Jury Town (12 page)

INTERSTATE 95, CONNECTICUT

“Hello.”

Rockwell grimaced when his call was answered on the first ring. He wasn’t supposed to dial this number often, as infrequently as possible, he’d been instructed from the beginning. But he felt he needed to convey the disappointing news immediately. He wasn’t looking forward to the reaction.

“Do you know who this is?” he asked hesitantly.

“Of course,” the Gray answered in a measured tone. “You are the only other individual who has this number. The process of elimination didn’t take long.”

This one always seemed aggravated, Rockwell thought to himself, even more than the others. Perhaps, he realized, because the man had a brother who was CEO of Commonwealth Electric Power, a brother who would be in serious trouble if they could not influence the trial. And that was going to be exponentially more challenging now that the case would be heard by the jurors going behind the walls of Archer Prison tomorrow night.

“I have some bad news,” he spoke up as he drove.

“Be careful the way you say it.”

“I just heard from my messenger. The mission was not executed today.”

“You’re right. That is bad.”

Rockwell grimaced again. “I’m sorry.”

“What happened?”

“According to my messenger, the target suddenly has a huge security force. He wasn’t able to move in on her.”

He’d been halfway back to Connecticut when he received the call from JD. His first thought was that the Grays couldn’t blame him for Victoria Lewis’ security force.
Who was he kidding?
he thought now. They’d blame him for whatever they wanted to.

“The same messenger who was going after the target this afternoon was also involved with the trial that didn’t go so well, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still have faith in him?”

“Absolutely.” He had to say that. He couldn’t show any loss of faith in his messenger. That would be as bad for him as it would be for JD. “He’s the real deal.”

“All right,” the Gray agreed after a few moments. “Well then your man should keep trying.”

“Even with the pris . . . facility opening tomorrow?”

“Yes, but he should still not attempt the mission using long-range options. You understand what I’m saying?”

“Of course. I’ve been thinking about ways to get to the people we need to get to inside the place,” he said.

“We already have.”

“You’ve already gotten to people who are going inside?” Rockwell asked incredulously.

“Yes. Our source provided us with names, and we have already made contact. Even if they aren’t chosen for that proceeding we discussed, they will approach those who are with data we will inject. I’ll be in touch.”

CHAPTER 14

JURY TOWN

Victoria gazed out from the podium that had been erected in the massive Central Zone of the brand-new facility, where the jurors would take meals and socialize. Many of the same people who’d attended her announcement in the Supreme Court building were here tonight. Governor Falkner, Lieutenant Governor Paulson, nearly all the General Assembly senators and delegates, Richmond Mayor Eleanor Bush, as well as a huge gathering of the press corps including reporters from all the major national news organizations.

The only notables missing were Chief Justice Eldridge and General Assembly Majority Leader Barney Franz. She’d anticipated Eldridge’s absence—he’d committed to only that one appearance at the Supreme Court building, and she understood why. He had to keep a low profile for multiple reasons.

She’d not anticipated Franz’s absence. By avoiding tonight’s historic beginning, the Majority Leader was making an obvious statement, hurling down the gauntlet in a very public way on top of walking out of the announcement. Cameron was convinced that they hadn’t heard the last of Franz, and he’d been in close contact with his best sources in the GA all day to get the jump on anything Franz might have up his sleeve. But they’d heard nothing so far.

She had no time to worry about a senior official’s childish tantrum. Also gazing back at her from the audience were 196 new arrivals. The men and women had spent this morning and early afternoon being processed and indoctrinated at an old armory outside Richmond. They had then taken those four buses up here. These were the individuals who deserved her focus at this moment.

Victoria had forced herself to tour one wing of rooms this evening before taking the podium a few moments ago. As Clint Wolf had predicted, personal touches now intact, the facility looked much better, almost homey. It reminded her of her first day of her first year at the University of Virginia—as opposed to the reopening of a prison. She and Wolf had received hearty congratulations and compliment after compliment from everyone so far this evening—including the press.

And the demons hadn’t haunted her too badly as she’d looked at the rooms. She’d taken the liberty of convincing herself that her father’s room at Archer Prison hadn’t been on the wing she’d toured . . . which had helped her internal struggle immensely.

She tapped the microphone three times, glanced at the three pennies on her bracelet, and then nodded to the crowd. By the time she and Cameron had reached Richmond last night, a security force was in place and waiting at her house. Cameron had made good on that promise, and, after what had happened at Stony Man Mountain, she was very glad he had. She’d gotten a decent night’s sleep, and spent today relaxing at home in anticipation of this moment.

