Lost Lake

by Phillip Margolin

  Vanessa reached across the table and placed her hand on top of Ami’s.

  “Don’t desert me, Ami.”

  “Haven’t you been listening? I have no choice.”

  “You have to stay on as my attorney. It’s my only chance.”

  “To do what?”

  “Expose my father and save Carl.”

  “How can you possibly do that, Vanessa?” Ami asked, finally exasperated by her client’s refusal to face reality.

  “I can demand a hearing in open court with the press and the public present. I can call witnesses. I can subpoena my father, and you can cross-examine him under oath with the whole world watching.”

  “It won’t work. He’ll just deny everything, and the prosecutor will trot out your mental history. Your lawyer won’t have any evidence to contradict anything the General says.”

  “Carl will contradict him.”

  “No one is going to believe Carl without corroboration. Think of how he’d look after Brendan Kirkpatrick got through with him on cross. There is overwhelming evidence that he has killed a congressman, a general, several of your father’s guards, and my friend George French.”

  Vanessa looked Ami in the eye. “Carl swears that he wasn’t even in the United States when General Rivera was murdered, and he didn’t kill George French. I was with him from the time I helped him escape until I was kidnapped.”

  Ami shook her head. “That’s going to be a hard sell, Vanessa. I saw the photographs of the crime scene at Lost Lake. George was killed the same way that Carl killed Congressman Glass. If you’re the only alibi he has…” Ami held out her hands, palms up. “You see the problem?”

  “I do have a way to defeat my father that doesn’t depend on Carl, but you have to stay with me. I don’t trust anyone else to pull this off.”

  “Pull what off?”

  “There may be a way to prove that the Unit existed and that my father was involved, but it’s a long shot.” Vanessa looked down at the tabletop. “If this doesn’t work…”

  She looked so defeated that Ami could not help feeling sorry for her.

  “I can’t, Vanessa. I just explained why I have to step down from your case and Carl’s case. Tell Janet Massengill your plan. She can do anything I can do, and better.”

  Vanessa looked up. Her features looked set in stone, and her eyes blazed with insane determination.

  “You are my only hope, Ami, and you are not going to desert Carl or me.”

  “Vanessa…”

  “I’ll tell the police that you helped us escape.”

  Ami’s jaw dropped, and she flushed with anger. “I’d be ruined,” she said. “I’d be arrested and disbarred.”

  “I didn’t want it to come to this, but I have no choice. I must stop my father. I can’t let him become the president of the United States. He has to pay for what he’s done to me and Carl.”

  “Please, don’t do this, Vanessa. I’ve only tried to help you. I’ve never done anything to hurt you. Why would you want to hurt me and my son?”

  “I don’t want to hurt you or Ryan, but I will if I have to. Remember one thing, Ami. I am my father’s child, and I can be just as ruthless as he is if I have to.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Ami asked, hoping that she would find a flaw in Vanessa’s plan that would persuade Vanessa to drop it and let her go.

  “Write down this number. It’s for Victor Hobson’s cell phone. Arrange a meeting. If I’m right, there is proof that the Unit existed and he can help me prove it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  The guard ushered Ami, Brendan Kirkpatrick, and Victor Hobson into the visiting room and closed the door behind them. Vanessa was already seated at a table with three extra chairs.

  “You know Mr. Hobson,” Ami said. “This is Brendan Kirkpatrick. He’s prosecuting you. I want to make sure you understand that.”

  “I have no illusions about Mr. Kirkpatrick’s interest in me.”

  “Good,” the prosecutor said as he placed a tape recorder on the table. “I’m going to insist on recording everything that goes on here.”

  “I expected that,” Vanessa answered.

  While the prosecutor played with the tape recorder, Victor Hobson sat across from the prisoner.

  “It’s been a long time,” he said.

  “Almost twenty years.”

  “Sorry we have to meet again under these circumstances.”

  “You and me both,” Vanessa answered with a wry smile. “But you’re going to help me change my circumstances.”

