The clerk proceeded to do so, placing a Bible before Dan, asking him to place his right hand upon it. “Do you swear to tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“No.”
McGhee snickered and McSheffrey chortled.
“No?” repeated Dana.
“You catch on fast, sweetheart. No.”
Judge Mordecai leaned forward over the bench. “What did he say?”
“He said no, my lord,” responded the clerk, not quite sure what to do next.”
“The part after that. The part after he said he was going to perjure himself. Madam Reporter, please read the ‘sweetheart’ sentence back.” The court reporter promptly did.
“That’s your mulligan, Mr. Alexander. Next time you’re back in cells. Now do you swear to tell the truth?”
“No.”
“Maybe he’s one of those godless guys,” Mordecai said. “See if he will affirm.”
“Yes, my lord.” Turning back toward a smirking Dan Alexander, she attempted version two. “Do you solemnly affirm to tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Damn you’re bright.”
“What did he say this time?” Mordecai was again leaning over the bench.
“He said no again, my lord.”
“Look, Mr. Alexander,” began Judge Mordecai, knowing that this day was going to be a challenge. “Now the defense has called you and you have submitted to the jurisdiction of this court by entering it and seeking to drag a witness off the stand. Now I want you to swear or affirm, or you’re in contempt.”
“Judge,” began Dan, “you are not getting this. I am the director of the Terrorist Threat Integration Center. I travel under a diplomatic passport. You have no jurisdiction over me. Now have the sheriffs take this iron off me, and I will just grab that urchin Turbee over there and George, who seems to be his instigator-in-chief, and Khasha, who apparently is the drug supplier, and we’ll be out of your hair. You have no jurisdiction over me.”
“That’s an interesting theory, Mr. Alexander,” said Judge Mordecai softly. “A theory that has not been accepted by our Court of Appeal. I’m actually a little surprised they got it right for once. Now you are going to take an oath or affirm, or you will go back to cells to consider your position. We would rather just get on with the trial. Now you have some of this city’s most capable lawyers representing you. I think what we’ll do is we’ll adjourn for five minutes while Mr. McPhail and his army of juniors can talk some sense into you. They’re smart lawyers. I am sure they can convince you to loosen your tongue. We are adjourned for five minutes.”
That proved to be the first wrinkle in a heavily wrinkled day. McPhail and four other lawyers surrounded Dan Alexander in the witness box. “You need to do this, Dan. Especially in front of this judge. Plead national security privilege when you must, but don’t do what you’re doing. This judge will toss you into the slammer for a month.”
“Look, gentlemen, I am traveling under a diplomatic passport. You can’t put me on the stand in some lunatic kangaroo courtroom.”
“Dan, for Chrissakes, show some humility here,” McPhail said. “Answer whatever questions you can, and if one comes too close to a national security issue, we will object on that basis. It’s the only reason we have any standing at all in this trial.”
“You show some humility here, punk,” Dan snapped, most unhappy with his new role in life.
“Dan,” came the sharp whisper of a voice from the gallery. “Dan.” It was Houghton, the president’s national security advisor. He motioned for Dan to approach the railing. The sheriffs, after a short conference, permitted this, and Houghton, who had by this time approached the gallery side of the divider, spoke to Dan face-to-face.
“Houghton, what the fuck are you doing here?” Dan’s face registered surprise, and even a hint of uncertainty.
“Dan,” hissed Houghton, “the president’s starting to go down with this. Media is extremely negative back home. There’s talk of impeachment. Criminal charges even. Don’t be an idiot here. Just answer the questions.”
Dan gave Houghton a long, wicked stare. Dan thought about it and after what seemed like hours, he almost imperceptibly nodded his head; McPhail caught it and turned and nodded to the clerk. “We’re ready to go. Bring in His Lordship.”
The scene opener repeated itself. As everyone, including Mordecai, settled in, the clerk placed the Bible under Dan’s right hand. “Do you swear to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“I do,” Dan replied, much to the relief of everyone in the courtroom.
Dana stood up, vibrating like an ancient tractor, bringing a sheaf of notes with her. She began tentatively, softly, pausing between questions—basic, simple questions, like name, address, and occupation. She established that he was the director of TTIC, which had closely monitored the Colorado attack. She established that he had been a key witness in the inquiry chaired by Calvin Jones, an inquiry that examined the roots and execution of the terrorist attack. Then came a long, leading question. “You are aware, aren’t you, that a gentleman by the name of Yousseff Said al-Sabhan was the person who masterminded that terrorist attack on the Colorado—”
“Objection! Leading.” Sheff and his three juniors and McPhail and his juniors were all on their feet.
“That is a tad leading, Ms. Wittenberg. What do you have to say?”
Dana turned and looked at the packed gallery, trying not to think of who all was sitting there. Lee Penn-Garrett, sitting beside her since the attack, tugged at her robes. “Make the application,” he mouthed. She turned to face Judge Mordecai.
“This witness is clearly hostile, m’lord. I would ask for an order that he be declared hostile, and for leave to ask leading questions.” She handed a booklet of law to the court clerk who handed it to Judge Mordecai, who contemplated tossing it into the garbage. He put the booklet to one side without looking at it.
She then handed a written argument to the court, which Judge Mordecai also promptly put aside. She
