Hush

by Tal Bauer

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

  “You could spare your client a lot of trauma and trouble by cutting a deal—”

  “You can’t cut a deal if you are innocent—”

  “All right, that’s enough!” Tom held up his hand, silencing the room. The court reporter’s keyboard click-clacked, but Ballard and Renner fell gratifyingly silent. “We’re moving on. Mr. Renner. You filed an extraordinary request for discovery. You’re asking for information that goes directly into our intelligence community and their operations. Information for which sources and methods for gathering intelligence and critical information may be exposed or put in harm’s way. Mr. Ballard is asking me to reject your requests. I want to hear your arguments.” He glared at Ballard as Ballard opened his mouth, preparing to jump in. “Mr. Renner, you go first.”

  “We are entitled to all materials that exculpate Mr. Kryukov. Additionally, we’re entitled to all information that is material to our defense.” Renner grinned, the sly grin of a defense attorney setting up a trap. “Our defense, Your Honor, is that Mr. Kryukov has been framed—”

  Ballard exploded. Snorting, he tipped his head back, rolling his eyes. “Framed? This is ridiculous!”

  “Our position from day one has been that Mr. Kryukov is the victim of a far larger conspiracy—”

  “And you think those Russian documents are going to help you, huh? Icing on the cake?” Ballard sneered. “They’re not getting admitted!”

  “That’s not your call to make.”

  Ballard fumed. He turned to Tom.

  “We will discuss the Russian documents later on. Right now, we’re discussing Mr. Renner’s requests.”

  Renner smoothly jumped back in. “Mr. Kryukov deserves to have a fair trial. Serious questions have been raised very recently about just what truly happened that day, questions that the government seems not interested in answering. Or, seems very interested in covering up.”

  “Are you accusing—”

  Tom sent Ballard a scalding look. “Mr. Ballard, if you cannot control yourself, you will be removed and held in contempt of court. This is your first warning.”

  “Your Honor,” Renner’s voice was silk and velvet. “I know you care about fairness and justice for all. Mr. Kryukov needs your help.”

  Tom could feel Ballard shaking in his chair, rage thundering through him. Ballard clenched his pen so hard his knuckles went white, and he stared down at the conference table, harsh breaths roaring through his nose. This was exactly what Ballard had feared, had warned Tom about. The defense angling for Tom’s sympathies, for his “liberal” application and interpretation of the law, giving them everything they wanted.

  “Mr. Ballard. Your response, please.”

  Ballard took a long moment to compose himself. Tom had always known Ballard was a firecracker, but seeing him now, in chambers, was something entirely different. He leaned back.

  “Mr. Renner is asking for all files related to the FBI investigation of the shooting, Mr. Desheriyev, and Mr. Kryukov. All CIA files related to both men, including files from the CIA station in Moscow, and any code-name clearance documents that describe possible recruitment or handling of Mr. Kryukov as an agent for the CIA. He wants copies of our internal investigations, all communications on the trial prep between Russia and the United States, and copies of all surveillance activities being conducted in Moscow since the shooting.” He held his hands up, spreading them wide and shaking his head. “This request is ridiculous. It’s far, far too broad, and specifically asks for extremely classified information. In providing this information, we would be burning sources, methods, agents, and officers of the CIA and other intelligence organizations in Russia, all of which are absolutely vital to protecting national security.”

  “Your top three CIA officers were arrested in Moscow. The Russians have published details of a CIA operation to kill the Russian president. I’d say your methods are already blown.”

  “Mr. Renner.”

  Renner kept his mouth shut.

  “What this is is blackmail,” Ballard hissed. “He’s trying to blackmail the government into turning over everything we have or he’ll threaten to move for a mistrial. And he’s playing to a perfectly sympathetic judge.”

  “What is Mr. Renner entitled to, then, in your opinion?”

  “Only our evidence against Mr. Kryukov for this case and these charges. Whatever defense he wants to mount about some vast, tangled conspiracy, he still has to address our evidence in this case. This case against Mr. Kryukov is straightforward.”

