Thriller: Code Name: Camelot - An Action Thriller Novel (A Noah Wolf Novel, Thriller, Action, Mystery Book 1) (3 page)

“That doesn’t make them right,” Mathers said. “You want my opinion, it makes them monsters. I went to law school because I believe in the law; I joined the Army because I wanted to make a difference in military law. Now I’m just supposed to walk away and watch you go into the lethal injection chambers? How am I supposed to live with myself, after that? You answer that for me.”

Noah pulled his hand back. “Lieutenant, I’m not the one who put you in this position. In fact, I’m the one who’s actually in this position, not you. You have an out; I don’t. You can walk away; all I can do is move forward, propelled along by a system that is being used by a political machine to cover up what really happened, to make me pay for Lieutenant Gibson’s crimes. If you can show me any fairness in that, then maybe I can help you figure out how to live with yourself when this is all over.” He rubbed his hands over his face, and she thought the gesture was odd. Most people used it to try to get themselves under control, but if there was one thing she knew already about Foster, it was that he never lost control in the first place. He put his hands down, and looked her in the eye once more. “Lieutenant, I don’t want to feel like I’ve hurt someone who’s innocent. Give me the form I need to file, so that I can release you.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t want to do that.”

“There really isn’t much choice,” Noah said. “You can’t win, and continuing to try will only hurt your career. If I’m going to die, I’d rather die knowing that I at least tried to always do the right thing.”

“Yeah, well that’s pretty much how I feel, too. If they win, then sometime, maybe a few months, maybe a few years, they’re going to kill you. When that day comes, it’ll be over for you, but I’ll have to keep living with it. Frankly, I don’t know if I can. If I don’t do whatever I can for you, then the day may come when I just can’t cope with being me anymore.” She looked down at the file in front of her and opened it up. “Sergeant Wolf,” she said, “tell me about your childhood.”

Noah’s eyes went wide. “My childhood? Surely you’ve been able to get at least that much information, right?”

She nodded. “Yes, but I want to hear from you. Please, go on.”

Noah let out a long sigh. “Okay, but you’re getting the Reader’s Digest condensed version. Seven years old, I saw my father kill my mother and then himself. Got sent to the foster care system, lived there for almost a year before my grandparents showed up to take me, lived with them for a short time until they figured out I was a Pinocchio, then they couldn’t cope with me anymore and I ended up back in the foster system. Grew up there, spent most of my time in a couple different foster homes, until something happened that made everyone afraid of me. I joined the Army to get out of my hometown, and I finally felt like I’d found a place where I fit in. The same parts of me that were considered a problem in civilian life became assets in the military, and I got a stack of commendations about what a fantastic soldier I was.”

Matters had been scribbling furiously, even though she had a recorder lying on the table taking in every word and shoving them into its memory chip. She looked up at him. “What do you mean, that your grandparents figured out you were a Pinocchio?”

Noah shrugged. “That’s what a friend of mine used to call me, a Pinocchio. Pinocchio was a puppet who wanted to be a real boy, everybody knows that story. In my case, it sort of describes how I am, a real person but without any emotions, without any sense of what it means to be human. I don’t know how to act like a real person, so I just mimic the people around me. That works fine, until I’m confronted with a situation that’s so unusual that there isn’t any right or normal way to handle it.”

“Such as what happened with Lieutenant Gibson and the other men, right?”

“Yep. I’ve never had the opportunity to watch someone else decide how to handle that type of thing, so I just went with what I thought was the most logical thing to do. Since it was obvious to me that Gibson would rather kill me than let me report what he’d been doing, the logical thing seemed to be for me to kill him first. Same with the other men: since they wanted to kill me to keep me from turning them in, the logical choice would be for me to kill them first.”

She scribbled for a few seconds more. “Here’s a question,” she said. “You said that you told the men who surrendered that you were much better at combat than they were, and that they couldn’t win. Apparently, they believed you, but the question is, did you believe it yourself? Do you honestly think you’re that good, that you could have taken all of them out?”

Both of Noah’s eyebrows went up, and Mathers read his expression as a way of saying,
Well, duh!

