The Accused (7 page)

Hanover's eyes had widened, but he said nothing.

“So you see,” Marlowe continued, “that's the kind of guy I want representing me in a trial for my life—somebody who has successfully survived extreme, high-risk situations.”

“And Major Hanover could certainly help bring you up to speed with the Rules for Courts-Martial in the Uniform Code of Military Justice,” the colonel added.

After a moment's pause Major Hanover threw in a comment. “And for what it's worth, I'd appreciate the opportunity to work with you jointly on this defense.”

Marlowe was studying Will keenly, waiting for his response.

“All right,” the attorney said slowly. “Then I think we've got a team. Major Hanover, I'm going to rely on you for the procedural points. When can I get a complete copy of the discovery that prosecution trial counsel has in hand?”

“I've already got our office burning copies. There's a huge volume of paperwork here that I will get to you in the next day or so. Copies of all their evidence and investigations. Copies of investigation reports from the Naval Criminal Investigation Service, which was assigned to make the immediate military investigation before the charges and specifications were preferred. Also some DOD stuff. But there is a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” Will asked.

“This kind of problem,” Colonel Marlowe responded, passing a Department of Defense message to the attorney. “The communications center just delivered it to me today.”

Will studied the message, glancing at the top. It was from the Deputy Secretary of Defense, and was also copied to the General Counsel of the Department of Defense and to the Commandant, U.S.
Marine Corps. Will also noted that it was likewise copied to the Commander, U.S. Special Operations Command.

The correspondence ordered Colonel Marlowe
not
to discuss any element of the hostage rescue of the Secretary of Commerce with any person, including both civilian legal counsel and detailed military counsel. Marlowe was further instructed in the letter not to divulge any details or factual information on the nature of his unit—or any information related to the military configuration, composition, or “ultimate” mission of the unit to which he had been assigned at the time of the hostage rescue and subsequent counterterrorist operation.

After Will had studied the message he glanced over at his new client, who returned his gaze—expressionless except for one slightly raised eyebrow.

“So they're playing the national-security card on us,” Marlowe said.

“Where does that leave us?” the attorney asked. “How much information can we get now? I see us obtaining very little about the underlying facts. They've blindfolded us, and now they're walking us down a dark alley.”

“Here's the way I see this. Until we get some further direction on this, there's not much I can tell you about what went on down there in Mexico. These are my orders. And I'm obeying them.”

Will tapped his index finger on the letter. “I think we've got to get a clarification of the terms and conditions of this gag order.” Then he scanned down the message again to the last paragraph, which read,

You are to consider this a direct order from the Secretary of Defense. The restrictions placed on you under the terms of this letter are based upon matters of the highest national security.

After Will thought for another moment he continued. “I see the order in this message prohibiting you, Colonel Marlowe, from discussing anything with your defense counsel about the actual hostage rescue of the Secretary of Commerce. I'm presuming that would include things like logistics, the informants you used, and the actual mission itself. But, what happened in the Yucatán
after
the rescue—that's what you're charged with. While you were pursuing the terrorists.”

Then he turned back to Major Hanover. “Major, why don't you contact OSD and talk to someone in the general counsel's office? See
if you can get a clarification, in writing, that would permit us to go into the details of the terrorist pursuit that
followed
the hostage rescue.”

“Yes, sir, I agree,” Hanover replied. “I'll send a message this afternoon.”

The major rose to his feet, apologizing and indicating that he had to get to a hearing in five minutes.

Will and Hanover shook hands quickly as he grabbed his file and asked Marlowe for permission to leave.

Will still had the message from the Secretary of Defense in his hand. He lifted it up to Colonel Marlowe. “This national-security directive is going to make it awfully difficult for me to represent you.”

“Did you ever serve in the military?” Marlowe asked.

Will shook his head.

“But you do understand chain of command?”

The attorney nodded.

“Civilians are always criticizing the military because we're supposedly one-track-minded—always focused on following orders. But the thing about warfare is, it's total chaos. The only source of order in that chaos comes from the orders that are given…and the orders that are followed.”

Then the colonel's face took on a stern, thoughtful expression. “One of the other reasons I hired you, Mr. Chambers, is because I found out you were a man who walks with the Lord.”

Will reached into his brown leather briefcase and pulled out a pocket Bible. He lifted it up in his hand so that Marlowe could see it. “These are my marching orders,” he said with a smile. “And I do understand chain of command.”

“That's good,” the other man responded. And then his eyes took on more intensity as he spoke. “Joshua. Chapter one, verse eighteen—‘Anyone who rebels against your command and does not obey your words in all that you command him, shall be put to death.' That was God's battle plan for Joshua as he led the army into Canaan.”

The colonel rose to his feet. “Mr. Chambers, I had lawful orders from the President of the United States, through the Department of Defense, through the chain of command, to execute that mission in Mexico. That's exactly what I did. I consider that a command from God because God made me a marine—in
this country,
subject to the lawful
authority of this government under a system instituted by God. I followed those orders. And as a result…well…things went real bad.”

Marlowe grimaced, and grew quiet.

“Bad,” Will noted. “Meaning four people dead. Civilians. Nonterrorists.”

“Much worse,” his client said quietly. “The four dead were people I knew. Carlos Fuego, a friend of mine for many years, and his beautiful wife, and his two little children were shot to death—blown apart—as a result of my order to my unit.”

