Lost Lake

by Phillip Margolin

  Brendan walked down a narrow hallway that began at the reception desk and ended in a large open area that housed the workspaces of the deputy district attorneys and their staff. General Wingate was waiting in the conference room. Two Secret Service men were guarding the door. They searched Brendan and his briefcase before letting him in.

  General Wingate’s pale blue eyes fixed on the prosecutor the moment the door opened. Seated beside him was Bryce McDermott, the General’s political adviser. Mr. McDermott had returned to the conference room as soon as Vanessa was through testifying, to brief the General on what Carl Rice and his daughter had said. At the end of the table was a compact, muscular man wearing a leather jacket that was open enough to give the deputy DA a clear view of a large handgun. The man’s eyes were on Kirkpatrick as soon as he entered the room.

  The General still wore his gray-streaked hair in a military cut. He had on a white silk shirt, a solid maroon tie, and the slacks from a charcoal-gray suit. The suit jacket was folded neatly over the back of a chair.

  Wingate looked upset. “Bryce tells me you were pretty rough on Vanessa.”

  “It’s my job to win this bail hearing, but I can assure you that I didn’t enjoy myself.”

  The General sighed. “I know you’re just doing your job, but I hurt whenever Vanessa hurts. Do you have children, Mr. Kirkpatrick?”

  “No,” Brendan answered. His expression didn’t change but he felt an ache in his heart. He and his wife had started talking about a family shortly before she died.

  “They’re amazing, but they play havoc with your emotions. Every little thing they do brings you either ecstasy or pain. Sadly for me, Vanessa’s actions over the years have brought me little pleasure. Still, I can’t stand to see her suffer.”

  “Then I’m sorry to tell you that I need you to testify.”

  “Surely that’s not necessary after the job you did examining Carl and Vanessa. What possible questions could the judge have about their sanity? He’s got to realize that Vanessa is too irrational to release on bail.”

  “General Wingate, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years in practice it’s that you never assume a judge or jury is going to act in any particular way. I’ve seen the most bizarre decisions made in this courthouse, and the only thing I know for sure is that you always cover you ass.

  “Besides, I need you to tell the judge why you had your daughter brought to your home and what happened when Rice broke in. And I think it’s essential that you deny Rice’s allegations about this secret army he claims you ran when you were with the AIDC.”

  The General turned to McDermott. “What do you think, Bryce?”

  “I agree with Brendan. The press is all over the courtroom. They took down every word Rice and your daughter said. We need to defuse this thing. If you don’t answer their accusations, the media is going to speculate about why you’re keeping mum. Let’s put this bullshit to rest, right now.”

  Wingate sighed again. “You’re right. I’m just not happy about sitting across from my daughter and saying things that will reinforce her belief that I’m trying to destroy her life.”

  “I understand completely, and I’ll try and make this experience as painless as possible,” Brendan said.

  “I don’t suppose Mrs. Vergano shares your sentiments?”

  “No, sir, I don’t believe she does.”

  Brendan Kirkpatrick and General Wingate pushed through the courtroom doors surrounded by the General’s bodyguards and followed by Bryce McDermott. Suddenly, the back benches were flooded by the glare from the television lights and there was an explosion of sound from the corridor. Then the doors swung shut and the General walked to the witness box, back straight, eyes forward, as if he were on parade. When he drew even with his daughter, he paused to send a sad smile her way. Vanessa met the smile with a look of pure hatred. Wingate’s smile faded and he shook his head sadly.

  As soon as the bailiff swore him in, the General took his seat in the witness box.

  “Have you ever been married?” Kirkpatrick asked as soon as he had walked Wingate through his educational, military, and business history.

  “Yes, to Charlotte Kohler, a wonderful woman.”

  “What happened to her?”

  Wingate dropped his eyes. “She died in a car accident.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “In the mid-sixties, when Vanessa was still in middle school. Her mother’s death hit her very hard.”

  “You’re referring to the defendant, Vanessa Kohler?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is the defendant the only child of your marriage?”

  “Yes.”

  “How would you characterize your relationship with your daughter?”

  “We were close until her mother died. Then she got it into her head somehow that I was responsible for the automobile accident that killed Charlotte. She was in her teens, a very vulnerable age. Our relationship became strained.”

  The General looked up at the DA. “I take a lot of responsibility for that. Vanessa and I lived in California but I worked in Washington, D.C.”

  “You were in charge of the Agency for Intelligence Data Coordination?”

  “Yes. I should have been home more, but I couldn’t be, especially after Vietnam started. The workload was punishing.”

  “Was there a specific event that further affected the relationship between you and Miss Kohler?”

  Wingate nodded. “In 1985, Vanessa saw Carl Rice murder Eric Glass. It was a terrible murder-very gruesome. She had a breakdown and had to be hospitalized. I checked her into an exclusive private sanatorium where she would get the best care possible. She fought her hospitalization. She insisted that locking her away was part of some plot against her.”

  Wingate paused and took a sip of water before continuing.

  “Putting Vanessa in a mental hospital was very painful for me, Mr. Kirkpatrick, but sending her to Serenity Manor was absolutely essential for her mental health.” The General looked down. “After I had her committed, she refused to speak to me.”

