“Now, ah, that’s a problem.”
“You were expecting me to work pro bono?”
“No, no—you deserve to be paid; I understand that. But the Tosoks don’t have any money, and of course my office can’t be seen as getting involved.”
“What do you propose?”
“Tosok technology will, of course, be introduced into Earth society; Captain Kelkad has agreed to patent the technology aboard his starship, and to pay you for your services a fee equal to one-quarter of one percent of all income generated from licensing that technology.”
“In perpetuity?” said Rice. “And not contingent on the outcome of the case?”
“In perpetuity,” agreed Frank. “And you get it whether you win or lose.” He smiled. “Before you know it, you may be richer than Bill Gates.”
“I don’t crave money, Dr. Nobilio, but…”
“But think of all the good you could do with it.”
Dale nodded. “Very well.”
“You’ll take the case?”
“I will.”
“Thank you. Thank you. When can you see Hask?”
“Where is he? Parker Center?”
Frank nodded.
“I’ll have Karen clear my afternoon.” He rose again, slowly, ponderously. “Let’s go.”
Frank got up. “We’ll want to go over his alibi, of course.”
Dale had moved out from behind his wide oak desk. He placed a giant hand on Frank’s forearm. “There is no ‘we,’ son.”
Frank blinked. “Pardon?”
“You’re not an attorney. You can’t be with Hask when I speak to him.”
Frank’s eyes narrowed. “What? Why?”
“Because conversations between him and me are privileged—but only if they’re in private. If they’re not, then any of the participants—yourself, but also him or me—are subject to subpoena.”
“But I want to be in on this. Hell, the president wants me to be in on this.”
“I understand—but you cannot.”
“Can’t you—I don’t know—deputize me? Something like that?”
“Make you an agent, you mean. No, I can’t do that—after all, there’s a reasonable likelihood that you’ll be called as a witness by one side or the other.” Dale began to move toward the mahogany doors to his office. “Sorry, son, but you’ve hired me, and now you’ve got to trust me.”
CHAPTER
10
Hask had been placed in a special cell at Parker Center, separate from the other prisoners. But that was the only concession to his unique status. The cell was filthy, with graffiti scrawled on its walls. There was a toilet and a sink, both in plain view. There was also a chair, but it wasn’t suitable for a Tosok, so Hask had been standing for hours, his back hand grasping one of the bars for support.
Frank Nobilio and Dale Rice approached the cage, and the guard let them inside.
“Frank!” said Hask, his tuft moving excitedly. “Thank you for coming back.”
“Hask, I apologize for all this,” said Frank. “These people—the police—they’ve obviously made a terrible mistake. We’ll get this all straightened out.” A beat. “Let me introduce you to your lawyer. Dale Rice, meet Hask.”
“The name again?” said Hask.
“Rice,” said Frank. “R-I-C-E. Dale. D-A-L-E.” He looked at the other human. “The Tosoks sometimes have trouble parsing human names.”
“Greetings, Mr. Rice,” said Hask. “You are the person who can get me out of here?”
“You may call me Dale. And I’ll do everything I can.”
“I will be grateful. Let me—”
“Wait. Frank, you have to leave now.”
Frank frowned. “All right. Hask, I’ve got some other business to attend to, anyway, but I’ll come back to talk to you when you and Dale are finished.”
“I want you here,” said Hask.
“Not possible,” said Dale. “Hask, under our law, private conversations between an attorney and his client are privileged. That means they can never be introduced in court—but only if the conversations are private. You’ll meet my associate, Ms. Katayama, soon; she’s in court today, but I’ll bring her by tomorrow. But only conversations you have while alone with either her or me are protected under law.”
“It’ll be okay,” said Frank to Hask. “Dale is one of the most famous lawyers on this planet.” Frank left, and Dale took the one chair; it protested loudly under his massive body.
“I tell you, Dale, I—”
“Shut up.”
Hask took a half step backward. “Pardon?”
“Shut up. Shut up. You were about to tell me if you are guilty or innocent, right? Don’t tell me anything unless I ask you. The Supreme Court has ruled that I can’t put you on the stand to testify to your innocence if you’ve already told me you’re guilty; it’s tantamount to suborning.”
