Steve Martini - Double Tap

Kaprosky is talking about NSA, the National Security Agency.

“No way to detect it,” he says.

“I don’t understand.”

“What?” Kaprosky looks at me, breathless.

“How would they get it onto your computer?”

He nods and smiles, arches his eyebrows, relieved that I’m at least tracking what he is saying. He laughs to himself. As much breath as he can spare. “Online. Government forms. Spyware. Check it. . online,” he says. “Mirror software. Called ‘looking glass.”’

In the morning Max Rufus is back on the stand. The judge reminds him that he is already under oath, and Rufus takes his seat.

I offer him a greeting: “Good morning.”

He smiles and nods but doesn’t say anything.

Today Rufus is fitted out in a charcoal pinstriped suit, starched white linen shirt with French cuffs, and gold cuff links. He’s wearing a blue tie with tiny gold stars covering it to pick up the accents.

He leans back in the witness chair and crosses one leg over the other, his right ankle resting on his left knee. His elbows are on the armrests of the chair, the fingers of his hands steepled together just under his chin, the fingertips drumming together nervously.

I stand at the podium looking at him for several seconds as the last few coughs are muffled and people in the audience settle in their seats. Then I start.

“Mr. Rufus, let me ask you. . Yesterday you indicated that Mr. Ruiz headed up the security detail assigned to provide executive protection to Madelyn Chapman.”

“That’s correct.”

“Can you tell the jury why Ms. Chapman or, for that matter, other personnel at Isotenics found it necessary to retain executive security to protect Ms. Chapman?”

He looks at me, a puzzled expression. “I don’t recall if there was a specific incident that prompted it,” he says. “She had a high public profile because of the company and her responsibilities. It’s not uncommon for people in her position to utilize personal security.”

“Do you know whether prior to or during the time that your company provided executive protection to Ms. Chapman she received any threats, either verbal or written? Threats regarding her personal safety, I mean.”

“Oh, the usual crank letters, I suppose. Many of the people who we provide protection for receive any number of strange pieces of mail. With regard to Ms. Chapman, as I recall, there were no what you would call credible threats.” He smiles at me.

It’s obvious that the witness has gone over this with Templeton in order to prevent us from pumping up the poison pen mail into evidence of a risk from some other quarter.

“Yesterday I believe that you testified that you received a phone call from Madelyn Chapman at one point and that during that phone call she demanded that the executive protection detail assigned to her be terminated and that she-and I believe these are the words that you used-’specifically requested that Mr. Ruiz be removed from the detail immediately.’ Is that correct?”

“That’s right.”

“And I believe you went on to testify that when you asked her why she wanted this done, she told you, and I quote”-I look down at my notes-”’She said that Mr. Ruiz had become too familiar and that he made inappropriate advances toward her.’ Is that accurate?”

“Well, words to that effect. I can’t recall exactly how she said it, but that’s the gist of it.”

“Is that a fact?”

He looks at me but doesn’t respond.

“Isn’t it true, Mr. Rufus, that part of the reason Ms. Chapman called you that day is not because she was angry with Mr. Ruiz but rather she was angry with your firm?”

“No.”

“Isn’t it a fact that Madelyn Chapman called you to complain not about Mr. Ruiz but about the fact that your company had screwed up and placed a security video camera in her office without her knowledge?”

“Well, she. . It’s true. She did mention that.”

“Isn’t it a fact that Madelyn Chapman screamed at you over the phone, not because of anything that Mr. Ruiz had done, but because she had been compromised by the installation of a security camera in her own office when she was out of town traveling, and that no one had taken the time to tell her about it, so that when she came back, she was surprised to find herself on film?”

“Your Honor, I’m going to object to this.” Templeton is sitting on his box on the chair and raising a hand. “The court refused to allow me to get into that videotape. And now Mr. Madriani-”

“I’m not talking about the contents of the videotape, Your Honor. I’m talking about the existence of a camera the size of a pencil eraser installed in the victim’s office without her knowledge.”

“The witness can answer the question,” says Gilcrest.

“It was a mistake. We blew it,” says Rufus.

“That doesn’t answer my question. Did she or did she not yell at you over the phone because of the installation of that camera in her office without her knowledge?”

“She. . she. . she was angry. I will concede that she was upset. I apologized. I told her that if I had known that no one had checked with her beforehand, the camera would never have been installed.”

“So she was operating on the good-faith belief that she had privacy in her own office, when in fact she did not?”

Rufus uncrosses his legs. He offers a dozen expressions on the stand, none of them happy. “It’s true she didn’t know it was there. And she was upset about it, but she also demanded that the security detail be terminated and that Mr. Ruiz be removed.”

“Well, let me ask you a question, Mr. Rufus: If you had hired a company to provide security at your place of business and they came in and installed a camera in your office without your knowledge, and that camera caught you doing something in what you thought was a moment of privacy, would you not be moved in anger-I say in rage-to remove that firm and all of its employees from your presence?”

Right between the eyes. Rufus, sitting on the stand as if he has been poleaxed, is looking at me wide-eyed. He swallows hard. “I don’t know. I suppose.” It’s the only thing he can say. Nothing else would sound reasonable, and anyone who knew Chapman and the fits of imperious anger that could overtake her knows it.

“Let me ask you, isn’t it a fact that Ms. Chapman fired the head of security at Isotenics immediately after her conversation with you on the telephone that day?”

“I’m not sure of the details,” he says.

“Did she or did she not fire the man?”

“He was discharged.”

“And on that very day, is that not correct?”

“I believe so.”

“And was he not terminated because of his failure to notify Ms. Chapman of the existence of that camera in her office?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Would you like me to show you the declaration, signed under penalty of perjury, obtained from the gentleman in question?” This Herman was able to obtain because Chapman’s former head of security no longer works for the company. He is not covered by Sims’s motion to quash and the restraining order compelling us to stay clear of Isotenics and its employees.

“I’ll take your word for it,” says Rufus.

“I’m not the one testifying,” I tell him, “you are. Now, do you want me to repeat the question, or would you like to answer it?”

“I believe he was fired because of the camera.”

I take a deep breath, slow the pace a little, and cast an eye through my notes on the rostrum to make sure I’m not missing anything.

When I look up, Rufus is sweating, beads of perspiration running down his forehead. He mops it with a handkerchief from the inside pocket of his jacket, then wipes his upper lip with the other side.