“Of course I did,” he said aloud. “And every one of them knew it was true.”

She suddenly raised her eyes from the pad she was writing on and looked directly into his. “Then why didn’t you do it? Why didn’t you go ahead and kill them all, so that no one could have contested your report?”

“I didn’t need to, they surrendered.”

“Yes, but if you had not offered them the chance to surrender, they would’ve kept right on trying to kill you. You would have been completely justified in eliminating them all. Why didn’t you?”

Noah stared at her for a moment. “Most of those guys were pretty decent people, for the most part, but in all the years that I’ve been studying humans, one thing I’ve found is that they tend to be a lot like certain animals. Take wolves, for example: an individual wolf will almost never attack another animal or even a human, unless it feels threatened or is starving. However, an entire wolf pack, if the alpha is aggressive toward that animal or human, will rip it to shreds. It won’t matter if they’re hungry, because they probably won’t eat it anyway. They’ll just destroy it.” He leaned forward. “Humans are a lot like that, if they have a leader who will disregard right and wrong. Humans tend to submit to authority, or at least most of them do. If an authority figure tells them to do something, or even worse, leads by example in doing something that’s just plain wrong, something they wouldn’t normally do on their own, they’ll give in to the lure of the taboo and join right in. You understand what I’m trying to say?”

Mathers looked him in the eye. “Pack behavior,” she said. “That’s what they call the tendency for people to join in on group actions that they would normally consider unacceptable. What you’re saying is that you believe those men would never have done what they did if Lieutenant Gibson hadn’t pushed the issue, hadn’t actually allowed or even ordered them to do it. Right?”

“Right. So that means that, in some ways, they were still innocent. They didn’t deserve to die just because they were scared of what I might do to them. Now, if they hadn’t laid down their weapons, yes, I would’ve done what I had to do. But once they did, then it became my duty to bring them in alive and unharmed.”

Mathers sat there and looked at him for another long moment, and then began scribbling again. “There you go again,” she said. “The ironic thing is that the very problem you’ve got, this thing about not having emotions or knowing how to be human, is almost certainly what has made you one of the best men I’ve ever met. I know a lot of terrific people, but if they had been in your position out there, and known as surely as you did that they could have killed all of the others, you can bet your life that they would have come back alone and sworn up and down that the rest of their unit was wiped out by enemy missile fire. There’d be no search for bodies, so the story would hold up.”

Noah sat silently for a moment, but then reached over and laid a hand on hers, stopping her pen from moving across the paper. “Lieutenant,” he said softly, “I don’t know about whether I’m a good man or not. I don’t have any reasonable way to judge myself. But this much I have learned, and again, mostly by watching other people. Just because you can do something that may benefit yourself doesn’t necessarily make it right to do so. That would be like if you found yourself alone in a building where hundreds of gold bars were stored, and knew with an absolute certainty that you could take a couple of them and no one would ever know.” He leaned his head down a bit more, so that he could look her in the eye more directly. “It would still be stealing, now, wouldn’t it?”

THREE

“
I
t just isn’t
fair,” Mathers said. She was sitting on the couch in her apartment, leaning back against Major Arthur Newman. “Foster is almost certainly telling the truth, but there is absolutely no way that I’m going to be able to save him from being sentenced to die. Makes me sick to think that I chose to become part of a system that can so easily and arbitrarily decide to destroy a man for doing exactly what was right.”

Newman caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “You didn’t make that choice, Abby,” he said. “You just got handed the bag to hold. The problem is that your client, Foster, had the bad luck to be serving under a psychopath who happened to be the son of a powerful man. Sometimes, no matter how unfair it is, there’s just no way to win.”

“And how am I supposed to live with that? Can you tell me how I’m supposed to sleep at night, knowing that a good and innocent man went to death row because he did the right thing? Sergeant Foster shouldn’t be standing court-martial, he should be given a medal.” She sat forward suddenly, and spun to look him in the eye. “What if I went to the press? What if I leaked the story of how a congressman can railroad the man who stopped his son from committing even more horrible crimes in the future? Maybe I can get just enough public pressure to at least keep Foster out of the execution chamber.”