“Suborning?”
“Inducing a witness to perjure himself.”
“But—”
“Not a word, unless I ask for it. Understood?”
Hask’s topknot waved in apparent bewilderment. But at last he said, “Yes.”
“How are they treating you?”
“I have no chair that I can use.”
“I’ll send someone from my office to bring one for you from the USC dorm.”
“I wish to leave this place,” said Hask.
“I understand that—and we’re working on that right now. There will be a bail hearing later today. If it’s successful, you will be able to go.”
“And this will be over?”
Dale shook his head. “No. No, it won’t. But you’ll be able to rejoin the other Tosoks, and have your liberty until the main trial.”
“And when will that occur?”
“That’s the first issue we have to address. You have a right to a speedy trial, but, well, I’m going to ask you to waive that right. We’re going to need time to prepare your defense.”
“If, as I am told, I am presumed to be innocent, then why must I mount a defense at all?”
Dale nodded. “Technically, you don’t have to. But the prosecution will present the most compelling case it can. If we don’t try to counter their arguments, they will likely win.”
“I have already publicly declared my innocence. What other defense is possible?”
“Well, the simplest defense is just that—saying you didn’t do it. But that means somebody else must have. The security at the USC residence was such that no one could get in or out without being seen. That means somebody inside killed Dr. Calhoun. It had to be either one of the seven Tosoks, or one of the eighteen humans who had access, including the members of the entourage and the LAPD officers. If it can be proved that none of the others did it, then your simple declaration won’t be enough to find you innocent.”
“Then we must find the killer.”
Dale frowned. “It’s not our responsibility to prove who did do it, and normally I’d not even try—but with so few possible suspects, it’s certainly in our interest to consider the question. Without indicating one way or the other whether you yourself really did it, do you know anyone else who might have had reason to kill Calhoun?”
“No.”
“A lot of the prosecution’s case will probably hinge on proving that the crimes were committed by a Tosok rather than a human. Do you think it’s possible that one of the other Tosoks did it?”
“We are not killers.”
“Generally speaking, humans aren’t, either. But a man is dead.”
“Yes.”
“One of my people will ask everyone in the residence this at some point, but did you ever see anyone fighting or arguing with Calhoun?”
“No.”
Dale let out a hurricane of a sigh. “All right. We’ve certainly got our work cut out for us. Now, we better get prepared for the arraignment.”
Frank Nobilio walked the two blocks to the Los Angeles County Criminal Courts Building, at the corner of Templ
e and Broadway. It was a great concrete cube, with wafflelike sides. Just inside the front door, Frank passed through a metal detector operated by two uniformed guards. Christmas decorations were hanging from the walls.
There was a shoeshine stand with four stations in the large, dim lobby. In front of it was a white foam-core board written on in brown Magic Marker:
A.J.’S SHOE SHINE
REGULAR SHINES (INCL. SPIT SHINES)
BRIEF CASES / POLICE BELTS + ACCESSORIES
GET YOUR PUNCH CARD, WHEREIN EVERY 6TH SHINE IS FREE!!!
Frank looked down at his own brown loafers. He was sweating a fair bit; the walk had been easy (although gently uphill), but L.A. was having a winter heat wave.
He made his way past the information desk—which seemed to specialize in giving bus maps to jurors—and found a building directory. The room he wanted was 18-709. He pushed the button to call an elevator that went to that floor.
He got into the elevator and heard the clacking of heels on the floor behind him. He held out a hand to keep the door from closing, and in came a severe-looking, thin white woman with short brown hair. Frank felt his eyes widen as he recognized her: Marcia Clark, the lead prosecutor in the Simpson criminal case. Clark must have just been dropping in for a visit, since she was now a TV host, rather than a member of the DA’s office—Frank wondered if she got the same kind of flak about selling out from professional colleagues that Cletus Calhoun had. She punched a floor button; Frank pushed the one labeled 18 and tried not to stare at her. A sign in the elevator said “All Persons Will Be Searched on the 9th Floor.” The warning was repeated in Spanish.
