“No. I won’t.”
“I will find you in contempt of court!”
“You can’t make me answer,” Zak said, looking away. “I’m taking the fifth.”
Judge Pickens’s lips parted. “Are you telling me,” he said finally, “that you’re taking the fifth—when your own lawyer is asking the questions?”
“That’s right. I won’t answer. Should I go?”
The buzz in the courtroom was building into a roar.
“Zak,” Ben said urgently, “this is your last chance. You must answer.”
“No.” He rose to his feet. “Can I go now?”
Judge Pickens’s mouth was still gaping. “I—I don’t—” He turned. “Madame Prosecutor, you can still attempt to cross, if you wish.”
“I don’t see the point,” Granny said. “I think it’s clear to everyone what’s happened here. Let’s just wrap the trial up and let the jury do its work. Let justice be done.”
Zak was excused from the bench. “Anything else from the defense?” Judge Pickens asked.
Ben couldn’t believe it. His entire defense consisted of a theory that fell apart, an alibi witness who had lied, and a defendant who took the fifth.
His mind raced, grasping for something, anything, that he could possibly put before the jury. But nothing came. He had played every card in his hand.
There was no point in stalling. Whether he liked it or not, he had nothing else. “No, your honor, the defense rests.”
“Very well. We’ll resume in fifteen minutes for closing arguments.” Pickens banged his gavel, and the courtroom went into an uproar.
Ben was still at the podium trying to make some sense of what had happened. Everyone in the courtroom seemed befuddled—judge, jury, spectators.
Everyone except the prosecutor. She didn’t seem particularly confused, Ben noted. And she had rattled off that little speech about justice like a pro. Almost like it had been rehearsed.
Zak was off the bench and had returned to defendant’s table. “Zak,” Ben said, “I want to talk to you!”
Zak wouldn’t look at him. “I don’t want to talk to you. Deputy?” He motioned for his escort. “Take me back to my cell.”
“Zak!”
He ignored Ben. The deputy hauled Zak toward the back door, leaving Ben in his wake.
Ben stood in the courtroom feeling utterly lost. What the hell was going on here?
He felt someone brush against his shoulder. It was Christina. “Do you understand what just happened?”
“No,” Ben said grimly. “But I know what the result will be.”
Chapter 66
GRANNY SPENT ALMOST AN HOUR systematically reminding the jury of the enormous body of evidence pointing toward George Zakin. The fingerprints. The footprints. The eyewitness testimony. Zak’s history with explosives. The personal grudge between victim and accused. The threat made just before the murder.
And she also pointed out that Zak had lied—that he had initially denied knowing Gardiner, denied planting the bomb. That he had bragged about the murder to a fellow prisoner. That he had put a former lover on the stand to lie for him. And even though she didn’t specifically mention it, no juror could possibly forget Zak taking the fifth, refusing to talk to his own lawyer. “With all the evidence that’s before you,” Granny argued, “can you honestly say that there is any reasonable doubt about what happened? We all know what happened. Let justice be done. Find George Zakin guilty of murder in the first degree.”
When it was his turn, Ben wasn’t sure what to say. He did his best to conjure up some wisp of reasonable doubt, but he had the strong sense that no one was buying it. Molly’s testimony had been a hard blow for the defense, but Zak’s performance had created a barrier he just couldn’t get around. How could he explain it? He didn’t understand it himself. All he could do was avoid the subject. And there were few things more pathetic than a closing argument that avoids the subject weighing most heavily on the jurors’ minds.
When arguments were completed, Judge Pickens reviewed the lengthy jury instructions. He dismissed the jurors, but instructed them to be back in the courtroom at nine to begin deliberations.
Nine A.M., Ben thought. We’ll have the bad news before lunch.
Ben left the courtroom feeling more depressed than he ever recalled feeling in his life. Despite everything, his gut still told him Zak had not committed this murder. So why was he so determined to be convicted for it?
Ben parted with Christina. There was no more work to do; best that they both had some quiet time to brace themselves for the disaster that was surely coming.
