WASHINGTON DC: The Sadir Affair (The Puppets of Washington Book 1) (30 page)

Billycan was on his feet. “Your Honour, at this point we would like to ask for a ten-minute recess—time to confer with Ms. Blake.”

Silverman frowned again. He didn’t like this sort of interruption. “All right, Mr. Billycan, you got it. Ten minute recess, Ladies and Gentlemen.” He then pounded his gavel and stepped off the bench.

As soon as the judge was out of the courtroom, Billycan caught Marcel’s gaze. “Get a weapons’ expert to examine that knife as soon as possible. I would also like to see His Highness, Prince Khalid, take the stand as soon as he can free himself.” Marcel was practically running out of the courtroom when he heard the last of Billycan’s words.

Glenda showed her surprise. Her mouth fell open. “You mean the Prince is here—in D.C.?”

“Yes, my dear, he is, and his uncle is too. They’re both going to get this show on the road in a big way.” He smiled at the bewildered ADA. “This is D.C., Ms. Blake, no half measure.”

“No, I guess not,” Glenda replied, grabbing her briefcase from beside her chair. “I can hardly wait to meet him.” She looked up at the US Attorney with regained composure and a tad of challenge in her eyes.

“I’ll do you one better than that,” Khalid replied when he heard Marcel on the phone ask if he would be free to take the stand that afternoon, giving him the reasons for his request. “I knew it would come down to explaining the knife’s provenance and I’ve already asked my brother to join us in Washington. He’s on his way as we speak. He should be ready to testify in the morning.”

An awkward silence ensued. Marcel, or Billycan for that matter, hadn’t planned on Salamir Al-Fadir Sahab
being called in at all—certainly not so soon. “I’m very sorry, Prince Khalid, but this is going to be a surprise for Mr. Billycan. However, I think we can arrange for your brother to take the stand in the next couple of days, yes.”

“Mr. Fauchet, you need to be assured that my brother is better placed to answer your questions; not only about the knife, but as regards the events that led my father to be involved with the drug trafficking, which the CIA had organized originally with the helpful assistance of Mr. Osnoir.”

Marcel was lost now. That was a bit much to take at once. This case was getting farther reaching in time and scope by the minute. “I am unable to respond, Your Highness. I haven’t been briefed in the matters you described just now. Would you mind if Mr. Billycan calls you himself during the lunch recess?”

“By all means, Mr. Fauchet, I’ll be in my suite at that time.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll get him to call you as soon as he’s free.”

“Don’t mention it. Good day to you, Mr. Fauchet.”

When Marcel returned to the courtroom and told Billycan what the prince had said, Billycan couldn’t help but gawk at his assistant. “Are you telling me that we will be able to get a full explanatory statement from the prince’s brother?” Marcel nodded. “Alright then, we’ve got to get a continuance or at least an adjournment for the day. We’ve got to prepare for this. Get Ms. Stovall in my office as soon as you can. I’ll need her to attend the interview.” Soon after Marcel left the courtroom, Silverman reappeared and stepped up to the bench.

“May we approach, Your Honour?” Billycan asked immediately after the bailiff declared the court in session again.

“Yes, Mr. Billycan. Mr. Simmons, please approach.”

When both attorneys were close enough to the bench, Silverman placed his hand on the microphone. “What’s going on, Mr. Billycan?”

“One of our witnesses is flying in from Nouakchott, Your Honour, and we would like to have the time to interview him in the morning. We will be asking for a continuance, Your Honour.” Billycan turned to Simmons. “If my colleague doesn’t mind.”

Simmons didn’t return the gaze but looked up at Silverman when he said, “We’ve got no objection, Your Honour. We actually would like the time to complete the preparation of our defence in view of the added witnesses.”

“Well, it seems that everyone would be happy for the break, so go ahead, Mr. Billycan... How long?”

“Three days, Your Honour.”

“Okay then, go ahead.”

Billycan and Simmons returned to their respective seats but Billycan remained standing beside his chair.

Within a few minutes court was adjourned for three days—until the following Thursday at 9:00AM.

“Okay, let’s see if Prince Khalid can see us in a half-an-hour.” He looked at Marcel who was closing his phone.

“Yes, sir. I was just talking to Ms. Stovall; she’ll be at your office anytime her presence is required for that interview.”

Glenda was trying to keep up. This string of events and the rapidity at which things evolved in this case was all new to her. She was not new to courts’ proceedings, but this was not her usual run-of-the-mill case by any means. She looked up at Billycan while Marcel was on the phone with Khalid again.

“What would you like me to do?”

“Stay with us and observe, Ms. Blake. Just observe. You’ll be attending interviews in the next two and half days that could be useful for you to recall if I ask you to examine witnesses on the stand.”

“Me? You want me to examine your witnesses? I don’t think I can, Mr. Billycan, I might bungle things for you...” That was a polite rebuff when, in fact, Glenda looked forward to having her chance at the Al-Fadir family. She had her opinion of these Muslim royalties—not a good one either.

