MP thanked him and walked away. Petri sat quietly and looked at Alex. Alex looked back, nodding his head, a silent acknowledgment to an old countryman who had refound his conscience.
When offered the chance to cross-examine, Caldwell passed. He knew next to nothing about Petri Arbatov. What he did know was that the man was a legal minefield, and further questioning would only reinforce the damage.
Besides, the damage wasn't really that bad. Tromble looked like a mean horse's ass; like that was news to anybody. And maybe he lied a little on the stand. But that was Tromble's problem, not Caldwell's.
Frankly, the more he thought about it, Caldwell was quite pleased. There was room for only one ego on this side of the case-one shining exemplar of truth and justice-and this skinny, tired little Russian just blew Tromble right out of the saddle.
When time came for the summary, Caldwell would strongly note how the Russian "expert" had offered an opinion-not a fact, but a baseless opinion pulled out of thin air after concluding the case was, in his own words, too perfect. And he was heavily outnumbered. The word of a self-confessed framer of innocent men against that of the entire Russian government; a reformed, democratic government, he would stipulate quite loudly, not the corrupt old dictatorship this Petri Arbatov had sent people to the gallows for.
The little Russian was released and he nearly bounced out of his chair. He and Volevodz exchanged hateful looks as Petri passed up the aisle. MP announced that he had no more witnesses.
MP remained standing, though. He looked at the judge and asked, "Could we have a moment, Your Honor?"
"Take all the time you need," Willis replied, strongly intimating that time was not on his side.
Alex stood, too, then Matt, and for a moment they gathered in a tight triangle and conferred in tense whispers.
"What do you think?" Alex asked MP.
"We're in trouble. Big trouble," MP told him bluntly. "Kim was our star witness. But Caldwell blocked us from unloading her most damaging testimony."
"You don't think Petri repaired that?" Alex asked, searching their faces.
Matt, the pro with years of big-time criminal experience answered for both lawyers. "Caldwell will cream him in his closing. I certainly would. The opinion of a man who admitted framing people against the word of an entire government. The issue is credence, Alex."
MP nodded at this candid observation. "That's exactly what he'll do. If I try to counter it in my closing, it'll only sound defensive."
"Then let's go with it," Alex stated very firmly.
MP and Matt exchanged looks. Both had badly hoped to avoid Alex's proposal. Legally speaking, it was fraught with difficulties. After a moment, Matt mentioned to MP, "He hides it well, but I think the judge is sympathetic."
MP nodded. Not enthusiastically, but nonetheless it was a nod.
Alex said to both of them, "It's all or nothing. Bluff, and do your best."
"I hope you're the lucky type," Matt replied, clearly believing this was crazy.
"He wouldn't be here if he was lucky," MP replied dryly.
Alex and Matt fell into their seats. MP remained standing. Finally, he announced somewhat hesitantly, "I'd like to submit a little evidence."
Matt handed him a tape player, a compact Bose system with small but thunderously powerful speakers. Alex arranged the system on his table, carefully directing the speakers toward the prosecutor's table, while the bailiff strung an extension cord and plugged it in. Next Matt handed Alex a tray loaded with about twenty cassettes. Alex noodled through the tapes and finally settled on one that he carefully withdrew. MP took it and inserted it neatly into the recorder. Alex's finger hovered over the start button as MP said, "This is a phone call to Miss Tatyana Lukin, special assistant to the Kremlin chief of staff. She's a lawyer who also serves as legal advisor to Boris Yeltsin." Alex stabbed play.
First, the sound of a ringing telephone.
"What? Who is this?" A woman's voice in Russian, and the annoyed tone came across loud and clear.
"Please hold for the director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation." A female voice, bored, in English.
"Hello, Tatyana. Heard the news about your boy Konevitch? Made a big splash in the news on this side of the water."
"How did you get my home number?"
"When I couldn't get you at the office, my boys in the embassy tracked it down."
"All right. Yes, I see that you've got him in jail. Why haven't you just shipped him here?"
"It's complicated. Not as easy as I thought. Listen, I need a big favor."
"John, you promised me Konevitch."
"Well, just listen. Some of these judges here are pigheaded. I need you to cook up a case for me."
"Why?"
"Because I can't just throw his ass on a plane. Look, Tatyana, I really don't care about the details. Understand? Come on, your guys are supposed to be real good at this sort of thing."
"What sort of thing is that, John?"
A long silence. "Look, give me whatever you like, just be damned sure it sounds convincing."
"Is this absolutely necessary?"
"Probably not. He goes back to court in a week. No way in hell he won't be deported. But the judge might act crazily. Call it a precaution, insurance."
Caldwell finally came to his senses and, doing something he should've done a minute before, yelled, "Objection, objection."
Alex reached over and cranked the volume up full blast until it drowned out Caldwell's voice. The voices on the tape howled out of the speakers and filled the courtroom.
"You can keep him in jail, can't you? A lot of powerful people here are opposed to letting you keep the FBI outpost in your embassy. I'm doing my best, but, John, it's a real uphill battle. Such a clear lack of mutual cooperation won't go over well."
An unintelligible mumble from Tromble before she cut him off. "President Yeltsin asked me about this case just yesterday. He keeps asking if he needs to discuss it with your president."
"Hey, we'll find a way. I don't care if I have to bribe the judge or kill his wife. I'll find a way."
Caldwell was now on his feet, screaming "Objection!" at the top of his voice.
Alex pushed stop. The tape finally went quiet, though it seemed to echo for a long moment. He glanced around and studied the faces in the court.
Tromble was melting into this chair. Every eye in the court was on him.
Directly to his front, Caldwell spent a long moment in terrified confusion. Eventually he repeated, an octave higher but more quietly this time, "Objection, Your Honor."
"Sidebar," the judge replied and scrambled off his bench. Again Matt accompanied MP, and this time he added Alex to his entourage. Again one of the Justice boys accompanied Caldwell, who arrived red-faced and furious.
"Lawyer's meeting," Caldwell snapped, directing a finger at Alex. "He has no business here."
"His presence is necessary to establish the provenance of the tapes," MP answered very nicely. "This is a hearing, not a trial. What do you say, Your Honor?"
"That might be a good idea," Willis answered, still a little shocked by what he had heard.
"That's clearly an illegal, inadmissible tape," Caldwell snapped, at the judge, at MP, at anybody in earshot.
"To the contrary," MP argued in a voice dripping with phony confidence, "it's legal and quite admissible."
"Was it taped with the consent of the conversants?" Caldwell demanded.
"That's American law," MP replied with a smug smile, trying to bluff his way through.