Russo interrupted Franklin before he could finish.
“Mr. Franklin, I’m not interested in your story, no matter how inaccurate it may be. What I am interested in is the interrogation of these suspects, and since it is already 9:20, I suggest we get started.”
Then Russo leaned across the table and placed a small tape recorder squarely in front of Andrea.
“We will start with you, Ms. Marenna.”
Andrea’s face tightened, but she didn’t otherwise react to the provocation.
“Very well, let me start at the—”
“I will ask the questions, Ms. Marenna. You will answer them.”
“No, Ms. Russo, you will not,” Andrea said.
Russo was in the process of pulling a pad out of her briefcase when Andrea spoke and she froze in mid-movement. She turned and placed both hands on the table in front of her and looked directly across the table.
“Ms. Marenna, you don’t seem to understand—”
Andrea leaned forward, interrupting her.
“Actually, I do understand, Ms. Russo. I understand that your department is supposed to be protecting honest citizens like Mr. Caine and me, not harassing us, I understand that—”
Russo started to stand, but Spencer intervened.
“Very well, Ms. Marenna, please go ahead.”
Andrea looked over at Spencer and then slowly leaned back in her seat.
“Thank you, Agent Spencer,” Andrea said.
Andrea’s precise and detailed monologue lasted twenty minutes. A small yellow pad was positioned in front of her, but she only glanced down at it once during her presentation. Spencer and Agent Morgan made notes on the pads in front of them as she spoke. Russo just listened, unmoving.
When Andrea finished, Russo spoke first.
“Ms. Marenna, I am sure that Mr. Spencer has a host of questions about your … story, but I have just one right now. Do you have even one shred of evidence to back up your allegations against Helius Energy, or Mr. Mason?”
“Yes, I do,” Andrea responded and reached into a briefcase beside her chair. She pulled out the phone from her townhouse and laid it on the table. She unsnapped the face plate and laid it back on the conference room table. Then she pointed to a small device attached to the interior of the phone.
“I believe that this is what is commonly known as a ‘bug.’”
Russo glanced at the phone, but otherwise made no move to look at it. Spencer reached over with a pencil and carefully slid the phone across the table so that both he and Agent Morgan could see it.
“Come on, Ms. Marenna, you could have ordered that electronic device over the Internet. You’ll have to do better than that.” Russo stopped when she noticed that Spencer was shaking his head. He leaned over and whispered something in her ear. Russo made a dismissive motion and turned back to Andrea.
“What else do you have in the way of hard evidence?”
Andrea reached into her briefcase again and pulled out two copies of a typed document. She handed a copy of the document to both Russo and Spencer. She looked down at the men at the end of the table, but the taller man just held up his hand, signaling that the two men did not need a copy of the document.
“This is a transcription of a voicemail that was left for me at Kelly & White. The transcription was prepared by my secretary. I cannot give you the original of the recording from our phone system because the server was corrupted on Sunday night.”
Spencer and Agent Morgan read the transcript together. Russo read the document, but her face remained unimpressed.
“Is that it?” Russo said.
“That is all the physical evidence currently in our possession, but I am sure that when Mr. Spencer sends his people out to the Portman Lodge, he will find bullet casings in the parking lot. There also may be a bullet lodged in Mr. Caine’s truck.”
“Ms. Marenna, even if your story were not so … fantastic, I would find it very difficult to believe it for one very simple reason.”
Russo hesitated for a moment and stared across the table at both Andrea and Caine before continuing.
“Honest citizens generally go to the police when they discover that their phones are bugged and certainly when people start shooting at them. However, you and Mr. Caine made no effort to seek out law enforcement help of any kind, at any time, before this meeting. Forgive me if that leads me to doubt the bona fides of your story.”
“That’s not true, Ms. Russo. After I was attacked at the Portman Lodge, I … we did try to get the police involved. I called a friend of mine, Michael Bosmasian. He’s a prosecutor with the—”
Russo cut her off. “I know who Mr. Bosmasian is, Ms. Marenna. I also know that he was shot last Monday night and that you and Mr. Caine fled the scene when the police arrived, leaving him bleeding on the sidewalk. Forgive me, Ms. Marenna, but the evidence that I have indicates that you arranged a meeting with Mr. Bosmasian with the intent of killing him, not to gain his assistance. In fact, isn’t it true that all of this other nonsense is just a smoke screen? Isn’t it true—”
Andrea slapped her hand down on the table, cutting off Russo’s escalating tirade.
“No, no, no. Michael is one of my best friends. I would never—”
“Then why didn’t you just call the police, or the FBI? Why a city prosecutor? And if Mr. Bosmasian was such a good friend, why did you flee the scene of his shooting? Why did you run from the police who came to the scene?”
Caine raised his hand from where it was resting on the table. The move was so unexpected that Russo’s head snapped in his direction. Caine’s eyes fixed on her and then he spoke in a calm, almost quiet voice.
“Because I insisted on it.”
“Please go on, Mr. Caine,” Spencer said.
