“I can’t, Vanessa. I just explained why I have to step down from your case and Carl’s case. Tell Janet Massengill your plan. She can do anything I can do, and better.”
Vanessa looked up. Her features looked set in stone, and her eyes blazed with insane determination.
“You are my only hope, Ami, and you are not going to desert Carl or me.”
“Vanessa…”
“I’ll tell the police that you helped us escape.”
Ami’s jaw dropped, and she flushed with anger. “I’d be ruined,” she said. “I’d be arrested and disbarred.”
“I didn’t want it to come to this, but I have no choice. I must stop my father. I can’t let him become the president of the United States. He has to pay for what he’s done to me and Carl.”
“Please, don’t do this, Vanessa. I’ve only tried to help you. I’ve never done anything to hurt you. Why would you want to hurt me and my son?”
“I don’t want to hurt you or Ryan, but I will if I have to. Remember one thing, Ami. I am my father’s child, and I can be just as ruthless as he is if I have to.”
“What do you want me to do?” Ami asked, hoping that she would find a flaw in Vanessa’s plan that would persuade Vanessa to drop it and let her go.
“Write down this number. It’s for Victor Hobson’s cell phone. Arrange a meeting. If I’m right, there is proof that the Unit existed and he can help me prove it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The guard ushered Ami, Brendan Kirkpatrick, and Victor Hobson into the visiting room and closed the door behind them. Vanessa was already seated at a table with three extra chairs.
“You know Mr. Hobson,” Ami said. “This is Brendan Kirkpatrick. He’s prosecuting you. I want to make sure you understand that.”
“I have no illusions about Mr. Kirkpatrick’s interest in me.”
“Good,” the prosecutor said as he placed a tape recorder on the table. “I’m going to insist on recording everything that goes on here.”
“I expected that,” Vanessa answered.
While the prosecutor played with the tape recorder, Victor Hobson sat across from the prisoner.
“It’s been a long time,” he said.
“Almost twenty years.”
“Sorry we have to meet again under these circumstances.”
“You and me both,” Vanessa answered with a wry smile. “But you’re going to help me change my circumstances.”
Brendan spoke into the tape recorder, stating the date, explaining where the recording was taking place, and giving the name of everyone present.
“Look, Vanessa, I’ve got to say this before we go any further,” Victor Hobson said as soon as Kirkpatrick’s introductory remarks were finished. “I’m with the FBI, which means that I’m a law enforcement officer. So is Brendan. Our job is to put you in prison.”
“No, Victor, your job is to get the bad guys. That’s not Carl or me. My father is the bad guy here and I’m going to help you get him.”
Brendan Kirkpatrick shook his head. “I don’t like this. I’m here only because of Mrs. Vergano, who should not be representing you.”
“I’ve waived any conflict in writing.”
“She showed me the paper,” Brendan said. “I still think you’re making a huge mistake. You realize that I will definitely use any incriminating statements you make to convict you, and I’ll call Mr. Hobson and your attorney as witnesses to everything you say, if that becomes necessary?”
“Yes.”
“If I call Mrs. Vergano as a witness she will definitely not be able to represent you anymore.”
“I know that, but I’m hoping it won’t be necessary.” Vanessa leaned forward and focused on Kirkpatrick. “My bail hearing is next week…”
“And I’m opposing your motion. I want to be up front with you, Miss Kohler. I regard you and Mr. Rice as dangerous criminals. Not only am I going to oppose bail, but there are very few concessions that I can make if you’re thinking about plea negotiations.”
“Would you still feel that way if I could prove that my father ran a secret army unit during and after Vietnam that committed any number of illegal acts in the United States, including murdering Congressman Eric Glass on my father’s orders?”
Kirkpatrick sighed. “I’ve read your statements to the California authorities, and Mr. Hobson has told me about your book. I find your charges against General Wingate incredible and totally unsubstantiated. And even if they were true, how would that change the fact that you broke Rice out of jail at gunpoint? I think we should end this meeting before you say something that makes your situation even worse than it is.”
“My father is an unprincipled killer. Do you want a man like that running this country?”
“Of course not-if he is an unprincipled killer,” Kirkpatrick answered, “but you can’t prove your accusations, and I would not consider anything you or Carl Rice said without independent corroboration.”
Vanessa looked at Victor Hobson. “Well, there might be corroboration, and you might be able to get it, Victor. If you find it, we can use my bail hearing to get my father. We can call him as a witness and put him under oath.”
“What are we talking about here?” Hobson asked.
“I think we should cut this short now,” Kirkpatrick said.
“Let’s hear what Vanessa has to say.”
Kirkpatrick looked surprised, and Vanessa almost sobbed with relief when she realized that the FBI man was going to listen to her.
“Patrick Gorman, my boss at Exposed visited me when I was in jail in San Diego. We were joking around about the jail food, and I told him that I couldn’t afford much better with what he paid me.”
“What does jail food have to do with proving that your father was in charge of a team of assassins?” Kirkpatrick asked.
“Let me tell you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The Multnomah County courthouse occupies an entire block across from Lownsdale Park in downtown Portland. Built in 1914, the gray concrete and riveted-steel building contrasts sharply with the modern architecture of the Justice Center on the other side of the park and promises uncompromising justice to those who break the law.
A small jail on the seventh floor of the courthouse houses prisoners who are making court appearances. The elevator that transports them from the jail stopped in an alcove in the back of the courthouse on the Fifth Avenue side. Judge Ruben Velasco’s courtroom, where Vanessa’s bail hearing was going to be held, was in the front of the courthouse on the Fourth Avenue side.
Ami was wearing a tasteful strand of pearls and was dressed in a black pantsuit and a white silk blouse, one of her few decent outfits and the outfit she always wore to important court appearances. Vanessa was wearing a severe gray suit that Ami had purchased for her. If it were not for the handcuffs, she would have been mistaken for part of the defense team. Ami walked a few steps behind the guards who escorted Vanessa out of the jail elevator when it opened on the fifth floor. As soon as they stepped into the corridor a mob raced toward them.
“Keep moving forward and don’t answer any questions,” Ami instructed as the reporters and television cameras converged on them. The sheriff’s deputies plowed through the shouting crowd. Ami shielded her eyes from the glare of the television lights as she followed behind the guards.
“Were you and Carl Rice lovers?”
“Why do you hate your father?”
“Are you going to vote for President Jennings in the primary?”
The questions thundered toward her like a stampeding herd, but Vanessa did not flinch from the onslaught. Where Ami shunned the attention of the media, Vanessa welcomed it as a chance to get her message about her father to the public. She squared her shoulders and stared back at the journalists.
“My father is a murderer,” Vanessa shouted, ignoring Ami’s advice. “He should be in jail, not the White House.”
Ami was concerned that Vanessa’s statements to the press might be used against her, but that didn’t concern Vanessa. She knew that she’d spend years behind bars if Victor Hobson didn’t come through for her. She wasn’t afraid. She had survived the asylum by believing in herself, and she would survive prison. She had nothing to lose, anyway. If Hobson failed, she was no worse off than she’d been the minute she surrendered to the police. But Hobson might find her proof. If he did, her father would be destroyed. If that happened, she was willing to face the consequences of breaking Carl out of jail.