Outside his hotel, on the street, Ben saw Maureen. She appeared to be waiting for him. “Hiya, Mo. How are you?”
“Stiff as a board,” she answered. “I’ve spent the day with my arms stuffed in concrete barrels.”
“What, still? After what happened to Doc?”
“We have no choice.” Ben peered into her red, tired eyes. “It’s not like I wanted to. But those damn loggers are still trying to get into the forest. They weren’t taking a holiday to mourn Doc’s death. So we couldn’t either.” She turned slightly. “You can’t believe the day I’ve had.”
Ben almost smiled. “This hasn’t exactly been a red-letter day for me, either.”
“Trial didn’t go well?”
Ben averted his eyes. “I’m afraid it … it doesn’t look too good for Zak at this point.”
“Oh,” she said, barely audibly.
“I’m sorry I don’t have better news for you.”
“The whole group seems to be falling apart. Despite everything, our effort is failing. I can feel it. And I’m worried about Al.”
“Al? What’s wrong with him?”
“It’s Doc. Al was right there when it happened, you know. Right beside him. Al’s been uptight since the kidnapping, the whipping …” She shook her head. “But now he’s over the brink. It’s like something snapped inside him. I was chained to his barrel today, so I got to hear him rant for hours.”
“What was he saying?”
“Crazy stuff. Didn’t really make sense, most of it. Said he had something on the loggers, some secret. Said they were going to pay for what they’d done.” She looked up abruptly. “He was consumed with hate. The same hatred I saw in the eyes of the loggers standing outside the barricade, calling us names, spitting on us.” She drew in her breath. “I’m worried that Al is going to try something … dangerous. He’s been staying out late at night, wandering in the forest, not telling anyone what he’s doing. I’m just afraid.” She peered up at Ben. “And I really couldn’t stand to lose another member. I just—couldn’t—” Her voice broke off.
Ben laid his hand gently on her shoulder. “Well, try not to worry about it.”
“I have to worry about it. The only experienced members I’ve still got are Deirdre and Al, and Al is—” She couldn’t complete her sentence. All at once she pressed herself into Ben’s arms. “My God, Ben, we can’t afford to lose anyone else.”
Ben raised his hand and gently stroked her hair. “I know.”
“You wouldn’t think it would be so hard. All we want is to preserve what little is left. To keep some remnant of the natural world for our children.”
“I know.”
Her face turned up, and Ben saw tears trickling down her cheeks. They paused, the two of them, frozen for a moment, feeling the distance between them.
“You know, Ben,” she said quietly, “the trial is all but over now, and we said that when the trial was over we might … spend some time together. You remember?”
“I remember,” Ben said, gazing into her eyes. “Very well.”
Their two faces moved closer together, lips parted, each inexorably inching toward the other …
“Now this is a cozy scene, ain’t it?”
Ben and Maureen broke apart. On the side of the street, a large black sedan had pulled up next to them. Two men jumped out the side doors. Ben didn’t recognize eith
er of them, but they had a distinctly thuggish appearance.
Ben pushed himself in front of Maureen. “What do you want?”
“Want to have us a little powwow,” the first man said. He grabbed Bens arm and jerked him toward the car.
“Leave me alone!” Ben shouted. He tried to break away, but the man held him tight with a viselike grip. An instant later, the other man was behind him, shoving him forward. He fell headfirst into the backseat of the sedan.
“Stop!” Ben shouted, but before he could say another word, the first man brought his fist around and cuffed Ben on the side of the face. His head slammed backward against the car door.
“Let go of me!” Maureen screamed. Ben saw the other man grabbing her, forcing her into the front seat. “Help!”
Maureen gave the scream her best, but there was no one close enough to hear. Within moments she was strapped and belted into the front seat and the door was locked behind her.
“You can’t do this,” Ben said.
“Do you want another one?” the man beside him said, raising his fist in the air.
Ben saw he was in no position to argue. Pinned down, isolated from anyone who could help—more chatter would only serve to loosen his teeth.