Russo started to raise her hand to brush aside Spencer’s intervention, but she noticed that the man from the CIA had leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. The message was subtle, but clear. He wanted to hear from Mr. Caine.
“Yes, Mr. Caine, please enlighten us,” Russo said, as she eased reluctantly back into her chair.
“Andrea wanted to stay with Mr. Bosmasian.”
“Then why, Mr. Caine, did you insist that she flee the scene?”
“We had no other choice. The site was a prepared kill zone. We were the targets, not Mr. Bosmasian. If we had stayed, we would be dead and in all likelihood Mr. Bosmasian would have died from his wound, if not from incoming fire.”
“And why should we believe that someone other than you or Ms. Marenna shot Mr. Bosmasian?” Russo asked, almost before Caine finished his sentence.
Caine looked over at Spencer when he answered.
“Because you already know that. Mr. Bosmasian was put down by a high-powered rifle. I was carrying a Browning Mark III pistol. The ballistics, bullet velocity, and incoming trajectory take Andrea and me out of the equation. But again, you already know that.”
Russo had no ready response and when Spencer just nodded slightly in confirmation, she let the issue go.
“Please continue, Mr. Caine. As I recall, you were describing the scene of the shooting,” Spencer said.
“As I said, the site was a kill zone. There were at least two, possibly three shooters waiting there when we arrived. They weren’t there to take out Bosmasian. They wanted us.”
O’Connor looked over at Spencer and nodded quietly in response to Caine’s analysis. The communication between the two men irritated Russo.
“So you admit that you did flee the scene?”
“Yes.”
“And are we supposed to consider that an exonerating fact?”
“No.”
Caine’s frank responses and apparent lack of concern left Russo momentarily without a follow-up question, allowing Spencer to intervene again.
“Please continue,” Spencer said.
Caine nodded.
“We ran down the alley beside the restaurant, jumped the wall, and made our way into the shopping area on the next str
eet.”
Russo interrupted. “Why, Mr. Caine, did you fail to turn yourself over to the police at that juncture?”
“The decision was based upon a combination of factors. To understand my perspective, we have to back up seventy-two hours,” Caine said.
“Please do so, Mr. Caine,” Spencer said.
Caine then described the helicopter assault on his cabin in Big Bear, the chase through the woods on the snowmobile, and the firefight that took out the helicopter. As Caine’s narrative progressed, Russo’s eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened. Finally, she exploded out of her seat, cutting him off.
“Mr. Caine, do you think I’m insane? Do you really expect anyone to believe this story? Let me see if I have this right. You were attacked in the middle of the night, in the mountains of Southern California, by a gang of killers in a helicopter? Then, you somehow shot down this helicopter and no one discovered any of this? Not police, not the FAA, not the FBI. Mr. Caine, what kind of fool—”
O’Connor interrupted Russo.
“Maybe, Ms. Russo, you should ask Agent Spencer whether he can confirm the helo crash?”
Russo stared at O’Connor for a moment and then turned to Spencer.
“What is he talking about?”
Spencer didn’t look up from his yellow pad when he spoke.
“We recently obtained information indicating that a helicopter went down in the mountains in San Bernardino, California. The evidence from the site suggests that the aircraft was armed with a heavy machine gun that was fired before it went down.”
“Where is this helicopter now?” Russo demanded.
“It’s gone. The evidence at the site indicates that the entire bird was chopped up and moved shortly after the crash. We are still investigating the situation. I suggest that we defer this—”
“Why wasn’t I told about this?”
Spencer’s face tightened and he turned to look directly at Russo.
“Ms. Russo, let’s allow the witness to continue, shall we?”
Russo looked at Spencer for another second and then glanced over at O’Connor and Benoit, who were looking at her. Russo reluctantly turned back to Caine.
“Very well,” Russo said curtly, “Mr. Caine, please continue.”
“After the attack on my cabin and what happened the next morning—”
Russo held up her hand.
“Stop. What happened the next morning, Mr. Caine?”
Caine then described the car chase, the shootout on Route 18, and his eventual escape. When he finished, Andrea was staring at him, along with the others.
Russo looked over at Spencer accusingly. He spread his hands out the table.
“Our Los Angeles office has confirmed that incidents of this nature occurred on the dates indicated.”
Russo looked back at Caine for a moment, then leaned back in her chair and motioned for him to continue.
“To answer your original question, Ms. Russo, I decided not to go to the police at that time, because that would have made the two of us easy targets.”
“In police custody?”
“Yes. We would have been placed in holding cells. Those cells are designed to keep people from getting out, not getting in. Unless we had special protection, we would have been killed within hours. That’s why we contacted Mr. Bosmasian in the first place: to get that kind of protection. Unfortunately, they were one step ahead of us.”
“Do you have any evidence to support that, Mr. Caine?” Russo said.
“None.”
Russo nodded her head in satisfaction.
“Mr. Caine, if you and Ms. Marenna were the targets of the attack in the square, why did they shoot Mr. Bosmasian?” Spencer said.
“I can only guess. It may be that Bosmasian was getting too close, or it may have been a backup plan. Since the shooters were hidden, the police would assume that Andrea or I shot Mr. Bosmasian. Best case, the police would have killed us at the scene—worst case, the people after us could use the police as a resource to find us, which in fact they did.”
