Escape (42 page)

Grale's men stepped forward, bound the terrorist's wrists, and placed a loop over his neck, cinching it tight. "Where are you taking me?" Mujahid cried, now clearly frightened. "I demand a lawyer!"

A dozen men around him laughed as if he'd told a great joke. "A lawyer? You've obviously been watching too many American television shows," Grale said with a smile. "These men believe that you are an incarnation of evil, and you will be afforded the same rights as any demon."

One of the men, who appeared to be missing his nose, held up a bag. "Last chance, asshole," he cackled. "Hope you got a good look up there on the ship because you ain't never going to see the stars again."

It was too much. Mujahid would gladly have died in a shootout with the police, or by blowing himself up with as many infidels as he could kill. But his doctors had told him he could live as long as six months, and he knew he would go insane living as the prisoner of these men. And when his long, painful death came, he would be too far gone into madness to testify that "There is no God but God, and Muhammad is the Messenger of God" and be admitted to Paradise.

"I will want medical attention for my cancer," he demanded. "And incarceration in the federal penitentiary."

"Tell me why you're here," Jaxon repeated.

An hour later, Mujahid finished telling his captors what he knew of The Sheik's plan. It wasn't as much as they'd hoped for.

"Where is the attack taking place?" Jaxon demanded.

"I don't know."

Grale took a step forward.

"I swear it," Mujahid swore. "I was not told on purpose ... for just this reason."

Jaxon looked long and hard at the terrorist. "I think he's telling the truth," he said. "Makes sense that this Sheik wouldn't divulge the entire plan."

"So what do we know?" Jojola said. "This character's here to make a special bomb, but he won't know what it is until he meets with whoever."

"And this meeting's in," Jaxon looked at his watch, "a little more than twenty-four hours. That leaves us with the question of whether to go forward with our plan."

"I don't like it," Lucy spoke for the first time. "I think it's too dangerous to ask Tran to do this. What if somebody knows Mujahid?"

"From what we know and have been told, it's unlikely," Jojola pointed out.

"I am touched by your concern, child," Tran said. "But we've been over this before. We need to get someone on the inside of the operation. So now we have twenty-four hours for me to brush up on my bomb-making, as well as take a crash course in Islam."

Grale approached Mujahid. "Is there anything you haven't told us?"

"That is all I know."

"There is no password for the people you are expected to meet?"

"Oh, yes, I forgot," Mujahid said. "It is a passage from the Qur'an. The challenge will be, 'In the name of Allah, Most Gracious, Most Merciful.'"

"So the response is: 'Praise be to Allah, the Cherisher and Sustainer of the worlds,'" Lucy replied.

"That is correct," Mujahid said, nodding his head emphatically.

Grale placed his hand under Mujahid's chin and lifted until the man had to look him in the eyes. "I don't believe you," he said. "But just so you know, if you betray my friends, the six months you have left will feel like sixty years."

The mad monk nodded to his men, who began to drag Mujahid back to the shadows. "Wait!" Mujahid screamed to Jaxon. "You agreed to give me medical treatment and the federal penitentiary."

"You demanded, but I agreed to nothing," Jaxon replied. "If you are telling the truth, and we are able to stop this plan, then I will ask my friend Mr. Grale and his comrades to release you to the care of the United States government. Until then, I hope you enjoy the dark."

Mujahid's eyes grew wide. He grabbed Jaxon's arm. "It just comes to me that what I told you is not the correct password," he said. "In fact, it is what I would use to warn the others that something is not right."

One of the Mole People raised a curved linoleum knife to Mujahid's neck. "Stop!" Grale shouted. "A quick death is what he seeks. We'll take him below and see what else he has lied about."

Panicked, Mujahid turned to Lucy. "The correct passage comes from the Qur'an, Surah 9:29. 'Fight against such of those who have been given the Scripture as believe not in Allah nor the Last Day, and forbid not that which Allah hath forbidden by His messenger, and follow not the Religion of Truth...'" He stopped.

Lucy finished the passage, "'... until they pay the tribute readily, being brought low.'" She looked at her companions. "It's a popular passage for Muslims who believe that Islam should reign supreme. Essentially, in their world, we will all have to convert to Islam or pay a tax to stay alive."

"Is that the correct passage?" Grale demanded.

Mujahid quivered. "That is the truth."