The elevator stopped. Marcia Clark got off. The cab resumed motion, and a moment later Frank exited. He found the door labeled “Montgomery Ajax, District Attorney,” stopped to adjust his tie and smooth out his hair, then entered the outer office.
“I’m Frank Nobilio,” he said. “I have an appointment with Mr. Ajax.”
The secretary nodded, picked up her telephone handset, and spoke briefly into it. She then pushed a button on her desk, apparently unlocking the door to Ajax’s private office. “You may go in,” she said.
Frank walked into the large wood-paneled office with his hand extended. “Mr. Ajax,” he said, “thank you for agreeing to see me.”
Ajax’s fox face was not smiling. “Frankly,” he said, “I’m not sure I should. In precisely what capacity are you here, Doctor?”
“A private citizen, that’s all.”
“Because if Washington is interfering—”
“No one is interfering, Mr. Ajax, believe me. But Cletus Calhoun was my friend—we’d known each other almost twenty years. Believe me, no one wants to see justice done more than I do.”
“Well, then,” said Ajax, sitting back down. The view of L.A. through his office windows was breathtaking.
Frank sat down, too. “But Hask is also my friend,” he said. “I find it hard to believe that he killed Clete. Remember, I’ve spent more time with the Tosoks than anyone—anyone still alive, that is. I’ve seen no sign of malevolence in them.”
“So?”
“So, I’m wondering—I’m just wondering, is all—I’m wondering, Mr. Ajax, if perhaps you’ve been a bit too hasty in going after one of the Tosoks.”
Ajax stiffened noticeably. “Are you suggesting that my office should drop this case?”
“It might be prudent,” said Frank gently. “After all, this is the first contact between humans and aliens. The Tosoks are much more advanced than we are. They could revolutionize our science and technology. We don’t want to antagonize them.”
“‘We’?” said Ajax. “Who is ‘we’?”
“Well—all of us. Humanity.”
“One might say that it’s the Tosoks who have antagonized us, not the other way around.”
“But this case has an impact on the entire world.”
“That may be so. But the fact is that one of your aliens committed murder. That crime has to be addressed.”
Frank tried to keep his voice from rising. “No, sir. The fact is that a Tosok may have committed murder. But then again, he may be completely innocent. And if he is—”
Ajax spread his arms; Frank noticed he wore a Rolex watch. “If he is, he will be exonerated, and no harm done. But if he’s guilty—”
“If he’s guilty, you’ll be seen as the great white knight in the fight against evil, the crusading DA who wouldn’t back down.”
Ajax’s pale blue eyes flashed with anger, but he said nothing.
“I’m sorry,” said Frank. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“If there’s nothing else, Doctor…” The DA gestured toward his office door.
Frank considered for a moment whether to go on. “Rumor has it that you’re going to run for the governorship of California.”
“I’ve made no public announcement.”
“You could certainly use all sorts of support in that bid.”
“Are you trying to bribe me into dropping this case, Doctor?”
“Not at all. I’m just pointing out that the ramifications run deep.”
“Dr. Nobilio, if I run for governor, it’ll be because I believe in law and order. I believe we shouldn’t let criminals go free. And I think America can take a certain justifiable pride that one of its institutions is working the way it was intended to, as the great leveler and as the bastion of truth.”
Frank nodded. “And therefore you can’t be seen as being soft; I understand that. But surely you can see that you’re letting political ambition blind you to the larger issues—”
Ajax held up a hand. “We’re through here, Doctor. Good day.”
Frank exhaled. “All I’m saying is think about what you’re doing, Mr. Ajax.”
“I have thought about it. And I intend to proceed against this alien killer with all speed.”
CHAPTER
11
Judge Albert Dyck was almost seven feet tall. He entered the courtroom with a stride worthy of a Tosok and took his seat at the bench. Like most humans, he had trouble taking his eyes off Hask—he’d seen the aliens on TV before, but never one in the flesh.
“Mr. Rice,” said Dyck, “on the primary charge of murder in the first degree, how does your client plead?”
