everybody in Moscow, the same way farmers in Kansas feel about people in Washington. We fertilized that impression every time Alexi brought it up. It was the central motif of his treatment.”
I nodded, because at least on this point, Mary and her husband seemed to be in agreement. Plus, the time had come to break the bad news.
I leaned back in my chair, knowing what was coming. I said to him, “The prosecution wants to offer a deal. We’ve agreed to meet with Golden tomorrow morning.”
“What kind of deal?”
“We don’t know the details yet. We suspect they’ll offer to waive the death sentence in return for a guilty plea at the pre-trial hearing.”
He chuckled. “That’s fuckin’ crazy. I’m not going to plead guilty.”
I didn’t chuckle with him. “It will probably be a one-time shot. Once the offer’s withdrawn we’ll never get it back.”
“What are you saying?”
“We’ve found nothing that exonerates you. To the contrary, every rock we’ve turned over just looks worse for you. And we believe Golden is still sitting on his most persuasive evidence.”
He was shaking his head. “So what? Because you and this bitch here are incompetent, you expect me to plead guilty? Is that what you’re saying?”
I bit down hard on my cheek. “What I’m saying is, it doesn’t look good at the moment, and if we turn down the deal there’s no going back.”
His whole demeanor suddenly changed. His face turned instantly suspicious. “You’re not working this with Mary, are you? What’s going on here? Have you and that bitch cooked up some kind of deal?”
I knew he was emotionally distraught and was lashing out. I also knew how much enjoyment it would give me to reach across the table and snap his neck. Of course, I’m a professional. We compartmentalize, right?
I mustered up my calmest, coldest voice. “My loyalty belongs to you. If I thought Mary had something to do with this, I’d go after her with everything I’ve got. I’ll be back once I’ve heard their offer. It’ll be your choice. If you don’t trust me, then replace me.”
I spun around and left. Katrina remained behind for a few minutes, I think to try to smooth things over. When she finally joined me out in the parking lot she looked a bit shaken. She said, “He was upset. He’s convinced his wife’s framing him. And he’s frustrated that we haven’t made any headway.”
“And he’s an asshole. It would serve him right if she did frame him, but the whole idea’s ridiculous.”
“I suppose,” she said, an answer notable only for the assertion that she neither agreed nor disagreed.
Then came an awkward moment. Gentleman that I am, I decided to be graceful about this. “Listen, I’m sorry about Alexi. Remember, just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean you’re not a nice guy.”
“Paranoid, my ass,” Katrina replied, predictably, of course.
“Look, it isn’t just Morrison saying so. I talked to Mary last night. She said the Agency headshrinks pinned him for a bona fide nut right from the start. She said that was the vulnerability they exploited since that first meeting, that the Agency even put together a few ruses to feed his fears.”
It was that “nut” word, I think. Perhaps I should’ve used something more clinical.
Her whole expression changed. “Don’t you ever use that word about Alexi. They’re full of shit.”
“Look, I… well, everybody’s afraid of something. Alexi’s fears are just, well, I guess, a little bigger than everybody else’s.”
She stuck her middle finger in my face. I stared at it for about twenty seconds, till she put it down. We walked back to the office, neither of us saying a word, neither of us liking the other very much.
One of Imelda’s girls handed me a note when I came in. Lieutenant Colonel Charlie Becker’s name and phone number were written on it-the same Charlie who’d gotten me the files on Arbatov and Yurichenko.
I grabbed the phone and dialed the number. Charlie answered on the third ring, and I said, “Charlie, it’s your favorite JAG officer.”
“I don’t have any favorite JAG officers. I believe they should all be put on a big ship, floated out to the Arctic Ocean, and somebody should torpedo the boat.”
“Do they at least get life vests?”
“Good idea. They’ll all slowly freeze to death. We’ll get it all filmed on satellite, and on dull days I’ll sit around and eat popcorn and watch all the lawyers die.”
“Wouldn’t work, Charlie. Lawyers have ice in their veins.”
“Bullshit. You’re all full of hot air. Listen, you asked me about Viktor Yurichenko.”
“Yeah, thanks for the packet.”
“No problem. The thing is, Yurichenko’s coming to America. He’s supposed to meet with the new CIA director. He always likes to do that.”
“When?”
“Arrives tonight. He’s supposed to stay through tomorrow and fly back to Moscow tomorrow night.”
“He staying in Washington?”
“This is the part I’m not supposed to tell you about, on penalty of death. He’s booked at the Hay-Adams Hotel, and for security reasons, he’s traveling and staying under the name A. Ames.”
“No shit?”
“Viktor’s got a real keen sense of humor that way. Last time he came, he used the pseudonym Rosenberg, if you can believe it.”
“Buddy, I do owe you.”
“You’re right. You do.”
I hung up, informed Katrina, and then I called Imelda, who was still back in the Virginia office, and informed her also, before I asked if it was possible to rearrange our tickets in the event we decided to come back to D.C.
Imelda immediately snapped, “Get your asses to the airport right now. I’ll handle them tickets.”
“Well, I haven’t made up my mind yet,” I said.
“He’s a witness, right?”
“Well, he obviously knew all about it. He’s in charge of all external intelligence operations. Morrison’s material would’ve gone to his agency.”
“So drop a subpoena on his ass.”
I looked over at Katrina. “Imelda says to slap him with a subpoena.”
She shrugged. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
I said to both of them, “He’s surely traveling with a diplomatic passport and thus is invulnerable to our laws. Not to mention, no judge is going to allow us to slap a subpoena on the head of Russia’s intelligence agency.”
To which Imelda said, “You think I didn’t think of that? Serve papers on Ames. This guy Yurichenko checks in under an alias, you got the right to nail him. Besides, you ain’t arrestin’ him, but requestin’ his presence as a witness. Draw up the papers and find the right judge.”
I said, “Have the papers prepared before we get back.”
It was a wild outside shot, but the game was winding down and I’d shoot from the bleachers at this point.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Every decent lawyer knows a judge or two who’s willing to bend the rules a bit. Maybe they’re lenient by nature, or they’re sloppy and you know you can slip one past them, or they know you and feel sympathy for your plight.
I happen to be the one lawyer who doesn’t know anyone like that. What I did know was a world-class drunk named Colonel Andrew Cleaver, who by six o’clock every evening could be found at the Fort Myer officers’ club bar, guppered to the gills. He was a sly devil who brought bottled-water containers filled with gin and then spent the evening ordering tonic water. He mixed his own under the table, thinking nobody knew, but everyone did know, because lawyers watch judges like hawks and trade rumors like old ladies in a knitting club.
