Act of God (49 page)

“What do you have in mind?” someone asked.

“I haven’t a clue. You’re my think tank. I need you to figure it out.”

“I want to say something first,” the bulky man with the crooked nose said. “I’ve been following the case pretty closely, and
I have to tell you that I’m not so sure any more that this Corey Latham is guilty.”

“So what?” Roark inquired.

“So maybe we should leave McAuliffe alone. Let her do her job. Why should we want to convict the kid if he’s innocent?”

“You’ve been a member of this group for a long time now,” Roark replied patiently. “Certainly long enough to understand that
it’s the cause that matters—not the individual. It’s always the cause.”

It was midnight before Dana could unwind enough to get into bed. She tried to be quiet, but Sam woke up anyway. Or perhaps
he’d just been lying there, waiting for her. In either case, he reached over and put his arms around her.

“I know it’s not the same, because there are no lives at stake,” he murmured into her hair. “But I always have this precipitous
feeling before a concert, like someone in the audience will discover I’m a fraud, that I can’t really play the violin, and
Benaroya Hall will come crashing down. I think they call it stage fright.”

In the darkness, Dana smiled and snuggled against him. “Here, I’ve always thought of you as my rock,” she said. “And it turns
out you’re really a jellyfish.”

He chuckled. “Just trying to help,” he said.

“You always do,” she told him.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“I can’t remember a case I’ve been more ready for,” she said. “And yet, I’m not ready at all.”

“It’s because you care,” he suggested. “Maybe more than you’re willing to admit, more than you ever have before.”

“I believe in him,” she said. “I really do. I don’t think he
had anything to do with that bombing.” She sighed. “It’s hard for me to explain.”

“Try,” he urged.

“The truth is, ninety-nine percent of our job as defense attorneys is to find a loophole for the client to slither through,
whether he’s guilty or innocent. Don’t ask, don’t tell—we don’t care. But this time, it’s different. This time, I do care.
And I’m so scared that if I make just one tiny mistake, it could cost Corey Latham his life.”

“I think it’s an awesome responsibility, to do what you do,” Sam said. “But it seems to me, with you behind him, he’s already
way ahead of the game.”

Dana considered his words for a long moment. “In law school,” she said, “we were taught that it was dangerous to get emotionally
involved in a case because it could cloud the judgment.”

“Speaking strictly from personal experience, of course,” Sam said, nuzzling her neck, “I’d have to say that getting emotionally
involved can also clarify the judgment.”

She sighed with a mixture of despair and relief. “Without you, I couldn’t do it, you know,” she told him.

“I know.”

“That interview my ex gave to the tabloids—painful as it is for me to admit, there was some truth in it.”

“I know that, too.”

“And you’re still here?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I guess, because here is exactly where I want to be.”

She wrapped her arms around him. “I was right the first time,” she said. “You
are
a rock.”

“Yes, indeed,” he said with a deep chuckle. “And at the moment, I just happen to be able to prove it to you.”

His hands began to reach under her nightgown.

“Oh my,” she said with a nervous giggle, because she couldn’t recall the last time they had made love. “I’ve been so preoccupied
with other things, I’m afraid I might have forgotten how.”

“Hmmm,” he replied, as he followed his hands with his lips. “Well, if you have, it will be my unadulterated pleasure to refresh
your memory.”

M
s. McAuliffe, you may call your first witness,” Abraham Bendali declared at ten o’clock on Thursday morning.

Dana rose from her chair, dressed in a beige suit and pumps, with a simple gold chain around her neck. She looked expensive
but not extravagant.

“The defense calls Dr. Ronald Stern,” she said.

The fifty-six-year-old Harvard-educated psychiatrist made his way slowly to the witness stand, dragging a shriveled right
leg. A victim of polio, he was dependent on both a leg brace and a forearm crutch to support him.

Without realizing it, those in the courtroom held their collective breath as he maneuvered himself onto the stand, and then
awkwardly shifted both his crutch and his weight so he could use his hands to take the oath. They watched as he twisted his
body into the chair. And then they listened, fascinated, as he detailed his professional history.

Among other things, he was a professor emeritus from his alma mater, and he was preeminent in the field of criminal behavior,
specializing, over the last two decades, in the psychology of terrorism.

During the past six months, he had been to Cedar Falls, Annapolis, Orlando, Charleston, and Groton, and had made fifteen separate
trips to Seattle.

“Dr. Stern,” the defense attorney began, when he had been accepted as an expert witness, “how much are we paying you for your
testimony here today?”

Several of the jurors blinked, and Brian Ayres, seated at the prosecution table, smiled wryly to himself. Although he knew
exactly how good Dana Reid McAuliffe was, every once in a while, she still managed to surprise him.

“You’re not paying me anything,” Stern replied.

“I beg your pardon?” Dana questioned.

“I provided my services to your firm, free of charge.”

“I see. Well, we’re at least paying all your traveling expenses, are we not?”

Stern shook his head. “No,” he said. “The United States government is.”

“Well, far be it from me to look a gift horse in the mouth, but may I ask why?”

“It’s part of an ongoing program, designed to study various acts of terrorism, both past and present, in an effort to formulate
reliable psychological profiles of known terrorists. It’s hoped that these profiles will give us a reasonably accurate way
to identify potential terrorists in the future.”

“What are some of the specifics you look for?”

“Specifically, we are looking for recognizable aberrant behavior patterns stemming from early childhood,” Stern replied. “To
that end, and wherever possible, we investigate family background and conduct. We also examine the nature of relationships
that are outside the family unit. We look at the level of education and research the educational experience, interviewing
teachers, students, and administrators. We perform exhaustive
psychological testing. We’re particularly interested in evaluating communication skills. And in those cases where it is appropriate,
we analyze job history.”

