by F P Adriani
“Mister Gregorievina admits that he was chased, but you claimed you first saw him at a shelf, ‘attaching something’,” Barr said in a skeptical voice. “And then you saw him in other areas. How can you be sure it was the same person throughout?”
“Well, gee,” I said, “I don’t know. I mean, he was only right in my face on the transport when he was strangling me—”
Now a few more laughs came from the courtroom bystanders.
Barr cleared his throat, and I spotted the sheen of sweat lining his thin top lip. “But, Miss Senda, you’ve testified that you fought with him some time later—after the explosion. How can you be sure it was the same person at the hallway shelf and in the transport?”
“I SAW him,” I said in an emphatic voice, shooting a careless hand in Ronin’s direction.
Barr rushed over to his table and picked up some pieces of paper. “Here I have a police report containing your account of the supposed incident in the hall. In this report you said the person at the shelf was wearing a suit and a hat. If so, how could you see his whole face and head?”
“Because the hat fell off when he ran away!” I said. What the fuck was this shit? This wasn’t happening. Would Ronin somehow get off again? Would he get a light sentence—what?
And what the fuck did any of this matter anyway? If Ronin had admitted to bombing the place, he’d admitted it.
I had no idea what was going on in the courtroom now, and I felt my heart both sink and wither.
I watched as Barr moved closer to the judge’s bench. “Your Honor, this is a judicial aside to a witness’s testimony: my client has admitted he acted rashly in a fit of political rage….”
Political rage? What the fuck was that?
“…And an uncertain witness about the state of his behavior lends credence to his plea….”
“Uncertain? Do you mean me—” I said loudly, only the judge interrupted me and I could feel my face reddening badly.
“Miss Senda, you can’t speak during a judicial aside between an attorney and a judge. You’ll have to wait for your turn, assuming Mister Barr has anymore questions for you.”
It suddenly became so damn clear to me that this was a situation I had no control over. And I fucking hated it. If it weren’t for so many eyes on me, my hands would have been balled into fists of frustration. Instead, I had to sit and wait for this circus to finish the Ronin Is Going To Get A Too-Light Sentence Show….
“Your Honor,” Barr continued, “Mister Gregorievina had no intention of hurting anyone. He experienced a moment of profound rage against the political situation on Diamond and wanted to damage a structure containing people, but not the people themselves—and that’s why he didn’t use any explosives anywhere near where people would be. The basement storage room was only accessible to employees, and, on that day, they were all above tending to the Festival. My client’s running through the crowd when Miss Senda chased him—he concedes that he was there above, but he was only in the process of leaving….”
You mean he was FLEEING the crime scene because he’d been caught in the act! I wanted to shout.
Only I couldn’t shout it.
And Barr continued, “There has also never been any evidence against my client that he planned this crime with anyone else. He admits he was operating alone, and that non-conspiracy deserves a lesser sentence….”
I almost swallowed my tongue. What the hell happened to Hu’s video, wherein Ronin admitted to doing the Festival bombing? The prosecutor had told me they had it. But then Hu seemingly hadn’t sent me the whole video of that; the video ended right after Ronin made that particular confession. Had there been something later on in the video to negate a conspiracy? I was almost positive someone had hired him for the Festival bombing. But in his confession did he never specifically say that someone had hired him? Or had Hu somehow screwed me over, intentionally or unintentionally?
I suddenly regretted that I hadn’t been able to stomach coming to the courtroom during the initial conviction hearing because maybe I would have gotten the answers to my questions. But now whatever had happened would be the property of the judge and jury until at least the sentencing was over. Reporters normally weren’t allowed in Diamond courtrooms, and, during a trial, courtroom bystanders also weren’t supposed to discuss cases with reporters; the bystanders could get in trouble….
I looked out over the courtroom again, searching, but I couldn’t pinpoint Tan’s face this time. I did, however, find the faces of the crying couple from the lobby; their sad lost eyes were looking directly at me now. As bad as this courtroom appearance had been for me, it must have been even worse for them, at least it must have felt more immediate because their loss had happened less than two years ago.
All the sadness in their faces suddenly hardened my resolve to get this over with as effectively as possible and not let the insanity get to me too much.
I glared at Barr, who was still babbling bullshit technicalities to the judge. Yet I no longer cared what Barr said: I’d told the truth, and I’d stick to that if asked to say more.
I was asked to say more: by Jennings. After his blathering, Barr said he had no more questions for me.
And then Jennings got up from her seat. “Miss Senda, are you certain that the three incidents you’ve described during your chase through the Festival were all the same person, the defendant?”
“Yes. I’m certain,” I said, sitting up straighter, even though that made my damn ass hurt more.
“And were gunshots fired at you during your chase?”
“Oh yes, they were.”
“Thank you for your testimony, Miss Senda.” She smiled at me, and I rose from the stand and went back to the witness seats.
My face was flushed and my ass still hurt, but I’d made it through my testimony, which felt good. Unfortunately, I couldn’t leave yet because I had to sit through the last of the day’s testimonies, this time from a witness to Ronin’s shooting at me across the crowd of Festival-goers.
