17
Seven a.m.
The communications center was even more crowded and noisy than the evening before, radios crackling, keyboards clattering. But in contrast with the chaos of yesterday, everyone in the room seemed paralyzed. Motionless agents stood before a vast array of closed-circuit television monitors that showed intense crowds assembling on various streets around the conference center. Helmeted police officers and military reservists formed a line behind barricades, holding shields and batons, ready to respond if the crowd pushed beyond the checkpoints.
Somber, Rutherford sensed movement behind him and glanced back, frowning toward Cavanaugh and Jamie. His gaze lingered on William.
"Any developments?" Cavanaugh asked, reaching him.
A stranger shifted next to Rutherford. A mustached man of fifty, he had gray hair, the severely short cut of which exposed a crescent of skin above each ear. His tie was rigidly knotted, his suit meticulously pressed, his shoes obsessively shined. Of medium height and weight, with pallid skin suggestive of a career spent at a desk, he wore a white shirt whose style communicated the impression he gave: button-down.
"The demonstrators are getting ready to try to block the streets so the trade ministers can't reach the conference," Rutherford said.
"It starts at nine?" Jamie asked.
"It was supposed to," the severe-faced stranger said.
Cavanaugh studied him, puzzled. "I don't believe we've met."
"This is Deputy Director Mosely." Rutherford subtly emphasized the stranger's title, as if giving Cavanaugh a warning.
"Pleased to meet you." Cavanaugh extended his hand. "This is my wife Jamie, and my name's-"
"You've got plenty of names, I hear." Mosely ignored the offered hand. "I'm surprised you can keep them all straight."
Cavanaugh looked at Rutherford and then back at Mosely. "Is something wrong?"
"You got what you wanted," Mosely said.
Two FBI agents edged toward them.
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"Four hotels needed to be evacuated," Mosely continued. "The ones with the most trade delegates. There wasn't any way to put them in rooms in other hotels in the area. Every place was full. In fact, there weren't enough available hotel rooms within twenty miles. We had to take them to the nearest city: St. Charles. All the confusion forced the WTO to cancel today's meetings."
"They did?" Jamie asked.
"Don't act so surprised," Mosely answered.
Other agents stepped closer.
"Hey," Cavanaugh said, "if the conference got postponed, it's a good thing, right? It gives everybody more time to try to find Carl and stop whatever he's doing."
"Oh, it's a good thing. Definitely," Mosely replied with sarcasm.
Frowning with greater puzzlement, Cavanaugh turned toward Rutherford. "John, on the flight here, you and I talked about how important it was to get this thing canceled, how crazy it was that the WTO wouldn't allow itself to appear to give in to the demonstrators. Now the trade ministers did what we hoped they would. A lot of lives have probably been saved."
"Oh, I'm all for saving lives." Mosely stood more rigidly. "But when you couldn't convince the WTO to change its mind, do you think it was right to change their minds for them?"
"You're not making sense," Jamie said.
"Who's this man?" Mosely pointed toward William.
"My attorney," Cavanaugh answered.
"You suspected you'd need one?"
"William has one of the most attentive, logical minds I've ever come across. I thought it would be a good idea to include him. Maybe he'll notice something we haven't thought of."
"Well, he's definitely going to come in handy," Mosely emphasized.
On the various TV monitors, the crowd kept getting larger.
"Wait'll they find out the conference isn't happening today," someone said.
Mosely pointed toward a door. "We need to talk," he told Cavanaugh. "You too," he told Jamie. He looked at William. "And by all means, you're invited, counselor."
18
The door led to an office that was bare except for a metal table and chair. Two FBI agents joined the group. In the cramped quarters, everyone remained standing.
Although Rutherford shut the door, Mosely still had to raise his voice to be heard above the noise outside. "You were seen entering all four hotels."
"Of course," Jamie said. "We visited trade ministers in those hotels, trying to persuade them to cancel the conference. We identified ourselves to security personnel."
"Someone went to the bottom of the elevator shafts and put smoke bombs in them," Mosely told her. "Someone went to the roofs, opened the air-condition vents, and put tear-gas grenades inside. Spray paint disabled the lenses on the security cameras in those areas."
"That makes sense," Jamie concluded. "That's the way I'd have done it."
"Which begs the question," Mosely said.
"Wait a minute. Are you suggesting I did it?" Jamie sounded indignant.
Cavanaugh looked at Rutherford. "What's going on here, John?"
"Sorry. I'm afraid it's out of my hands."
William stepped forward. "Before this conversation goes any further, are you arresting my clients for what happened at those hotels?"
"Counselor-" Mosely put rancor into the title. "-I invited you to listen, but I don't believe you're licensed to practice law in the state of Louisiana."
"That doesn't mean I can't act as a concerned knowledgeable friend." William pulled out his cell phone. "But if you want to put this on an absolutely legal basis, I'll make a call to my good friend, Lester Beauchamp. He and I went to Harvard together. He's also my brother-in-law and the former assistant attorney general for the state of Louisiana, not to mention the most respected defense attorney in New Orleans. I'm sure he'll be more than happy to represent my clients."
"Let's be clear, counselor. Are you advising your 'friends' not to answer my questions?"
"If you're arresting them, I'm advising you to read them their rights."
"We don't have anything to hide," Jamie insisted.
"A man and a woman matching your description were seen in the area of the elevator shafts and the roofs just before the incidents happened," Mosely said. "Your height, your build, your clothes."
"Where are your witnesses?" William challenged.
"They worked the night shift at the various hotels."
"That doesn't answer the question. The witnesses are where? My friends are more than willing to stand in a lineup and be identified-or not be identified, which is what's going to happen."
Mosely's gaze almost faltered. "We haven't been able to contact them this morning."
"Perhaps because they're drug addicts semiconscious from illegal substances," William continued. "Until you find these so-called witnesses and prove their reliability, these accusations are hearsay and possibly slander."
"I was speaking with the Japanese trade minister when the smoke and the tear gas went off in his hotel," Cavanaugh said. "How could I have been in two places at one time?"
"Did I neglect to mention that the detonation devices were on timers?" Mosely asked.
"And where are we supposed to have gotten all that stuff?"
"Your file emphasizes how resourceful you are. You have an obsession with being close to what you call 'bug-out bags' that have all sorts of equipment in them. Your wife carries a specialty knife that has numerous tools in the handle. She wouldn't have had any trouble opening the air-conditioning ducts. For all I know, your corporate jet is loaded with other equipment you needed."
"Then search the jet," Cavanaugh told him.
"But not before you get a warrant," William pointed out.
Mosely's eyes flared. "You present yourselves as such ethical people, so concerned about protecting your clients. You claim you're the edge between right and wrong. Then you show how irresponsible you are by putting all those trade ministers at risk. Thanks to your stunt, one of them broke his leg. Another had a heart attack. Two cars rammed into emergency vehicles speeding toward the hotels."