Newman was shaking his head. “Abby, it won’t work,” he said. “First of all, Congressman Gibson stands a fair chance of being the next president, if he does decide to run. He’s popular, and from what I’ve heard so far, all the speculation polls are finding him to be a very viable and likely candidate. The press is not going to go up against a man like that, not anybody who could get you serious attention, anyway. But even more than that, they would trace the leak back to you and you could be facing a court-martial of your own. If you decide to keep fighting for the Sergeant and end up losing your own career, well, you can console yourself by remembering that it’s better to sacrifice your career than your soul.” He pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed it. “Besides, you might decide you like being a stay-at-home mom, and I’ve never been all that excited about having a wife who works.”

“Art, be serious! I’ve got to think this through, I can’t just lay down on this.”

“Abby, sweetheart, I’m being completely serious,” Newman said. “You cannot win, that much is just true. No matter what you do, your Sergeant Foster is going to end up dead over this. Your CO knows it, Sergeant Foster knows it, and you know it. What you have got to do, if you’re going to survive this at all, is detach yourself from it. Stop thinking of Foster as a client, and just think of him as a casualty of war.”

Mathers leaned back against him again, and he could tell that she was crying softly. He had often wondered if she really had the hardness of heart that it took to be a good lawyer, and it seemed this case was going to be the one that broke her. Of that, he was absolutely certain, so he simply put his arms around her and let her cry.

Sometimes, that’s just all a man can do. The following morning, she would be walking into that court-martial, and he wasn’t sure whether she would even be the same person when she came back out. They ended up falling asleep right there on the couch, huddled together in Mathers’ desperate need for human contact, and only woke when the sun came through the window to tell them that it was time, once more, to face the future.

The court-martial was a joke. The prosecution paraded its entire line of witnesses before the judge and members of the court, while Mathers had only Foster, himself, to put on the stand. She had done her best, cross-examining each witness and watching them squirm on the stand as she piled on all the pressure she could to try to break their stories, but they had obviously been well rehearsed. She could make them nervous, but she couldn’t make them crack.

When it came time for the defense to make its case, she put Foster on the stand and simply let him tell the story in his own words. To her, they were the first words that sounded even slightly believable in the entire proceeding, but the prosecution turned his cross-examination into one of the most vitriolic attacks she had ever seen in a court.

Still, Foster could not be rattled. He kept his cool, never once becoming upset or angry, calmly answering every question. Some of them he answered over and over, always with the same response, until at last even the judge and panel got tired of hearing it all repeated. After, she rested her case, knowing she had done all of the little she could do, and knowing full well that it wasn’t going to be enough.

“Sergeant Foster,” she began, as the members of the court filed out to begin their deliberations. “I’ve been thinking, and—well, I want you to know that you won’t be forgotten. We may still have a chance to save you on appeal, but no matter what happens, I want you to know that I’m not going to let this be swept under the rug. I’ve copied all of my notes in your case; I’ve got hours and hours of recordings from where you and I talked it over, so I know the whole story. We might not have a chance to win here in this court, but there’s another court. I’m going to write a book about you and this case, so that people learn what really happened, and just how corrupt our system really is.”

Foster sat there at the defense table and smiled at her. She knew, of course, that the smile was merely an affectation, that he had practiced it over and over until he could make it look genuine, but it still made her feel good.

“Lieutenant Mathers, I appreciate that. But do yourself a favor, and wait until Congressman Gibson retires.”

The members of the court returned after only twenty-four minutes of deliberations, and their foreman stood to read the verdict. Noah was convicted on all counts, just as he had told her he would be.

“Sergeant Noah Foster,” intoned the presiding officer, as Noah stood to hear the official pronouncement of the verdict. “The members of this court have found you guilty of multiple counts of murder and sedition. This court will now move to the sentencing phase, unless the defendant is in need of a recess.”

Noah kept his eyes on the eyes of the judge. “I don’t need a recess, Sir,” he said. “I’d like to proceed.”

Mathers leaned over and whispered into his ear. “Foster, are you sure? We can take a break, reconvene tomorrow.”

