Huston, James W. -2003- Secret Justice (com v4.0)(html) (23 page)

“Okay, sir. Then why don’t we go right down to the admin office.”

Stern followed him down the confusing labyrinth of ladders and gray passageways to the admin office, where several sailors milled around in dungarees. Stern checked in and was given a key.

The sailor escorted him to his stateroom, showed him how to use the phone and lights, and said he’d be back in fifteen minutes to take him to Commander Little’s office. When he returned Stern was cleaned up and ready to see Little. When Stern stepped into the small office he saw a commander reading
Naval Aviation News
.

Little looked up.

The sailor introduced them. “Commander Little, this is David Stern, Mr. Stern, Commander Little.”

Little stood slowly and extended his hand. “Barry Little. I’m in charge of the defense team. Nice to meet you.”

“David Stern. Nice to meet you.”

Little didn’t like him. “I guess I’ve never been on the same side of anything as an ACLU lawyer.”

Stern held his smile inside. “I guess I’m not surprised.”

“How exactly did Duar hire you?”

“I am not at liberty to disclose that.”

“How do we really know he hired you at all? How do we know you’re not one of those ACLU assholes who goes around making clients up just so you can make a big splash and sue someone, or make some grandstand play?”

“I guess you should ask Mr. Duar whether he hired me. I’m sure you meet with him every day to prepare the defense. Right?”

“Pretty much. But since he got back from Egypt, he hasn’t felt much like talking.”

Stern was confused. “Egypt?”

“Some of the Special Forces guys came and took him to Egypt for a little free-agent interrogation by our close Egyptian allies. I think the Egyptians aren’t as gentle as we Americans are in interrogation. They don’t put up with bullshit.”

Stern was horrified. “They tortured him?”

“Seems to be the case.”

“What have you done about it?”

“What would you like me to do about it?”

“Notify those who need to know. Tell the press.”

“I suspect they’ll learn about it, but you’re right, we should tell them.”

“Did they get any information out of him that they plan to use in the tribunal?”

“Not that I know of. Nothing they’ve told me about.”

“If they do, they’re going to have a fight on their hands.”

Little nodded. “Want to meet him?”

“Absolutely,” Stern said, controlling his excitement.

Little led Stern out of the office and down the passageway. Sailors passed them, walking quickly in both directions. Stern noticed they were all wearing bell-bottom blue jeans and light blue shirts with their names stenciled over the pocket and their rating stamped on the upper portion of the left sleeve. He had expected them to be wearing the Navy uniforms he had seen in all the recruiting posters. He was beginning to recognize how ignorant he was about the Navy. He had never been on a Navy ship before, not even for a tour in a port.

Little spoke over his shoulder to Stern. “You know, I
hate
the ACLU. If I ever wonder what I think about something? I find out what the ACLU thinks about it and then take the opposite position.”

Stern had heard it all before. “Very impressive thinking,” he said. “What exactly is it you hate about the ACLU?”

“We probably ought not go there. We’re on the same team here, right? The same side?”

“That’s my understanding.”

“Let’s keep it that way.”

“You brought it up, I was just trying to find out what was behind it.”

“Hell, you probably hate the Navy and everything about—”

“I don’t hate the Navy.”

“You ever serve?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I decided to serve my country in a different way, by helping those accused of crimes, by participating in the judicial system.”

Little tried not to choke.
Serve the country in a different way. What a crock
. “How sacrificial. Do you even
know
anyone who served in the military? Any of your friends? Acquaintances even?”

Stern thought, somewhat embarrassed. “Not really.” He changed the subject. “When was the last time you saw our client?”

“This morning.”

“How was he doing?”

“Not so good. He’s trying to dodge the charge with the oldest trick in the book—‘It ain’t me, man.’ You’ve heard it a million times.”

“Maybe they do have the wrong guy. I don’t automatically assume something my client tells me is wrong, just because someone else has said it before.”

Little stopped. “Have you seen the picture of Duar that’s been in every newspaper in the country every other day for the last six months?”

“Yes.”

“Then when you see him, you tell me it isn’t him.”