Billycan smiled kindly down at her. “I’m quite sure you won’t, Ms. Blake, and it’s about time you get your feet wet, don’t you think?” Glenda’s bewilderment didn’t abate. “And why did you think I asked you to second chair in this trial? You’ve got to work for your stipend, my dear.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, though, I won’t throw you to the wolves until you’re ready.” Glenda bent her head and looked at her feet. She was not about to let Billycan know how she really felt. She’d leave that for the courtroom. Billycan turned to Marcel. “All right, is the prince available?”

“Yes, sir, he’s invited us for lunch, in his suite. He said we’ll have more privacy then.”

“Very good. Shall we?” Billycan stretched an arm in the direction of the doors of the courthouse.

“So what did you think of Prince Khalid?” Billycan asked Glenda. They were in the car, going back to the US Attorney’s office.

“He’s clever, I’ll give you that, but he holds his cards close to his chest and doesn’t let you know what his intentions are in circumstances that could be dangerous not only for him but for whoever is beside him.”

“I see. You might be right in your opinion of him, but you must admit that he’ll be a good witness for us.”

“He’s truthful, yes, but I would have to watch how I phrase the questions, though, otherwise I could be in for a surprise.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well...” Glenda paused. “He can’t seem to be able to answer questions all at once. It takes several tries to get the whole story out of him.”

“You’re right. He’s not used to divulge his thoughts unless he’s pressed to do it.”

Marcel had listened to the conversation and now turned his body in the front seat to look at Billycan. “But he comes up with the right assumption in the end, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he does,” Billycan agreed. “What he deduced about Sadir plotting to have Gilford kill Meshullam after Meshullam would have taken him out, and then concluding that Sadir had probably arranged for Ms Kartz’s elimination in Vancouver, was right on the money.”

“But can you prove any of it is the question,” Glenda put in pensively.

“I think we can. We have three witnesses to confirm that Prince Khalid was sent to confront Meshullam. Plus, we have Sadir renting an apartment adjacent to Talya’s. Then we have Mossad that could confirm their suggestions to have the prince eliminated—on Sadir’s advice.”

Marcel didn’t know about this. He raised an eyebrow. “Is Mossad prepared to come forward then? And who’s going to be their spokesman?”

“I don’t know yet. But Van Dams left a message on my phone saying Mossad wanted to be involved in the trial.”

“That’s going to be interesting,” Glenda remarked. “I’d be curious to hear how much they’d be ready to say on the stand.”

Salamir looked particularly uncomfortable. He was dressed in a suit, which fitted him perfectly but seemed to be the prime reason for his discomfort. Sitting in the witness chair, he looked definitely ill at ease. He had spent a day with Khalid and Billycan answering numerous questions regarding their father’s involvement in the CIA’s operation in West Africa. From the little Salamir knew; Billycan and Khalid managed to re-construct the chain of events that eventually led Khalid to be embroiled in the
Sadir Affair
.

Billycan rose from his chair and approached the witness. He knew how frightened Salamir was. He was going to treat him with kid gloves.

“Mr. Sahab, I would like first to thank you for travelling from your home in Nouakchott all the way to Washington to attend this trial.”

“De rien, Monsieur Billycan,” Salamir replied in Mauritania’s second language—French.

“Let the record show that Mr. Sahab acknowledged the gratefulness of this court for his attendance. Now, Mr. Sahab, I’d like you to turn your attention to the time you first met Madame Kartz. When was this exactly?”

“My brother bring her down from Paris in June of two years past, Monsieur Billycan. I seen her first time then. I am sorry, my English not very good, Monsieur.”

“Don’t apologize, Mr. Sahab. You’re doing very well. So, Madame Kartz came down from Paris in June two years ago and do you know why she came down to visit?”

“My brother...”

Billycan raised a hand. “I apologize, Mr. Sahab, but when you say “my brother”, do you mean Prince Khalid Saif Al-Fadir?”

“Yes, Prince Khalid Sheik Sahab Saif Al-Fadir, yes.” Judge Silverman looked down at the court reporter to see if she got the whole name in the record. He actually had had difficulty distinguishing all of the syllables himself. Receiving an affirmative nod from the young woman, Silverman gestured to Billycan to proceed, “Go ahead, Mr. Billycan.”

These interruptions did nothing to calm the witness down. He seemed more agitated as each minute passed. Besides which, the silence in the courtroom was utterly oppressive.

Billycan looked kindly at Salamir and asked again the reason for Madame Kartz’s visit to Mauritania.

“My brother, Prince Khalid, said Madame Kartz attack in Paris and we need take her to the desert.”

“You mean travel through the desert with Madame Kartz?”

“Yes, yes. We take her with caravan and protect her from criminals.”

“Good. How long did you stay in the desert with Madame Kartz?”

“Maybe week, maybe less. Yes, maybe week.”             

