Dan took a second to compose himself and spotted Turbee, who appeared terrified, slipping lower in the witness stand. “You,” he said, pointing. “You are coming with me now. Arrest him,” he said, turning to his two Marines.
The Marines appeared a little unsure of themselves when the large RCMP officer and several sheriffs stepped between the witness box and Dan. “Sir,” said the sergeant, “you are intimidating a witness. That is a crime under our criminal code. Now leave this courtroom during the morning adjournment and we will lock it up for fifteen minutes. Mr. Turbee, you can stay here while we escort these gentlemen out.”
“Don’t you be threatening my witness,” said Dana, who was standing beside Turbee.
Dan salaciously eyed her up and down, as though she were an aperitif.
“And don’t be a pig. Sheriffs, can you escort this pervert out of the courtroom please?” With that, a furious Dan and his entourage were shooed up the stairs and out of the courtroom. One of the sheriffs was on the radio. “Jimmy, send another half dozen sheriffs to 401. We have a situation developing.”
The clerk had to bellow “Order in the court” twice. Sheff and Archambault were asking Dan intense, whispered questions. Penn-Garrett was consulting with Dana and was pointing out cases in the Annotated Criminal Code and a second volume, Criminal Evidence. Judge Mordecai had to bang his gavel (the clerk now had a supply) several times, and after a further, unsuccessful “Order in the court,” he stood up and yelled.
“Will everyone please shut the hell up? We have half a dozen things going on at once here. Now you, Mr. Alexander, sit down in the gallery. I’m sure the sheriffs will find you a chair. Now where were we?”
Lee Penn-Garrett rolled out of the counsel area and back into the gallery. The court clerk threw the green flag on a contest that would be as tumultuous as the last three laps at Daytona—anyone could wreck at any time. In fact, it was typical for most of the field to wreck before the winner, threading through haze and smoke and flame, bashed and battered, crossed the finish line.
Dana gave the prosecutors a hard bump. “M’lord, I want to put Mr. Daniel Alexander the Third on notice that I intend to call him as a witness.”
“What?” Mordecai’s spectacles dropped to the tip of nose, and he eyed Dana as though she were a spider under a magnifying glass. “You want to place the American director of TTIC on the stand?”
“No way, Judge,” Dan protested. “I have a diplomatic passport. I have immunity. Diplomatic immunity.” Dan was edgy. The chemical stimulants he had taken as his plane was landing were beginning to wear off.
While the argument was raging, the sat phone Dan was carrying rang. He looked at the phone screen. “Excuse me for just a minute, Judge. I need to take an important call. It’s the president of the United States—”
“Seriously, Mr. Alexander? You march into my courtroom, in the middle of a jury trial, intimidate a witness, and then you ask us all to wait while you take some call? Is that correct?”
Dan completely ignored Judge Mordecai.
“Fine, then,” said the judge. “Sheriffs, please take that cell phone from this impertinent individual and hand it over to Madam Clerk.”
After a bit of a scuffle, this was accomplished. “Madam Clerk, please mark that cell phone as the next exhibit and put it in an exhibit bag, please. What exhibit number were we at?”
“Exhibit 71, my lord.”
“Hey, you can’t do that. That telephone contains highly sensitive national security information. Give it back,” Dan said.
“I can’t do that, I’m afraid,” said Judge Mordecai.
“Why not?”
“It’s an exhibit in a trial. This trial. And the rules of court stipulate that an application is required to return it to you.”
“An application to who?”
“To the trial judge, of course.” The corners of Judge Mordecai’s mouth turned up slightly. His eyes twinkled.
“Would that not be you?”
“Mr. Daniel Alexander, now I see why you are the director of a government agency. That is an absolutely brilliant deduction.”
“Then I apply to have my phone returned to me.”
“Application denied. Now please keep quiet while we are having a discussion as to whether or not I can make you testify.”
“But my phone—”
“The trial judge has ruled. If you don’t like that ruling, well, you’ve got a bunch of lawyers with you, and I’m sure Mr. McPhail is still around here somewhere. You can always appeal that order. They’re a couple of terraces up and to the left. They’re off-kilter most of the time, but you and your attorneys can give that a shot. Now please be silent while Ms. Wittenberg, Mr.
McSheffrey, and I are having a discussion.”
“Screw this. I’m leaving and taking this puke kid here with me to Leavenworth.” Dan opened the gate and moved menacingly toward the witness box. Turbee saw him coming and ducked down below the rim.
“Sheriffs, do your duty,” the judge bellowed. Three of them grabbed the director and pushed him back into the public gallery. “I can impound your phone and I can also impound you, sir, and that option is starting to look rather attractive.”
“I am not subject to any order of this court,” Dan bellowed.
“That is the gist of my argument, m’lord. He is,” said Dana.
“What is the nature of the evidence you wish to extract from Mr. Alexander?”
“He testified at the inquiry into the Glen Canyon Dam attack. He knows that Yousseff Said al-Sabhan is the key man, and he deliberately covered that up. He knows that Leon Lestage only played a bit role and had nothing to do with the terrorist attack.”
The viewing audience was growing exponentially. CNN caught it almost immediately, referring to it as “breaking news.” The president, who had attempted to call Dan and tell him to shut up, was advised within seconds.
“So you say