“Will you tell the court some of the incidents you’ve investigated?”

“We did a detailed analysis of the recent school shootings—Mississippi, Kentucky, Tennessee, Oregon, Colorado, California.
We studied various aspects of the World Trade Center bombing, the Oklahoma City bombing, the embassy bombings in Kenya and
Tanzania, and the Lockerbie incident. Of course, in some of those cases, we weren’t able to interview the subjects.”

“In those instances where you
were
able to interview the subjects, did you find that their psychological characteristics consistently fit the criteria of your
profiles?”

“Yes,” the psychiatrist replied without hesitation. “I’m pleased to report that they did, with almost textbook accuracy.”

“Was there any particular characteristic you can point to that was consistent among those you studied?”

“Yes, an obvious one, really,” he said. “But one that did need to be proven.”

“And what was that?”

“We realized that, while motives and methods might vary, terrorists have one thing in common: a deep-rooted anger manifesting
itself in the need to cause destruction.”

“As part of your study, Dr. Stern, you interviewed a great many people connected to my client, Corey Latham, did you not?”

“Yes, I did. All told, I spoke with close to a hundred people.”

“And you also interviewed the defendant, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.”

“In total, how many hours do you estimate you spent with him?”

“Over a period of six months, I’d say I spent upward of ninety hours with Lieutenant Latham.”

“Doing what?”

“We did a lot of talking,” he said. “And a fair amount of testing.”

“And Dr. Stern, on the basis of those ninety hours of talking and testing, what if any conclusions did you draw?”

“I found your client to be an anomaly in our study.”

“An anomaly?”

“Yes.”

“Why was that, sir?”

The psychiatrist shrugged. “He didn’t fit any of the standard psychological criteria we had developed for terrorists.”

“Did I hear you correctly?” Dana pressed. “Are you saying this alleged monster, this alleged butcher, this animal accused
of bombing a building and killing almost two hundred people
isn’t
a terrorist?”

“What I’m saying is, he doesn’t fit any of our profiles.”

“Just so that I’m clear about this, doctor, and more important, so that the jury is clear about it, I’d like to go over the
specifics of your thesis.”

As Dana was eliciting the pertinent details behind Ronald Stern’s expert opinion, Craig Jessup was sorting through the morning
mail. There was the usual number of bills, credit card applications, and catalogues, and at the bottom of the pile, an envelope
bearing the elegant gold letterhead of Cotter Boland and Grace.

Jessup was surprised. He had long since tendered his September invoice and been paid in full. It was rare for him to receive
written communication from the firm between statements. He ripped open the envelope, and extracted a single, typewritten page.

“This is to inform you,”
it read,
“that no additional services
will be required regarding the Latham case. If there is any amount still owing, please submit a final invoice, at your earliest
convenience, so that we may reimburse you.

“We thank you for your excellent effort in behalf of this matter, and look forward to working with you again in the near future.”

Paul Cotter, himself, had signed the letter.

Jessup did not particularly appreciate being cut off like this, in the middle of trial, without any warning. Especially now,
when he was working on a new angle that was just beginning to come into focus. He laid the letter on his desk and sat there,
elbow on armrest, rubbing his chin. He wondered why Dana hadn’t mentioned it to him.

The defense finished its direct examination of Ronald Stern in the late afternoon.

“Doctor, based on your extensive work in the field of terrorist psychology, the number of hours you spent with my client,
and the results of your profiling, do you have an opinion as to whether my client has the predisposition of a terrorist?”

“In my opinion,” Stern said flatly, “he does not.”

“Thank you, sir.”

At that, there was a slight but audible sound of exhaling by a number of jurors. Dana sat down, well satisfied. She had argued
endlessly with Paul Cotter about using Stern as a witness, about the effectiveness of putting a Harvard type in front of a
Seattle jury. But he had been able to take the most complex psychological theories and reduce them to easily understandable
concepts, and he had done it as though he were sitting around a kitchen table with his audience, engaging in a conversation
over a cup of coffee.

“I don’t understand the problem,” she had told the managing partner. “We need the best and he is the best. And besides, it
isn’t going to cost us a dime.”

She had won her argument, and in the wake of the psychiatrist’s testimony, and the jury’s reaction to it, she felt totally
vindicated.

The jury’s reaction was not lost on Brian, either. Stern was a powerful witness, his work praiseworthy, his credentials above
reproach, his infirmity giving him an extra measure of credibility. He was what was known as a sympathetic witness, and the
prosecutor knew the jurors would not take kindly to seeing him battered by cross-examination.

“Dr. Stern,” he inquired pleasantly, “relying on all the expertise you’ve gained in the field of terrorism, can you state
unequivocally that Corey Latham did not bomb Hill House?”

The psychiatrist contemplated the question for a long moment. “My research is based on probabilities, not absolutes,” he replied
finally. “My examination of the defendant did not reveal the psychological characteristics associated with having committed
this crime. But no, I can’t state unequivocally that he did not.”

“So, even though he doesn’t fit the profile, and doesn’t fall within the parameters of your study, that man over there,” Brian
said, pointing at the defendant, “could still have gone out and bought aspirin, and sulfuric acid, and fertilizer, and made
a bomb, stuffed it into a duffel bag, and planted it at Hill House, couldn’t he?”

“I don’t think it’s probable,” Stern conceded, “but it’s possible he could have done that.”