He stole a look at Jim, but the man faced the front. Was he being sentenced now? How could he be sentenced when he hadn’t been tried? Hell, he wasn’t even sure of the charges. His legs felt like jelly. Cox prodded him with an elbow, followed by a grim, “Stand.” Mark wanted to shout at him that he was trying, but instead, he shoved out of the chair and stood. He took a deep breath and raised his chin.
“Mark Taylor, this council has found insufficient evidence that you had any involvement in the events of September 11, 2001. You are to be released from custody immediately.” The man gathered his papers and he and the rest of the tribunal rose, and without so much as a nod in Mark’s direction, left the room.
His legs wobbled, and he sat hard. That was it? He was free? Mark rested his elbows on the table, propping his head in his hands as the realization sunk in. The nightmare was over. He was going home. Emotion welled up and he lowered his head onto his arms, his body shaking as he tried to suppress a sob. His head felt stuffed with cotton, and it took a moment before he heard his lawyer speaking to him. Mark swiped his eyes on his shoulder before he turned his head. “Huh?”
“I said, ‘congratulations. You’re a free man.” He clapped Mark on the back.
Mark shook his head. “It’s…it’s kind of surreal. Is it true? I’m free? They won’t take me back there?” Please, God, let it be real.
David Cox smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Yes, it’s true.”
Blinking, he tried to return the smile, but he noticed Jim stuff a large white envelope in his briefcase. What if it was a trick? After over a year in custody, now he was just free to walk out? Just like that? It didn’t make sense, and he didn’t trust them.
One of the guards stepped forward. “Stand please.”
Mark did as ordered, and when the guard removed the shackles, his whole body felt light, as though he might float to the ceiling. He rubbed his wrists and waited, hardly daring to breathe. It could be a trick, give him a taste of freedom in hopes that he’d spill his guts to stay free.
Jim approached the table and handed a stack of papers to Cox. “These need to be signed by your client.”
He made no attempt to acknowledge his former prisoner. The entire proceeding, with two exceptions, had been handled as if Mark hadn’t even been in the room.
“Okay. Give me a couple of minutes to go over these, please.” Cox accepted the packet and turned his attention to Mark. “Well, this was an unexpected turn of events. I have to tell you, I had my doubts that you would be released. The government has been hellbent on keeping enemy combatants locked up without even a trial.”
He flipped through the papers. “These look like standard documents. There’s one about your personal and business bank accounts. It looks like it might take awhile to unfreeze them.” Cox frowned. “Wait a minute…” He glared up at Jim. “What’s this? You want him to sign a statement waiving his right to pursue a lawsuit against the government?”
A muscle near Jim’s jaw tightened for a second, his mouth set in a hard line as he glanced over to Bill, who nodded in response to some unspoken question. “Apparently so.” His voice was calm.
Cox shook his head in disgust. “Could you give me a moment to confer with my client?” It was not a request.
“Certainly.” Jim moved over near Bill, but continued to observe.
“Think it over, Mark. They’ve taken away more than a year of your life, and I don’t even know what else might have happened in there.”
Jim’s face remained impassive as he waited, but his hand tighten on the handle of his briefcase. If Mark signed, it meant never getting a chance to get justice for what they did to him. Would they send him back to prison if he refused? Could they do that? He glanced over his shoulder. The guards were gone, but they could be lurking out in the hall. It wasn’t much of a choice. In fact, it was no choice at all. His heart hammered and he looked from Jim back to Cox. He couldn’t take a chance when freedom was so close.
“Give me a pen.”
When he finished, he set the pen down and ran a hand through his hair. It was official. Mark let out a shaky breath.
Jim set his briefcase on the table and pulled out a lumpy envelope and extended it towards Mark. “Here.”
Mark flinched, but didn’t take the package. He wanted to ask what was in it, but his throat spasmed as the possibility that he might truly be free began to sink in.
“Go ahead. It’s just your wallet and personal effects you had when you were taken into custody.”
Mark’s hands shook as he tore the envelope open and flipped it over. His wallet, keys and even some loose change tumbled onto the table, along with a white letter-sized envelope. Thumbing through his wallet, he was surprised to see that there was about eighty dollars in it. He pocketed the billfold, keys and change. He stared at the envelope for a moment before pushing it back towards Jim. “I don’t think this is mine…sir.” What if they had planted some evidence in there? As soon as he touched it, they would say that he claimed it, and must be guilty.
Shoving it back, Jim snapped, “Take it. You’re going to need it.”
“Yes, sir.” Swallowing hard, Mark picked it up.
“I’ll see what it is.” Cox reached over and took it from him and opened it. “There’s a plane ticket to Chicago.” He squinted at the ticket. “The flight leaves in just a few hours.” He pulled out a stack of bills. “And some cash. Eight hundred dollars.”
Mark shot a look at Cox. “That’s not mine.” He rose, backing away with his hands raised, palms outward.
“Listen, it’s just money for food and lodging for a few days until you get settled.” Jim clicked his briefcase closed.
Cox snorted. “Oh, I’m sure that’ll cover all his expenses. You know he’s going to need more than that.”
Jim shrugged. “It’s better than nothing.”
Stepping forward, Mark took the envelope. Despite the limited amount, he realized he would need it. “Thank you.” The words lodged in his throat.
Nodding, Jim drummed his fingers on top of his briefcase and looked at Mark as if he had something he wanted to say, but instead, he swung the briefcase off the table and put his hand out. “You’re welcome.”
Confused, Mark looked at the hand, then up at Jim. He couldn’t do it. Even if they put him back in prison. “I…ah-”
“Never mind.” Jim dropped his hand and strode to the back of the room, disappearing out the door.
In the sudden silence, Mark tried to focus, but his mind was whirling, and he remembered Cox had said something about his assets. “My bank accounts?”
“Yes, they were immediately frozen when you were designated an enemy combatant. I wish I could tell you when it’ll be all cleared up, but I can’t say for sure.”
The eight hundred dollars didn’t seem so generous now. What would he do until his accounts were available? Mark pushed it from his mind. He could deal with that back in Chicago. Right now, he just needed to get out of here.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
At the airport an hour later, Mark approached the security checkpoint. People were taking off their shoes, and some were pulled out of line for no reason that Mark could tell. His hands began to sweat, and he swiped them on his thighs. He didn’t want to take his shoes off. Glancing at the man behind him, he started to ask what was going on, but that man had a cell phone to his ear, and just glared at him.
Mark’s mouth went dry as his turn approached, then a security guard tapped him on the shoulder. “Step to the side please.”
He hesitated. Freedom was so close. “Is…is something wrong?”
“No, sir. I just need to ask you a few questions.”
The phrase sent a chill through him. Jim and Bill said they were just going to ask a few questions. It was stupid to be worried. He had nothing to hide and others had been questioned. “Okay.”
It took only a few moments even though it felt like much longer, but in the end, they let him pass through. He tugged his shirt away from his body, feeling like he had just run a few sprints. With no bags, check in went quickly. Mark sank onto a chair and ran a hand through his hair. He tried to relax as he waited for the flight to be called, but he couldn’t keep still. His leg bounced and when he noticed, he stopped, but then began drumming his fingers on the armrests.