The doors were closed and locked. The car began to creep forward.
“You bastards,” Maureen spat out. “Haven’t you done enough already?”
“Evidently not,” said the voice behind the driver’s wheel. That was when Ben noticed for the first time who was driving.
“It’s him!” Maureen shrieked, white-faced. The tone of her voice made Ben’s blood run cold. “It’s the man who killed Doc!”
A thin smile curled on the driver’s lips. “That was an accident, remember?”
“What are you planning to do with us?” Ben asked.
“You’ll know soon enough,” the man grunted. “What’s your rush?”
Ben’s jaw tightened. “I’d just like to know, you—”
“Sorry. We’re not supposed to say.”
“Can’t you tell me anything?”
The man’s face twitched. “I can tell you this. You ain’t gonna like it.”
Ben spent the next forty-five minutes or so with a paper bag over his head. It seemed they didn’t want him to know where he was going. He could tell they had left town, had probably gone into the forest. But beyond that, he was clueless. All he could do was wait.
“Are you all right, Maureen?” he shouted at one point. His voice reverberated inside the paper bag.
“I’m fine. Given the circumstances.”
The man beside Ben grunted. “Worried about your little lady, chump?”
“Don’t hurt her. There’s no reason to hurt her.”
Ben felt a sharp jab in the ribs. “You ain’t in a position to argue, chump.”
They drove the rest of the distance in silence. Eventually Ben felt the car slow.
“We’re here.”
The man removed the bag over Ben’s head. He was right—they were in the forest. Deep, deep in the thick of it.
Just behind the car, Ben saw a cabin. More of an outsized shack, really—wood planks forming most of the walls, faded from rain and sunlight.
“So this is it,” he heard Maureen murmur. “The Holy Grail.”
Ben frowned. “What?”
“Their headquarters,” Maureen explained. “We knew the Cabal had a camp out in the woods somewhere. But we’ve never been able to find it.”
Surveying the scenery, Ben could imagine why. They were at the peak of what appeared to be a small mountain, utterly isolated from everything below. There was only one road leading to the cabin, and nothing else in sight.
“Come on,” the man beside Ben grunted. “Move your butt. You’re wanted inside.”
A few minutes later, Ben and Maureen were inside, both tied securely to upright chairs taken from an ancient dinner table. The chairs were old and not very sturdy. Ben suspected that, given half a chance, they could probably free themselves. Unfortunately, their captors didn’t appear likely to give them half a chance.
Ben felt cold beads of sweat dripping down the side of his face. He didn’t want to be a coward, but he was scared, and he knew it. They were alone, isolated—totally at the mercy of these men. Bad enough that he was in this situation—but Maureen was stuck here, too. He didn’t like that a bit. The looks on those men’s faces told him they were capable of anything. Anything at all.
“Now,” the driver said, “let’s talk. I’m Carl. You’re Ben, right? And the lady with the sexy legs is Maureen.”
“Go to hell,” Maureen answered.
“Why have you brought us here?” Ben asked, straining against his bonds. They weren’t tied that tightly. If he could just get rid of these jerks for a few minutes …
“Well, Ben,” Carl answered, “to tell you the truth, we didn’t want you. We weren’t too happy when you set out to rescue Zakin from the hangman’s noose, but from what I understand, your defense has been totally screwed, so who cares? We were after the lovely Maureen.”
Ben felt an empty aching in his chest. He’d been afraid of this.
“What do you want with me?” Maureen asked.
“Well, I thought we ought to have a little talk. After all, you’re in charge now, right?”
“Only because you loggers have killed everyone else!”
“Maureen, calm down. I think you have the wrong idea. Although maybe I shouldn’t tell you. I think you’re very sexy when you’re angry.” He smiled, a toothy smile Ben would’ve enjoyed rendering toothless. “We’re not loggers. I’ve never cut a tree in my life.”
Ben surveyed the four faces in the room. “These assholes don’t care about eco-politics, Maureen. They’re just hired thugs. They work for Slade. Where is he anyway?”