  “How can you even pretend that is true? The Russians have hand-delivered evidence of the conspiracy you lament, a conspiracy set up by the U.S. government!”

  “I have evidence linking your client to this crime. That’s what you have to answer to. Not tangle this court up in tin-foil-hat conspiracies.”

  “It’s hardly a conspiracy when there are documents to prove it.”

  Ballard’s teeth scraped against one another. “Those documents haven’t even been admitted into the trial yet.” He turned to Tom, his burning eyes spitting wrath. “I don’t see how any sensible court would admit documents that haven’t been properly sourced and that come from a foreign, hostile government and are directly threatening the United States, into any trial.”

  “Not admitting the Russian documents would be clear grounds for an appeal, possibly even a mistrial. I have a formal complaint ready to file if the documents are not admitted. While we do not know the sources and methods of these documents, they have been sealed by the Russian Secretary of State, which meets the standard of admissibility for foreign public documents.”

  All eyes turned to Tom. The court reporter caught up with the rapid back-and-forth, her fingers clacking over the keys, until the strokes slowed and finally stopped. Tom could hear everyone breathing: Ballard’s fast, furious breaths through his nose, Renner’s measured, deep inhales.

  “The documents are admissible as evidence into this trial,” he said softly. Ballard cursed, scrunching up his face and staring down at the carpet. “They represent both a critical piece of information and raise questions which need to be answered.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.” Renner smiled, smarmy and slick, before sighing. “The prosecutor’s conduct and behavior around these documents deeply troubles me.”

  Tom spoke before Ballard could, jumping in as Ballard’s head shot up. “Mr. Renner, that’s your warning. I will not have you speak to the U.S. Attorney, or any member of his investigative team, in that manner. Mr. Ballard’s case is clear, and as he’s stated, he has the evidence to bring this to trial, and enough confidence that the U.S. government stands behind him in seeking the death penalty. Do you, Mr. Renner, feel as confident about your client?”

  Both attorneys blinked at him. Renner shifted, sat back. Ballard frowned, but his jaw unclenched, just a fraction.

  “I still need the items I am requesting in discovery, Your Honor. If there is information in the government’s investigations and records regarding Mr. Kryukov, then he is entitled to it. It’s not blackmail.” Renner shot a glare at Ballard. “This is fairness. Justice.”

  “Mr. Ballard.” Tom tried to soften his gaze as he looked to his old boss. “How is the government prepared to compromise here?”

  Ballard ground his teeth. “We are prepared to ask the intelligence community for any information exculpatory to Mr. Kryukov.”

  “You’re prepared to offer the minimum that the law requires?”

  Ballard glared back. “That’s all we have to do.”

  “How do you know what is exculpatory to my client if you haven’t investigated the possibility of a conspiracy, or, as the case may be, are actively engaged in perpetuating a cover-up of said conspiracy?”

  Ballard jumped to his feet. His chair skittered back, across the rug. Tom reached for him, grabbing his wrist. “Sit down, Mr. Ballard! Mr. Renner, that is your second warning.”

  Renner shook his head, sighing.


  “Mr. Ballard.” Tom squeezed Ballard’s wrist, gently. Hopefully, it came across as kind. Ballard didn’t rip his wrist away, so that was a start. “We—the United States government—are on uncertain ground here. The entire world is watching us, and decisions made in these chambers and in our courtroom can lead the world toward peace… or toward war.” Tom swallowed. “Sit down.”

  Ballard sat. He stared at Tom.

  “While you are within the letter of the law in providing only the minimum required to the defense, it is my decision that we, the United States government, are going to go above and beyond that threshold.” Tom watched as Ballard started turning red, then deep purple, a human bomb about to explode. “If you withhold information that then becomes material to the defense, or even might completely exculpate Mr. Kryukov, then any conviction that you work so diligently for would be thrown out, Dylan. It’s not just the physical threats that we have to watch out for, terrorists and international attacks and war. We can’t lose the soul of American justice. Any injustice perpetrated by your office or this court would irreparably damage America, both here and abroad. I won’t let you stumble into that mistake, Mr. Ballard. We will proceed with an abundance of caution, and give the defense all the prep they need to string together this theory of theirs.” He turned to Renner. “If it exists.”