“Okay. I’ll take a look. But I believe my client until he gives me a reason not to. Don’t you?”

“My client is usually the government.”

“Right, so what’s your answer?”

“Very funny.”

Stern’s shoulder hit one of the hatches and he slowed momentarily. “Seriously, do you always believe what you get from the government? You find what the FBI or the ATF says to always be true?”

“Not always. They make mistakes like anyone.”

“I’m not talking about mistakes. I’m talking about lying. Are you saying you’ve never seen someone from the government lie to get some defendant convicted?”

“Not saying that.”

“I didn’t think so.”

They turned down a passageway athwartships and descended a ladder. “Did you ask for this assignment?”

Little stopped. “Nope. I was sent out here to prosecute the mass murdering son of a bitch who is now our client. But he wouldn’t accept Commander Watson as his defense attorney.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s a woman.”

“Oh.”

“I can’t wait to see what he does when he finds out you’re Jewish. This ought to be rich.”

“How do you know I’m Jewish?”

Little was surprised. “You’re not?”

“I just wondered how you would know that?”

“I guess I assumed Stern is a Jewish name. Isn’t it?”

“Could be German. But yes, it’s Jewish. Did you check to find out? Why would it matter?”

“Doesn’t make a bit of difference to me. But I’ll bet our Arab mass murdering client cares. I guess we’ll find out. Follow me.”

Little made a sharp turn around a bulkhead and slid down the ladder to the brig.

Rat was concerned he didn’t have enough time before the helo left and they headed on to Georgia, but he had to see Andrea. He didn’t like the way they had left it at the brig. It had been unfortunate that she had been there. Probably typical of Satterly though, send a woman to do your bidding for you. He looked at the frame number on the scrap of paper in his hand and at the bulkheads as he walked aft on the port side of the carrier. He passed a door that had a sticker on it—
”Médecins sans Frontières
.” He knew enough French to know what it meant.
Doctors Without Borders. Probably Satterly’s stateroom
, Rat thought
. Who else on a carrier would belong to that organization? And who else would advertise it by putting a sticker on his door? What a dick. Not content to be a member, he has to be an evangelist for his cause
. He looked at the frame number just around the corner, and there was Andrea’s room.

He knocked loudly on the door.

“Who is it?” Andrea called from inside.

“Rat.”

“Kent?”

“Yeah,” he said, hoping no one was listening. No one in the entire Navy called him Kent except Andrea. He hated that name; it sounded like the name of a kid who might win a spelling bee.

The door opened and Andrea was standing before him in her uniform slacks, shoes, and a white bra. Her hair was dripping wet.

His eyebrows went up. “Nice of you to take off your shirt for me.”

“I don’t really want to talk to you,” she said, with a look he had never seen before.

He frowned. “Why not?”

She started to close the door.

He stuck his foot in the way, keeping the door open a few inches. “What’s going on?”

She opened it again and said loudly, “I’ve seen him, Kent. I’ve seen what you did! I saw the burn marks on his ears and his balls. How could you do that?”

“I didn’t.”

“Right. You took him off the ship and brought him back and have no idea how he might have gotten tortured in between. Give me a break.” She went to slam the door closed but he pushed it first, throwing it open. He stepped into her room and closed it behind him.

“You know, Andrea, I’m willing to take my lumps if I did something wrong, but you of all people. You don’t even give me a chance to explain? Did you get all this from Satterly? More of his Doctors sans Whatever? You don’t even ask me?”

She went to the sink and picked up the hair dryer. She dried her hair vigorously for five minutes. Rat sat in her desk chair and waited. Finally she turned off the hair dryer and retrieved her blouse from the closet. She put it on hurriedly. “I just can’t believe what you did to that man, Kent.”

“I had nothing to do with it.”

“
Nothing
?”

“Nothing.”

“Then who did?”

“The Egyptians. I wasn’t anywhere near it when it happened.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Yeah, I do. I wouldn’t lie to you. You know that. I’ve always told you there will be things I can’t tell you, and you’ll just have to deal with that. But I won’t lie to you. Never have.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Rat was stung. “Fine.” He considered walking out.