  Brendan spoke into the tape recorder, stating the date, explaining where the recording was taking place, and giving the name of everyone present.

  “Look, Vanessa, I’ve got to say this before we go any further,” Victor Hobson said as soon as Kirkpatrick’s introductory remarks were finished. “I’m with the FBI, which means that I’m a law enforcement officer. So is Brendan. Our job is to put you in prison.”

  “No, Victor, your job is to get the bad guys. That’s not Carl or me. My father is the bad guy here and I’m going to help you get him.”

  Brendan Kirkpatrick shook his head. “I don’t like this. I’m here only because of Mrs. Vergano, who should not be representing you.”

  “I’ve waived any conflict in writing.”

  “She showed me the paper,” Brendan said. “I still think you’re making a huge mistake. You realize that I will definitely use any incriminating statements you make to convict you, and I’ll call Mr. Hobson and your attorney as witnesses to everything you say, if that becomes necessary?”

  “Yes.”

  “If I call Mrs. Vergano as a witness she will definitely not be able to represent you anymore.”

  “I know that, but I’m hoping it won’t be necessary.” Vanessa leaned forward and focused on Kirkpatrick. “My bail hearing is next week…”

  “And I’m opposing your motion. I want to be up front with you, Miss Kohler. I regard you and Mr. Rice as dangerous criminals. Not only am I going to oppose bail, but there are very few concessions that I can make if you’re thinking about plea negotiations.”

  “Would you still feel that way if I could prove that my father ran a secret army unit during and after Vietnam that committed any number of illegal acts in the United States, including murdering Congressman Eric Glass on my father’s orders?”

  Kirkpatrick sighed. “I’ve read your statements to the California authorities, and Mr. Hobson has told me about your book. I find your charges against General Wingate incredible and totally unsubstantiated. And even if they were true, how would that change the fact that you broke Rice out of jail at gunpoint? I think we should end this meeting before you say something that makes your situation even worse than it is.”

  “My father is an unprincipled killer. Do you want a man like that running this country?”

  “Of course not-if he is an unprincipled killer,” Kirkpatrick answered, “but you can’t prove your accusations, and I would not consider anything you or Carl Rice said without independent corroboration.”

  Vanessa looked at Victor Hobson. “Well, there might be corroboration, and you might be able to get it, Victor. If you find it, we can use my bail hearing to get my father. We can call him as a witness and put him under oath.”

  “What are we talking about here?” Hobson asked.

  “I think we should cut this short now,” Kirkpatrick said.

  “Let’s hear what Vanessa has to say.”

  Kirkpatrick looked surprised, and Vanessa almost sobbed with relief when she realized that the FBI man was going to listen to her.

  “Patrick Gorman, my boss at Exposed visited me when I was in jail in San Diego. We were joking around about the jail food, and I told him that I couldn’t afford much better with what he paid me.”

  “What does jail food have to do with proving that your father was in charge of a team of assassins?” Kirkpatrick asked.

  “Let me tell you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
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  The Multnomah County courthouse occupies an entire block across from Lownsdale Park in downtown Portland. Built in 1914, the gray concrete and riveted-steel building contrasts sharply with the modern architecture of the Justice Center on the other side of the park and promises uncompromising justice to those who break the law.

  A small jail on the seventh floor of the courthouse houses prisoners who are making court appearances. The elevator that transports them from the jail stopped in an alcove in the back of the courthouse on the Fifth Avenue side. Judge Ruben Velasco’s courtroom, where Vanessa’s bail hearing was going to be held, was in the front of the courthouse on the Fourth Avenue side.

  Ami was wearing a tasteful strand of pearls and was dressed in a black pantsuit and a white silk blouse, one of her few decent outfits and the outfit she always wore to important court appearances. Vanessa was wearing a severe gray suit that Ami had purchased for her. If it were not for the handcuffs, she would have been mistaken for part of the defense team. Ami walked a few steps behind the guards who escorted Vanessa out of the jail elevator when it opened on the fifth floor. As soon as they stepped into the corridor a mob raced toward them.

