Read Online Afraid of the Dark by James Grippando - Free Book Online
Authors: James Grippando
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okay?” said Jack. “But none of this makes sense to me.”
“Well, exactly how much of my duty of confidentiality and loyalty to the FBI do you expect me to breach in order to keep you from making a huge mistake?”
“I don’t expect anything. I never asked your opinion.”
Her mouth fell open, and her chuckle of disbelief spoke more than words.
Jack said, “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s not that I don’t value your opinion.”
“Can we drop this, please?”
Jack breathed in and out. “I wish I could. But now I’m more confused than ever. This kid spent three years at Gitmo. They fingerprinted him there. Surely they ran his prints through every conceivable database and discovered that he was really Jamal Wakefield. Now you’re telling me that the FBI found encrypted files on his computer with links to terrorism. But no one at Gitmo ever asked him if his name was Jamal Wakefield. And at the habeas corpus hearing two days ago, the Justice Department let him walk for lack of evidence. I just don’t get it.”
“They didn’t let him walk,” said Andie. “They played their ace in the hole: They got the state attorney to indict him for murder.”
“Why play that ace? Why not just have the Justice Department tell the judge about his computer and keep him locked up on terrorism charges?”
“Because if you tell the judge about the computer, someone might want to see what’s in the files.”
“Someone like me?” asked Jack.
“Like any defense lawyer,” said Andie.
“Would that be the end of the world—if someone wanted to find out what was in Jamal’s encrypted files?”
“I don’t know,” said Andie. “But why risk letting that kind of information go public when you can keep an accused terrorist locked up for the rest of his life on a murder charge?”
“It’s all in the interest of national security—is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes.”
Jack suddenly recalled what Jamal had told him about the interrogators’ threats against McKenna in Prague.
“And what if Jamal didn’t kill McKenna? Would it still be in the interest of national security to keep him locked up for the rest of his life and keep his encrypted files secret?”
“What are you talking about?”
Jack took a long breath, then shook it off. “Nothing,” he said.
They stood in silence for a minute. Finally, Andie dimmed the light and turned on some music. The mood slowly changed. Andie walked toward the bed, and Jack ogled her like a sailor on shore leave as her towel dropped to the floor and she slid beneath the sheet. Andie had a telltale way of arching one eyebrow, and it always got Jack’s motor running.
“Are we going to talk all night?” she asked, peering across the room at him.
Jack swallowed the rest of his wine, then smiled.
“God, I hope not.”
Chapter Ten
A ndie was gone by Friday at noon. Jack barely had time to ponder where her undercover assignment might have taken her. At three P.M. he was in Courtroom 2 of the Richard E. Gerstein Justice Building.
The media seemed to hover perpetually around the criminal courthouse, poised to capture the arraignment of a federal prosecutor caught biting a stripper, the verdict on a high-priced call girl who claimed that “nymphomania made me do it,” or some other “trial of the century”—Miami style. At the government’s request, however, Judge Flint had closed his courtroom to the public. The prosecution sat at the mahogany table to Jack’s left, closer to the empty jury box. Neil Goderich was at Jack’s side. Together, the defense had almost fifty years of trial experience, and greener lawyers surely would have felt outgunned by such an unusual pairing of government lawyers.
“William McCue on behalf of the state of Florida,” the assistant state attorney said, announcing his appearance for the record. “With me today, for purposes of this emergency motion only, is Sylvia Gonzalez of the United States Department of
“Well, exactly how much of my duty of confidentiality and loyalty to the FBI do you expect me to breach in order to keep you from making a huge mistake?”
“I don’t expect anything. I never asked your opinion.”
Her mouth fell open, and her chuckle of disbelief spoke more than words.
Jack said, “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s not that I don’t value your opinion.”
“Can we drop this, please?”
Jack breathed in and out. “I wish I could. But now I’m more confused than ever. This kid spent three years at Gitmo. They fingerprinted him there. Surely they ran his prints through every conceivable database and discovered that he was really Jamal Wakefield. Now you’re telling me that the FBI found encrypted files on his computer with links to terrorism. But no one at Gitmo ever asked him if his name was Jamal Wakefield. And at the habeas corpus hearing two days ago, the Justice Department let him walk for lack of evidence. I just don’t get it.”
“They didn’t let him walk,” said Andie. “They played their ace in the hole: They got the state attorney to indict him for murder.”
“Why play that ace? Why not just have the Justice Department tell the judge about his computer and keep him locked up on terrorism charges?”
“Because if you tell the judge about the computer, someone might want to see what’s in the files.”
“Someone like me?” asked Jack.
“Like any defense lawyer,” said Andie.
“Would that be the end of the world—if someone wanted to find out what was in Jamal’s encrypted files?”
“I don’t know,” said Andie. “But why risk letting that kind of information go public when you can keep an accused terrorist locked up for the rest of his life on a murder charge?”
“It’s all in the interest of national security—is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes.”
Jack suddenly recalled what Jamal had told him about the interrogators’ threats against McKenna in Prague.
“And what if Jamal didn’t kill McKenna? Would it still be in the interest of national security to keep him locked up for the rest of his life and keep his encrypted files secret?”
“What are you talking about?”
Jack took a long breath, then shook it off. “Nothing,” he said.
They stood in silence for a minute. Finally, Andie dimmed the light and turned on some music. The mood slowly changed. Andie walked toward the bed, and Jack ogled her like a sailor on shore leave as her towel dropped to the floor and she slid beneath the sheet. Andie had a telltale way of arching one eyebrow, and it always got Jack’s motor running.
“Are we going to talk all night?” she asked, peering across the room at him.
Jack swallowed the rest of his wine, then smiled.
“God, I hope not.”
Chapter Ten
A ndie was gone by Friday at noon. Jack barely had time to ponder where her undercover assignment might have taken her. At three P.M. he was in Courtroom 2 of the Richard E. Gerstein Justice Building.
The media seemed to hover perpetually around the criminal courthouse, poised to capture the arraignment of a federal prosecutor caught biting a stripper, the verdict on a high-priced call girl who claimed that “nymphomania made me do it,” or some other “trial of the century”—Miami style. At the government’s request, however, Judge Flint had closed his courtroom to the public. The prosecution sat at the mahogany table to Jack’s left, closer to the empty jury box. Neil Goderich was at Jack’s side. Together, the defense had almost fifty years of trial experience, and greener lawyers surely would have felt outgunned by such an unusual pairing of government lawyers.
“William McCue on behalf of the state of Florida,” the assistant state attorney said, announcing his appearance for the record. “With me today, for purposes of this emergency motion only, is Sylvia Gonzalez of the United States Department of
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