Noah shook his head. “All that would do is give me one more day to second-guess what we could’ve done. Let’s just get this over with. There’s actually a lot of books I want to read before I die, so the sooner I get started, the better the chance I’ll get to finish at least some of them.”

Mathers looked up at the judge. “Defense is ready to proceed, Sir,” she said.

Just like the court-martial itself, the sentencing phase was a farce. The presiding officer listened to statements about Foster’s character from his commanding officer and several of the men who had already testified against him, painting him as a dangerous and psychotic individual. When it was her turn, she put Foster back on the stand and let him talk about his childhood, the things that had happened to him. She asked him about his psychological problems, and was quickly shut down by the judge. By the time she finished, she was standing before the presiding officer with tears streaming down her cheeks.

And then it was time. “Sergeant Noah Foster,” the judge said, “you have been convicted of murder and sedition, both of which are eligible for the death penalty under the Uniform Code of Military Justice, and this court has heard testimony from a number of your peers and superiors that makes me wonder how you ever managed to get into the Army in the first place. Men like you are not fit for military service, and it amazes me that it took so long for your flaws to become visible. It is therefore the order of this court that you shall be taken forthwith and transported back to the United States Disciplinary Barracks at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, there to be executed by lethal injection at such time as may be ordered by the Commander-in-Chief of the United States of America.”

There was no outburst. Foster stood silent as the sentence was pronounced, and the only sound in the room came from the soft sobbing of his defense attorney. He turned to her.

“Lieutenant,” he said, “I want to thank you for all you’ve done, and all you tried to do. What’s our next step?”

“I’ll begin work on the first appeal immediately,” she said. “Then we’ll keep at it until we either get your sentence commuted, get your conviction overturned or—or we exhaust all possibilities. The way this usually works, they’ll have you shipped back to the states within the next couple of weeks. They’ll fly me back for each appeal hearing, so you’ll see me again.”

“Good, I’d like that. Looks like my ride is here,” he said, indicating the two MPs who stood by the door waiting to take him back to his cell. “Try not to let this get you down, Lieutenant. Believe me when I tell you that I can see how hard you tried. Like I told you before, it’s time you go and find someone you can save, and put all your effort into them.”

He held his hands out for the MPs, and they put the cuffs and shackles back on him before leading him out the door. Mathers was alone in the courtroom, and for just a moment, she simply sat down at the defense table and let her tears flow.

Five minutes later, she walked out of the room with her head held high.

Things moved quite a bit faster than Mathers had expected, and Noah was shipped back to the states less than a week later. She had spent as much time with him as she could, in preparation for the appeal, but there were still numerous points she needed to discuss with him. She stormed into her commanding officer’s office once again.

“At ease, Lieutenant,” Captain Willis said. “You want to tell me what this is all about?”

“It’s Sergeant Foster,” she said. “I’m working on his first appeal, but I went over to the stockade this morning and they said he’s been sent off to Leavenworth already. What’s going on?”

Willis leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over his face. “Lieutenant Mathers, didn’t we already have this conversation? Your client got the attention of some high-profile political power, remember? Don’t expect the government to drag its feet on this case.”

“He still has a right to his appeal,” she said. “How am I supposed to properly prepare for the appeal, when I didn’t get enough time to sit down with him and get all the information I need?”

Willis looked her in the eye and let out a sigh. “Look, Abby, I know how frustrating this is, and especially for someone young and idealistic like you. You’ve just got to accept that you’ve done the best you can do, and learn to live with it. If you still need to communicate with the Sergeant on his appeal, there’s an email set up that you can use, and he’ll be taken to a special computer where he can read your emails and reply to them.”

Mathers stood there and stared at her CO for a long moment. “Sir, with all due respect, I’ve been here long enough to qualify for transfer back to the US. I’m going to apply for the transfer today, and I hope you approve it.” She saluted, then executed another perfect about-face before walking out the door. Willis sat there and watched her go, knowing that there was nothing he could say or do to make her feel any better.
Damn it,
he thought,
most lawyers get at least a few years under their belts before all their ideals are ripped away from them. Maybe I should have kept that case for myself, instead of giving it to a
newbie.