“It’s newly discovered evidence,” I replied. “As soon as we learned it, we told the prosecution.”
The judge removed his glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief. “If I let every litigant create a brand-new case on the eve of trial-”
“This isn’t every litigant,” I said, interrupting the judge. “This isn’t every case.”
He let my interruption go without comment, which was an even worse sign, because it meant he was definitely planning to rule against me and was cutting me some slack.
“Judge, I realize that the lawyer before me pleaded insanity and I was planning to do the same. But we’ve come up with evidence that goes well beyond a wild-goose chase. If you give me a week, I’ll probably be able to prove everything I’m alleging. Just give me a week.”
“No, Counsel. If you come up with something in a week or a month or a year, you can bring a post-trial petition. But we’re not stopping this trial.”
“Judge-”
“We’re done. I’ll give you until tomorrow, Mr. Kolarich, to call a witness or we’ll just go to summations. All right, everyone? December seventh, nine A. M., Ms. Kotowski, I’ll expect you to be prepared to close first thing in the morning if the defense rests.”
I shook my head and looked at Shauna. We both knew this was a possible outcome. The judge was wrong, but he wasn’t going to change his mind. I stood up and stared at Judge Nash, who was already reviewing other papers on another case. I looked over his head again at the certificate of honorable discharge from the Marines. Next to that certificate was a photo of the judge in military attire, shaking hands with our city’s mayor, Mayor Champion, himself a former Marine who never missed a chance to honor the military, who even held parades and memorials on anniversaries that other cities and states had long ago stopped celebrating, like D-day and Oh my God.
And Pearl Harbor Day.
“Judge,” I said, “I understand your ruling, but could I ask for an additional twenty-four hours? If I could just have until Wednesday.”
The judge’s face scrunched up the way it always did when he was annoyed by something.
“Counsel-”
“Just one more day, Your Honor. That’s all I ask. I won’t request any additional time.”
The judge looked at Wendy, but he wasn’t seeking her guidance. He was probably thinking, after the different ways he’d screwed me, it would look good to the appellate court that he gave me that extra day when I asked.
“Good enough,” he said. “Wednesday, December eighth, at nine A. M. We will reconvene at that time, and there will be no further continuances.”
With that, the judge ordered us out of chambers. It had been a bad appearance for our case but adrenaline was surging through me regardless. I had tomorrow open. And something told me I’d need it.
Because tomorrow was December 7. Tomorrow was Pearl Harbor Day.
91
“Kolarich, calm down,” said Lee Tucker over the phone.
“Did you hear what I said, Lee? Tomorrow is-”
“I got it, I got it. Listen, we need to meet.”
We worked out the details and I hung up. I conferred in the courtroom with Tom and Aunt Deidre and then spent some time huddling with Shauna on a game plan.
“Listen to me, lady,” I said, placing a hand firmly on her shoulder. “You and everyone else at the law firm-nobody goes into work tomorrow. Stay away from downtown. No fooling. Okay?”
“God, it’s that certain in your mind?” She recoiled. “I mean, if that’s the case, shouldn’t we be screaming from the mountaintops about a potential attack?”
“It’s not that certain. It’s just my gut. But yeah, I’ll be making that point to the FBI in a few minutes.” I shrugged. “It’s not my call, kid. I can’t evacuate a city. But humor me on this, okay? Promise me, Shauna Tasker.”
“Okay, I promise. A firm holiday tomorrow. But only if you promise me that you’ll stay away, too.”
“I’ll be safe,” I assured her, and took off before she could press me further.
Lee Tucker’s government-issue sedan picked me up curbside not ten minutes later. I jumped in the backseat.
“Jason Kolarich, Special Agent Barry Clemens.” Lee, who was driving, gestured to a tall African-American guy who looked like he kept in shape, who shared the backseat with me. “And this is Dan Osborne from the Department of Justice’s counterterrorism division.” Osborne rode shotgun, an older guy with red hair cut to a crew. Government written all over these guys.
“That information I gave you checked out,” I said.
Osborne nodded. “It checked out.”
“Tomorrow’s Pearl Harbor Day,” I said. “Tomorrow’s when it happens.”
Lee looked at Osborne, then at me through his rearview mirror. “Listen and listen good, Kolarich. All right? We’re giving you the benefit of the doubt on this. And it’s not because we think you’re a great guy or the straightest shooter. It’s because these days, we can’t afford not to. Know what I mean?”
“I do.”
“And if you’re onto something here about these guys, then you know them better than we do. But what we share with you stays between us. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” I said. I didn’t know if I’d be able to keep that promise. I had a client whose defense might be aided rather significantly by what I might learn. A bridge to cross later, if necessary.
“You fuck us on this-”
“I’m not fucking around, Lee. I get it.”
He watched me a moment, then nodded. “Tomorrow’s Pearl Harbor Day,” he said. “And I didn’t even know this, but apparently our city celebrates it every year with a parade.”
“It’s Mayor Champion,” I said. “He’s big on that stuff. He was a Marine. His kid’s a Marine. His father, and his father’s father, were Marines. We do a parade every year. A small one, a short one, but still. He always gets the governor to come march in it, too. Oh, and shit.” I snapped my fingers. “They start it at the southern tip of downtown. Which means it starts at-”
“The Hartz Building,” said Lee. “At noon. And guess where it ends?”
“Either the state or federal building at one o’clock,” I said.
“Close enough. One o’clock is probably a safe estimate. The procession should get there earlier. But even if it does, there’s a brief outdoor memorial in the federal plaza following the march. There will be probably a hundred people in the plaza. Who knows, could be five hundred. Could be thousands.”
We were driving now, presumably toward that very federal building. A helicopter flew overhead. I wondered if it had anything to do with this.
“So I take it the governor’s coming again this year?” I asked.
“Like always, yeah.” Lee paused. “Governor Trotter, Mayor Champion, and Senator Donsbrook are going to be there.” He looked back at me.
“They should cancel the whole memorial,” I said. “You guys should evacuate the entire downtown.”
Osborne reacted with a bitter sniff. “If we reacted that way based on the level of information you’ve provided us, do you know how often we’d evacuate the downtown?”
It seemed like a rhetorical question. “A lot?” I said.
“A lot. Our citizens would live in constant fear. Commerce would shut down. Our economy would collapse.”
A little heavy on the drama, but I took his point. That was his job, to do the worrying for the rest of us. I didn’t envy him.
Clearly, these guys had taken me more seriously than I’d realized, but still-something new must have developed to make them think I was onto something. They had developed more information. “What happened that made you guys suddenly believe me?” I asked.
A pause followed. I assumed there was rank within the car, and Osborne had it, so it was his call. “We don’t work on ‘believe’ so much as credibility of evidence,” he said. “But you’re right. We just recently learned that three You-Ride truck rentals were made, from three separate locations, all charged to the same bogus credit card, over a week ago. We’ve reviewed security cameras in the stores and it was all the same guy.” He showed me a grainy black-and-white photo of a stocky guy in a flannel and blue jeans, wearing a baseball cap and a silly-looking beard. ZZ Top at a Cubs game. But I recognized the face.