High Crimes

“Following your desertion from the army in 1985, did you ever deliberately commit bodily harm to anyone?”

“No.”

Eighteen seconds this time.

“Did you take part in the shootings on 22 June 1985 in the village of La Colina, El Salvador?”

Tom’s reply came more quickly this time. “No.”

Sixteen seconds. Claire found herself following the jerky little movement of the second hand on her watch.

“Is there something else you’re afraid I’ll ask you a question about, even though I told you I would not?”

“No.”

Fifteen seconds precisely.

“Have you ever threatened a loved one with bodily harm?”

“No.” Seventeen seconds of silence.

“Did you see any civilians die on 22 June 1985 in the village of La Colina?”

“No.”

Fifteen seconds, then twenty. The longest pause yet. “Thank you, Ronald,” Givens said. “We’re done now.”

Grimes knocked on the door. It was opened, and the two guards came in. They put the restraints back on Tom. They took him out into the hallway, and Claire and Grimes followed. Grimes and Claire sat in front of the stenographers’ office. Tom stood with his guards on either side. They all waited in silence, five minutes, which seemed forever.

Givens opened the door. “Professor Heller, Mr. Grimes, could I talk to you, please?”

They entered the room. Her heart thudded. She felt prickly perspiration under her ears.

He waited until they had both sat down. He didn’t seem to be interested in generating suspense; he seemed to be following some script, moving through it with plodding deliberateness.

“Well,” Grimes said, “is he a lying motherfucker?”

Claire wanted to throttle him.

Givens did not smile.

“In my opinion, he is telling the truth. My report will state NDI. No deception indicated.”

“Aha,” Claire said, calm and professional on the surface. Inside she was elated. Not since Annie’s birth had she actually experienced such a physical, biological sensation of elation: a great swelling inside her rib cage, the feeling that her organs, her heart and lungs, had lifted several inches. At the same time she felt an immediate easing of tension. “Thank you,” she said. “When can we expect your report?”

24

The courtroom where the hearing was to take place was a windowless underground chamber, newly constructed, beneath the basement level of one of the buildings on the Quantico grounds not far from the FBI Academy. It had been specially built for security-classified meetings, courts-martial, and other proceedings, and was intended for the use of all four branches of military service. Two MPs stood guard before the steel stairway that descended to the steel double doors that locked by means of electronic cipher locks. It was extremely secure.

Shortly before nine in the morning — 0900 hours — Claire and Grimes met in front of the red-brick building. She wore a navy suit, conservative — nothing too stylish or flashy. Grimes, she was pleased to see, was in a suit as well: double-breasted, pinstriped, elegant.

“I don’t want Embry speaking,” she said.

“I don’t either.”

“And I want you to start off with the first witness. I’ll observe.”

“Fine.”

“You look good.”

“Surprised, huh?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.” They entered the building and descended to the basement, then waited for the steel doors to the subbasement to be unlocked. The sleek, modern room was low-ceilinged, about twenty by thirty feet. The floors were gray linoleum over concrete; the walls were poured concrete as well. Otherwise, it looked exactly like every other courtroom in the world, with a raised judge’s bench and witness chair, a jury box (ten seats instead of twelve, but empty, because there would be no jury at this hearing), a long table for defense and one for prosecution. The furniture — the witness and jury chairs, the spectators’ chairs, the tables — was modern and tasteful, blond wood and gray upholstering. An American flag hung from a pole next to the bench, on which was mounted a brass armed-forces seal. On the wall in back of the jury box was a large clock. The quality of sound in here was curiously deadened: the chamber was, of course, soundproofed.

Claire was surprised to see four or five unsmiling spectators already in place, uniformed men wearing security badges on white plastic-beaded chains around their necks. None of them she recognized. Why were they here, and how were they allowed in such a secret proceeding?

“I thought this was a closed hearing,” Claire muttered to Grimes.

“Spectators are allowed if they have top-secret clearance.”

“Who are they?”

Grimes shrugged. “Lot of people in the Pentagon are watching this case closely.”