ECLIPSE

by Richard North Patterson

  “As happy as I am to see Mr. Gladstone,” Pierce told Hamilton, “our request was to first depose Trevor Hill, PGL’s principal supervisor in the delta.”

  “As we told you previously Hill has business in Saudi Arabia—”

  “Which has airplanes,” Pierce cut in. “Hill is closest to the facts on the ground. He supervises Van Daan, and reports to Mr. Gladstone. Questioning Hill is a necessary predicate to deposing the next two witnesses.”

  “In due course,” Hamilton said calmly, “we’ll produce him. PGL has turned itself inside out to give you everything. Including its managing director.” He pointed to the telephone. “If you think we’re not cooperating, call Judge Taylor. We can reschedule Mr. Gladstone to follow Trevor Hill.”

  Pierce felt certain that there was a tactical reason for Hill’s nonap-pearance. But Hamilton had him trapped in the press of time. “I want Hill within three days,” Pierce said.

  “Duly noted,” Hamilton answered with affected boredom.

  Pierce sat back, briefly taking in the setting—the court reporter, the witness and his two lawyers, framed by a glass wall through which Pierce could see the high-rises of Waro. Facing Gladstone, he asked, “The Luandian National Petroleum Corporation and PGL are business partners, correct?”

  Gladstone nodded. “The government has a sixty percent interest, PGL forty.”

  “And those profits emanate almost entirely from the Luandian Delta.”

  “That’s also true.”

  Sitting next to Hamilton, his associate Camilla Vasquez began scribbling notes. Idly, Pierce wondered how long it would take him to make her change expressions. “With respect to security matters in the delta,” he asked, “who was principally responsible for your liaison with the Luan-dian military?”

  For an instant, the question made Gladstone freeze. “Mr. Van Daan.”

  “What is his background?”

  Gladstone steepled his fingers. “I believe his original career was in the South African military. Later as a hired soldier in various conflicts in West Africa.”

  “How did Mr. Van Daan’s particular talents come to your attention?”

  Gladstone hesitated. “We had a recommendation from Ugwo Ajukwa, national security adviser to General Karama.”

  Surprised, Pierce sifted this answer with what he knew about Ajukwa: that he was well connected in Washington and, according to Rubin, rumored to be involved in illegal bunkering and, perhaps, with FREE. “Did you discuss your concerns about security with Mr. Ajukwa?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That as our business partner, the Luandian government considered it essential that we have a capable and experienced man to interact with the Luandian military. And that, from personal acquaintance, he knew that man to be Roos Van Daan.”

  “Did you take that to be a suggestion, a request, or a demand?”

  Gladstone smiled faintly. “I considered it a strong suggestion.”

  Sitting back in his chair, Pierce stretched, adopting a position of relaxation. “After you hired Mr. Van Daan, did you have another meeting with Mr. Ajukwa regarding PGL’s security?”

  “Yes. In London. Perhaps four months ago.”

  “Who else was present?”

  “General Karama,” he said at length. “Also Colonel Okimbo. From PGL, Hill and Van Daan. And me.”

  “Who suggested London, by the way?”

  “Karama,” Gladstone answered with palpable irony. “He likes London.”

  Hamilton, Pierce saw, watched the witness closely. With an air of mild curiosity, Pierce said, “How did that meeting come about?”

  “Our executives had been kidnapped, our pipelines tapped, our facilities vandalized. We also faced an organized campaign in Asariland led by Bobby Okari. Our message was clear: our ability to continue to operate in the Luandian Delta depended on the government’s ability to protect our personnel and facilities.”

  “Of the problems you faced, Mr. Gladstone, which did you consider the worst?”

  “Kidnappings. There had also been a murder at one of our compounds, the daughter of an executive. As far as facilities go, bunkering was a real problem—it affects production, and the ancillary damage to the environment from leakage was considerable. FREE and the like aren’t big on cleanup.”

  Still watching Gladstone, Pierce reached for a document. “On the subject of bunkering, how did Karama and Ajukwa respond?”

