Infamy (20 page)

As she said this, Malovo looked pointedly at Constantine. “I regret that Colonel Swindells lost his life as a result.”

“Ms. Malovo, did you attend the performance of
Hamilton
at the Richard Rodgers Theatre last night?”

“Yes. It was quite interesting.”

“Could you explain to the jury how that happened and why?”

“It was a plan to get Hamm to reveal that she knew about MIRAGE and its connection to Mr. Constantine. I pretended that I was calling from an apartment where I was being held for safekeeping for this trial. I told her that I wanted to discuss my testimony about MIRAGE and that I wanted money and my freedom.”

“Did you arrange a meeting?”

“Yes. I told her that I was going to be allowed to attend the performance,” Malovo said, “as a way to relax before my testi
mony today. I also said that following the performance I would get away from my escorts and meet her backstage to tell her my demands and give her a Swiss bank account for depositing funds.”

“Did this telephone conversation actually take place in my office?” Karp asked. “And was it recorded?”

“Yes.”

“Who was present in my office when this was recorded?”

“You, me, Detective Fulton, and S. P. Jaxon.”

“Your Honor,” Karp said, again pointing to where Katz stood at the audio machine, “I'd like to play People's Exhibit 71, which is the exact record of the conversation between the witness and Ms. Hamm the witness just testified to. Also, Your Honor, I offer in evidence a court-certified transcript of the conversation, People's Exhibit 72, which I ask to be distributed to the jurors to enable them to follow the taped conversation with greater ease and understanding.”

“Same objection,” Arnold said impassively.

“Overruled. Go ahead, Mr. Karp.”

After the tape was played, Karp turned to Malovo. “Was that a fair and accurate recording of the conversation you had with Ms. Hamm?”

“Yes, every word.”

“I'm going to play a recording of a conversation backstage at the Richard Rodgers Theatre last night. Tell me if you can identify these two voices.” He nodded at Katz one last time.

“You have not changed since Istanbul.”

“I'm not here to talk about Istanbul. . . .”

23

“I
THINK THIS CALLS FOR
a couple of fingers of Scotch,” Espey Jaxon said that afternoon in Karp's inner office as he pulled a bottle of Macallan out of his briefcase. He looked around at the others in the room: Karp, Katz, Fulton, Marlene Ciampi, and Ariadne Stupenagel.

Court had recessed following the vigorous but futile cross-examination of Nadya Malovo, who'd then been handed over to federal agents waiting to escort her to Fort Dix. They'd all gathered to discuss the case so far and go over Jaxon's testimony the next day. Marlene and Ariadne, who'd been attending every day of the trial, had begged to join them, and Karp had relented.

“I'm not so sure,” Karp said with a grin while pointing to the
bookshelf across from the desk where a set of tumblers waited. “You have to testify and I have to ask questions without slurring my words.”

“Just one won't hurt, boss,” Fulton said, eyeing the bottle. “We worked hard for this one, and that was quite an ending!”

“Ha,” Katz chortled as he handed out glasses. “I loved it when Arnold kept pounding away at what an evil monster she was—a paid assassin, a terrorist—and she finally had enough and told him that he'd be next if he didn't back off.”

Jaxon, who was following him to pour the booze, laughed. “I saw her say something to you, Clay, when those goons were taking her away today. Care to share?”

Fulton frowned. “Yeah, she said, ‘I hope this wipes the slate clean with you.' She was talking about when she shot me that time after she and her killers murdered those children and cops.”

“What did you tell her?” Stupenagel asked.

“I said I could never forgive her for those kids and cops, and she said a funny thing, she said, ‘That's fair. I'll never forgive myself. But I can only pay one sin back at a time. I'm talking about you and me.' ” He cocked his head. “I said we're even.”

“I suppose we've seen the last of her,” Marlene said. “I don't imagine the Russians are going to go easy on her for this.”

“I don't know,” Karp said, “she's a survivor.”

“Well, whatever else she was, she certainly made for a good story,” Stupenagel said as she raised her glass. “I hope it's not too politically incorrect to toast a murderous Russian femme fatale, but here's to Nadya Malovo, aka Ajmaani!”

Just then the intercom on Karp's desk buzzed and was followed by the irritated voice of Mrs. Milquetost. “Mr. Karp, there are two federal agents here insisting that they see you.”

Karp looked at his wife, Stupenagel, and Jaxon, and motioned with his head to a door leading to an anteroom off his office. As the women and Jaxon scurried out, he pressed the button and replied, “Tell them to wait just a minute while I finish my conversation here with Detective Fulton and ADA Katz, then send them in.”