  “Keep moving forward and don’t answer any questions,” Ami instructed as the reporters and television cameras converged on them. The sheriff’s deputies plowed through the shouting crowd. Ami shielded her eyes from the glare of the television lights as she followed behind the guards.

  “Were you and Carl Rice lovers?”

  “Why do you hate your father?”

  “Are you going to vote for President Jennings in the primary?”

  The questions thundered toward her like a stampeding herd, but Vanessa did not flinch from the onslaught. Where Ami shunned the attention of the media, Vanessa welcomed it as a chance to get her message about her father to the public. She squared her shoulders and stared back at the journalists.

  “My father is a murderer,” Vanessa shouted, ignoring Ami’s advice. “He should be in jail, not the White House.”

  Ami was concerned that Vanessa’s statements to the press might be used against her, but that didn’t concern Vanessa. She knew that she’d spend years behind bars if Victor Hobson didn’t come through for her. She wasn’t afraid. She had survived the asylum by believing in herself, and she would survive prison. She had nothing to lose, anyway. If Hobson failed, she was no worse off than she’d been the minute she surrendered to the police. But Hobson might find her proof. If he did, her father would be destroyed. If that happened, she was willing to face the consequences of breaking Carl out of jail.

  A line of spectators was filing through a metal detector that had been set up outside Judge Velasco’s courtroom. A guard held up the line to let Ami, Vanessa, and the guards into the courtroom. Brendan Kirkpatrick and Howard Walsh turned in their seats at the prosecution table and watched the women walk down the aisle. Ami did not notice them. She was too busy scanning the crowded benches. Several reporters occupied a section reserved for the press at the front of the courtroom. Leroy Ganett, who was under subpoena by Ami and the DA, was seated in the rear of the courtroom. The doctor turned red and looked away when he spotted the women who had scammed him. Victor Hobson, the one man Ami and Vanessa hoped would be present, was missing.

  One other man was not present in the courtroom. General Morris Wingate was waiting in the DA’s office guarded by a contingent from the Secret Service and his own security force. Kirkpatrick had brought the General into the building before court convened to avoid the mobs of protestors, supporters, and reporters who had converged on the courthouse when the General’s appearance as a witness was made public.

  Just as they reached the low fence that separated the spectators from the area where the attorneys and the judge conducted business, Vanessa noticed a slender, bookish, nattily dressed man in his mid-fifties.

  “See that guy in the seat by the window in the third row from the back?” Vanessa whispered to Ami. “That’s Bryce McDermott, my father’s chief political adviser. He’s probably going to report everything that happens in here.”

  There was an undercurrent of whispers-some hostile, some sympathetic-when the guards unlocked Vanessa’s handcuffs. The women took their seats as soon as Vanessa’s hands were free. Ami tried to ignore the hum of conversation that drifted through the gallery by concentrating on the outlines of direct and cross-examination that she had made for each witness. She had managed to block out most of the noise when the rap of the bailiff’s gavel announced Judge Velasco’s entrance. Ami rose to her feet and signaled Vanessa to do the same as the judge took the bench.

  “Good morning,” Velasco said to everyone in the courtroom. “You may be seated.”

  The judge waited to address the spectators until his bailiff had read the name and number of the case into the record.

  “Before we begin this bail hearing, I want to make it clear to the members of the public who have been granted the privilege of watching this court proceeding that I will not tolerate improper behavior in my court under any circumstances. Anyone who causes a disturbance will be taken from the court immediately and will face criminal sanctions, including contempt of this court.

  “One reason why I have made this announcement is the possibility that General Morris Wingate, a candidate for his party’s presidential nomination, may be called as a witness. If that happens, there will be a heavy police and Secret Service presence in addition to the guards who would normally maintain order in this court. If anyone is contemplating any type of political protest during his testimony, I warn you that you will go to jail. I hope that is clear.”

  The judge paused to let his message sink in.

  “Now to business. Are the parties ready?”

  “The state is ready, Your Honor,” Brendan Kirkpatrick said, standing to address the court.