  “Ajukwa said that bunkering was difficult to control. And that the worst potential problem was the Asari movement.”

  Gladstone, Pierce sensed, had not believed this answer. “And Karama?”

  “He was vehement about the Asari—that Okari was building a secessionist movement that would finish Luandia as a nation.”

  “Did you share that fear?”

  “Karama stated the worst case. But did the Asari movement concern us? Yes.”

  “How did Karama respond to your concerns?”

  “By assigning Colonel Okimbo to oversee our security needs in the delta.”

  “Did you know Colonel Okimbo?”

  “No.”

  “Did anyone from PGL?”

  Across the table, Vasquez stopped writing. “Perhaps Van Daan,” Gladstone ventured. “At the meeting, Okimbo requested that he work directly with Van Daan.”

  “Did anyone discuss the particulars of that work?”

  “No. That was to be arranged between Okimbo and Van Daan.” Gladstone sat straighter. “But our policy toward security matters was clear: to encourage the military to respect human rights; to discourage the use of unnecessary force; and to shun rape, torture, and wanton destruction of property.”

  “And who was responsible for helping the military implement that policy?”

  “Trevor Hill.” Watching Pierce’s eyes, Gladstone added, “Also Van Daan.”

  “Prior to this meeting, did you know anything about Colonel Okimbo’s record with respect to human rights?”

  “No.”

  Pierce feigned surprise. “No one told you that Okimbo had on occasion been accused of perpetrating murder and rape?”

  “No.”

  “More recently, did you hear about Okimbo’s involvement in a massacre in the village of Lana?”

  “I heard vague stories about Lana, but not that Okimbo was involved.” As though unsettled, Gladstone glanced at Hamilton. “Mr. Hill, however, did relate rumors to that effect. I asked Van Daan to investigate.”

  “What did he report?”

  Pierce saw Hamilton’s eyes narrow. “That Okimbo denied it,” Gladstone answered. “Van Daan’s opinion was that the entire story was propaganda spread by the Asari.”

  “At the London meeting, did you form an impression of Colonel Okimbo?”

  As if in warning, Hamilton looked sharply at the witness. Gladstone gazed at the table, less concerned with the impression his silence made than with the formulation of his answer. “What I thought was that Okimbo would pursue the Asari problem with determination. I had no basis for assessing precisely what that might involve.”

  For a moment, Pierce simply watched him. Then he slid a document across the table. “Can you identify the document marked as Gladstone Exhibit 1?”

  Gladstone stared at it. Tonelessly, he answered, “It’s the memo I wrote to the chairman of PetroGlobal, reporting on the London meeting.”

  Pierce nodded. “Let me quote a passage: ‘I emphasized that the Okaris’ activities should be closely monitored and, if possible, discouraged.’” Looking up, Pierce asked, “What on earth did you have in mind?”

  Gladstone glanced at his lawyer. “In general terms,” he said with care, “that the military maintain sound intelligence about Okari’s activities. And that he and the Asari movement be dissuaded from actions that threatened our operations.”

  “How did you suppose Okimbo would ‘dissuade’ the Asari?”

  Gladstone crossed his arms. “That was a matter for Okimbo and Van Daan.”
r />   “Prior to Asari Day, did PGL make payments to the Luandian military?”

  “Yes. But only for protection.”

  “How, and by whom, were those payments negotiated?”

  Gladstone tented his long fingers in front of him, contemplating them as if concerned with his manicure. “Mr. Van Daan was given a budget for security operations. Within that budget, he had discretion to make payments as needed, fully accounted for, to those rendering services related to PGL’s security.”

  “Did Van Daan make payments directly to Colonel Okimbo?”

  “Yes.” Gladstone straightened his tie. “To augment his salary, in recognition of his critical role in protecting PGL.”

  “Who decided the amount and timing of these payments?”

  “Okimbo and Van Daan, I assume.”

  “And they, too, are ‘fully accounted for’?”

  Gladstone hesitated. “They should be, yes.”

  “According to your records, you paid Okimbo every month for six months, up to the month before Asari Day. Did the payments stop?”

