William Bernhardt - Dark Justice

“No, you’re confusing anger with bitterness. I am angry-I think he’s a dangerous, unreliable person, and I think he caused considerable damage to the animal rights cause. But I’m not bitter because he didn’t sleep with me anymore. I didn’t want him to sleep with me anymore.”

“Still, how can we be sure your testimony isn’t motivated by … well …”

“Look, if you’re trying to suggest I just made all this up to get back at him, forget it. I was asked by the prosecutor’s office to tell what I know, so I have. But I’ve got no axe to grind. Frankly, until they called me, I hadn’t thought about Zak for years.”

Ben could see he was getting nowhere with her, and his cross-ex quiver was empty. He hated to end on such an unproductive note, but there was nothing else to ask her about. “No more questions.”

As he took his seat, Ben tried to console himself. She had established that Zak knew how to make a bomb, that he had done it in the past. And that he was “dangerous.” But she hadn’t known anything about the present case. She certainly hadn’t established that he made this bomb, the one that killed Dwayne Gardiner.

Which was true-Julie Cummings hadn’t. But the next witness would.

“The State calls Leonard Cokey to the stand.”

There were some witnesses, Ben mused, you could dress up and make presentable for court, and some witnesses you might as well not waste time trying. Leonard (Ben would be willing to bet he was normally called Lenny) fell into the latter category. Ben had rarely seen anyone who looked more miserable in a suit and tie. His face was nicked in half a dozen places; probably his first shave in weeks, Ben guessed. His sleeves and pant legs were too short; Granny probably found the suit for him in a secondhand store. Even as the bailiff administered the oath, Cokey tugged at his collar like it was strangling him.

“What do you do for a living, Mr. Cokey?” Granny asked.

He squirmed uncomfortably. “I’m a freelance wholesaler.”

Uh-huh, Ben thought. Translation: thief.

“Could you tell us what you were doing on the night of July eleventh?”

“Uh, yeah. I was over at Georgie’s. That’s the pawnshop over on McKinley.”

“And why were you there?”

“I’ve been a bit strapped this month so, uh … I was hocking my TVs.”

Yeah, right, Ben thought. Translation: delivering stolen goods.

“Was there anyone else in the store?” Granny continued.

“Oh sure, sure.” Cokey didn’t seem able to sit still. He kept shifting positions, sitting on his hands. “Georgie was working the bar in the back.”

“The bar in the back? What goes on there?”

“Well …” Cokey craned his neck awkwardly. “That’s where he keeps the handguns but it’s also my understanding that some illegal goods are sold there. From time to time. Of course I wouldn’t know myself from personal experience.”

Ben had had about as much of this shuffle-ball-change routine as he could take. Why didn’t Granny just give the man immunity so he could tell what he knew without all this nonsense?

“Was there anyone else present in the pawnshop?”

“Yeah. Him.” Cokey pointed across the courtroom. “The defendant.”

The jury turned to check Zak, frowns plastered on many faces. What was an upright young conservationist doing in that den of iniquity?

“And where was he?”

“He was at the back bar, doing business with Georgie.”

Granny nodded. “And do you have any idea what business was being transacted?”

“Well, it’s not like I was eavesdroppin’ or anythin’.”

Of course not, Ben thought. Perish the thought.

“But I had to talk to Georgie, see? So I was waiting around. And I couldn’t help hearing what they were talkin’ about.”

“And what were they talkin’ about?”

“Bombs. Big bombs.”

The people in the gallery held their collective breaths.

“What specifically were they discussing?”

Cokey leaned forward, his hands still pressed beneath his legs. “Georgie was supplying chemicals, see? I don’t remember the names, but according to Georgie, if you mixed them together and ignited them-boom!” He threw his hands up in the air.

“And did the defendant receive these chemicals?”

“Oh, yeah. Paid big bucks for them.”

“And you saw this with your own eyes?”

“I did. I swear. On my mother’s grave.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary. Do you know what the defendant planned to do with the chemicals?”

Cokey nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah. Heard enough to know the stuff was for a bomb.”

“Did you hear any discussion of the intended target?”

“Yeah. I heard-”

“Objection,” Ben said. “Calls for hearsay.”

Granny was obviously expecting this one. “Your honor, the hearsay from this Georgie person is being admitted not to prove the truth of the matter asserted, but to put later statements by the defendant in context. And of course the statements from the defendant, being statements against interest by the accused, constitute a hearsay exception.”

“The objection is overruled,” Pickens declared. “Please proceed.”

Cokey leaned toward the jury box. “What I heard was, Georgie asks him, ‘You got plans for this?’ And the other guy, the defendant, he just looks at Georgie real cold-like and says, ‘Yeah. Big plans.’ ”

“Big plans?” Granny parroted. “And this was just two days before the explosion that took Dwayne Gardiner’s life?”

“Yeah. And that ain’t all. Georgie asks him what these big plans are, see?”

“And did Mr. Zakin reply?”

“Oh yeah. He gets all coy and sly-actin’, and he says, ‘I’m going to teach a logger a lesson he’ll never forget.’ ”

The rumble through the courtroom was audible. People turned and stared, eyes widened, across the courtroom. Every eye was focused on Zak. For the first time, they’d heard evidence that portrayed him as not only a bomber, but a bomber with malice. A bomber with a particular target in mind.

“That’s not what I said,” Zak whispered in Ben’s ear. “That stupid weasel got it wrong. What I said was ‘I’m going to teach some loggers a lesson they’ll never forget.’ ”

“Oh, swell,” Ben whispered back. “That’s much better.” He turned and looked at Zak coldly. “You planted that bomb, didn’t you?”

“I was striking a blow for the cause, taking out some machinery. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I specifically set the thing to detonate in the middle of the night, when there was no chance anyone would be on it.”

“Except that someone was.”

“But the bomb I planted wasn’t in that clearing. It wasn’t on that tree cutter. It was somewhere else, in the Crescent Basin old-growth region. And it was set to go off at three, not one.”

“That’s not going to make any difference to the jury,” Ben shot back.

“Mr. Kincaid!”

Ben looked up abruptly. The Time Machine was trying to get his attention.

“Do you wish to cross-examine or not?”

Oops. He wondered how many calls he had missed while he and Zak were gabbing. “I’ll cross.”

Although, as he made his way to the podium, he wondered why. Cokey might be a total sleaze, but his testimony about seeing Zak buy bomb parts appeared to be essentially accurate. And Ben had a hard time getting his heart into a defense for a man who would set a bomb that-

He focused on the witness, clearing his head. He had an obligation to his client, and he had to fulfill it. Zak hadn’t intended to kill anyone.

At least as far as Ben knew. But it was becoming abundantly clear that his client had not told him the whole truth.