To my ears, this witness was very convincing, and I hadn’t known a witness who’d specifically and clearly seen Ronin shoot at me had even existed….
Now there was the usual back and forth with Jennings and Barr questioning the gunfire-witness, and then the judge declared that this part of the sentencing was over. I got up from my seat, as did a bunch of other people from their seats, but I was the only one who rushed out of the place, so fast that I’d even forgotten about Tan—and I’d also forgotten to take one last look at the scumbag Ronin’s face.
But it wouldn’t matter: everything was just out of my hands now.
I stepped from the courtroom, hearing Jennings say “Pia!” in a rushed voice as she charged in my direction. When I stopped moving, she asked me to come over to a quieter spot off to the lobby’s side. Then she said, “Will you come for the rest of the trial?”
“Are you kidding me? That was crazy. And it seems like he’ll get off with a slap on the wrist!” I was so upset, I really felt like screaming You fucking idiots! in the courthouse at the courthouse.
But now Jennings said in a lawyerly-calm voice, “I can’t predict exactly what the jury will decide, or the judge. But, you testified that he was up-close-and-personal while trying to kill you, which is a murder attempt. He also shot at you. And I got the defense’s witness to confirm in front of the jury that there were actually two bombs. An enraged, temporarily insane person doesn’t have the presence of mind to plant two bombs exactly where they’ll do lots of damage. That takes more logical planning.”
I saw her points, but, in my mind, I also saw that circus-masquerading-as-a-courtroom. And I knew the corrupt way things on Diamond too often went.
I told her I really didn’t have the time to come back to the trial again, and she seemed satisfied.
I was sighing as I walked away from her and toward the building’s front door.
But before I could step outside, Tan rushed up to me, and said, “You did great, Pia.”
“No I didn’t—how could anyone! What a fucking circus.” My voice had come out angry.
But I was pretty sure he could tell I was actually on the verge of tears because he grabbed me in his arms then, saying, “My poor baby.”
“Please let’s just get the hell out of here,” I said, my face pressing against his shoulder.
We left the courtroom, and when I reached near my car in the parking lot, I stopped walking and turned to him. “I can’t believe you came.”
He looked at me, a small smile on his face. “Did you really think I’d leave you to deal with all this by yourself?”
“I love you,” I said then, and he grabbed me and hugged me beneath the sharp warmth of the Diamond sun. For a moment, I breathed in the Tan-like soapy-fresh scent of his skin, feeling my heart pound harder, and sadder.
Then, slowly, I pulled back from him. “Tan, I’m so sickened by what went on in there. The focus on minor issues turned into something when they’re actually nothing—like the hat thing!” My face twisted into the definition of indignant then.
“That’s the way criminal court is: hair-splitting and sleights-of-hand. Defense attorneys looking for some way out over nonsense.”
“Well, I don’t ever want to go through that again,” I said, and I meant that in more court-ways than the one I’d just been in….
Tan’s face seemed to flatten suddenly. “So, where to next? I took off the whole day today. You said you want to check the office. Anything else?”
“I was thinking of going by the post office,” I mumbled, turning my head away.
His voice was more urgent now. “Are you sure about that?”
“I can’t be afraid of the mail. I can’t run a business like that. If I don’t keep checking the box regularly, I’m afraid I’ll never be able to check it again.”
“All right,” he said. “But I’m coming with you. I’ll meet you there.”
*
The Sapphire Lake high-security post-office boxes were in a separate blue building from the main post-office building. And in an adjoining room behind where the boxes were, there was a counter for the customers with high-security boxes.
But when I got to that building today and used my ID to open the front security door, I didn’t go anywhere near that customer counter. I didn’t even look there. I acted normal, as if I was just checking my mail, as usual.
I walked into the room containing the boxes, and I reached my box just as Tan came through the room’s door.
He rushed up to me. “Everything okay?”
“I didn’t open it yet,” I said. I reached down into my black pocketbook to where I kept a small light—and a small device I’d in-a-rush purchased that morning to scan my box. I had no idea if the fucking flimsy thing even worked because I’d never used anything quite like it before. But it did look like something I’d seen Paulie use, which was where I got the idea to buy the device.
I now ran it over the only part of the box I could run it over: the flat front. But the device’s readout indicated there was nothing nefarious inside as far as probable bomb material was concerned.
Here goes….
Using my left hand to hide my right hand’s motions, I punched in the personal security code Tan and I always used on the box’s digital panel, and then the box’s front popped open. My shaking fingers reached for the pile of mail in there, sweat beaded up on my nose and forehead…but when my fingers had finally rummaged through all the mail, I found nothing unusual, no personal letters to me, or to Tan for that matter; just advertisements, something about Tan’s house insurance, which I passed to him, and something from the county commissioner’s office about a change in my business-license operating fees.
“There’s nothing bad in here,” I said in a low voice.
And I couldn’t tell whose sigh of relief was louder—mine or Tan’s.