“And when you arrived at Nbak in the Sahel, south of the Sahara, what did you do then?”

“Caravan say goodbye to Madame Kartz and I give her knife for protection.”

That was Billycan’s cue. He went to the evidence table and took the knife to Salamir. His reaction was instantaneous. Seeing it, Salamir wanted to grab it. Billycan again held up a hand and moved the knife out of reach. “I am sorry; Mr. Sahab, but you cannot touch the knife. You can only look at it and tell me if it is the knife you gave Madame Kartz. Please.”

He held the knife in its plastic envelope closer to Salamir for him to look at it.

“Yes, it is knife I make for her. Yes, it my work.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sahab. Can you also tell us why this knife is so special to you?”

“Yes, yes—this is very old way to make knife. For protection. Not an arm...”

“You mean a weapon?”

“Yes... It for protection. Very sharp and straight—not bow like knife to fight.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sahab. That was very good and helpful. Just one more question; did you see Madame Kartz again after she left the caravan?”

Salamir shook his head. “No, Monsieur Billycan, I never seen
our lady
again.”

Billycan had heard it, but he needed to confirm if what he heard was correct. He swung on his heels and returned to the witness after replacing the knife on the evidence table. “Did you say, ‘our lady’? And why did you say that?”

“Madame Kartz is lady for us. She come with us and accept my brother invitation to come to the desert, to water méhari and care for animals, same in Qur’an.”

Looking at the jury’s questioning faces, Billycan knew that none of the members had understood what Salamir had just described. The US Attorney turned to face Silverman. “Your Honour, may I be permitted to explain for the court what Mr. Sahab described just now?”

“Yes, Mr. Billycan, the court will be very interested to hear this. But, I urge you to be as brief as possible and not waste the court’s time with your explanation.”

“Yes, Your Honour.” He turned and took a few steps toward the jury. “Ladies and Gentlemen, you heard the witness tell you that Ms. Kartz accepted Prince Khalid’s invitation to travel to the Sahara Desert with him and to “water the méhari and care for the animals.” Most of the jurors nodded. “Mr. Sahab and his brother, Prince Khalid, are Touaregs, which means they were born in a tribe of the desert that ancestrally has broken away from mainstream Islamic customs and have retained the original version of the Koran. According to the words of Mohammed in the Koran, women are to be respected but have to perform numerous duties for the tribe and during a caravan’s travel. One of the duties is for the women to water and feed the méhari, which is a camel. The animal is taller than the usual beast you see in the zoo and has a longer stride. In the Koran, when a woman is invited to join the tribe, she is asked (not ordered as some of you may think) to water and feed the méhari so to demonstrate to the tribe that she will participate in the chores. In this instance, it is important for you to understand that Ms. Kartz was not kidnapped or forced to accompany the caravan. She
accepted
to be part of the Touaregs’ day to day life.”

Seeing that he finished with his explanation, and as the US Attorney returned his attention to a befuddled Salamir, Silverman said, “Thank you, Mr. Billycan. Please proceed.”

“Thank you, Your Honour.” He approached the witness again. “Mr. Sahab, I thank you again for your patience. I will not ask you anymore questions now, but my colleague, Mr. Simmons may have questions for you.”

Salamir nodded and appeared a little more relaxed, although the gaze he shot in Simmons’s direction and the look he threw at Sadir were not the most amicable Billycan had ever observed. He knew Salamir, if allowed, would have throttled the accused and killed him right there and then.

Billycan turned to Silverman. “I have no more questions for this witness at this time, Your Honour, but would like to reserve the right to call him again to the stand at a later date.”

“So noted, Mr. Billycan. Mr. Simmons, your witness.”

“I have no question for this witness at this time, but would like to reserve the right to cross examine Mr. Sahab’s testimony later.”

“Very well then. Mr. Sahab, you may step down.” Salamir looked up at the judge, visibly surprised that he didn’t have to stay any longer on the stand or answer any more questions. He hesitated, stepped down and stopped by the defendant’s table. “رحمه الله على روحك,
May Allah have mercy on your soul,
” he said and then went out of the courtroom quickly, straight to Khalid’s side as he passed the door.

“Don’t talk now, Salamir,” were Khalid’s first words to him in Arabic. “Come and sit down with us.” He indicated a bench where Uncle Abdullah was sitting, his arms crossed over his chest. “We will talk when we return to the hotel.”

Salamir nodded and went to sit by his uncle, who smiled at him. “I am sure you did very well, Salamir. I know Allah guided your steps,” Uncle Abdullah said reassuringly. “It will be Khalid’s turn soon, and we will stay with Mr. Gilford here for a while.” He raised his eyes to Mark who had accompanied the trio to court that morning. Leaning against the wall across from the bench, the three men’s interactions intrigued Mark. Uncle Abdullah was like the soul of the family; he behaved kindly but always directed his offspring firmly to do the proper thing in any circumstances. As for Khalid, he was a masterful figure and distributed his kindness or care sparsely.