No, you're not missing a thing, Wilson thought, now visibly miserable. Not a damn thing, you mean old goat. His back was rigid. He could barely force himself to keep his eyes on this judge. He had faced down Mafia thugs, kidnappers, dope pushers, and never blinked. He was plainly terrified of this judge.
"I am only here because I was ordered to attend, Your Honor."
"And who gave you this order?"
"I'd rather not say."
"You'd rather not?"
"That's right, Your Honor."
His Honor rested his elbows on the bench and placed his sharp chin in his hands. "Is this some pressing matter of national security?"
"Yes."
"Yes?" His small eyes bored into Wilson like rockets.
"Uh, no."
"Precision, Agent Wilson. Which is it, yes or no?"
"It's not. Uh, no."
"I see." His Honor toyed with his pen a moment. Wilson was examining the door. His legs were tensed, ready to bolt. It was barely ten feet away. He was almost certain he could be outside, sprinting to his car, before the judge could fire off another question.
His Honor slipped off his glasses and leaned far forward. "Let me make this clear, Agent Wilson. Listen closely and pass this on to those whose names cannot be uttered in this court. The freedom and dignity of two human beings are at stake here. They are guests in our land, so the reputation of our great nation is at stake. If I find any hint of remotely unethical behavior, I'll make you wish you never heard of Mr. and Mrs. Konevitch. I watched the news reports over the weekend, and frankly, I am dismayed and alarmed. I seriously hope nobody in this court was attempting to humiliate or pressure these poor people. Are we clear on this?"
"Yes, Your Honor."
"I mean it." The public whipping was over. Wilson looked thoroughly whipped. His Honor redirected his eyes toward MP. "Mr. Jones, you may begin now."
The sound of Wilson's sigh of relief echoed throughout the room.
Without rising or missing a beat, MP said, "Thank you, Your Honor. I'm sorry we're wasting your time this morning over such a trivial, ridiculous matter. The issue is whether or not my clients overstayed their visas." MP slapped his right hand with a theatrical thump on a pile of documents on the defense table. "I have here all the requisite forms proving they have valid visa status. Also documentation proving they applied for and were unanimously approved for permanent residency in the United States. I'd like to get this charge dismissed immediately so my clients can go on with their lives."
Kim Parrish suddenly bounced to her feet. "Your Honor, we've changed the charges."
His Honor stared at the ceiling a moment. Speaking in a generally upward direction, he said, "Miss Parrish, you heard what I just advised Agent Wilson?"
"Every word."
"You understand that this applies to you also?"
"It left little question in my mind."
"Then proceed. Carefully, Miss Parish."
"Thank you. In fact, we have now established that the Konevitches do possess entirely valid visas."
"I would have thought this rather simple fact could've been established before their arrests."
"As would I, sir." She frowned contemptuously at the younger colleague at her table, as if he was at fault for this stupid blunder. His role in this farce was apparently to take the blame, and he obediently shrank and cowered under the force of her fierce glare. She continued, "Regrettably, paperwork was misplaced. A simple administrative mistake. We were unable to confirm this fact until yesterday."
"And did you notify Mr. Jones, who is, after all, representing these people?"
MP decided this was a perfectly good moment to help her out with this difficult question. "No, this is the first I've heard of it. I'm caught between shock and surprise. As Miss Parrish is no doubt aware, I'm prepared only to contest the charges I've been made aware of." MP looked so sad and disgusted it was impossible not to feel an ocean of pity for him.
"What do you have to say to that, Miss Parrish?"
"I tried to reach Mr. Jones."
"Did you?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"Phone."
"Once? Twice? How often?"
"I made multiple good-faith efforts. I can't recall the precise number. Unfortunately, there was no answer at his office."
"Do you have an answering machine, Mr. Jones?"
"Yes."
"Is it left on after office hours?"
"Yes. Always."
"Miss Parrish?"
"Maybe I dialed the wrong number."
"I'm sure that explains it."
Now that it was firmly established that she was lying, she pressed on. "We're now charging the Konevitches with immigration fraud."
"Is this charge likely to change in the next few minutes?" MP asked, looking at the judge.
"It will not." She was getting creamed, and like a good lawyer, taking it in cool stride.
Alex was almost lost. English wasn't his native tongue, and the parries and thrusts shot around the small courtroom like lightning bolts. The questions and replies came without time to breathe or think. Not a word was wasted, no "uhs," no hesitations. Three first-rate legal minds were playing hardball with each other, with his life at stake.
The judge removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "As this is the first this court has heard of this new charge, can you honor us with a little more specificity?"
"Mr. Konevitch was heavily involved in criminal activity in Russia before he fled and came to America. He presented himself to the Immigration Service as a victim of political persecution. He deliberately constructed false facts to verify this status. Further, he claimed permanent employment with a company that has subsequently been discovered to be a fraud. It is, in fact, a front for criminal activities, including money laundering. Given those un-lawful actions, we recommend that Mr. and Mrs. Konevitch be immediately deported back to Russia."
"Mr. Jones?"
"I'm not at all prepared to contest these absurd charges. They're obviously preposterous, and will be easily debunked."
"When will you be ready?"
"Two weeks, at a minimum."
"Then we'll reconvene in two weeks."
Like that, it was over. His Honor started to rise, before MP interrupted his progress. "I have another matter for your advisement, Your Honor."
His Honor sank back into his chair.
"My clients should be released on bond immediately. The charges that led to their arrest have already been disproved and disposed. They should not have to suffer a lack of freedom over what my colleague Miss Parrish has already confessed was gross negligence on the part of her department."
"Miss Parrish?"
"I did not state it was gross negligence. That's an outrageous distortion of what I said."
"Remind me. What did you say?"
"Simple bureaucratic oversight. Nearly two million immigrants a year enter our porous borders, legally or otherwise. As hard as our people work, well"-she stared down at her hapless associate again-"occasionally a few pieces of paper get misplaced in the shuffle."
The elbows landed on the bench again. "Miss Parrish, I admire your noble efforts to defend the reputation of your service. I surely do."
"Thank you, Your Honor."
"It is admirable and it definitely touches my heart. However, I spent fifteen long years in your shoes. So don't you ever utter such outlandish baloney in this court again. It was, unmistakably, gross negligence. The INS is overworked and severely understaffed, but that in no way excuses or ameliorates what happened here today. Now, what's your response to bond for these people?"
She never blinked. "We strongly advise that it be denied, Your Honor."
"Grounds?"
"According to the Russian attorney general, Mr. Konevitch embezzled many millions of dollars from the investors in his bank. He also fled with millions more that he stole from the Russian mob. He fled from there, and he will certainly flee from here. He is, by any stretch, a definite flight risk."