It took less than a minute before the two agents opened the door and stalked into his office to find Karp sitting with his feet propped up on his desk. Fulton leaned against the window behind him on his right and Katz sat in a chair over near the bookshelf. “What can I do for you gentlemen?” Karp asked.

“Where is she, Karp?” asked the taller of the two, a Clark Kent type.

“Where is who?”

“Malovo,” said the shorter one, who had the countenance and demeanor of an angry bulldog.

“What do you mean?” Karp asked somewhat quizzically.

“You're the two goons who took her into custody from us,” Fulton added. “What happened?”

“You know damn well,” said the short agent.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Karp said. “And you have about ten seconds to explain yourselves or you can go back out the same door you came in. Didn't you take her to Fort Dix to hand her over to Russian law enforcement?”

“We did,” the taller said. “We handed her over to some Russians, who put her in handcuffs and then put her on a private jet while we were watching.”

“Then what's the problem?”

“They weren't the right Russians, goddamn it!” the shorter agent yelled. “The real Russians, the cops, got a call at their embassy telling them there'd been a delay at the trial and we'd be two hours later.”

“You get a good look at the imposters?” Karp asked.

“They looked like Russians,” the short agent, who seemed the most put out, said. “Big, dumb Slavic types.”

“Like me?” Karp said. “I'm a big Slavic type.”

“I didn't mean you, Karp.” The short agent backed off.

“I only really remember the leader,” the tall agent said. “He's easy to remember. A patch over one eye, scars on the side of his face. Real tall, about your age, looks ex-military.”

“He ought to be easy to pick out of a lineup if he ever gets picked up,” Fulton deadpanned. “But it looks like you boys screwed up. Now I think you better get your rear ends out of here if you're going to come into the office of the New York County district attorney and accuse him of . . .” Fulton stopped and thought about it before turning to Karp. “Accuse you of what?”

“I don't know,” Karp replied. “But whatever it is, I don't appreciate it. Once we turned Malovo over to you, she was your responsibility. Now if you don't mind, we were about to drink a toast to an old friend, and you're not invited.”

When the agents left, the others who'd been waiting in the anteroom came in. “So much for writing Malovo off,” Stupenagel said. “Wow. What a story! I can't wait to write this one up.”

“I wonder who the guy with the eye patch and scarred face was,” Marlene, who knew perfectly well, said to Karp with a smile.

“I don't know, but I hope he doesn't commit any crimes in New York County,” Karp said with a grin. “Because he'd be easy to pick out of a lineup.”

The next morning,
as S. P. “Espey” Jaxon walked to the witness stand, Karp smiled inwardly, watching the women on the
jury and in the gallery perk up. Close-cropped, pewter-colored hair framing his tan, chiseled face, Jaxon possessed a leading man movie star demeanor with the grace of the trim athletic hero.

However, appearing on a witness stand in open court was not something Jaxon wanted to do, given the secrecy with which he and his people normally operated. He was prepared to do so on this day only because of the national security implications of the case.

“Good morning, Mr. Jaxon,” Karp began after his longtime friend was sworn in. “Could you begin by giving the jurors and the court a brief biography of your professional career?”

Jaxon turned to the jurors. “After graduating from law school, I worked for the New York District Attorney's Office as a prosecutor, where I first met Mr. Karp. After a dozen years in that capacity, I began a new career as a special agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Then, following the nine-eleven attacks, I was placed in charge of a small federal antiterrorism agency.”

“And is that your role now?”

“Yes.”

“Can you name the agency?”

“Not publicly, though I have written it down here,” Jaxon said, leaning forward to hand a card to Karp, “for the judge.”

Karp approached the bench and gave the card to Dermondy. “Your Honor, for reasons of national security, this counterterrorism agency requires strict confidentiality.”

Dermondy looked at the agency designation on the card and said, “This card will be marked Court Exhibit Alpha and ordered sealed. Please proceed.”

“Mr. Jaxon, approximately a year ago, did you and your team have occasion to conduct a—for want of a different term—black ops raid near a small village in south-central Syria?”

“Yes, we did.”

“What was the purpose of the raid?”

“We had learned that a Russian assassin named Nadya Malovo was traveling with a Russian gangster and former Red Army general named Ivan Nikitin,” Jaxon said. “We'd been attempting to apprehend Malovo for some time, but we were also interested in Nikitin. He was known to have close ties with the current regime in Moscow and the government of Syria. In the course of our intelligence gathering, we learned that Nikitin would be meeting with a high-level leader with the Islamic State, also known as ISIS, named Ghareeb al Taizi.”

