Gospel (65 page)

‘
Your Honour
,' Ramirez's voice echoed around the room in a bellow of deep-seated protest. ‘This is preposterous. How dare defence counsel use this forum to . . .'

‘
Shut up
, Agent Ramirez,' said Donovan.

The room fell into silence as if the order was also meant for them.

‘That is
Assistant Director in Charge
Ramirez, Judge,' countered Ramirez.

‘In charge of what though?' snapped Donovan, turning sharply towards the witness. ‘I am beginning to wonder.'

Donovan stared at Ramirez a moment longer before turning back to the Congressman before him. ‘I apologise for the interruption, Congressman,' he said. ‘Please, go on.'

And then Bishop abandoned his script to look at Judge Donovan.

‘Your Honour, I have learned many things in the past few days, things that have disturbed . . . no,
horrified
me on both a personal and professional level. I have tried to make sense of it – the scope of it all, and perhaps most distressingly the fact that my son, my
child
, has unwittingly become involved with a group of four criminals who quite specifically set out to poison our youth in an effort to blackmail their powerful relatives.

‘I have only one request to make. That these people be stopped before they can do further damage – not just to people like Jimmy and the families who love them, but to the people of greater America who sit in their homes and go to their offices and attend their schools and colleges, completely unaware as to what is occurring under the guise of that hallowed system of government we refer to as democracy. It is a travesty of the highest order, Your Honour. And as a member of Congress – as a
father –
I beg to put an end to this now, before their ugly interpretation of government ruins further lives and slaughters the very soul of everything we hold dear.'

Nothing. Complete silence as the courtroom seemed to breathe as one – absorbing the information before them, allowing the uncomfortable shock to settle like icicles melting down their backs.

‘Your Honour,' said David at last, realising it was now time to reveal the full horror of Gospel Four's far-reaching initiatives. ‘We have evidence to show FBI Assistant Director Antonio Ramirez, Gospel Four code name Matthew, is one of four highly placed Washington individuals involved in this covert narcotics cartel known as Gospel Four. His fellow members Luke, Former DEA Agent Robert Doyle, and Mark, former Customs and Border Protection's Assistant Director of Intelligence, Travis Toovey, worked with the Assistant Director to negotiate the purchase of high quality narcotics from notorious drug felons in Panama and import them across the border into Texas before flying them to Philadelphia.

‘From there the drugs were distributed via a “legitimate” dietary supplement company known as GIV, to a group of high profile politicians and their drug-addicted relatives. Their aims beyond that were to contact said politicians and threaten to expose . . .'

‘Wait,' said Donovan. ‘Believe me I am anxious to hear everything you have to say, Mr Cavanaugh, but I need you to take this one step at a time. You speak of these men Doyle and Toovey as former government employees. Where are these alleged criminals, now Counsellor?'

Donovan was cut short by movement at the far left hand side of the room. A rather dishevelled looking man was squeezing his way past the crowd as if determined to make his way to the front. His large frame made the journey difficult – especially since he was carrying what appeared to be several large sheets of cardboard in an oversized plastic satchel.

‘Your Honour,' said David. ‘This is Los Angeles Detective Samuel Croker who has been assisting us in our investigations. I believe he can clarify the whereabouts of Agent Doyle and Assistant Director Toovey, if you would permit him to make a brief presentation to the court.'

Donovan glanced at Adams again, his eyebrows raised as if asking the Trial Attorney if he had any intention in hell of objecting, but Adams merely shrugged and Donovan nodded – perhaps realising they were all now speeding down a road from which there was no turning back.

‘All right, Detective Croker,' said Donovan. ‘What have you got?'

Croker proceeded to move to the front of the courtroom where he assembled five quickly organised wooden stands on which he placed the large pieces of board – each one showing a blown up colour photograph depicting the macabre contortions of death.

