

I’m glad she can’t see me smiling. Whenever I complain about Hike, she defends him and tells me I’m too hard on him. Now that she’s spent time with him alone, it appears that the depressing tide has turned.

“Really? Hike?” I ask.

“Yes. I’m with Hike, and Marcus is with Sam. Everywhere we go the land is dry and desolate, and Hike says it reminds him of the Dust Bowl during the Great Depression.”