The Accused (34 page)

“Did they indicate to you whether the United States would be intervening formally in this case?”

“No. They were actually calling to ask me to suspend the indictment for a period of time. But I said no. I see no reason to stay prosecution of Colonel Marlowe.”

“And your position on release of Colonel Marlowe from custody? Are you going to be arguing for continued detention pending trial?”

“Most certainly,” she replied curtly. “This man is an international menace. He has global connections. The ability to travel from country to country at will. He could disappear easily if he is released from custody before trial.”

“Try to see it our way,” Will said. “Colonel Marlowe is going to be severely handicapped in his ability to assist me in his defense if he has to sit in your detention facility here at The Hague.”

“You know,” Les Forges replied with some level of amusement, “I always am entertained by those arguments. I've heard them before. So often. Defense lawyers say they need their clients released from prison to aid in their defense. And yet, all the defense work—you and I know this—takes place with defense counsel, and
your
investigators, and
your
legal research. The only thing you need your client for is to glean the facts—which you can do in the safety and comfort of our detention center. As you can see, I am not moved by your arguments. And I don't believe the Pretrial Chambers Judge will be either.”

She excused herself, turned, and quickly unpacked her briefcase at the prosecution table.

Hans Junger, the permanent judge with the ICC who would take the plea, entered the courtroom. He was a light-haired, middle-aged man who spoke fluent English with a strong Norwegian accent.

“Ms. Les Forges,” he began, “I know you speak English quite well—you are bilingual. And as I understand it, Mr. Chambers here, from the United States, represents Colonel Marlowe. So we can dispense with the interpreters and handle the plea hearing in English. Agreed?”

Les Forges and Will both nodded in agreement and indicated their approval on the record.

Judge Junger asked that the accused be brought into the courtroom. A few minutes later, Caleb Marlowe entered the room, in his street clothes, with his hands manacled and a guard on each side. Marlowe smiled confidently at Will and then sat down at the counsel table to his right.

Junger proceeded to read the lengthy criminal indictment, and each of the charges.

After that, Will strode over to the podium in the middle of the courtroom.

“And have you had an opportunity to consult with your client, Mr. Chambers?”

“I have,” the attorney responded. “Your Honor, we are waiving the thirty days under Rule 62. We are prepared to enter a plea today.”

“And what plea do you enter?” Judge Junger asked.

“The accused enters a not-guilty plea and demands a trial.”

“Very well,” Junger replied. “This case will be transferred to the trial chamber for the setting of a trial date. As Madame Les Forges knows, although I'm not sure if you're acquainted with the procedure,” the judge said to Will, “the three-judge panel will be selected at random prior to trial. Therefore, I do not know who those judges will be. But you will be informed at the same time Ms. Les Forges is. Discovery matters can still be referred to the pretrial chamber if an issue arises regarding the production of information. Mr. Chambers, do you have any matters to record?”

“I do,” Will responded. “I'd like to address the issue of the release of Colonel Marlowe pending trial. And I also would like to make a demand…” and with that, Will glanced over at Marlowe, whose eyes locked on his.

“I'd like to make a demand,” he continued, “for a speedy and expedited trial. For a trial at the first possible opportunity.”

Judge Junger glanced at the prosecutor, who rose to her feet and smiled. She took a moment to tap a painted nail on the tabletop, and then she responded.

“Your Honor, this is the first I have heard of this demand. I received no written motion in this regard. But I'm willing to waive the requirement of a written motion at this time. I would simply ask that Mr. Chambers follow up by filing his request in writing. But as to the merits…,” she said, and gazed down for a moment—but then continued, “we would have no objection to a trial handled on an expedited basis. It has long been my practice, and Your Honor may appreciate this, that I prepare my cases before the first appearance. I don't work on my cases as they go along. Frankly, we are prepared now. We would like to see—as Mr. Chambers does—this matter handled expeditiously.”

“Of course,” the judge noted in a quiet voice, “I cannot vouch for the schedule of the trial chambers to be able to accommodate this request. But for what it's worth, we will pass it on. Both of you will be
required to contact trial chambers with a mutually convenient date, and to try to confirm it with the clerk.”

After some short reflection, Junger added, “Of course, Madame Les Forges, you will need—if you are to have an expedited trial—to immediately disclose all of your evidence discovery to Mr. Chambers—”

“Already prepared,” she responded in a chipper, rapid-fire reply. “We have a complete copy of all our discovery—several boxes—in my office, ready to be picked up by Mr. Chambers today. As well as a set for his co-counsel. We can comply with Rule 66 forthwith.”

Junger nodded with satifaction.

“Now, Mr. Chambers,” the judge continued, “as to your motion for release of the accused pending trial, this tribunal will hear your arguments on that.”

As Will began his presentation, a man in a tan raincoat in the back of the courtroom rose and left. He walked quickly through the corridor, down the stairs, through security, and out onto the street. On the sidewalk he glanced at a parked limousine approximately half a block away and gestured toward it. The limo pulled up to the curb, and the man got in the backseat. Seated in the back of the limo was Will's fellow passenger on the flight to The Hague. He pushed a button, and a sliding glass divider sealed off the passenger compartment from the chauffeur.

“Not guilty. They want an expedited trial,” the man said to the passenger in the limo. “Chambers is asking for release of the accused on bail.”

“Very good,” the other man said. “Now go back in and monitor the rest of the hearing.”

The man in the tan raincoat exited the car and headed back toward the courthouse.

The limo passenger took out his cell phone and made a call to Bern, Switzerland.