“Well,” she began with the same smile that had decorated her face the night she’d been elected governor, “after so much hard work on the part of so many people, our vision is finally becoming reality.” She consciously avoided even a glance into the many television cameras, which were focused on her at this moment. Tonight wasn’t about her. “Before I go any further, I want a standing ovation for the man who brought this facility to life.” She pointed to her right. “Mr. Clint Wolf.”

As people rose, clapped, and cheered for Wolf, Victoria thought about how many dedicated and talented people it had taken to get the project to this precipice. And about that one potential juror she wanted so badly but hadn’t quite been able to convince yet. She’d been depending on having Acosta inside the corps of guards as her eyes and ears—but that strategy had died in the West End hospital. Convincing a man named David Racine to become a juror was now absolutely
crucial
.

When the ovation for Wolf finally faded, Victoria signaled with her hands for quiet. “This is it,” she said, raising her arms in triumph when all had gone silent. “Let’s get started, jurors. Welcome to Jury Town!”

This second standing ovation lasted seven minutes.

GORDONSVILLE, VIRGINIA

Wayne Bennett’s eyes went wide when Victoria slid into the back of the state police car beside him. “Aw, Jesus,” he muttered nervously, glancing out his window into the dead of night on this lonely country road. “What’s going on here? Is the Keystone trial still haunting me? Is that what this is about?”

“Obviously you know who I am,” she said. She’d left Jury Town thirty minutes ago to make this meeting. She needed to turn around and go right back as soon as it was finished.

“Obviously.”

“I have a few questions, Mr. Bennett.”

She could tell by his expression that he knew exactly where this was going. For all intents and purposes, she already had her answers. But she would ask the questions anyway. She wanted to hear Bennett say these things.

“You were the foreman on the Keystone trial?”

“Yes.”

“You acquitted the CFO, the man whom the state accused of paying bribes to a Pentagon official.” She hesitated. “Were you approached by someone who wanted to influence the verdict?”

Bennett leaned slowly forward and sunk his face into his hands.

“Tell me,” Victoria pushed.

“I can’t talk about it,” he muttered.

“I don’t want to know if you actually changed your vote because you were approached. And I don’t care what they had on you. All I want to know is whether or not you were approached. You will not be prosecuted for anything you say here. This is strictly off the record.”

Bennett grimaced. “Yeah, yeah, I was approached. So were at least two other jurors I know about.”

“I have one more question, Mr. Bennett. Was Mr. Tolbert guilty?”

“He was guilty as sin.”

She patted Bennett on the shoulder, then climbed out of the patrol car. Bennett was guilty of something terrible, too—and he’d clearly betrayed the judicial system and his conscience because of it. But she could have compassion for him. Life wasn’t always black-and-white. Shades of gray followed everyone. She knew that oh so well.

“Well?” the officer standing outside asked.

Victoria nodded. “Thank you for bringing Mr. Bennett down from northern Virginia, officer. I’m finished with him. You can take him back now.”

As the patrol car took off, an overwhelming sense of pride surged through her. Wayne Bennett had just confirmed everything she and Eldridge had suspected for the last year. Everything Attorney General Delgado had believed as well. Someone very powerful was tampering with high-profile juries. But it was all about to stop—at least in Virginia.

She sighed heavily as two of her new bodyguards ushered her into the back of a black SUV. Now the real work began.

“Take me to Charlottesville,” she ordered as the driver pulled away from the side of the country road.

“I thought it was back to Goochland.”

“Not yet,” she answered. “I’ve got one more thing I need to finish tonight at Jury Town.”

Bus after bus roared through the gates of Jury Town and into the midnight darkness veiling the facility. When the legitimate jurors had disembarked and began heading inside, the long line of stand-ins began to board.

Victoria and Cameron stood side by side, watching the process.

“Incredible,” Cameron murmured as the last of the stand-ins boarded the last bus. “Everyone at the ceremony tonight actually thought those were the real jurors. No stories on the Internet, either. Nobody broke. You did it, Victoria.”

“Best two million dollars we spent. They got ten thousand each to be stand-ins, to make everyone think they were the real jurors.”

“An insurance policy,” he added. “I’ll give you credit. You think of everything.”

“I don’t know about that, Cameron. I don’t think I’m
that
smart.” She smiled wanly as the door on the last bus shut, and the convoy roared away toward Richmond with 196 stand-ins aboard. “But based on the number of bribe attempts the stand-ins reported to us in the last few weeks, I’m betting someone somewhere is going to be pretty upset when they hear about this.”