  “How long have you known Carl Rice?”

  “I believe we first met at my home in California in 1969. It was the beginning of Vanessa’s senior year in high school. Carl was a classmate.”

  “What was your initial impression of Mr. Rice?”

  “I liked him. He was bright, articulate, and a serious student and athlete.”

  “What was Mr. Rice’s sport?”

  “Karate. He’d been studying since he was young and he was very good, a black belt.”

  “You know that Mr. Rice has accused you of being the head of a secret army unit that recruited him during the Vietnam War.”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you aware that he alleges that this army unit committed illegal acts, including murder, at your command?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you also aware that Mr. Rice has testified that you ordered him to torture Congressman Eric Glass to death in order to retrieve documents which your daughter took from your safe in California? These documents were supposed to prove the existence of this secret army.”

  “I’ve heard about the testimony.”

  “Did you order Carl Rice to kill the congressman?”

  “No, absolutely not.”

  “Did this secret army unit ever exist?”

  “No. The Agency for Intelligence Data Coordination is an intelligence-gathering organization that works with data supplied by other intelligence agencies, like the CIA and the Defense Intelligence Agency. The agency’s charter does not permit it to have agents of its own.”

  “What about these records that your daughter claims she took from your safe that prove the existence of this secret army-the records Mr. Rice said he took from Congressman Glass after torturing him? What do you have to say about them?”

  “Mr. Kirkpatrick, those documents are a figment of my daughter’s and Mr. Rice’s imaginations. They were never in my safe, because they never exi
sted.”

  “Do you know why Mr. Rice made up this story about the secret army?”

  General Wingate hesitated. “I have a theory,” he said at last.

  Judge Velasco looked at Ami because he expected an objection. When she didn’t make one, he chalked it up to her inexperience.

  “Please tell it to the court.”

  “I’m not particularly proud of what I’m about to say. At the time I believed that I was doing what was best for all concerned.”

  Wingate paused to collect himself. Ami thought that he looked like a man who was being forced to perform a necessary, but regrettable, duty. From the silence in the courtroom, it was obvious that he had captivated the spectators and the judge.

  “As I’ve said, Mr. Rice was an extremely bright young man who made an excellent first impression. Unlike most of the children at St. Martin’s Prep, Carl was on scholarship, and I admired his grit. I came from a poor family and was also a scholarship boy. I knew how hard it was for someone who is poor to be around other children who have everything. It was only later that I discovered that he was deeply confused, especially about his relationship with me.

  “Mr. Rice’s father deserted his family when Carl was very young, and his mother raised him. There was no significant father figure in his home while he was growing up. It soon became apparent to me that he envied Vanessa her wealth and wished that he could be part of our family. He began relating to me as if he were my son. I didn’t realize that this was happening at the time, or I would have distanced myself from Carl.”

  “Did a particular incident make you realize that there was a problem?”

  “Yes. In those days I knew a man who organized fights between combatants from different martial arts disciplines: boxers would go up against wrestlers, judo players would fight Thai kickboxers. I took Carl to one of these matches because he was a serious student of karate.

  “One of the fighters was a black belt named Torrance who ran a dojo and was a local karate champion. After he won, Carl and I discussed the fight and I asked him how he thought he would do if he went up against Torrance. It was a casual conversation, and I didn’t think anything of it until several weeks later when I received an envelope in the mail. There was no name on it and no return address. There was no letter inside either, only a newspaper clipping about Torrance. Someone had broken into his karate studio and beaten him almost to death. I was certain that Carl was the assailant and had sent me the clipping to impress me. It didn’t. I felt terrible that I might have inadvertently caused Carl to attack Torrance, and I was deeply concerned that someone this unbalanced was close to my daughter. But there was no way I could talk Vanessa into breaking up with Carl. By her senior year in high school our relationship was very strained. If I’d even suggested that she stop seeing Carl, she would have intensified the relationship just to spite me.”

  “What did you do?” Brendan asked.

  “I thought about calling the police, but I had no proof that Carl was involved. Besides, he had a scholarship to an Ivy League school by this time and I knew that an arrest would ruin his chances of going to college. And, as I’ve said, I felt terribly guilty about what had happened. Then fate intervened. Carl received a draft notice, and he came to me for advice.”

  “Did you have anything to do with his being drafted?”

  “I did not. This is another one of Vanessa’s delusions.”

  “Go on.”

  “Carl wanted to know if I thought that he should serve or get a student deferment. I should have helped him go to college, but I wanted to get Carl as far from Vanessa as possible, so I persuaded him to go into the army. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of the fact that he saw me as a father figure, but I did it to protect my daughter. I also thought that spending time in the military might help Carl mature.

  “When Carl saw Vanessa again in 1985, he knew that she hated me. I think he made up this story about a secret army so she would take him back. He may still have been in love with her.”

  “Did you ever meet with Mr. Rice between his senior year in high school and this year when he invaded your home?”

  “No, we had nothing to do with each other.”

  “You did not have him come to your town house in Virginia soon after his first combat mission so that you could recruit him into this secret army?”