  Silence, save for the clicking of the court reporter’s typing. Ballard shook, his eyes narrowed to slits as he glared at Tom.

  “The government, through Mr. Ballard, will produce to the defense any and all information that may exculpate Mr. Kryukov and any information on Mr. Kryukov that the intelligence community may currently have, or be in the process of collecting. Files on Mr. Kryukov from the FBI, CIA, and NSA. All sources and methods will be redacted. All information that is classified or can in any way impact national security will be reviewed only within a secured facility at FBI headquarters. Only Mr. Renner can review the information.” He leveled a flat glare at Renner. “You cannot remove any documents, discuss their content, or reveal their information. To anyone.”

  “Then what’s the point, Your Honor?”

  “If you want to use anything that is classified and produced through discovery in court, you will notify me. File a request under seal, and I will ensure that the information is reclassed for trial.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “I expect the information to be provided within the week, Mr. Ballard. Trial is fast approaching. The defense needs time to review and confirm or discard their chosen strategy.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Ballard spoke through clenched teeth.

  “Lastly, we need to discuss both parties’ communication with the media about this trial. Mr. Ballard, you have complained about Mr. Renner’s appearances in the media?”

  “The defense has come out in force on all the cable news channels, throwing around wild accusations of a conspiracy and insisting that their client is innocent, absent of any actual evidence—”

  “The Russian documents are solid evidence.”

  Tom sent Renner a hot glare. He pressed his lips together.

  “He is actively working to taint the jury pool with crazed speculations and conspiracy allegations. The jury will expect to hear salacious stories, and that is not at all what this trial is about. He is poisoning the well before we’ve even begun. He needs to be immediately barred from all further public comment. If he’s this damaging with just his wild theories, then what kind of insinuations will he throw out there after he’s viewed the documents you have so graciously given over?”

  Tom eyed Ballard, staring him down as Ballard spoke his last sentence with dripping condescension. “Are you insinuating that Mr. Renner will flout my order barring public disclosure or comment on the classified materials he is legally entitled to view to craft a competent defense for his client?”

  “I think he’ll behave like a two-dollar hooker on a Sunday afternoon. Skin here, flash of tit there, maybe a quick rub in the dark. Enough to make you feel dirty and need a wash. He’ll play for the media, tantalizing them.”

  Tom scowled as Renner guffawed. “That is quite enough, Mr. Ballard. And incredibly tasteless. Mr. Renner?”

  “I suppose I’m not surprised that Mr. Ballard wants to accuse me, try me, and sentence me to a crime I have not yet committed. Seems to be par for the course with this U.S. Attorney.”

  Ballard gnashed his teeth. Tom shifted. While Renner wasn’t wrong, he couldn’t let a blatant attack against the U.S. Attorney go unanswered. “Mr. Renner. If you continue to attack the U.S. Attorney, I will bar you from my courtroom and this trial. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

  “Perfectly, Your Honor.” No apology, though. “And all I can say is that the prosecution has done a fabulous job deciding this case in the public media already. Hundreds upon hundreds of hours of media coverage, news analysis, statements by the U.S Attorney himself, the White House, the Department of Justice, the FBI, and others, all of which have come out strongly against my client. Through their words, they have all but convicted him in absence of a judge and jury. All I have been attempting is to even the playing field and ensure that the public has a reasonably fair view of events, and that everyone knows that nothing is established outside of your courtroom. Guilt and innocence are not decided in the court of public opinion.”

  “You’re trying to set the bar for reasonable doubt at a level of conspiracy that we can’t possibly address!”

  Tom reached for Ballard, resting his hand on Ballard’s padfolio. He heard Ballard’s knuckles crack as his hands clenched into fists over his yellow legal pad. “I do not disagree with you, Mr. Renner, about your perception of unfair media exposure regarding Mr. Kryukov. You are also within your right to question the government’s case. However.” He fixed Renner with a firm stare. “You’re hanging your hat on these Russian documents, Mr. Renner. I think you need to ask yourself: is that to Mr. Kryukov’s best benefit?”