  Fleetingly, Gladstone looked perplexed. “I can’t answer that.”

  “Nor can I.” To Hamilton, Pierce said, “Please double-check your records of payments to Okimbo. I’d hate to think there’s something missing.”

  Hamilton shot him a look of annoyance. “I’ve got no reason to think that.”

  “Check anyhow.” Pierce slid another document across the table. “I show you what has been marked as Gladstone Exhibit 2. Do you recognize this document?”

  “It’s a memo regarding the purchase of weaponry for Colonel Okimbo.”

  “Including bullets, grenades, rocket launchers, AK-47s, and tear gas?”

  Gladstone glanced from the document to Pierce, a troubled expression passing through his eyes. “Again, this was within Mr. Van Daan’s authority.”

  “Did you notice that this memo is dated two weeks before Asari Day?”

  Gladstone shrugged. “I don’t know what one can make of that.”

  “Then let’s flash forward to Asari Day. Were you aware of Okari’s plans?”

  “What I knew,” Gladstone said, “is that he planned a mass protest against PGL’s operations, involving three hundred thousand Asari. Among the things I feared was what happened: the Asari seizure of a pumping station and an offshore oil platform. What followed that was the lynching of three PGL employees.”

  “Did the Asari commit any acts of violence at the pumping station or platform?”

  “They did not.”

  “I guess that leaves the oil workers. Who killed them?”

  Gladstone frowned. “Obviously, I can’t know.”

  “On Asari Day, did PGL assist Okimbo and the military in ‘monitoring the activities’ of the Asari gathered in the village of Goro?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Pierce’s questions came quicker now. “Who could authorize such activities?”

  “Mr. Hill. Or Mr. Van Daan.”

  “After the lynchings, you shut down PGL’s operations in Asariland. Did you discuss these measures with anyone in the government?”

  “General Karama.” Gladstone paused. “I told him we couldn’t continue unless the government protected our facilities and—especially—our employees.”

  “How did he respond?”

  “That Colonel Okimbo would see to it that Asariland was peaceful.”

  “Did you discuss how to facilitate that effort with anyone at PGL?”

  “With Mr. Van Daan and Mr. Hill. By conference call.”

  “What measures were discussed?”

  “Among other things, Mr. Van Daan suggested that he and Colonel Okimbo approach the more reasonable leaders of the Asari movement.”

  “Did that approach involve cash payments to specific leaders?”

  “Not explicitly.” Gladstone stretched his arms in front of him, flexing his fingers as though to ward off stiffness. “He mentioned what he called ‘personal concessions.’”

  Pierce handed him a document. “I show you Gladstone Exhibit 3. Do you know what it is?”

  Gladstone’s brow knit. “It’s a PGL form showing cash disbursements.”

  “I point out the line that records ‘payments to Asari community leaders for security advice.’ What does that mean?”

  “Just that, I assume. The particulars were up to Van Daan.”

  “Did you, Hill, and Van Daan discuss other methods of ‘bringing peace’ to Asariland?”

  “Van Daan suggested the imposition of martial law and the arrest of Bobby Okari.” Gladstone paused. “According to Van Daan, Okimbo believed that Okari had ordered the murder of our employees.”

  “At that point, Mr. Gladstone, did you have any experience with the Asari movement practicing violence against PGL employees?”

  “We did not. But Okari’s rhetoric was becoming increasingly heated, including assertions that violence would follow if we did not meet his demands.”

  “During this call, did Hill express any view about the possibility of violence?”

  Gladstone glanced at the memo in front of Pierce. “He expressed concern that Okari would not back down, and that the situation might become inflamed.”

  Pierce gave him the memo. “I assume you’ve seen Exhibit 4.”

  Gladstone paused, then answered in a subdued tone. “It’s a memo Trevor Hill faxed to me an hour or so after our conference call.”

  “May I ask you to read its second-to-last paragraph aloud?”

