Quinn could not say that was not possible.
So, Harriman went on, once inside the CIA computer system, wasn’t it possible Ms. Koronis could determine the names of the Russian nuclear scientists the CIA considered security risks? Names a terrorist could use in search of nuclear material? The defense objected again, but not before the jury heard Quinn acknowledge it was possible.
Then it was time for Harriman’s brief but by far most damaging witness against Ana. Helen Swope was Quinn’s housekeeper during the time Ana lived there. She testified she’d seen Ana sitting at Quinn’s computer making notes. “Just once, Mrs. Swope?” “No sir. Lotsa times.”
On the day of closing arguments, Cam Warfield took his usual seat on the first row behind the prosecutors’ table, which overflowed with charts, files and briefcases. Ana Koronis, several feet away, huddled with her lawyers.
Earl Fullwood arrived in the same rumpled suit and bleach-starved shirt he seemed to always wear, cigar-in-hand, to hear the final arguments and sat in the same row as Warfield, but separated by two other men. Warfield thought of that Oval Office meeting when Fullwood accused him of interference at the Iraqi border and denied the Russian was carrying uranium. The irony was that in testimony for Ana’s trial, the FBI reversed itself and backed the government’s contention that the Russian was carrying uranium at Habur when he crossed into Iraq. Warfield wondered whether the Bureau had actually come around to that belief or adopted that position to bolster the government’s case against Koronis. Either way, it made Fullwood look like a fool to anyone who’d been in the Oval Office that day.
L.A. Harriman stood before the jury box. It was now or never. Public sentiment was on his side but, taking nothing for granted, he rehashed all the evidence presented against Ana during her trial. He talked about the terrorist abduction of Spiro Koronis and the defendant’s two-year-old son, Nikko, at Athens International Airport, where Spiro and Nicholas waited to board a flight to Washington. Spiro and Nikko were in the restroom when six men with assault guns came out of nowhere. Their plan was to take Spiro and his son to Syria and hold them until their political demands were met. They jerked Nikko out of Spiro’s grasp, pushed Spiro in front of them, and rushed through the gate and onto the plane as Ana and the other screaming passengers watched the horror helplessly from the gate area. Soon after the plane was airborne, two U.S. Air Force F-15’s flown by Lt. Colonel Jerry Schmidt and another pilot overtook it and flew alongside, but the airliner flew into Syrian air space without interference from the American planes. Ana put her head down on the table as L.A. laid out the scene. The United States refused to negotiate with the abductors, and a few months later photos appeared showing the beheaded remains of Spiro Koronis and son Nikko.
Harriman conceded Ana Koronis was a loving mother and wife grieving over the tragic loss of her family. Who wouldn’t? Her husband and child were mercilessly slaughtered after their country failed to save them. L.A. described again Ana’s stay with her brother in Iran after the incident. He was all the poor woman had left.
“Yes, Ana Koronis’s reactions seem normal and innocent to us at first, ladies and gentlemen, but then…,” L.A. said, holding up a cautionary finger as his voice rose, “…then, then, we find out her brother is one of the most notorious, malicious, hate-mongering terrorists in the world!” Seth and his reputation were already well-known objects of hatred in the United States, but L.A. pounded home his role in terrorism anyway and pointed out that he worked for hire to the highest bidder, his guiding principle being that any operation that could bring harm to the United States was worth any cost.
L.A. placed his hands on the polished wood rail in front of the jury box and leaned in to the front row, spoke in a low, raspy voice and let his disgust be seen. He said he wanted the jurors to understand that Ana Koronis did not storm out of her brother’s place the moment she learned about his mission as the defense claimed, but instead bought into her brother’s propaganda that her husband and son were victims of America’s policies. That men like those who hijacked the plane in Athens that day were fighting for peace. Because America was evil!
Warfield was watching juror sixty-seven, a special forces veteran of Afghanistan, who was showing signs of stress. L.A. Harriman must have noticed, as well. Looking straight at him, Harriman rammed his fist high into the air as his voice regained volume. “Terrorists? Fighting for peace?” he wailed, and shook his head, simply too angry to say more. L.A. pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his forehead of perspiration. “Not my kind of peace. Not yours either, ladies and gentlemen. But the defendant’s terrorist brother convinced her he was fighting for peace in their homeland.”
Sixty-seven’s veins bulged. Tears stained the cheeks of some of the women jurors. L.A. went on. He told the jury Seth indoctrinated his sister with his rhetoric for months and then told her to return to Washington, to keep her eyes and ears open, to position herself well, and one day he’d call on her. It wouldn’t destroy her career or ruin her friendships because no one would ever know what she had done. All he would ask from her was a little information. No big deal. After all, it was for their parents’ homeland, for their people, for Allah, for justice. For peace. So Ana Koronis did as she was told, and one day gave Seth better news than he could have dreamed of. She had worked her way into the bedroom — and computer terminal — of the top man at America’s central intelligence agency. The computer was linked to CIA headquarters. How could she help?
How she could help was to find the names of the Russian scientists the CIA considered security risks. They had the knowledge and the materials Seth needed. “And the result of that, ladies and gentlemen? The result was that one of these Russian scientists smuggled uranium into the Middle East. God only knows what will become of it.”
L.A. conceded that perhaps Ana was in a vulnerable state of mind that allowed her brother to brainwash her. “She is human, after all. But, for heaven’s sake, by the time she gave those CIA secrets to Seth, she’d had plenty of time to think it over, to return to her senses. So why didn’t she stand up to her brother and tell him she wouldn’t think of doing anything that would harm the United States? This was her homeland, and one single act by her government, flawed or not, could not destroy her loyalty. Why didn’t she say those words?”
L.A. walked around for a moment, allowing the jury to again see what a state this whole thing had brought him to. When he returned to face them he spoke in hushed tones. “She could’ve told her brother she wanted no part of his cowardly ways. That’s what you would have done, my friends, and that’s what I would have done.” L.A. walked over to the defense table and stood in front of Ana. “But that is not what Ana Koronis did,” he said, wagging a finger at her. “She did just what her brother asked. She betrayed the United States! She betrayed you and me, my fellow countrymen. She sold us out to terrorists.”
L.A. reminded the jurors Ana Koronis was a Washington insider and lawyer who knew her way around government. She found it easy to develop high-profile social connections where she would be visible to Mr. Quinn, a ripe divorcee who would be attracted by her charm, beauty and social position. She was well-suited for a man of his stature. And Director Quinn’s failure? He fell in love with her, put his trust in her.