“We know that Solaz’s mother took the photographs. That much they let slip during the meeting at the courthouse,” said Rhytag. “And if they’re to be believed, Madriani and his partner know where the photographs were taken.”
“Kim told me in the car on the way in,” said Thorpe. “But they wouldn’t tell you.”
“They wanted to trade it for concessions in the state’s case.”
Rhytag couldn’t share what he knew with the two criminal defense lawyers for fear that they would use it to go public. The information that there was a loose nuclear device somewhere in the hemisphere, probably in the hands of terrorists, and that this was the reason Emerson Pike was murdered, might shift the focus of suspicion away from their client. It could also result in a national panic, and cause whoever had the device to expedite their timetable. Even if Rhytag suspected that this was the reason behind Pike’s murder, there was no hard evidence to support it. Templeton had a solid case against the woman, and she had a motive, money.
“Do you think Solaz is involved with the device?” said Thorpe.
“I don’t know,” said Rhytag.
“If so, she may have told her lawyers what Nitikin has,” said Thorpe.
“To listen to the lawyers in the judge’s chambers, they know a lot. Whether or not they really do only the phone taps and wire transcripts will tell us.”
“So far the only conversation we have between the lawyer, Madriani, and Solaz is one telephone conversation…” Rhytag finds the sheaf of pages. “Here it is.” He passes it over to Thorpe. “It was recorded off the lawyer’s cell phone. He called her at the jail. She called him back. It was right after the meeting at the courthouse. Very brief, nothing in it. He’s holding everything until he meets with her at the courthouse tomorrow morning. He told her he didn’t want to discuss things over the phone.”
“You think he knows?” said Thorpe.
“I was hoping to have everything in place for a while so we could be listening in before they filed anything formal to obtain the photographs. That way we wouldn’t have to mention the federal courts and surveillance right away. Unfortunately, it didn’t work out.”
“Well, taking her before a grand jury is not going to do any good.” Kim Howard, the U.S. attorney, is looking at one of the transcripts. “This was yesterday. It’s a conversation in the office between the two lawyers. If we hit her with a grand jury subpoena and offer immunity on any federal charges, apparently they’re prepared to tell her to take the heat, sit tight, and let a federal judge issue a contempt citation.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” said Rhytag. “Unless we can talk the prosecutor into offering something on the murder charge, her lawyers aren’t willing to bargain.”
“What about the prosecutor?” said Thorpe. “Can’t you get him to budge?”
“He made an offer, but it’s not much. Here’s the problem. He thinks one of the lawyers, this guy Madriani, is involved with Solaz. He suspects that the lawyer may be a co-conspirator in the murder.”
“You’re kidding me,” said Thorpe.
“No, I’m not.”
“If that’s the case, how do we know the lawyer’s not involved with Nitikin? What kind of evidence has your prosecutor got?”
“We don’t know. We’re not sharing with him, so he’s not sharing with us,” said Rhytag. “It’s not just the national security angle. We’ve had to keep the state prosecutor in the dark to protect his case. If we let him partake of our information, we end up contaminating his entire prosecution, especially now with the surveillance warrants, listening in on the lawyers.”
“What’s he like?” Thorpe wants to know about the prosecutor.
Rhytag tells him about Templeton’s disability. “Seems bright, a decent enough guy. Given the fact that we’ve told him next to nothing, I suppose we’re lucky that he’s cooperating with us at all.”
“You may change your mind after you read this,” said Howard.
The telephone on the side table behind Howard rings.
“Here, take a look.” She hands Rhytag some pages of the surveillance transcript as she swivels in her chair to get the phone.
He reads for a few seconds. “Son of a bitch!”
“What is it?” said Thorpe.
“That little sucker, that moral pygmy, sold us out.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s angry because we won’t talk to him. It was Templeton who invited the defense to file the motion to get the photographs. He told them to do it now. Guess he figures that’s going to smoke us out and give him some information. That little prick! He forced us into court before we could get the surveillance up and running. Damn it to hell,” said Rhytag.
“Maybe we should tell him everything we’ve got,” said Thorpe. “Stink up his case and let the state court dismiss it.”
“Serve him right,” said Rhytag. “If it wasn’t such an abuse of justice, I’d call him on the phone right now and read him the transcript and record the telephone conversation.”
Howard hung up the phone and turned back to the table. “She’s here. I told them to send her in.”
“Good,” said Rhytag.
A couple of seconds later one of the secretaries opened the door to the conference room. In walked a young woman in running shoes, shorts, and a T-shirt. Her hair was disheveled, and she looked somewhat sweaty.
“Please excuse my appearance,” said Daniela Perez. “I thought it might look suspicious if I changed my routine at the jail to shower and clean up this early in the day.”
Thorpe made the introductions since he was the one who’d made the assignment.
Daniela’s true name was Carla Mederios. She was born in Panama in the old Canal Zone to a Colombian mother and an American father. Her dad was an officer in the Army Corp of Engineers. He was killed before her eyes when Carla was fifteen years old. They had been shopping in Panama City when her father was taken by rampaging Panamanian thugs, one of the so-called dignity brigades. He was hacked to pieces by machetes, and his body dragged through the streets. It was a month before the U.S. invasion of Panama and the capture of Manuel Noriega.
Carla moved with her mother to Colombia and remained there until she returned to the United States for college.
It was no surprise that she spoke fluent Spanish. She was also an honors graduate of Pepperdine University, in Los Angeles. After college she spent four years as a lieutenant in a U.S. Army Ranger battalion, two of them in combat in Afghanistan. It was there that she gained the artwork on her body and learned how to deal with unruly people in showers.
She returned from the military and studied law at the University of Virginia, where she graduated second in her class.
Mederios turned down four six-figure job offers from major law firms in New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles and instead went to Quantico, Virginia, where she trained to become an FBI agent. For the last three years she’d worked undercover, both in the United States and abroad. She was now considered one of the foremost female agents in the bureau, the reason she’d been picked for this assignment.
“Agent Mederios, have a seat, please.” Rhytag offered her the chair next to him.
“I don’t have much time,” she said.
“Where does she think you are right now?” said Thorpe.
“I told her I had a meeting with my lawyer. After all, I didn’t want to lie to her,” said Mederios. “She thinks I’m at the jail, in one of the conference rooms. Tomorrow we’re going to court together. I’d take her shopping and out to lunch, but we don’t have enough time.” Even Rhytag laughs at this. “She thinks I have a court appearance. I figured I’d put myself on the bus with her and we could talk.”