Dale brought his massive bulk out of the swivel-mounted chair. “Not guilty, Your Honor.”
“And on the secondary charge of using a deadly and dangerous weapon, how does your client plead?”
“Not guilty, Your Honor.”
“Your client is entitled to a speedy trial, if he so desires.”
“We waive that right, Your Honor.”
“Very well. How long do you need to prepare?”
“Twelve weeks should be sufficient, Your Honor.”
“How does March fifteenth sound, then?”
“Fine.”
“The People?”
Deputy District Attorney Linda Ziegler rose; at forty-one, she’d already had an illustrious career, and was one of the top lawyers in Monty Ajax’s Special Trials Unit. She was thin, with jet-black hair cut in a short, punk style. Her nose was aquiline; her chin, strong. “Yes,” she said, in a crisp, clipped voice, “that date’s fine, Your Honor.”
“Your Honor, I’d like to now raise the question of bail,” said Dale.
Ziegler had sat down, but she immediately rose again. “Your Honor, the People oppose bail in this matter. The particularly brutal nature of the crime—”
“Your Honor, my client has a clean record.”
“Your client has no record at all,” said Ziegler, “which is hardly the same thing. For all we know, he’s a notorious criminal on his home world. That starship could have been deporting dangerous offenders—sending them off into space to fend for themselves.”
“Really, counselor,” said Dale, his low voice filling the courtroom. “There’s absolutely no basis for any of that. Presumption of innocence surely extends to the accused’s background in the absence of direc
t evidence to the contrary, and—”
“Enough, Mr. Rice,” said Judge Dyck. “We’re satisfied that you’ve made your point.”
“The People still oppose bail, Your Honor.”
“On what grounds, Ms. Ziegler?”
“Flight risk.”
“Oh, please!” said Dale. “A Tosok would be recognized anywhere.”
“Granted,” said Ziegler. “But there are many jurisdictions that might deny our extradition request.”
Dale spread his giant arms. “My client has assured me of his intention to stand trial.”
“Your Honor, the accused has access to a spaceship. That’s a clear flight risk.”
“The Court is cognizant of the larger issues in this case,” said Dyck. “We’re inclined to grant bail, in part to demonstrate to the Tosoks the reasonable nature of American justice.”
“In that case, Your Honor, the People urge a high bail figure.”
“Your Honor, my client has no money—absolutely none.”
“Then how is he paying you?” asked Dyck.
“I’ve, ah, taken an interest in potential Tosok business dealings. My recompense shall be deferred until some time in the future. They really do have no money, and so bail of even a token amount will be a significant concern for Hask.”
“We don’t doubt that there are resources that can be made available to your client, Mr. Rice. Bail is set in the amount of two million dollars; ten-percent cash bond required.” Dyck rapped his gavel.
Dale turned and looked at Frank Nobilio, who was seated in the gallery directly behind the defense table. Frank’s eyes were wide; he clearly didn’t know where the money would come from. But Dale simply reached into the jacket pocket of his Armani suit, pulled out his checkbook, and began to write.
After the arraignment, Dale and Frank took Hask back to Valcour Hall, where he was clearly delighted to be reunited with the other Tosoks. The two humans then returned to the offices of Rice and Associates, on the twenty-seventh floor of a Bauhaus high-rise in downtown L.A.
Dale sat behind his wide desk; Frank felt lost in a massive easy chair that faced the desk. Two of Dale’s office walls were covered with oak bookshelves. The shelves were high quality—even in the middle, even supporting massive books of statutes and case law, they didn’t sag. The third wall had the door in it. Mounted on it were Rice’s law-school diploma (from Columbia), several award citations, and pictures of Dale with such notables as Colin Powell, Jimmy Carter, and Walter Cronkite. There were also several pieces of framed art on that wall. Frank at first took some of the pictures to be very odd indeed—one was a giant, juicy cheeseburger; another seemed to be nothing more than a pile of pink satin ribbons. But as he’d moved close to examine one he discovered they were actually completed jigsaw puzzles, each made of thousands of pieces cut into almost identical shapes. On a large antique table across the room sat a partially finished puzzle, its border all filled in.