Jigsaw (Black Raven Book 2) (43 page)

However, the world was imperfect, and, given the professional nature of every conversation they’d had since he’d gotten free from the TRCR, he doubted he’d be kissing her neck any time soon.

Didn’t matter.

I’ll figure it out. Given what had happened in the last forty-eight hours, I’m damn thankful for the opportunity to try again.

Gabe, standing three feet inside the door to the left, gave him a nod. Four U.S. marshals, the lead members of the judicial security teams, stood nearby.

Zeus went to stand beside his brother. “Great to be in the same room with you,” Zeus whispered. He added, with a touch of sarcasm, “Angel.” He pitched his voice low enough that only his mic picked it up. Gabe would hear him through his earpiece.

Professional decorum didn’t inhibit Gabe’s wide smile, a twinkle in his green eyes, and an eyebrow arch. “Back at ya.”

Gabe was a master at the Black Raven skill of ventriloquism speaking. While his voice came through Zeus’s mic loud and clear, it was damn hard to detect that he was talking just by looking at him, because his lips weren’t moving. With his voice as low as it could go, without an earpiece no one could have heard him. “Samantha has been countering Brier for two hours. Brier is pushing for the judges to vote for a mistrial. She’s carrying President Cameron’s water on this one.” He arched an eyebrow. “She has certainly persuaded me. Hey, what’s with Brier and his hot-looking associate?”

“You see it too?”

“They don’t have the right amount of body space. I could be wrong, though.”

“Right before his wife was murdered, I asked Ragno to look into it.”

“And?”

“Nothing so far. Hasn’t been a priority though.” Zeus focused his attention on Sam’s argument.

“Each event that is being tried has defendants that can be convicted, regardless of who the ringleaders were,” Sam said. “The analogue in criminal law is the law of conspiracies. We can try some members of a conspiracy without having all in custody. In fact, that is often the case—”

“But not when there is no grasp on the parameters of the conspiracy,” Brier interrupted, his voice loud. “Your Honors, why rush to judgment? If not a vote for a mistrial, why not close the proceeding, and reconvene at a later date? The other countries will agree to a continuance. Why not take that—”

“I disagree that this is in any way a rush to judgment, and I have the answer as to why the proceedings must continue,” Samantha said. “Because the consensus of governments that created this ITT could very well dissolve it, if we lose all momentum.”

Abe handed her a yellow legal tablet. She took it and glanced down for barely a second. “As it exists in the current state, the record of this proceeding is sufficient to try and possibly convict at least one hundred twenty-seven people over the four incidents and countries at issue.” She paused for a moment for emphasis. The judges were focused on her. The room was quiet. “Conservatively, based on my knowledge of the information, I’d say I am confident at least one hundred convictions will result from the existing record. That number is based upon stipulated evidence—meaning we can drastically streamline the proceeding from here on out. But let me be clear; I am not recommending such a streamlined approach.”

Sam picked up a pen, made a quick note on the legal pad as she spoke, and pushed it to Abe. “Now that we’ve confirmed Maximov’s death, examining witnesses may very well lead to discovering who has been impersonating him. Simply put, because we were unaware that Maximov was dead, we’ve been asking the wrong questions. Also, based on last week’s motion, we’re expanding the record with additional telecommunications data in France. I am preparing motions for an across the board expansion of the record in all countries—”

“What Ms. Fairfax is admitting is that the existing ITT record cannot accommodate the new developments,” Brier interrupted. “Yes, Stollen led us to Maximov’s body, but he didn’t lead us anywhere else. Isn’t that correct, Ms. Fairfax?”

As Samantha turned to face Brier, she looked over her shoulder and her eyes found Zeus for a moment. She gave him a nod. There was barely a break in her focused expression, then her eyes found Brier. She lifted her hands and used them for emphasis as she made counterarguments. “Do not minimize the importance of learning that Maximov is dead, Mr. Brier. As you very well know—”

“Counselors,” Judge O’Connor’s tone contained a warning to behave. “Do not resort to argument amongst yourselves. You have four judges to persuade here, one way or another. You are to address the bench. Not each other. The issue is whether this seating of the ITT should be terminated. Stay focused.”