  “We feel that it is, Your Honor.”

  “You’ll have your day in court to present your theories to the jury, Mr. Renner. However, if either one of you violates my orders, I will have you put in a cell right in the federal detention center, beside Mr. Desheriyev and Mr. Kryukov. Mr. Renner, this includes attacking the U.S. Attorney in any way at any time going forward. I expect you both to comport yourselves professionally. Am I clear?”

  Twin nods, and silence.

  “Then we’re done here. Come directly to me with any questions and file all additional motions under seal.”

  Twin, muted response of “Yes, Your Honor” chimed through his chambers.

  “Mr. Renner, I will see you in court. Mr. Ballard, please stay behind for a few minutes.” Tom nodded to the court reporter, signaling that she should pack up as well. She scurried out, fleeing the room and its searing tension, a bubble about to burst and ready to catch flame.

  Ballard wouldn’t look at him. “I hope you’re pleased with yourself,” he growled as the door shut behind the court reporter and Renner.

  “Dylan… This is ridiculous. What is going on?” Government conspiracy, government cover-ups. Assassinations by the CIA on American soil. It was the stuff of Hollywood, not his courtroom. Not reality. But Dylan was about to fly apart, was barely holding himself together. Tom had been an AUSA for nineteen years, most of those years beside Dylan Ballard. Never had Ballard been this wound up, this furiously agitated over a trial. What was he hiding? What kind of pressure was he under, from the White House, the Attorney General, or even the CIA? “You’re prosecuting this case awfully quickly, and you’re not looking at the conspiracy angle. Aren’t you worried about this? Or do you know more than you’re letting on? What do you really know about this case?”

  Ballard’s eyes flashed. “Now you want to talk? Now? After you’ve just given everything away? After you’ve condemned the United States with your bullshit about wanting some kind of open and fair system for all? Even for terrorists, who would rather see us fall as a nation than g
lorify our justice system?”

  Tom blinked. “An open and fair system for all is what defines America, Dylan. It defines our morality as a country. No matter what.”

  Ballard slammed shut his padfolio and stood. “I hope you tell yourself that when the bombs are dropping. We are moments, breaths away from war. And you’re marching us straight into the line of fire!”

  “What are you talking about?” Tom stood, frowning. “What the hell are you talking about? What is going on?”

  But Ballard said nothing. He strode out of Tom’s chambers and slammed the door behind him. Tom’s diploma from Georgetown Law School rattled on its nail, and then crashed to the ground, glass shattering into a billion tiny fragments.

  He and Mike escaped to Annapolis for dinner, after walking Etta Mae, secreting away for a few hours in an empty waterfront restaurant. They flirted outrageously, hidden in a corner booth, sneaking kisses and holding hands out of sight from the waitstaff. They took the 495 loop to US 1 back to Crystal City and Kris’s place, and by the time they parked, Tom had one hand on Mike’s thigh, squeezing and Mike was breathing hard. They kissed the entire elevator ride up to Kris’s floor and bounced off the walls as they kissed and spun toward Kris’s door. Mike fumbled with the lock, and then they were inside, and Mike kicked the door closed.

  Clothes flew. Tom grabbed him, pulled him close. Ran his hands over Mike’s body, until Mike shivered and curled around him. They fell into bed in a tangle, kissing wildly, stroking every inch of skin they could reach.

  Tom rolled Mike over and sank down in his lap, over him, taking him inside his body. Mike shuddered, his hands grasping Tom’s hips as Tom went all the way down and started rocking. Tom drove the pace, slow and rolling turning to wild and unrestrained as breathless cries fell from his lips.

  Mike held on and tried to breathe, watching Tom seize control. Tom was topping him, topping him from the bottom, and his brain was fritzing out, dribbling from his ears. He desperately tried to hold on as Tom made love to him.