J.D. Trafford - Michael Collins 03 - No Time To Hide (22 page)

CHAPTER SIXTY
FIVE

Brew was the name of the latest gastro-pub to open in what was one of the most cursed corners of Park Slope. New restaurants cycled through the space about every year, sometimes a restaurant would hang on for two years, but never more than that.

They were usually owned by well-intentioned but naive men who were running away from dead-end, white-collar jobs. In the midst of their mid-life crisis, opening a restaurant was perceived to be easier than either going back to school or getting a divorce. Although the divorce inevitably came shortly after the restaurant tanked and the couple’s life savings evaporated.

Brew was still in its initial honeymoon period. It was a novelty, and the neighborhood do-gooders were interested in “helping it succeed” for fear of a national chain or a Starbucks taking over the corner. That dedication would fade in a few more months, but at the moment, the bar was filled.

Pierced and tattooed young people sat on stools next to new moms who had babies strapped to their chests.

The new, hipster moms were trying to live their pre-birth vow that the “baby won’t change me.” It was an admirable goal and entirely plausible right up to the point when the infant refused to be strapped to the mother’s chest like an enormous fleshy brooch.

Andie Larone walked to the back of the restaurant. There was a booth in the corner. She sat down, picked up a menu, and waited.

###

Brea Krane arrived twenty minutes late, but Andie didn’t say anything. Brea kept her coat on, and sat down across from her.

“Do you have it?” Brea got to the point.

“Yes.”

“
Then let’s see it.”

Andie opened her purse. She took out the envelope and handed it to Brea.

Brea Krane took the envelope. She opened it and removed the sheet of paper with the passwords for the other two Cook Island accounts.

“Good.” She nodded.

“Now what are you going to say to get Michael out?” Andie asked, but Brea immediately held up her hand.

“Not now and not here.” Brea looked around. “I testify in two days. I’m going to make sure these accounts and passwords work.” Brea removed a new disposable cell phone from her purse. “Call me on this tomorrow. My new number is the only one programmed in the contacts.”

Andie nodded.

“Fine.” Andie took the phone. “So that’s it?”

“That’s it.” Brea Krane got up from the table and walked out the door.

Andie watched her. She doubted that Brea Krane had any
intention of making good on her promises.

###

Brent Krane followed his sister down 8th Street. The crowd could not believe that she was with Michael Collins’ girlfriend. They went mad when they had greeted each other like old friends. His sister was a traitor. She was a liar. He now understood why he had been sent away. He had been tricked.

Brent felt the gun in his pocket. He thought about killing her right then. Why not? Brent picked up his pace. Within a few seconds, Brent had closed the gap to twenty feet. He slid his finger onto the trigger. A surge of power came up his back and buzzed his neck.

The gap closed to ten feet, and then five.

Brent was close now. He could smell his sister’s perfume. Brent took the gun out of his pocket, matching her stride for stride. And then a single voice in the crowd told him to stop. It pierced through the fog.

The voice, however, wasn’t calling for mercy. The voice told him that she needed to pay him first. He needed to get his sister’s money before she was killed. He needed the money, just in case he survived the final confrontation.

CHAPTER SIXTY
SIX

Gadd’s approach changed during the second morning of testimony. Rather than ask Vatch to comment on each individual document, Gadd offered documents in bulk.

“Agent Vatch, have you reviewed what has been previously marked as Exhibits 27 through 50?”

Gadd pointed at a stack of documents on the prosecution’s table, and Vatch responded that he had reviewed them all and that they were all documents received from various banks through the course of his investigation.

“Very well.” Gadd nodded. “Without any objection, the United States would now offer Exhibits 27 through 50.”

Judge Husk looked at Quentin, and Quentin stood.

“We have no objection, Your Honor.”

“Good. Exhibits 27 through 50 have been offered and are now entered into evidence.”

A smile formed on the edges of Judge Husk’s mouth as he accepted the stack of documents. It was an expression of satisfaction. His lecture the previous afternoon had worked. Gadd was no longer going to
offer each exhibit individually. Therefore, there was now a higher likelihood that he would live long enough to hear the jury’s verdict.

###

The rest of the morning moved as quickly as the first ten minutes. Brenda Gadd offered several batches of exhibits, and each time they were admitted without objection or further testimony. The pace of the trial was now in a full sprint, and by the mid-morning break, Brenda Gadd had finished her direct examination of Agent Vatch.

Judge Husk nodded, and looked at the jurors.

“We’ll come back in twenty minutes. The prosecution has completed its initial inquiry. Now counsel for Defendant Collins will have an opportunity to question Agent Vatch. When he concludes, Ms. Gadd will ask follow-up questions and so on and so forth until we are done and move onto the next witness.”

Judge Husk looked away from the jurors and out into the courtroom.  There were fewer people on the second day, but it was still more of an audience than in a typical criminal case. He raised his hand, slowly.

“Please rise as the jurors exit.”

Michael and the others stood and watched the jurors get up, stretch, and amble out of the courtroom. They were more relaxed than during jury selection, and Michael saw that they had started to form several internal groups. Friendships were forming. People of similar ages and education levels had gravitated toward one another. It happened every time.

Quentin waited a second until he was sure that they were all gone. Then he turned to Michael.
“We should talk.”

###

It took a few minutes for Quentin to make it through security, but eventually he was allowed into the back. On each floor there was one secure conference room where attorneys were allowed to meet with clients who were in custody.

Quentin came through the door. He had a notebook and pen, ready to work.

He put his hand on Michael’s shoulder, gave it a squeeze, and then sat in a chair across the small table.

“Any ideas?” ” Quentin asked as he wrote the date on the top of the notepad.

“Have you talked to Andie?”
Michael asked.