The attorney was unsure how to respond to that. For a moment, what Marlowe had just said—his brutally clear assessment that his orders had caused the death of an entire innocent family—struck home. Will didn't understand, at that early stage of the case, why things had gone so catastrophically wrong when Marlowe's special operations unit had attacked a small house in the Yucatán jungle. But something was very clear to him.

His client—for good or bad—was facing the fact that his actions had had fatal results. Why was Will unwilling—or unable—to do the same thing regarding Audra? Why couldn't he start dealing with his responsibility for her death—rather than trying to cram it into the farthest corner of his mind?

While the lawyer was still deep in thought, the colonel broke the silence.

“I'm not a murderer,” he said. “What happened in our attack…that was unintended…I had no idea Carlos and his family would get hit in there. But…” Marlowe rubbed the back of his neck and considered what he was going to say next. He walked over to the window and stared out.

“But I have to figure out how I live with that…” And then his voice trailed off as he added, “…and how I am going to finish my mission.”

Will rose to his feet. Marlowe turned, and the two looked at each other—eye-to-eye.

“And what mission would that be?”

“I can't divulge that,” the colonel replied.

He then shook hands firmly with Will, took the message back, put it back in its folder, and turned to leave.

“Colonel,” Will said as his client was preparing to depart.

Marlowe turned.

“In that same chapter, God also commanded something else. Joshua and his soldiers were commanded to also obey the entire law of Moses. Including the command not to commit murder.”

“Point taken,” the colonel said, and he then squared his shoulders and left the room.

Will grabbed his briefcase. As he was leaving the building he wondered who the real opponent in this case would be. The U.S. government bringing the charges? A zealous trial counsel prosecuting the case for the military? Or perhaps even the White House? As he crossed the road overlooking the Quantico compound, heading to his car, he wondered if there was yet another possibility. His most difficult opposition might not come from any of those sources.

Will was beginning to think that the ultimate battle might be with his own client.

10

W
ILL HAD GONE TO HIS OFFICE
in Monroeville, Virginia, early that morning.

However, he was having a hard time focusing as he sat at the desk. He stared at the papers in front of him. But he was thinking of something else.

He was still dealing with the aftermath of a dream he had had the night before. It had been about Audra.

The two of them had been together in a crowded room. Perhaps it had been a party of some kind. But he had been unable to hear what she was saying. Then a policeman had entered the room, smiling. Suddenly he had been aware that a gun was being pointed directly at his wife. He had tried to reach it, but his arms had felt as though they had been tied to his sides. His feet had been immovable, as if paralyzed. The police officer had been staring straight ahead—oblivious to the threat. The gun had fired—Audra had fallen back slowly, almost gracefully, with her arms outstretched—reaching out for something—or someone. Will had tried to scream, but no words had come out.

When he had awakened, he had been cloaked with a suffocating feeling of dread. At breakfast Fiona had said she had known he was dealing with something, but Will had shrugged it off. He'd decided not to tell Fiona about his dream. But she'd been able to see that it was gnawing at him, from the inside out.

Will looked again at the twelve-inch stack of documents on his desk that had been delivered from his military co-counsel at Quantico. It was time to get to work—regardless of how he felt.

His first task was to plow through the discovery production—the declassified documents that the government was willing to release. FBI agents and representatives of the Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA)
had spent a day with him at his office, questioning him and gathering background information. In order for him to get access to the full scope of documents in Marlowe's case, he had to receive a top-secret security clearance.

Yet he knew that, even with such a clearance, he might still be barred from reviewing key documents in light of the gag order that the Defense Department had placed on his client.

As he paged through the documents, Will collected them into three categories.

The first group seemed innocuous. These were the records contained in Marlowe's officer qualification record regarding his educational and military background, his adjustments in pay scale, and his promotions. There were hundreds of entries relating to his assignments to various bases in the early part of his career. He also noticed that the colonel had been married. There were papers verifying a divorce action filed by his wife, Kathy, some ten years before. He saw no evidence that his client had remarried.

In the second group of documents Will caught a glimpse of the bone-crushing, nerve-shattering training regimen Marlowe had undergone in his metamorphosis from a skilled marine into one of the world's most deadly special operations commandos.

To Will, a typical civilian, the training experience defied description. The whole thing looked like one long bizarre ritual of pain.

Marlowe had trained with First Special Forces Operational Detachment—Delta Force—in the rugged terrain of Camp Dawson, West Virginia.

The colonel also voluntarily submitted himself to the unimaginable rigors of the Navy Seals' BUD/S qualifying program—including its “drown-proofing” exercise (being thrown into an extra-deep pool with his hands tied behind his back) and “hell week”—marching, running, and dodging hazards for days on end, without sleep and while shivering in water-drenched utilities.

With the Army Rangers, he had crawled for weeks through the swamps of Georgia, pulling leeches off of his body, avoiding alligators, and sharing fetid black-water pools with snakes.

Marlowe had become an expert in every weapon produced by the American military, in many produced by the Russians, the Brits, the Europeans, and in a host of those peddled by underground arms dealers.

He had been schooled in several language groups, submitted himself as a “victim” to authentic prison-camp torture exercises, and experienced the bad end of advanced psychological warfare.