  Eyes fixed on the document, Gladstone fished into his pocket for a pair of gold-rimmed reading glasses, then softly repeated Hill’s words as if from memory: “’I must reemphasize the concerns expressed in our call. The murder of our employees is a tragedy, and steps to prevent any further loss of life are imperative. But I worry that the army may take violent measures in response to further civil disobedience by the Asari. Therefore PGL should encourage the use of tear gas and rubber bullets, so as to minimize any possible loss of life.’”

  Pierce cocked his head. “In your conference call, did Mr. Hill express any reason for his concerns not contained in this memo?”

  Camilla Vasquez stopped taking notes. Hamilton’s face went blank. “Yes,” Gladstone said at length. “Despite Van Daan, he restated his belief that Okimbo had ordered an atrocity at Lana.”

  “I take it Van Daan was a bit more sanguine.”

  “Van Daan still insisted that the stories about Lana were an Asari fabrication. He also argued that it was impossible for Okimbo to limit his men to rubber bullets without knowing what dangers they might face.”

  “From whom? Were the Asari known to have supplies of weapons?”

  Gladstone looked up at Pierce. Softly, he answered, “I don’t know.”

  “So how did you respond?”

  “By telling Van Daan to advise Okimbo, once again, of our policy on human rights.”

  Pierce raised his eyebrows. “You also confined PGL employees in Asariland to their homes. Did that include Van Daan?”

  Briefly, Gladstone’s gaze broke. “No. He and others, at his discretion, had latitude to work in concert with military and civil authorities.”

  “Do you know the specifics of that work?”

  “No.”

  “In other words,” Pierce snapped, “you don’t know where Van Daan was when Okimbo’s soldiers came to Goro. Or who else from PGL might have been there.”

  Gladstone crossed his arms. “According to Van Daan, no one.”

  “Really? Then PGL’s helicopters and sea trucks arrived by magic?”

  Gladstone winced, as though contemplating the degree to which the deposition had slipped beyond his control. “If they were there, Van Daan assures me, the army borrowed them without anyone knowing how they might be used.”

  “Someone did know,” Pierce rejoined. “When did you first hear of the ‘special tribunal’ Karama designed for Bobby Okari?”

  “Karama’s speech,” Gladstone said firmly. “All I knew
before that is that he meant to take ‘stern measures.’”

  “Which, in the event, involves violating every human rights agreement your country ever signed.” Pierce leaned forward. “Who from PGL is responsible for communicating with the government regarding Okari’s prosecution?”

  Hamilton’s lips compressed. “Mr. Van Daan,” Gladstone answered.

  “Do you know the specifics of their communications?”

  “I do not.” Gladstone’s speech became tight and precise. “My instructions to Van Daan were clear: monitor the proceedings and cooperate with the authorities when asked. The dead were our employees, Mr. Pierce. We can do no less.” His voice hardened. “So let me be plain. I know nothing about Goro. And I know nothing that undermines the charge of murder that led to Okari’s arrest.”

  Pierce smiled faintly. “Or anything about Van Daan or his activities, it seems.”

  “Enough.” Hamilton’s voice pulsed with anger. “Now you can apologize.”

  Pierce ignored him. “Tell me, Mr. Gladstone, do you at least know something about the conditions of Okari’s imprisonment?”

  A shadow crossed Gladstone’s face. “No.”

  “Then let me tell you. Okimbo is his jailer. He’s forced to shit and piss in buckets until they overflow. Sometimes Okimbo’s soldiers chain him to walls; at other times they torture his fellow Asari so Bobby can hear them scream. They’ve barred all visitors; they barely feed him; they’ve taken the light from his cell. That’s the pastime of the ‘authority’ with whom Van Daan’s working. So I suggest that you remind them of your ‘human rights standards’ one last time.” Turning to Hamilton, Pierce said, “Look harder for those documents, Clark. And do get me Trevor Hill.”

  6

  THAT NIGHT, PIERCE AND RACHEL RAHV SAT ON THE PATIO OF THE hotel bar, sipping brandy and gazing at the empty pool. They had spent several hours preparing for Van Daan; now it was eleven o’clock and, except for the palm trees, humid air, and desperate lack of sleep, they could have been two lawyers in America.