Sam turned back to the judges. “Thank you, Your Honor. No—the trial should not be terminated. However, the importance of knowing of Maximov’s death should not be underestimated.”

“No engagement ring,” Gabe whispered, as Sam continued with her argument.

“I noticed
.
”
The absence of the bling registered the minute she turned to Abe and took the legal pad from him. “Leave that issue alone.”

“Could mean anything,” Gabe shrugged. “She probably just needed to have it sized.”

“Fuck you.” Zeus made sure no one could overhear that zinger.

“You’d have an answer if you and she just had a real conversation.”

“How do you know we haven’t?”

“Because I know you. And I’ve talked to Ragno, who told me your brilliant plan to let Samantha be the one to bring up personal issues.” Gabe’s eye roll told Zeus what he thought of the plan. “With her, I wouldn’t hold my breath. What if she doesn’t?”

“Ragno?” Zeus felt like throttling both Ragno and Gabe.

“Sorry, Zeus,” Ragno said through his mic. “You know Angel is my weakness, and you’re a close second.”

“Between you and Samantha,” Gabe said, “I don’t know who is cooler. You’re both icebergs.”

“Get outta here, Gabe. I’ve got this.”

Gabe chuckled on his way out of the conference room.

“We’ve been through this, Your Honors, though Mr. Brier obviously isn’t grasping the points I’ve been trying to make. No, Stollen had no information on who may be perpetuating the Maximov myth. When I returned to interview him after DNA identified the remains, he had no further information. What he did provide, though, were some intriguing points that should be explored further and those points should be explored in this proceeding without delay.”

“Such as?” Judge O’Connor asked.

“Stollen was interviewed seven years ago. He insists that he told the prosecutor, and his attorney, who happened to be Mr. Brier, the same thing he told me Tuesday morning—that Maximov was dead and where to recover the body. Therefore, what has become an issue squarely for this court is whether Stollen is telling the truth and who concealed it. I question Mr. Brier’s impartiality and believe the court must consider the advisability of his continuing role in this proceeding.”

Click. Click.
As Sam’s argument registered, her work on the ITT trial firmly collided with the puzzle pieces that Jigsaw was assembling.
Maybe.
He needed confirmation of his hunch, though, from Ragno.

“Ragno?” Zeus whispered, his pulse doing a staccato beat as blood coursed through his veins.

“Wait. I need a second,” she said. “What Samantha just said has me doing some searches, while I’m fielding a question from the interrogation team that’s with Peterson.”

“Good.”

“All well and good, Your Honors, but what Ms. Fairfax is overlooking is that Stollen is using revisionist history.” Brier leaned forward, his voice only slightly on the civilized side of an angry yell. “I was present at that meeting. If Stollen had revealed the facts he now says that he revealed, I’d have reported it and I am insulted that Ms. Fairfax is questioning my integrity.” Breathing heavily, face flushed, he paused, clearly to gather himself. “Your Honors, Vladimer Stollen is not only a mass murderer, he’s a pathological liar, and—”

“Not so pathological, and not such a liar, Mr. Brier.” Sam turned to Brier. “He certainly led us to Maximov’s body. So, of the people who were present in the interview seven years ago…” Her voice trailed as Judge O’Connor stood, interrupting her with a wave of his hand.

“Okay, counselors. We’ve been at this for two hours. Take a break. Fifteen minutes. Cool off. When we reconvene, I’d like to hear the prosecutorial viewpoint from Mr. McGavin.” Judge O’Connor nodded to the end of the table, where the prosecutors sat. “Mr. McGavin, I know it’s hard to get a word in between Ms. Fairfax and Mr. Brier. We’ll start with you when we reconvene.