Again, at Grale's signal, one of the Mole People slipped a bag over Mujahid's head and the others began to drag the terrorist away. He pleaded through the cloth. "Take me to jail. In Allah's name be merciful."

Grale held up his hand and his men stopped. "Don't use God's name in front of me again. You are a murderer and a demon in a man's body. There is nothing in the Qur'an that excuses the taking of innocent lives. You are apostate and doomed to hell. All you can hope is that my friends survive the next few days, or your hell will begin while you are still alive."

With Mujahid's muffled pleas receding, Jaxon turned to Tran. "We better get back on board the ship and start teaching you to be a Filipino terrorist."

"You sure you want to go through with this?" Lucy asked. "There has to be another way."

"If you can think of it in the next twenty-four hours, I'm all ears, which is more than you can say for the captain of the
Star of Vladivostock."

"Don't worry," Jojola added. "He's not going alone. Tonto needs to make sure the Lone VC Ranger doesn't fuck this up. I'm going, too."

"Like hell you are," Tran shot back. "That's not part of the plan."

"It is now," Jojola replied. "The real Mujahid had bodyguards. I think it would look funny if the fake Tatay didn't have even one."

Under the headline "Crazed Cabbie Nearly Kills Woman at Campbell Trial!" the
London World Herald's
New York correspondent, J. Luffington Nottingham-Tinsdale IV, scooped the rest of the media by getting an exclusive interview with the woman who'd been struck the day before as she ran across Centre Street after buying a paper from Dirty Warren.

"On the way back to her family, Deb Hurley, of 15239 Evergreen St., Milwaukee, thought (correctly) that the cab driver (a refugee from Kosovo named Annan) saw her (affirmative), had plenty of time to stop (easily) and would therefore hit the brakes to avoid hitting her (not a chance in the world)," Nottingham-Tinsdale IV wrote.

"The unfortunate woman was taken to Bellevue Hospital with two broken legs and a healthier understanding of the ruthless nature it takes to pilot a Yellow Cab in big, bad Gotham City."

Nottingham-Tinsdale IV's article concluded by quoting Hurley and her new attorney as "exploring the possibility" of suing New York City, the Taxi and Limousine Commission, and the driver, as well as Dirty Warren and his newsstand, which, ironically, the lawyer called an "attractive nuisance, having lured Mrs. Hurley across a dangerous street."

"Crazed Cabbie!" was a big seller for Dirty Warren, who was enjoying his little piece of public notoriety. "Read all about it.... I'm a ... piss off motherfuckers ... attractive nuisance," the little man shouted above the roar of his friend Treacher, who was making a little extra money by wearing a sandwich board for "Rico's Bail Bonds Service, Inc."

The news vendor and Treacher had been arguing all morning over who had a bigger coup as a media celebrity: Warren because of the threatened lawsuit, or Treacher, who had been quoted in the Times as saying that Jessica Campbell "gives crazy people a bad name."

An editorial in the same edition of the
Times
noted that so far the prosecution case lacked "much pop ... or for that matter, anything that would lead us to conclude that Jessica Campbell belongs someplace other than a psychiatric ward." The editor concluded, "Perhaps District Attorney Roger Karp's budget has grown so large he feels that he can waste taxpayer money on a case such as this, which to us smacks more of a political maneuver, to be seen as the DAO being willing to prosecute an educated, white woman, than a legitimate pursuit of justice."

Karp was made aware of the editorial that morning before court when Murrow marched into his office and slammed a copy on his desk. "The rat bastards have really crossed the line this time!"

"Rat bastards? Have you been watching
The Sopranos
again?" Karp asked mildly.

"Every episode. But it's true, they really are rat bastards."

Karp read the editorial aloud to Guma, who'd walked in just in time for Murrow's "rat bastards" comment. "Catering to minorities again, eh?" Guma chuckled.

"It's not funny," Murrow sulked. "One unfair portrayal in the minds of the voters can haunt you politically for the rest of your career. Look what happened to McGovern. The man was a war hero for chrissake! But a couple of tears over Vietnam and he never shook the 'pansy' image."

"I don't think we have to worry about that right now," Karp said. "And I do believe it's time to head to the courtroom."

"I'll go run interference," Murrow said glumly. "Maybe I'll see somebody with the Times and shove him down the elevator shaft."