At the other end Warren Mullburn picked up his private direct line.

“We're monitoring the hearing right now. Our information is that Marlowe stands little chance of being released before trial. They are asking for an expedited trial schedule.”

“And how was your flight over?”

“Rewarding,” the man replied. “I met an American attorney. Will Chambers. He lives in Virginia, has a beautiful wife. She is a Christian singing and recording artist. We had a delightful chat.”

“Yes. It is interesting, the people you run into on international flights. Small world,” Mullburn replied facetiously.

“The American government has not weighed in yet as to whether or not they'll be intervening in this case with a formal appearance. Mr. Chambers was in court alone.”

“Now, as to the expedited trial issue,” the billionaire mused, “that does not exactly comport with the strategy I've got for our project. I need more time for the United States to twist in the wind—more world criticism—while oil prices go up.”

“I'm sure,” the other man said, “that a delay can be arranged.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Unfortunate, really. Another family tragedy for attorney Chambers. I'm sure it will result in a delay of the trial date. It is sad that Mr. Chambers doesn't seem to be able to keep a wife.”

“On the other hand,” Mullburn said blandly, “no one said that life is fair. It's not like a chess game with fixed rules. For the mass of mankind it just means they have to learn to absorb the endless blows to the head. The stake to the heart.”

Upon further reflection, he added one final thought.

“But when you can make the rules, then it is different—then you can drive the stake.”

And at that, he chuckled a bit.

54

A
NNOUNCEMENTS WERE DRONING OVER
the loudspeaker and echoing throughout the airport building. But Will wasn't paying any attention. As he slouched into the fake-leather upholstery at the airplane gate, he was feeling weary—down to his soul. After a quick flight over to The Hague to interview Marlowe, enter an appearance, and argue motions for bail and an expedited trial, he was now ready to take in another flight—this time to Mexico City. He had had only two short phone conversations with Fiona, trying to update her in the small snatches of time he had. She had given him her love, said she was fine, and assured him that he need not worry about her.

What Will really wanted to do was to close his eyes and take a nap. He had an hour before they would start boarding his flight on Aeroméxico. But he couldn't do that. He needed to call Len Redgrove and connect with him on strategy—and update the law professor on what had transpired at Marlowe's hearing before the ICC magistrate.

He caught Redgrove in his office as he was preparing for a lecture to some foreign dignitaries visiting the University of Virginia.

“Len, I know you don't have a lot of time,” Will began, “so let me give you the headlines. Marlowe is insisting—for reasons that are very murky—that he receive the quickest and most expedited trial possible. Which is insane, given the fact that this is a war-crimes trial. I tried to talk him out of it. He was absolutely unmovable. Like a rock. Which, of course, is oh-so-untypical for him.”

Redgrove saw the humor in that and laughed heartily at the other end.

“So,” Will continued, “I argued for the expedited trial. Not surprisingly, the prosecutor—a French lawyer by the name of Francine Les
Forges—didn't object. We went down to the trial chambers and consulted with the clerk there. He actually set a preliminary date for the commencement of trial eighteen days from now—
eighteen days!
” Will's voice was so loud and agitated that a few other travelers, reading or gazing off into space around him, began staring.

“Yes, that's a very bad situation,” the professor responded, trying to quickly sort it out in his mind. “I know that you've already gone through the Article 32 hearing in the military proceeding, but still—eighteen days is nearly impossible. You wanted me to start preparing some motions and doing the research on the jurisdictional objections and a motion to dismiss.”

“Well, can you get them done on a compressed timescale?” Will asked hopefully.

“I think…” Redgrove's voice trailed off as he considered his options. “I think I'm going to have to call my editor and tell him I need an extension for my book deadline. That's not going to be a pleasant conversation. I'm not going to be able to do this round-the-clock and still keep up with my writing project. Listen, don't worry. We'll get it done. But what is it that's driving Marlowe on this expedited trial? I don't get it.”

“Neither do I—at least, not entirely. Although I think that he expects an acquittal. He expects to be released. And there's something in the works. He's still acting and talking like he's on a mission—I get the feeling that he wants to get back to Mexico to mop up the terrorists down there. He promises he's going to make some of this clear to me later on. But like you, I'm very much in the dark.”

“Speaking of getting out of jail—how did you do on your motion to get him released from detention?”

“Well, at the same time we were arguing for an expedited trial I was also shooting myself in the foot for my argument for bail release. The judge took the position that because we were likely to get a quick trial, the burden of keeping Marlow in prison pending the trial itself was going to be less than the typical case. Furthermore, he was concerned about Marlowe's international connections and his ability to disappear instantaneously. So, all of that goaded the judge to deny our motion for release. My client's going to sit in the detention center in The Hague until trial.”

“So where does that leave you?” Redgrove asked.

“I'm sitting here in the airport, waiting to take off for Mexico City.”

“What's up? Factual investigation?”

“Look, Len, call me paranoid. But I don't want to go into a lot of details on a cell phone. Let's just say that I have an appointment to interview someone whom Marlowe gave me as a possible lead. To help us prove that the incident at Chacmool was a setup orchestrated by a combination of foreign terrorists and federal nationals within the government down there.”

“You be careful. This sounds risky.”

“Yes, that's what Marlowe told me. I have a very uneasy feeling about this. I can't put my finger on it. Call it a premonition…”

“Why don't you send your private investigator down there? What's his name…Heftland? I know from your other cases that Mr. Heftland knows how to take care of himself. He has a military and police background, doesn't he?”