“Ragno? What are you finding?”

“Still looking. Meanwhile, I’m talking to interrogators and interpreting Barrows’s answers for them. Two very different streams of dialogue, trust me.”

A couple of the judges and their security teams left the conference room, as did the prosecutors. Judge O’Connor walked over to where his law clerk stood, in the far corner of the large conference room, next to Judge Devlin. Brier, his cheeks flushed red from his argument with Sam, pushed his chair back. He strode to the small table closest to him and poured a cup of coffee. Turning his back to the room, he stood where the two walls of windows joined, staring out at the panoramic view of London as he took a sip.

Sam stood and walked with purpose to Brier, evidently intent on continuing their argument. Zeus’s gut sent a warning signal of urgency, but from where the threat might be coming, he wasn’t entirely certain. He had a hunch, however. “Stop multitasking for a few seconds. You said Christian Lawrence was formerly a U.S. prosecutor?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me whether he worked on Stollen’s prosecution. Need to know now.”

“Give me a second.”

Sam was engaged in a heated discussion with Brier. Brier gestured wildly, his jacket opening with the movement. “Gabe. Get in here.”

Gabe immediately returned to the conference room and Zeus’s side, eyebrow raised in inquiry.

“You aware Brier’s carrying?” he demanded, not taking his eyes off the two who stood in the V of windows. Swirls of mist rose from the river. Breaks in the afternoon clouds revealed blue sky. His gut was now screaming at him not to take his eyes off Sam. At this decibel level, silent to the rest of the world but a raging inner howl, Zeus trusted his gut implicitly.

“Yep,” his brother said. “Noticed his neat little Glock this morning. Evidently his wife’s death has him on edge. Typically would be damned hard for a civilian to be carrying that in London, but ITT security facilitated and approved it.”

Brier reached into the inside pocket of his jacket for his cell phone, and lifted it to his ear while Sam appeared to be in midsentence.

“Answer is yes,” Ragno confirmed. “Lawrence did work on Stollen’s prosecution. He was the government’s lead attorney.”

“Was Lawrence present in Stollen’s post-incarceration interviews, with Brier, when Stollen claims to have told them the first time around where the fuck he buried Maximov?” With a flat-handed wave at his side, Zeus indicated for Gabe to stay in place as he started across the room, to Sam.

“Yes.”

“Is Lawrence talking to investigators?”

Brier turned pale as he talked on the phone. Sam, looking coolly outraged that the man had interrupted their conversation by answering his phone, stood within a foot of him, arms folded, and tapping her foot as he spoke. They were so close to the window that they were standing on hardwood floor outside the border of the large area rugs. From where he stood, Zeus could hear the
tap tap tap
of her shoe on the wood floor.

Everything else in the room registered, but in slow motion. He was so focused on Sam, noises from others in the conference room were muted. Two of Brier’s associates were still at the main table; the brunette was walking past Zeus, on her way out the door. On the far end of the conference room, Judge O’Connor and Judge Devlin were continuing their conversation. Three marshals, part of the judicial security team, were talking quietly. McGavin, the lead prosecutor, had returned to the room and was standing at the large table, thumbing through a legal pad of notes.

Zeus rounded the large conference table, putting the rest of the room to his side. The puzzle pieces weren’t all there, but if his hunch panned out, that meant Brier had been instrumental in the murder of his wife. It didn’t make sense. Yet. The man had seemed genuinely heartbroken upon learning the news that she’d been killed. His shock and grief had appeared authentic, even if he was having an affair with his associate. He wouldn’t be the first man to have an affair, yet still love his wife.

Either Brier was a damned good actor or a cold-blooded murderer. Given what Zeus now knew about the scope of crimes in which Lawrence and Peterson had been involved, Zeus suspected Brier was the latter. And worse. The why and how of it didn’t need to make sense now.