“Are you suggesting that these people somehow bugged the Austin PD as well Ms. Marenna?” Russo said, her voice laced with sarcasm.
“No. I assume they just had a lower-level source in the department who was alerted to look out for incoming information,” Caine answered.
“That’s ridiculous,” Russo said.
“Ms. Russo, this man Paquin and his goons got to the bar five minutes before the police arrived. Do you have another explanation for that striking coincidence?” Andrea said, the frustration evident in her voice.
“Why don’t you go over your recollection of what happened in the bar, Ms. Marenna?” Spencer said, before Russo could respond.
“John and I split up after the shooting. We agreed to meet at Branion’s Pub. I arrived first and waited for about forty-five minutes for John to show up. About twenty minutes after he arrived, two men entered the pub wearing masks and carrying guns. A few minutes later, two other men came in the back door. They were also armed. A man, who I later came to know as Paquin, came over to my table and forced me to come with him. They took me out the back door and pushed me into a black Suburban.”
“Where were you when all of this occurred, Mr. Caine?” Russo said.
“I was in the men’s room when they took control of the bar. I could see what was happening through a crack in the door.”
“Given your past enthusiasm for a fight, Mr. Caine, why is it that you suddenly decided to adopt the role of a pacifist?”
Franklin responded to the question.
“Ms. Russo, the witness statements obtained by Austin PD indicate that the four men in the bar were armed with automatic weapons. Given those facts, I’m sure that even you would agree that it would have been imprudent for Mr. Caine to start a gun battle.”
Russo’s face reddened and she started to turn to Franklin, but thought better of it when Spencer straightened the angle of the tape recorder sitting in the middle of the table.
“I will ignore that comment, Mr. Franklin. Mr. Caine, would you please recount what occurred after Ms. Marenna was taken from Branion’s Pub?”
“I followed them out the rear door of the bar, but they were already pulling into the street.” “And?”
“I left the area and spent the night at a hotel downtown.”
“Again, you failed to go to the police?” Russo said.
“That’s true.”
“Continue.”
“There’s not much else. I received a call on my cell phone from Andrea. She’d managed to escape during the early morning hours, and I was able to pick her up outside the ranch where she was being held.”
Russo turned her attention to Andrea.
“Please explain to me, Ms. Marenna, how you managed that.”
“I worked on my restraints most of the night and managed to get loose.”
“And you just walked past your captors?” Russo said.
“Yes. They had other problems at that point in time.”
“Like what?”
“There was a gun battle going on. I was able to escape in the confusion.”
“Are you serious?” The scorn in Russo’s voice was palpable.
Spencer held up his hand apologetically to Andrea and then turned to Russo.
“Ms. Russo, the Texas Rangers received an anonymous call around 6:00 a.m. on Sunday morning. The caller reported gunfire and smoke at a ranch located about an hour outside Austin—the same location described by Ms. Marenna. When the Rangers arrived at the ranch, the site was deserted, but the evidence indicated that in fact an intense firefight occurred there.
“Agent Morgan and I visited the ranch late last night where this incident occurred. Based upon the evidence recovered by the Rangers, we estimate that as many as ten to fifteen combatants were engaged in the firefight. Preliminary ballistics indicates the combatants were armed with military-grade automatic weapons, including a light machine gun. There’s also evidence that C-4 was used
to blow a hole in one of the exterior walls.”
Russo was staring at Spencer when he finished. “Thank you, Agent Spencer. That information is … useful.”
Then she turned her attention back to Andrea.
“Ms. Marenna, I want to know exactly what you saw when you were leaving this ranch.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t recall very much, Ms. Russo.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Russo. The next time I’m kidnapped and find myself in the midst of a raging gun battle, I promise to be more observant,” Andrea snapped.
Benoit’s cultured voice stayed Russo’s rejoinder.
“Please forgive Madame Le Procureur, Ms. Marenna. I am sure she is just being thorough.”
Before Russo could react to the subtle rebuke, Spencer used the interruption to move the questioning in a different direction.
“Mr. Caine, your record indicates that you were in the U.S. Army. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“In fact, you were a Ranger.”
“Yes.”
“Have you been a member of any other military force, Mr. Caine?”
“Yes.”
“And what would that be?”
“I was in the French Foreign Legion for ten years.”
“What was your unit?
“The Second Parachute Regiment.”
Caine actually had been a member of the Regiment before he’d been transferred to the Special Operations Unit commanded by Ricard.
Franklin stood up before Spencer could continue.
“Agent Spencer, may I suggest that we break for lunch?”
Spencer glanced at his watch. It was almost 12:00 p.m. O’Connor and Benoit stood up, making it difficult for Russo to refuse the suggestion.
“Very well, Mr. Franklin,” she said. “However, Mr. Caine and Ms. Marenna will remain in this room. I assume you can have lunch brought in?”
Franklin seemed inclined to object, but Andrea answered, “That’s fine.”
Helius Legacy Page 33