Quentin shook his head. “No. She and Kermit have been running around, but I haven’t interfered.” Quentin paused. He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “They’re obviously up to something, but I don’t want to know.”

“That’s for the best.”

“So I’ve prepared my cross, but is there anything you want me to ask?”

Michael nodded.

“You need to suggest that they haven’t disclosed all the information. You need to suggest that there are more documents out there.”

“Are there?” Quentin doubted. “We’ve been killed with documents. My computer crashed a couple times because the files they sent over were so big.”

“Just create some doubt,” Michael said. “You need the jury to leave today wondering whether or not the government is hiding information. That this was all a smokescreen.”

Quentin’s eyes narrowed.

“Is there something specific I need to know? The judge might call me up to the bench and ask.”

“Just say the situation is developing. That you believe in good faith that there are additional documents that have not been disclosed.” Michael leaned in. “You’ve made an external record of all your written requests over the past two months, now we need to do it in there. Every witness needs to be asked about the other documents that were not disclosed.”

Quentin nodded.

“Okay.” Quentin stood. “But Michael, whatever is developing needs to develop soon.” He walked toward the door. “We’re in deep trouble out there.”

###

The doubts that Quentin expressed in private were gone in the courtroom. His early stumbles during opening arguments were over, and now Quentin projected confidence.

“Tell me about Agent Pastoura.”

“She was my partner.” Vatch remained steady, suppressing his inner asshole.

“She was more than that.” Quentin came back at him. “She was a good friend. True?”

Agent Vatch didn’t take the bait. So Quentin continued without asking the judge to force Vatch to answer his question.

“You both were there on the night that Joshua Krane was murdered, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you are not claiming that Michael Collins is at all involved with that murder, right?”

“He has not been charged, but I don’t know.”

“I’m only asking about what you know.” Quentin interrupted. He stopped Vatch before Vatch could do any real damage. “And as you sit here today, you have no specific evidence that Michael Collins was involved.”

“Depends on what you mean by specific.” Vatch enjoyed himself, and Quentin realized that his whole line of questioning was a mistake. It was one thing for Michael Collins to be a thief. It was a totally different thing for the jury to think Michael was a murderer.

Quentin changed course. He decided to stop digging himself further into a hole.

“Other things happened that night, didn’t they?”

Brenda Gadd rose to her feet.

“Objection, Your Honor, vague.”

“Sustained.” Judge Husk rolled his eyes. “Get to the point, counsel.”

“You agree that other people were injured the night that Joshua Krane died, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Krane was killed, true?”

“That’s what I said and that’s what happened.” Agent Vatch’s harder edges started to reveal themselves.

“My client, Michael Collins, was also shot that night, correct?”

Agent Vatch looked at Michael Collins.

“That’s right.”

“And Michael Collins could have died?”

“Yes,” Vatch said. “But that doesn’t mean —”

Quentin cut him off. “Thank you, Agent Vatch, that answers my question. And then there was a chase?”

“Yes.”

“You and Agent Pastoura were in a car, and Agent Pastoura got out of the car to chase the shooter.”

Agent Vatch didn’t respond.

“Can you answer the question, Agent Vatch? Did Agent Pastoura get out of the car and chase the shooter?”

Agent Vatch nodded his head. “Yes, but I don’t see the relevance.”

Gadd rose to her feet again. “And neither do I, Your Honor. I object as to relevance.”

Quentin looked at the jury and shook his head, and then turned back to the judge.
“It shows bias, Your Honor. Agent Vatch’s assessment and investigation of my client has been clouded by his own personal involvement with what happened that night.”

Judge Husk closed his eyes, thinking.

“I’ll overrule the objection, but you need to get to the heart of it, Mr. Robinson.”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Quentin turned back to Vatch. “There was no time to get you out of the car and into your wheelchair, correct? And so she ran after the shooter by herself, true?”

“Yes.” Vatch’s jaw stiffened.

“Then she was tragically killed in a shootout with this assailant, and you blame yourself?”

Agent Vatch stared at Quentin, locking eyes.

“Of course,” he said. “But the more —”

“That answers my question,” Quentin said. “And so you’ve spent years tracking down, Michael Collins, true?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve worked on this case in the evenings and on the weekends, despite orders from supervisors to back off?”

“I’ve worked evenings and weekends,” Vatch said. “And supervisors had wanted me to work on other investigations, but this was my case.”

“Of course, it was your case. It wasn’t the government’s case. It was your case, personally, because you blamed yourself for Agent Pastoura’s death.”

Gadd was back on her feet.

“Objection, Your Honor.”

“Sustained.” Judge Husk bit his lower lip. “Next question.”

“You’ve gathered all these documents, but there are still more documents out there, correct?”

Vatch wasn’t sure how to respond. He hesitated, and that was all Quentin wanted. Michael felt the seed of doubt had been planted.

A moment too late, Vatch responded, “We’ve disclosed what we’re required to disclose. We’ve disclosed all the documents that we have that are relevant and material.”

“Required? Relevant? Material?” Quentin shook his head, and then continued. “You’ve buried us with a mountain of paper, but as you sit here today, there are more reports, bank accounts, and other information that have not been offered into evidence by Ms. Gadd and the government, true?”

“I guess I don’t understand.”

“There are documents that you’ve produced to me, as part of discovery, but have not shown the jury, correct?”

Vatch looked at Gadd, hoping for a lifeline. None came, and so Vatch turned back to Quentin.

“I guess that’s right.”

“You guess,” Quentin confirmed. “Exactly. You guess. You’ve shown the jury only things that
you
think are required and
you
believe are material. But that means there might be a lot of information
I
think is required and
I
believe is material. True?”

“Objection.” Gadd was on her feet.

Quentin Robinson waved her off.

“The question’s withdrawn, Your Honor. I’m done with this witness.”