What needed to happen was that Sam had to be safe.

He walked faster as his gut screamed one thing;
Get Sam the fuck away from Brier.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

“Interrogators gave Lawrence a phone call,” Ragno said. “Presumably he made one to a lawyer—Wait.”

No shit.

“DHS informs me he called Brier.” Ragno’s words were clipped. “Copy?”

“Copy.” Lawrence calling Brier, a world-class skilled defense lawyer who’d also worked on the Stollen prosecution. Might be a coincidence. Could mean nothing as to Brier’s complicity in Lawrence’s criminal activity. Zeus didn’t believe in coincidences.

“Perhaps just a hiring call?”

“Not making that assumption.”

Brier, with his phone to his ear, glanced in Zeus’s direction, eyes wide with sudden shock. Watching Zeus approach, shock gave way to wild-eyed fear. His glance flitted to the door, then back to Zeus.

Not a fucking hiring call.

Dropping his cell phone to the floor, Brier simultaneously reached for Sam and his gun. A mere ten feet away, Zeus already had his Glock in his hand.

“There’s no way out,” Zeus said, slowly inching forward.

“Put your weapon down,” Brier yelled. “You killed my wife!”

Huh?

Someone gasped. Someone else screamed.

“Everyone, down!” Zeus yelled.

In his peripheral vision, Zeus saw the marshals dive for the two judges who remained in the room. In the mic, Gabe gave orders to Jenkins to secure the conference room. Those who were outside were to remain outside. Gabe’s voice, smooth and calm, kept all on-premised Black Raven agents, and Ragno, informed of what was transpiring.

Zeus blocked everything out but Brier, Brier’s laser-sighted semiautomatic pistol, and Sam—who had Brier’s left arm wrapped around her neck. Brier, the same height as Sam, held her in a damn effective chokehold, which effectively shielded him from the bullet Zeus wanted to put between his eyes.

“No one will believe I killed your wife, and no one will believe you’ve had a mental snap, if that’s what you’re going for.” Zeus’s tone was calm, but the hard knock of his heart was loud in his ears. “Stop the bullshit and give yourself up before someone gets hurt.”

“Hernandez, I won’t warn you again. One inch closer, she’s dead.” Brier’s gun, firmly and coolly grasped in his right hand, was steady on Sam’s temple.

“William Peterson and Christian Lawrence are in custody.” Zeus figured those names would get Brier’s attention.

Hiding behind Sam, Brier harrumphed. Almost convincingly. “They have nothing to do with me.”

“Not what they say.” Zeus didn’t give a damn whether what he was saying was true. He was trying to buy time, waiting to see more than just a half inch of the man’s head, temple, or ear. “According to them, you’re the mastermind. We know that the three of you have been working together for years. Actually, you and Christian Lawrence have been working together ever since Stollen told the two of you the first time where he buried Andre Maximov. You two saw an opportunity. William Peterson provided the vehicle.”

Ready. Aim. Take the shot.

Dammit to hell.

No fucking head shot on Brier.

No fucking shot of any kind that would be effective.

Aiming between Sam’s wide green eyes, waiting for the second he had a clear shot, Zeus inched closer to them as Brier inched further into the corner where the two walls of windows met, dragging Sam with him.

Sam filled Zeus’s vision, wild-eyed as she dug her nails into Brier’s left arm, the one that had the stranglehold on her neck. Her struggle was useless since he wore a tailored suit, the wool of the jacket impenetrable by her short nails.

A bullet would do the job, however. If only he had a shot.

“Let me go!”
Sam’s elbow found Brier’s chest. He rewarded her by tightening his hold on her neck. Placing both hands on his forearm, she still couldn’t wrench his arm off of her.

Move, Sam. Drop. Give me an inch.

As Brier ground the muzzle of his gun along her temple, she met Zeus’s eyes with a look that conveyed stark terror and a desperate plea for help.

Drop, Sam.