Before bringing in the jury, Dermondy announced that he'd ruled on Lewis's motion to exclude the Baker Street Irregulars from testifying. "I've looked at the resumes, as well as read the impressive and impassioned accolades given by law-enforcement officials, and find that the witnesses are more than qualified to speak to this court," he stated. "Therefore, defense counsel's objection is overruled. Mr. Farley, please bring in the jury."

As the jury took their seats, Karp did his usual quick scan of the courtroom. Jessica Campbell continued to work on her drawing while Lewis sat next to her staring straight ahead. Benjamin Gupperstein sat in the first row behind the defense table but without his wife. Karp had asked Detective Cobing to warn Jessica's parents that today's testimony was going to be graphic, and they might want to skip it. Apparently, Liza Gupperstein had decided to do that.

Geologist James Reedy was the first up. He explained how with the help of the DA's office and the NYPD, the Baker Street grave-hunters had gone about determining where to look for the Campbell's station wagon, and then he described the technology he'd used to locate it. "But really, the credit goes to those NYPD divers," he said. "That took real guts.... And when I saw that hand come up out of the water with that license plate, it sent a chill up my spine. It was like the King Arthur story where the Lady of the Lake holds up ..."

"Objection," Lewis said. "What's with the fairy-tale imagery and the apparent 'characterization virus' running amok among the prosecution witnesses?"

Dermondy held up a hand. "Just a moment, Miss Lewis. Mr. Reedy, please finish your analogy."

"Well, Your Honor, it reminded me of the King Arthur tale where the Lady of the Lake raises up Excalibur. All you see is her arm rising out of the water, holding up the sword."

"Thank you, Mr. Reedy," Dermondy said. "Miss Lewis, your objection is overruled." He turned to the jurors. "Ladies and gentlemen, I find the imagery enlightening, but you, of course, will base your findings solely on the evidence. Let's proceed."

Charlotte Gates was next. Of the three, she had the most experience on the witness stand, having testified in dozens of murder cases where the identity of the victims was a potential obstacle for the prosecution.

She began by describing how the dive team secured the car before it was pulled from the bottom of the river "so that no evidence would be lost." Then she described the initial phase of her excavation of the car, beginning with the front seating area.

"Would you please describe the items found in the glovebox?" Karp asked. "In addition to common items such as the car registration and proof of insurance, I found a plastic bag marked 'O'Hara's Hardware' on the outside and containing a receipt from that store for a footlocker and a padlock, as well as the packaging and combination tag for that padlock."

"Miss Gates, in your examination of the vehicle, did you note the position of the door windows?"

"Yes, they were all rolled down approximately three inches."

Karp's questions shifted to the stick found holding the accelerator down. "Was this something that could have happened by accident? For instance, could the stick have floated into the car through one of the three-inch gaps in a window and become lodged there?"

Gates thought about the question for a moment. "I suppose anything is possible. But this stick had been broken off on one end and was exactly the right size to be jammed into position so that it held the accelerator pedal all the way to the floorboard. It would have taken pretty good force to mash it in there; it certainly took pretty good force to dislodge it."

"With respect to the car's transmission, please tell us what position you observed it to be in," Karp asked.

"It was in the 'Drive' position," Gates answered. "And the key switched to the 'On' position."

"Thank you. The key is in the 'On' position, the accelerator to the floor. So that engine was probably pretty revved up when she leaned in and pulled the transmission shifter into 'Drive.'" As he spoke, he acted out the steps. "Yes."

"That car must have taken off fairly quickly?"

"Yes, with the accelerator down and the key switched to 'On,' it would have moved quite swiftly."

"Fast enough to bruise Jessica Campbell's back and knock her to the ground?"

Lewis was on her feet. "Objection, Your Honor! Calls for speculation."

"Sustained. You know better, Mr. Karp."

Gates testified that the combination found on the card in the glovebox opened the padlock that held the footlocker's clasp shut.

"What did you find in the footlocker, Miss Gates?" Those in the courtroom held their breath for the expected answer.

"Inside the footlocker were ... were the remains of three young children." Karp caught the hitch in her voice and poured her a glass of water. For all of her supposed scientific detachment, he remembered the account of how, after she'd finished exhuming the bodies that night, she'd gone to the river with Marlene, where the two women stood with their arms around each other's shoulders and cried.

When Gates appeared ready to go on, Karp continued. "Miss Gates, was there something unusual about the condition of these remains?"