‘Your Honour,' Croker began. ‘The people in these photographs are all the victims of homicide orchestrated or committed by the same individual – Matthew, alias FBI Assistant Director in Charge Antonio Ramirez – one of the only two remaining members of the aforementioned Gospel Four.

‘The first two victims, shown here from left to right are former DEA Agent Robert Doyle, GIV code name Luke, and former Customs and Border Protection's Assistant Director of Intelligence Travis Toovey, GIV code name Mark. Agent Doyle was killed in Los Angeles, days after the Vice President's death for his dissension in the group – and his decision to confide in his wife regarding his co-conspirator's intentions. Travis Toovey was murdered in his Washington apartment almost two weeks ago. While the exact motive for Assistant Director Toovey's murder is not clear, we understand he may have become a liability to the remaining
two's success and thus was disposed of before he could cause them any further inconvenience.'

Croker took a breath before going on. David knew how hard this was for him and admired both his ability as a cop and his obvious capacity for restraint given Nancy Doyle's killer sat a mere few feet away.

‘The third and fourth photographs show Robert Doyle's son Gavin, thirteen, who was killed in an automobile collision in the Hollywood Hills following an act of sabotage to his mother's car. His mother was Doyle's wife, Nancy.' Croker hesitated then and David saw him swallow the lump in his throat.

‘Nancy Doyle was gunned down in cold blood three nights ago in her suite at the Boston Regency Park Hotel,' Croker continued. ‘Mrs Doyle had bravely given me her statement and committed to appearing personally in this courtroom today – despite the deaths of her husband and son, and in the knowledge that her life was in imminent danger.'

David saw Croker's hands clench and release, clench and release and at that point wondered if the LA Detective had it in him to continue. But Croker was determined, and so took another breath before stepping towards the fifth photograph and moving on.

‘The fifth and final photograph is of Thomas Wills Bradshaw.'

And there it was before them – the first time the public had seen their beloved Saint Tom in death, his body stiff, his eyes wide and tortured, his left arm exposed in a junkie's static dance. It was difficult to absorb – a brutal onslaught of information which saw many in the room shield their eyes from the gruesome montage that sat like a study of horror before them.

‘We have information the Vice President, along with CIA Director Richard Ryan, was investigating the renegade Four at the time of his death and had, in fact, gone some ways to identifying the quad of criminals in question. We also have evidence to suggest the Vice President's death was dually motivated by fear of exposure and ambition. We . . .'

‘
Ambition?
' said Donovan. ‘Mr Cavanaugh, these accusations are beginning to unnerve me.'

‘I understand, Your Honour,' said David, now approaching the bench, the humidity in the room thick and stifling. ‘I realise this information is difficult to consume. But I am afraid this goes beyond a matter of murder to protect identity. This goes way beyond any last ditch effort to save
their thriving narcotics business and fill their bank accounts with money doused in blood.

‘I am . . . ,' David paused there, holding his breath, realising he was on the precipice and about to jump. ‘I am
sickened
to say we have evidence Assistant Director Ramirez and his Gospel leader were planning to blackmail their powerful client base so that they might gain control of . . .'

‘
No
!' It was Ramirez. Now on his feet, his face red with rage, his fists clenched in defiance.

‘Look at you,' he boomed above the now petrified crowd, twisting quickly towards Judge Donovan. ‘You are a disgrace to your profession. There you sit, above your own personal universe, supposedly in charge of these pedestrians before you? What a joke that has turned out to be.'

Ramirez took an almighty breath, his large chest rising with it, and his entire body shaking with rage upon its release. ‘I cannot fathom why . . .
how
. . . you can let this Robin Hood heretic,' he said pointing at David, ‘take over your courtroom with his band of pathetic merry liars, leaving him free to slander the name of a respected defender of this country.

‘I have seen many an attorney stoop to some extremely low levels in order to fudge an acquittal for their indisputably guilty clients. But I have
never
, in all my years as a decorated Federal agent, witnessed such a blatant disregard for the system of justice I have worked every day to protect.