As if reading his mind, she let her knees go soft. Brier was ready for the move, and merely tightened his arm across her throat, until she gagged and tried even more frantically to pull his arm from her neck.

“Your theory is insane, Hernandez,” Brier bellowed, his tone loud and imperious. “Would someone please put an end to this? He has no authority to be threatening me!”

“Sullivans of New York.” Zeus inched closer. He was now seven feet away from them. “This is how it works. Sullivans sells insurance coverage to companies for business interruption due to terrorism. It’s really profitable coverage. Now that Peterson and Lawrence are pointing their fingers at you, we’re in your bank records. We know Sullivans has been paying you three for years to create terrorist events, to make sure their coverage keeps selling. Terrorism is big business, Brier, and the three of you cashed in on fear and made damn sure there were plenty of terrorist acts worldwide to foster that fear. You were very effective at making it look as though there were random acts of terror, by terrorists who were trying to stop the ITT proceedings. What were thousands of deaths compared to hundreds of millions of dollars?”

Zeus inched closer, hoping like hell that he was buying time by giving voice to the theory that he and Ragno had discussed in the hallway. It appeared that Brier was listening. “Through masquerading as Maximov, you’ve perpetuated an anti-government myth that two-bit thugs want to believe in. You learned the trade from your own clients. You use their contacts, their methods, and you’ve even made sure your competition gets convicted when they’re of no use to you. As in Stollen’s case, you made damn sure your clients stayed in jail when it suited you.”

“All a crock of half-baked bullshit that will never be proven in a court of law.”

Zeus moved forward another inch, as the pieces he knew from Jigsaw clicked together, solidifying a hunch in his mind. It made so much fucking sense, it had to be correct. He was putting together pieces faster than Jigsaw, but he had faith Jigsaw would catch up and prove him correct. He knew now that Jigsaw had snapped pieces together that gave him the hunch, the sophisticated program would find the pieces to prove the theory correct. Jigsaw was designed to do exactly that.

“You’ve been manipulating this ITT record from day one. You made sure it was polluted with references to Maximov, so that no one looked for the real puppet master. Yeah, you want a mistrial. Now we all fucking know why—because without Maximov to blame, someone smart was going to figure out you’re behind all of this.” Another painful inch forward. The room was silent now, everyone apparently frozen. Listening. Computing. Judging. Because what he was saying made so much damned sense, it was horrifying.

“When Stanley Morgan questioned, early on, the lack of evidence indicating that Maximov was actually responsible for the terrorist cells, you had him killed to keep him from looking for the real culprit. You tried to stop the entire Amicus team by poisoning them, because you knew they would carry on Morgan’s work. You had Judge Devlin’s wife killed to try to pressure the judges to stop the proceeding. You had your own wife killed to deflect suspicion so no one would look at you, you sick fuck. You tried to stop me
.
Used my daughter to do it. That was your biggest mistake, and not just because I’m taking this so personally I’m going to be thrilled when your balls are chained to the wall of a cell on Ultimate Exile, floating forever on the prison ship from hell. Peterson’s calls to the TRCR instructing them to kidnap my daughter provided Barrows a road map leading directly to you. It’s over, Brier. Put your weapon down and let Sam go.”

Zeus kept his tone cool and calm, because as the pieces clicked in his mind, he felt enormous gratitude that on this cloudy, wintry day he knew that one of the men who had been instrumental in Ana’s kidnaping would die. Either by his hand or, if Brier killed Zeus before Zeus managed to get a shot, by Gabe’s—because the fucking bastard had no way out. Standing framed by the windows, he was quite literally cornered.

But a cornered animal was unpredictable. One wrong move and Brier would have no compunction about shooting Sam point blank.

Nothing to lose and cornered. A recipe for disaster.

Goddammit, but I need to get Sam away.