“In addition to Malovo, did you hope to apprehend Nikitin and al Taizi?”

“Yes, especially al Taizi. He was on U.S. intelligence and military most wanted lists and thought to have extensive knowledge about ISIS operations.”

“Was the raid successful?”

“Well, yes and no. We were able to capture Malovo, as well as seize a number of computers and documents that have yielded valuable information.”

“What about al Taizi and Nikitin?”

“They were both killed, as well as Farid Al Halbi, a Syrian oil company executive with personal ties to the Assad government, and Feroze Kirmani, a senior official with the Iranian intelligence agency VAJA.”

“Were they killed by your team?”

“No. They were all assassinated by Malovo before we could get to them, including her employer, Nikitin. She was the only one alive in the room where the bodies were found.”

“Did she say why she killed them?”

“Initially, she claimed she didn't want to get caught in the crossfire if their bodyguards resisted my team.”

“You said ‘initially.' Did she change her story?”

“Yes. She had other reasons.”

Rather than delve further into this line of questioning, Karp dropped it and moved on. “You noted that computers and docu
ments were seized that have yielded valuable information. Are you aware of any particular documents that have bearing on this case?”

“Yes. My team located a safe they were able to open,” Jaxon said. “Inside, along with other documents, was a data storage device—otherwise known as a flash drive—on which we found a folder containing several files. We were able to open the files. They were written in Arabic; however, the information was encrypted.”

“Were you able to ascertain anything from this encrypted material that would be of interest to the jury and the court?”

“Yes. Although the information itself was encrypted, and therefore didn't make sense, one word appeared a number of times, drawing our attention.”

“And that word was . . . ?”

“
Sarab.
The Arabic word for ‘mirage.' ”

Karp was looking at the jurors when Jaxon spoke and saw the word register on their faces. He glanced at the defense as he walked over to the prosecution table and picked up a clear bag containing a small object and a piece of paper. Constantine was doing his best to maintain an air of confidence, but Karp could see that he was shaken.

“And why did that word stand out?”

“The frequency and placement of the word in context with the other information led us to believe that it was being used as a code name.”

“What happened to the documents, and in particular that flash drive?”

Jaxon's face grew hard. “We returned from the raid to the U.S. air base in Saudi Arabia, where we were surrounded and detained by a U.S. Army intelligence unit. They demanded that we turn over the material we'd seized during the raid, as well as our prisoner, Nadya Malovo.”

“Did you do this willingly?”

“No.”

“But did you eventually have to comply?”

“Yes. We received orders from the office of the president's national security adviser telling us to stand down and hand over the items you mentioned, as well as Malovo.”

“And did you?”

“Yes. We had no choice.”

Karp walked over to the witness stand. “Do you know the identity of the Army unit that detained you and seized the materials, as well as took Malovo into custody?”

“Yes, Troop D of the 148th Battlefield Surveillance Brigade.”

“Did you know Colonel Michael Swindells?”

“Personally, no. But I learned his identity later.”

“And what did you learn?”

“That he was the commanding officer of the 148th during the events just described.”

“Was he present that day in Saudi Arabia?”

“No. Only Troop D, which, although part of the 148th, reports directly to the office of the national security adviser.”

“Did you have reason to want to contact Colonel Swin­dells?”

“Yes. Through back channels we learned that Swindells was concerned about the information seized by Troop D, in particular what we have come to refer to as the MIRAGE files contained on the flash drive.”

“Do you know what concerned him?”

“He apparently had learned that the files contained information regarding a conspiracy by an American oil company working with representatives of foreign governments and the terrorist organization known as ISIS to sell black-market oil.”

“Do you know where he got that information?”

“It's my understanding that he learned it by questioning Nadya Malovo.”

“Did he or you know the details of this arrangement, or the name of this American oil company or the representatives of the foreign governments?”

“No. But we believed that the information might be contained on the encrypted MIRAGE files.”

“Did you attempt to contact Colonel Swindells yourself?”

“No. I wasn't sure of his loyalties or of those around him.”

“Did you instead try to determine those loyalties and possibly arrange for a meeting through an intermediary?”

“Yes. In the course of our investigation, we learned that a journalist named Ariadne Stupenagel had a personal relationship with the colonel. A member of my team has a personal relationship with Stupenagel as well, and she requested that Stupenagel make contact.”

“Was Stupenagel given information by you or a member of your team regarding your purposes?”

“A basic outline and that the information we sought might be connected to the word ‘mirage,' that's about it.”