“Look, punk, I’m here to ask the questions, not you.”
“Right.” Ben forced himself to be brave, even though he was feeling anything but. “I bet he’s here somewhere. Safely tucked away, but keeping a watchful eye on things.” Ben looked around the cabin. “Hiding in a back room somewhere?”
“Listen to me!” In an instant, Carl was on his feet and brought the flat of his hand around to club Ben on the side of the face.
Ben winced. That smarted. The sharp sudden pain almost brought tears to his eyes, which he knew would not help him keep up his defiant façade.
“Now here’s the story,” Carl barked. “We’ve had it with your goddamn Green Rage. We’ve tolerated it as long as we’re gonna. We’ve hit you again and again and again. But like stupid lemmings, you just keep coming. We’re tired of it. We want you out!”
Maureen looked at him levelly. “We’re not going.”
Carl clenched his fist together. “Don’t make this hard on yourself, lady.”
“What are you going to do? Hurt me? Kill me?” Maureen leaned forward, pressing against the restraint of the ropes. “Are you going to kill all of us? Are you going to exterminate every person on earth who doesn’t want to see the forests leveled?”
“Take it somewhere else, lady!” Ben could see Carl’s anger was rising. “We just want you out of Magic Valley.”
“Have you looked at this forest?” Maureen shouted back. “Have you looked at it? Some of those trees go back hundreds of years. We can’t let you chop them down just to make more cardboard!”
“You can, lady. And you will.” He drew his arm back, fist clenched.
“If you hit her,” Ben said, cutting in, “you’d better be willing to kill me.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Because you won’t get away with it. So long as I’m alive, I’ll make sure charges are brought against you.” He paused. “I will hunt you down like a dog.”
Carl smiled thinly. “You just don’t get it, do you, Kincaid? There’s a reason the Cabal exists. It’s so we can do things the loggers can’t do themselves. Because no one knows who we are. I could beat both of you to a pulp or worse, and never do a day in jail.
Because, see, I don’t exist. As soon as this is over, I’ll disappear. You’ll never see me again.”
“There’s always a way,” Ben said.
“Not with us,” Carl replied. “Others have tried. Others a lot better than you. No one’s succeeded. And they never will.” He turned back toward Maureen. “So let me ask you again. Are you going to cooperate? Agree to pull your team out of the forest? Or do I have to get rough?”
“You can do whatever you want, you bastard. I’ll never agree.”
“You say that now,” Carl replied. “But you might change your mind later.” He stepped closer to her, then straddled her tied legs and sat in her lap. He pressed his face to hers. “You might change your mind when you see the knife, see how sharp it is, how deep it cuts. You might change your mind when you feel your clothes being ripped off your body. You might change your mind when you’re being hurt, abused, violated—”
“Shut up, you son of a bitch!” Ben shouted.
Carl didn’t even blink. “You will change your mind, Maureen. The only question is whether you’ll do it before I have my fun—or after.”
“You’re a disgusting pig,” Maureen said, right in his face.
Carl drew in his breath, then slowly released it. “I’m sorry to hear you say that, Maureen. I really am. But I have a job to do.” He reached into his pocket and removed a large switchblade. He pressed the trigger button and the blade popped out. “Where do you want it first?”
“Go to hell!” Maureen screamed, crying.
“All right then,” Carl said, jaw clenched, “let’s start with your face.”
“No!” Ben shouted.
“Oh yes,” Carl said, raising the knife. “We’ll start with—”
His voice was cut off by a sudden booming noise. It was a huge, fluid noise; it made Ben imagine the word whoosh! drawn in a comic-book panel.
And an instant later, they began to feel the heat.
“See what’s going on out there!” Carl shouted to one of his accomplices.
The man who had sat beside Ben in the car ran to one of the front windows and pulled away the tattered curtains. He turned back, his eyes wide with horror, a horror he was able to describe in a single word:
Dark Justice Page 40