“You talk too damned much, Hernandez. See where my beam is?” The laser site of Brier’s weapon now bounced in and out of Zeus’s vision. “Stop fucking moving, bitch, or the second bullet will be all yours.”

Sam froze, her gaze on Zeus.

“Won’t matter if you kill me, Brier. You’ll be dead before I hit the ground. Let Sam go, and we can talk. She has nothing to do with your agenda.”

The red light found his left eye. This time it didn’t waver.

“No!” Sam pushed Brier’s forearm as he fired, three times, in rapid succession.

The bullets went wild, striking the window on Brier’s left. As the loud
rat-ta-tat
of gunfire faded, the safety glass of the window pebbled. Thick shatter lines spider-webbed from the bullet holes. The glass broke into tiny cubes, as Brier smacked the side of Sam’s temple with the gun. With a crescendo that sounded like marbles spilling onto hard floor, chunks of glass disappeared from the solid, floor-to-ceiling frame. Some fell outside, some to the wood floor that bordered the room, some bounced on carpet floor. Damp outside air whooshed into the room.

“On your left.” Gabe’s whisper came through as Zeus felt his brother’s presence at his side.

Keeping his eyes on Brier, Zeus was peripherally, and murderously, aware of blood blooming on Sam’s right temple.
Ah, shit.
Either one of Brier’s shots had grazed her, or the blow he’d delivered had been enough to split her skin.

The red line of blood was steady, but there wasn’t enough of it for the injury to be life-threatening. She remained in Brier’s chokehold. Blood dripped into her eye. She lifted a hand to her temple, before lowering her now-bloody fingers to her line of vision.

She went limp as she passed out.

Block her out. Focus and illuminate the target. Assess injuries later.

Fuck! Still no kill shot—and Gabe obviously didn’t have one either.

“Let me walk out of here,” Brier said, straining to hold up Sam's dead weight and keep his weapon fixed on Zeus at the same time. His hair ruffled in the wind blowing in from the broken window at his back.

“Not going to happen, unless you let her go.” Zeus inched closer. Planning to lunge, he knew Brier would likely get a good shot on him. He was too exposed. Didn’t matter.

Fuck!

Situation went from shit-bad to worse, because Brier’s wild expression—flitting eyes and steady weapon—indicated that the man knew he was cornered, and he was determined to get out of the situation any fucking way possible.

Brier had one out—a suicide leap through the pane-less window, to a paved walkway that bordered the Thames, five stories below. Edging backwards towards the window, dragging Sam’s limp body as a shield, Brier kept his weapon trained on Zeus.

“He’s gonna jump.” Whispering the obvious into the mic’s audio feed, Zeus’s peripheral vision told him that his brother, just a foot away, was poised and ready, waiting for a signal.

It was a fucking given that if Brier went through that window, he’d take Sam with him. Brier stepped within a foot of the open window, glass crunching under his feet, Sam hanging limply from his forearm. “On two.”

“Copy,” Gabe said. “With you.”

“One.” Holding his Glock firmly in place, Zeus visualized for a split second how he was going to get a close head shot on Brier while managing to grab Sam with his left hand. “Two.”

As he took a flying leap forward, Zeus fired.

He was vaguely aware of red and gray splatter raining out behind Brier, while very aware that Brier was falling towards the window and would soon be dropping through it.

Zeus grabbed Sam’s forearm with his left hand, and yanked her with all of his might out of the grip of the dead man. Zeus’s forward momentum almost carried them through the window with Brier. Gabe’s solid grip on Zeus’s legs stopped their trajectory. Zeus pulled Sam to him, and, as Gabe yanked them both backwards, crashed with her to the floor. Safety glass crunched under him when he turned and rolled, as Gabe yanked them further into the room.

Touching his fingers to her neck, he felt for her pulse. He was able to breathe when he felt the steady beat. He cradled her to his chest and dropped his face to hers. He kissed her cheek and inhaled the scent of blood and sweet jasmine, as his body shook with relief.