“You think it’s okay? You just torture someone if you feel like it?”

“No. It depends on the circumstances.”

“On what?”

“On what you’re trying to do. Why you’re doing it.”

“So sometimes it’s okay?”

“Sometimes.”

“The end justifies the means?”

“No, but it is relevant.”

“Meaning what?”

“If you know some guy has a nuclear weapon set to go off in ten minutes, you wouldn’t twist his arm to find out where the bomb was?”

She hesitated. “That would never happen.”

“You sure? What if it did?”

“It wouldn’t.”

“You’re just afraid of the conclusion.”

“We never capture somebody who knows where a bomb is.”

“What if we capture somebody who knows where the most wanted terrorist in the world is, the guy who has a nuclear bomb and is
going
to set it off? We can’t apply some pressure to find out where that other guy is and stop him before he even plants the bomb? I’ve got no problem with that at all.”

“So you would just torture him.”

“In that case I would. I’d be all over his ass. But in a way to get the information, not to hurt him, or maim him. To get intelligence.”

“That’s real convenient.”

He stood up to look into her eyes. “Otherwise what? I ask him, ‘Where’s the other guy?’ and he tells me to eat shit, and I say, okay, sorry to ask you a question. What can I do? What are my choices? Yell at him? Threaten him? What?”

“I don’t know.”

Rat shook his head. “People just don’t get what we’re dealing with. No idea. These people are evil, Andrea. They would like nothing better than to
murder
you. Nothing. And if you had children, they’d like to murder them too. And me, well, we can’t even go into what they’d want to do to me.”

“But if we torture them, we’re just like them.”

“That’s such bullshit! People say that all the time, but they don’t really think about it. I don’t say we should torture them for fun, or to punish, just to gain information. And nothing that’s permanent, or just to inflict pain, or intimidate. That’s why water is so good. Effective, and no long-lasting effects.”

“Unless it
kills
him.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t happen much.”

“But it can corrupt you, Kent. Make you calloused to where you don’t care about people anymore.”

“Who told you that?
Satterly
?”

“Well, wouldn’t it? You’re
good
, Kent. It would take away your goodness. You’d become hardened, and mean.”

“No, Andrea, I’m not good. Neither are you. None of us is good, not one.”

“What?”

“It’s a quote.”

“From who?”

“Paul.”

“Paul who?”

“Paul in Romans.”

She was shocked. “You’re quoting the
Bible
? Are you
serious
?”

“Yeah, I’m serious. And I can quote Homer and Plato if you want. We aren’t perfect, Andrea. Nobody is. But we have to get these guys. And we need to rethink how. If we play by the same old Geneva Convention rules in a war where they’re not wearing uniforms, killing civilians as their
main target
, murdering whoever they want and hiding in the shadows, it’s going to be a much longer road and a lot more people are going to get killed. We need to shorten it up a lot. This is one way.”

“No, it’s not. It’s a steep, slippery slope and you won’t be able to stop.”

“I disagree. But don’t think of me as some evil guy.”

“I don’t know, Kent. I don’t want us to become like them.”

“Then don’t. Stay as you are. I sure plan to.”

“You won’t be able to.”

He crossed to her and put his hands on her shoulders. She was cold and unyielding. She looked into his eyes angrily. “You holding this against me?”

“Today I am. I need to think about this.”

“Even though I had nothing to do with it?”

“You were there!”

“No, I wasn’t. You want to know what’s really going on?”

“Yes.”

“I take the guy there, then while we’re with him, watching the Egyptians do a kid glove interrogation—he was scared shitless though, so it was sort of effective—then we leave, like we’re supposed to. We go back to get Duar and he’s all messed up and the Egyptians are done with him. We got our intel, but they used the wrong methods. And I was nearby. So the guy who supposedly tortured one of these guys is now responsible for both. That’s how
somebody
in Washington wants it to look. And now they’re sending me to Georgia.”

She considered what he had said. “Who?”

“I don’t know. But probably Stuntz. He thinks I’m the key to taking St. James out of the picture.”