"Yes, or at least unexpected." She turned to the jury and spoke directly to them. "The children had been dead since March. This was July, so they had been in the footlocker for four months. I would have expected that bodies that had been submerged in water and subject to microorganisms in that water for that long would have been severely decomposed. However, this was a nearly watertight footlocker with rubber seals around the edges. Also, the car was found at a depth of about twenty-five feet in relatively cold water. So the bodies were very well preserved, considering."

Karp walked over to the prosecution table where he searched among several photographs and selected one which he asked be marked for identification, and with the court's permission he handed it to the anthropologist. "Does this photograph fairly and accurately depict what you observed when you opened the footlocker?"

Gates glanced at it. "Yes, that was taken within a minute of my opening the footlocker."

"Tell us what you observed."

"The bodies of the three Campbell children—Hillary, Chelsea, and Benjamin."

Karp held up the photograph for the defense to see. "The People ask that this photograph be received in evidence, Your Honor."

Jessica Campbell had immediately looked away, but Lewis studied the photograph carefully as though expecting some sort of trick. She made a notation on a legal pad. "My previous objection," she said. At a pre-trial hearing she had tried to prevent the prosecution from using photographs of the bodies as "unnecessarily gruesome and likely to unfairly sway the jury against my client," but the judge had overruled her then and did so again now.

"Miss Gates, were you able to identify the remains of the three children found in the footlocker through some scientific means?" Karp asked.

"Yes. We were able to identify the children through DNA testing that matched to a high degree of scientific certainty to their parents, as well as dental records for the two girls. The development of the skeletal remains also matched the known ages of the children."

"Now, Miss Gates, if I understand correctly, you don't deal with the so-called 'soft-tissue' remains."

"That's correct. I mostly work with hard structures—bones and teeth. Mr. Swanburg is a pathologist, which is a field that deals with the soft-tissue remains."

"So your examination followed Mr. Swanburg's examination of the soft-tissue remains," Karp said, "and after those remains were completely removed from the bones?"

"Yes. The skeletal remains were cleaned of any soft tissues."

"Why did you do that?"

"To determine if any wounds would be evident on the bones," Gates replied. "Mr. Swanburg had noted what appeared to be several incisions, or lacerations, on the body of the eldest child, Hillary."

"And could you verify that by looking at the skeleton?"

"Yes, there were marks on the bones from at least a half-dozen blows to her chest caused by a sharp instrument."

"Any idea what sort of sharp instrument that would have been?"

"Something with a sharp point, a very sharp blade, but a wider back, likely a large knife."

Karp walked over to the prosecution table, picked up a plastic evidence bag containing a hunting knife, removed it, and brought it to the witness stand. "I believe you've had the opportunity to examine this knife. Do you recognize it?"

"Yes, it was found in the footlocker."

"Your Honor, the People ask that this knife, previously marked People's Exhibit 19 for identification, be received in evidence," Karp said, holding up the knife so that everyone in the courtroom could see it.

Lewis didn't even look up from her notepad. "No objection."

Karp placed the knife on the evidence table. "Miss Gates," he continued, "as you just testified, you've had a chance to examine the knife. Is there some conclusion you've been able to draw from that?"

"Yes, it's likely to a reasonable degree of scientific certainty to be the weapon that caused the wounds on Hillary's chest."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, to start, it fits the marks, both in the soft tissue examined by Mr. Swanburg and on the skeletal remains. Several of the blows pierced all the way through the child's rib cage, leaving a perfectly delineated entry wound into which this knife fit exactly."

"And?"

"Although it had been wiped clean of most of the blood, there were still small particles imbedded where the blade fit into the hilt. It was Hillary's blood."

"Was there anything else you learned by examining the bones?"

Gates nodded, but as she started to speak, her voice cracked and she had to take a moment to pull herself together. "Yes, when I examined the hands of the middle child, Chelsea, I noted that several of her fingers were broken."

"Could you tell how that happened?"

"It's the sort of injury we see when someone is gripping something very hard, so hard that the bones break before the grip can be loosened."

The already still courtroom grew quieter. Campbell stopped drawing, her pencil hovering above the pad; but she did not raise her head and after a moment started to draw again. Across the room on the witness stand, Gates closed her eyes, but a tear still managed to slip out.

"Thank you, Miss Gates," Karp said softly. "No more questions."

When Jack Swanburg took the witness stand after the mid-morning break, he seemed reluctant to be there. He'd seen his share of violent death, too, but as he'd told Karp that morning, there was always something different about the murder of a child.