  “No. He was never at my town house in Virginia, and, as I’ve testified, there was no secret army.”

  “And you did not meet him in a motel in Maryland and order him to torture Congressman Eric Glass to death?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “Okay, let’s move forward to more recent events. Please tell the judge how the defendant came to be at your home after she helped Mr. Rice break out of the county hospital.”

  “You have to remember that Carl had murdered Congressman Glass in 1985, and was also the main suspect in the murder of an army general named Peter Rivera around the same time. Then there were the two men he nearly killed at that Little League game. Needless to say, I was horrified that Vanessa was on the run with someone that dangerous. So I instructed some of my people at Computex…”

  “This is your company?”

  “Yes. We have a highly trained security force of former Green Berets, Delta Force, and Rangers, who I used to rescue my employees in Afghanistan. I sent them after Vanessa because I knew how dangerous Carl could be. They were lucky enough to find her before Carl hurt her. My men were under orders to bring Vanessa to me. I was planning to call the authorities after I arranged for legal representation and psychiatric care.”

  Wingate paused. He looked pensive. “Maybe I should have had my men take Vanessa directly to the police, but I have been able to do so little for her since her mother died and I…Well, I may have used poor judgment, but I would probably do the same thing if I had a second chance. Honestly, I just wanted my daughter safe and with me.”

  “What happened after you learned that Vanessa had been rescued?” Kirkpatrick asked.

  “I was in Cleveland making a campaign speech. I flew directly home.”

  “Tell the court what Carl Rice did when he learned that your daughter was in your home.”

  “Soon after I arrived, Carl invaded my house.”

  “Was anyone hurt during this invasion?”

  “Yes. Several of my guards were either killed or injured.”

  “Once inside, what did Mr. Rice do?”

  “He broke into the room where Vanessa was staying. I was talking to her when Carl attacked. One of my men distracted Carl, and I escaped and summoned the guards. We kept him pinned down until the police arrived. My daughter had called an FBI man named Victor Hobson, and he negotiated their surrender. I’m very grateful to him because Vanessa was not harmed.”

  “I have no further questions for General Wingate,” the DA said.

  The judge nodded to Ami. “Mrs. Vergano,” he said, “your witness.”

  Ami slid a list of ten names out of her file. “Thank you, Your Honor,” she said, rising to her feet. “General Wingate,” Ami said, “who is Arthur Dombrowski?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Who is Fredrick Skaarstad?”

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of him.”

  Ami read seven more names. The General denied knowing all of them.

  “But you do know Carl Rice?” she asked after glancing up from the last name on the list.

  “Yes.”

  “Would it surprise you to know that I’ve just read you a list of the ten men whose records your daughter took from the safe in your home in California and gave to Congressman Glass?”

  “Mrs. Vergano, those records never existed except in my daughter’s imagination. I assume she gave you those names, but I have no idea where she got them.”

  Ami stared intently at the General, who braced himself for more cross-examination. After a moment, however, she shook her head.

  “No further questions, Your Honor.”

  The General looke
d surprised. He cast a quick glance at Kirkpatrick, who shrugged.

  “Do you have any more witnesses, Mr. Kirkpatrick?” Judge Velasco asked.

  “I may have one more. Can we recess so I can speak with him?”

  “How long will you need?”

  “Twenty minutes, half an hour.”

  “Very well. We’ll adjourn for half an hour.”

  As Wingate and Kirkpatrick walked up the aisle toward the courtroom doors, two Secret Service men and the General’s bodyguard formed a protective circle around him. More members of the General’s security force waited outside the courtroom. Kirkpatrick pushed through the doors, and the television lights flashed on as the reporters began firing questions at the candidate.

  “The General will hold a press conference in an hour at his hotel,” Bryce McDermott said loudly enough to be heard over the din. “He won’t take any questions until then.”

  “Let’s get you upstairs and away from this mob,” Brendan said.

  They double-timed it up the marble staircase to the district attorney’s office, and Kirkpatrick led the General back to the conference room.

  “Before you leave, there’s someone who wants to meet with you,” Brendan told Wingate.

  “We don’t have much time,” McDermott said. “The General has to be in Pittsburgh tomorrow, and we still have the press conference.”

  “I’m afraid this is important,” Brendan insisted as he opened the conference room door.

  “Good afternoon, General,” said Ted Schoonover, President Jennings’s chief troubleshooter. He was seated at the conference table with Victor Hobson. “You know the assistant director, don’t you?”

  McDermott pointed at Schoonover. “What’s he doing here?” he asked Brendan angrily.

  “Mr. Kirkpatrick has no idea why I’m here, Bryce,” Schoonover said. “And the reason for our meeting is something I can discuss only with General Wingate. So, everyone but General Wingate and Director Hobson will have to step outside.”

  “No fucking way,” McDermott answered. “General, we don’t have time for a chat with Jennings’s hatchet man.”

  “You don’t have a choice, Mr. McDermott,” Hobson said. “This meeting is part of a criminal investigation and I’m exercising my authority as a federal agent to clear this room. You, the General’s bodyguard, and the Secret Service will have to wait outside.”