  Ami stood. “Ami Vergano for Miss Kohler. We’re prepared to proceed.”

  “Very well. Mr. Kirkpatrick, what is your position on bail for Miss Kohler?”

  “The state wishes bail to remain as it is. The defendant used a gun to help Carl Rice escape from the secure wing of the county hospital. She terrorized four people during the escape. Since his escape, Mr. Rice has murdered and assaulted a number of people. Miss Kohler may have aided and abetted some of these crimes. After she is prosecuted in Oregon, the defendant will be sent to California where she is facing charges of murder and assault growing out of the invasion of General Wingate’s home. Her actions prove that she is a danger to others and a flight risk.

  “One more thing. Miss Kohler has a pathological hatred of her father, General Morris Wingate. If she were free, she would be a danger to a presidential candidate.”

  Kirkpatrick sat down, and Ami stood. Inside, she cringed at the argument she was about to make, but she had a duty to present her client’s position even if she did not believe it. More important, Vanessa still held the power to destroy Ami’s life and Ryan’s by telling the authorities that Ami had helped her hide.

  “First off, Your Honor, Miss Kohler has no criminal record. She is employed with a newspaper in Washington, D.C. I’m going to offer into evidence an affidavit from her employer stating that he will continue to employ Miss Kohler. She has also had the same residence in Washington for many years. Except for this incident, Miss Kohler has been a model citizen.

  “More important, Miss Kohler did not help Mr. Rice for criminal reasons. Miss Kohler believes that her actions in rescuing Carl Rice from the hospital were justified by a theory of defense of another, as were Mr. Rice’s actions in California when he rescued Miss Kohler, who had been kidnapped and assaulted by her father and his agents.

  “Carl Rice and General Morris Wingate have known each other since Miss Kohler and Mr. Rice attended high school together in California. Mr. Rice received a draft notice during his senior year in high school and went into the army instead of seeking a college deferment, even though he had earned a scholarship to Dartmouth. He eventually became a member of the Sp
ecial Forces during Vietnam, and that is when his path and the General’s path crossed again.

  “During Vietnam, General Wingate was the head of the Agency for Intelligence Data Coordination, which has a charter that does not permit it to have active intelligence agents. Despite this clear prohibition, General Wingate ran a small and highly select army unit out of this agency. The Unit was financed by money obtained from illegal activities, such as drug smuggling.”

  There was a stirring in the audience, and Judge Velasco gaveled for silence. When the courtroom was quiet he turned his attention to Ami.

  “I hope you have evidence to support these sensational claims, Mrs. Vergano.”

  “I have subpoenaed witnesses who will testify about the Unit and the General’s connection to it.”

  Velasco looked incredulous but told Ami to continue.

  “Soon after Mr. Rice returned to the states after completing his first combat mission, General Wingate arranged a meeting during which he recruited Mr. Rice into the secret unit. From the early nineteen-seventies until 1985 Mr. Rice was a member of the Unit. Under orders, he completed several missions including assassinations in Europe and on American soil.

  “In 1985, Vanessa Kohler was living in Washington, D.C., where she became reacquainted with Mr. Rice. One evening, he confessed to killing two people in Texas under orders. These individuals were supposed to be spying for the Chinese. He was very upset and told Miss Kohler that he wanted to get out of the Unit.

  “Miss Kohler found evidence in a safe in the General’s house that proved the existence of the Unit. She presented it to Congressman Eric Glass at his summer home in Lost Lake, California, in hopes that the congressman would expose the activities of the Unit and her father’s involvement in this illegal activity. When he discovered that the files were missing, General Wingate sent Mr. Rice to kill the congressman and retrieve the papers. After Mr. Rice murdered Congressman Glass and recovered the documents, General Wingate arranged for the murder of Mr. Rice. He survived, without the General’s knowledge. Mr. Rice went underground for years, but his picture was on national television as a result of his arrest in the Little League assault case. When Miss Kohler recognized him, she knew that it was only a matter of time before her father learned that Carl Rice was alive.