‘Cavanaugh is a liar,' he yelled, his voice rising over an astonished crowd. ‘A simple-minded show pony who, in his desperation to win exoneration for his murderous client, has rallied this group of geriatrics, has-beens, teenagers and drug addicts in a pathetic attempt to sully my good name.

‘No,
enough is enough,'
his voice rose yet again as he turned to face front, addressing the audience beyond. ‘They have
no proof
.
No proof!
And I . . .'

David moved across the room and back to the defence table so quickly it caught Ramirez by surprise. He grabbed the book from his desk and turned again, charging towards the witness stand and slamming the Bible on the partition before him, in the process knocking all the other items of ‘evidence' onto the floor.

Ramirez said nothing, just looked down and smiled, no doubt assuming Leo King had ‘stolen' the useless hotel Bible from his temporary Boston office.

‘This proves nothing
,' David knew he was thinking. ‘
The Bible is useless. It
. . .'

David gave him no time to deliberate. He immediately repeated his actions, striding back to the defence table, this time taking a second Bible from Arthur before returning to the witness and slamming the second book on top of the first.

The look of shock on Ramirez's face was immediate. He sat down quickly in a desperate attempt to examine this new ‘book' closer.

‘That's right, Ramirez,' said David, now leaning across the partition and into the witness so close that he could smell the scent of fear on his breath. ‘There were two,' he went on, his voice now at a whisper that only Ramirez could hear. ‘One on each side of the Presidential Suite bed. Here is my proof, Ramirez – in the Vice President's
own hand
. He knew it all, and he
wrote it down
– Doyle, Toovey, you . . . and
her
.'

David was so close he could almost feel Ramirez shudder, taste the waves of panic that flowed from his previously smug facade.
‘
You grabbed the wrong Bible, you stupid son-of-a-bitch and now you and your beloved John are going to hell. It's over, Ramirez. There is no way out.'

‘Your Honour,' said David, looking up at the Judge, the sweat now dripping from his own brow and forming droplets of pure exhaustion on the Bibles beneath. ‘At this point I would ask the charges against my client be dropped. I would also like to ask Trial Attorney Adams to serve a warrant for the arrest of FBI Assistant Director in Charge Antonio Ramirez for a plethora of criminal activities including drug trafficking, illegally manipulating the course of a Federal investigation, falsifying evidence relating to a Federal criminal case, perjury before the Grand Jury, perjury before the US District Court, four counts of murder in the first degree and one count of attempted murder.'

David looked back to Ramirez, wondering how long it would take him to get it – to realise how he had ‘failed'. Their eyes locked in one final challenge of understanding and then, perhaps, he saw a glint of recognition followed by an expression of pure unadulterated
terror
.

‘I am willing to consider your request, Mr Cavanaugh, but before I ask Mr Adams to serve such a warrant, I believe you have two rather important matters still to explain.'

Donovan had caught it too, David knew. He was about to ask the
two most important questions of this hearing. The two questions that would . . .

‘You talk of
four
“Gospel” conspirators and yet you have so far only submitted evidence as to the identities of three. Believe me, Mr Cavanaugh, part of me – perhaps
most
of me – is terrified to even broach the query I need to address but, I believe we are missing a “John”.

‘Secondly, I noted a discrepancy in the list of charges you presented before this court. Initially you gave evidence of five counts of murder – but then you listed only four, describing the fifth charge as
attempted
murder. And judging by the photographs Detective Croker presented, I can only assume this was an . . .'

‘It was no error, Your Honour,' said David, now wiping his brow with the back of his hand. ‘In fact, in order to answer both of your questions the defence would like to call its final witness.'

David paused then, glancing back quickly at Sara, who nodded with encouragement in an expression which said ‘You can do this' before turning to face the Judge once again. ‘The defence calls Mrs Melis . . .'

And then it happened.

The back doors opened with an almighty thud.

The crowd swung around in unison.

The Judge lifted his gavel as if ready to silence the unwelcome intruder.