My eyes did a quick scan of the box’s insides and found nothing bomb-wise. But, I realized that there was enough space in front to place a small camera. Patrons weren’t supposed to add anything to their boxes, but fuck the post office; this was my life that was in jeopardy.
*
When Tan and I were done, we drove in our separate cars over to MSA’s office; once again Tan had insisted on coming with me, and once again he followed right behind me along the roads.
When we reached the office, I got out of my car, took my case from my trunk and removed my black gun.
“What about me?” Tan said, stepping out of his car now.
I opened my case again and pulled out a smaller gun for him.
The Sun shone strong here as I did a once-over around MSA’s red cottage-like house, which I’d recently bought from Julianne Castano, who used to live nearby in a big house but who was in the process of turning that big house into a museum….
Part of my mind had wandered onto a jumble of things about her and other things because the other part of my mind wasn’t finding anything strange outside my office.
Using my key-card and my code, I turned off the building’s security system, then let both me and Tan inside. Then I rearmed the system.
Tan said, “I’ll look around,” as he walked away.
I’d had cameras installed at both the front and back of the cottage, and now I checked the recording-system’s scanners to see if anyone had shown up here since yesterday; no one had.
I shoved my gun back into my case, then plopped my case onto my wide desk and my ass into my soft-seated armchair there.
One of my hands was pressed to my forehead when Tan walked back in.
“Headache?” he said, putting his gun inside my case.
“No. But I might be about to get one.”
He shot me a questioning look.
“I’ve got to make a call…to Chuck Huston.”
Tan’s gorgeous straight black brow lowered into a frowning curve of black brow. “Why now?”
“You heard what went on in court—what the fuck happened with the video? Ronin confessed in there, and then he pled guilty. I thought someone else paid him to bomb the Festival, but that bullshit about no conspiracy….” I paused. Tan’s face looked blank, like he didn’t know what to say next. “I just don’t understand—did he say who hired him on the video, but Hu left that out because she didn’t want me to know? Was she protecting someone?”
Tan’s eyes looked dubious, and I wasn’t sure if the dubiousness was toward me, Hu, or both…. “I don’t know, Pia,” he said now. “You sure you want to call Chuck again? Last time you told me you didn’t have much to say to each other.”
That was true. However, I’d last contacted Chuck months ago on something else for another job I’d been involved in, and that wasn’t an extensive enough job to warrant an extensive conversation between us. But he’d still listened to me then and helped me; then again, I’d saved his life once….
Tan was looking at me, waiting. I picked up my black desk-phone’s receiver, holding it up toward the ceiling. “You really want to be here when I call?”
“No. I want to be on the other line listening in.”
I rolled my eyes at his back as he walked down the hall, probably into the room where Nell sometimes did her jewelry-making, and where there was another phone.
I punched in Chuck’s home phone number, doing which always felt strange considering I used to be unable to openly have contact with anyone involved with Hu. But things had changed since she’d served her jail sentence and had been released a month before. She’d actually been in prison a few months longer than the sentence she was supposed to get when she’d finally given herself up and cut a deal. But something had conveniently gone wrong during the penal system’s processing her out of her sentence….
Chuck was typically a man of only a few words at a time, and they were typically blunt, gets-to-the-point words. So I mentally readied myself for how to talk to him to get what I needed from him.
His booming voice finally came on the line. “Chuck Huston here.” There was a p
ause, while he must have looked on a telephone-call ID or something. “Is this Pia there?”
“Yeah.”
“If it’s me you want, shoot. If you’re looking for Arlene, she isn’t here. She’s at her campaign office, and I don’t know when she’ll be back.” While I knew Hu, his wife, was running for political office, I hadn’t spoken to her since right after the Astrals; she’d been in jail most of the time since.
That no one in her circle would get jail-time had been one of Hu’s conditions for giving herself up and was also why I’d been able to maintain contact with Chuck: he was the first person she’d demanded immunity for. And he had since reinvented himself as a land surveyor….
I cleared my throat now and said to him, “It’s fine if you’ll speak to me…how is she doing actually?”
“She’s all right. But someone beat her up, busted her arm a few weeks before she got out.”
“Shit…. I thought I heard the news mention that one night. But, well, what did you expect would happen?”
“I expected just that. So did she. But just because you expect something doesn’t mean it feels good. At least she didn’t lose her arm,” he said, and I could tell by his hardening voice that he was thinking of the arm he’d lost. “She’s campaigning with a brace around it still.”
“Is she really all right?”
“Yeah. She’ll heal.”
I couldn’t believe I was about to say this, but…. “I hope she does.”
“Do you?”
I flushed now. There was a chilly pause between us, chilly from his end.
“I need to ask you something,” I finally said. “Did she ever mention to anyone that I was involved in the Astrals trek? In her letter to me from back then, she promised me she wouldn’t tell anyone—”
“Then she didn’t,” he said fast. “She’d keep her promise.”
“I just thought maybe she accidentally let something slip—”
“No,” he said in an emphatic voice, and I could tell he was mad that I’d asked about that.
“Someone wants to kill me,” I blurted out now.
