The Last Judgment (19 page)

“One of the wire services reported today,” a Fox News reporter said, “that a court-appointed counsel has been provided to Mr. Amahn by the Palestinian Criminal Tribunal. Is that true?”

“Yes, I believe it is,” Newhouse answered. “When the UN and the European Union, aided by the United States and Great Britain, helped to create the Palestinian International Criminal Tribunal specifically for the purpose of trying those responsible for the attack on the Temple Mount, that was one of the agreed-to items in the protocols for the tribunal. That is, the provision of a court-appointed defense amicus curiae for each person charged with criminal complicity in the Temple Mount bombings
if they lacked the funds for their own counsel or if, for some other reason, they declined legal representation.”

“Do you know anything about the attorney who is going to be provided for Mr. Amahn?”

“I heard today, just within an hour of my speaking to you, that the Palestinian Criminal Tribunal has appointed a Ms. Mira Ashwan to act as amicus curiae counsel for Mr. Amahn.”

“Why was this Ms. Ashwan selected for representation?” a
Newsweek
reporter followed up.

“As I understand it,” Newhouse explained, “the tribunal considered Ms. Ashwan as someone who has several points of commonality with Mr. Amahn. First of all, Ms. Ashwan is Egyptian-born. As you know, Mr. Amahn himself was born and raised in Cairo. Also, Ms. Ashwan is a Coptic Christian Arab. And Mr. Amahn is of Arab descent and professes to be an evangelical Christian. So those, among other reasons, I suppose, provide the background for the selection of Ms. Ashwan. Though I suspect Mr. Amahn is still desirous of obtaining his own personal defense counsel.”

“What are the charges that are going to be brought against Mr. Amahn by the tribunal?”

“You have to understand, no charges have yet been filed. But I have also been informed by the prosecutor for the Palestinian International Criminal Tribunal that they are going to be utilizing a specific substantive criminal offense, formulated somewhat on American antiterrorism laws. I understand Mr. Amahn will be charged with multiple counts of causing the murder of others through the providing of material support for a terrorist organization.”

“The Knights of the Temple Mount? That's the terrorist organization?” another reporter yelled out.

“Presumably, yes. I suppose that the tribunal will, as they have promised, name the Knights of the Temple Mount as the terrorist organization and will charge Mr. Amahn as being its spiritual and tactical leader.”

“Can you tell us anything about Mr. Amahn's condition in detention?”

“I can say this,” Newhouse replied. “Mr. Amahn is in remarkably good spirits. As far as I can see, he is being treated humanely in the Palestinian detention facility at Ramallah, where he is presently imprisoned.”

Newhouse surveyed the flurry of hands and identified one final reporter.

“One last question,” he noted, glancing at his watch.

“Is there any chance this American lawyer—this Will Chambers—will change his mind regarding representation of Amahn?”

Newhouse paused.

“I can't speak for Mr. Chambers. You'll have to ask him.”

29

T
HAT DAY
W
ILL
C
HAMBERS HAD
a morning hearing in federal court in Washington, DC. So when Jack Hornby, Senior Bureau Chief for American Press International, made good on his comment to Will that he wanted a meeting, the two decided on lunch not far from the Federal Court Building on Constitution Avenue.

Hornby suggested Old Ebbets Grill. It was one of those Washington eateries full of etched glass, mahogany, and brass—an institution among the Capitol Hill crowd. For Will, it held a lot of memories—most of them not good—from back when he was an out-of-control drinker. On more than one occasion the proprietor had had to politely ask him to leave.

When Will got there at twelve-thirty, Hornby was already seated in a booth, checking his voice mail from his cell phone.

“Counselor,” the newspaperman said with a grin, extending his hand to shake Will's. “Thanks for meeting with me. And, just so you know, lunch is on me…”

“Of course,” Will said with a smile, “that's why I came.”

“Now you can't take that for granted,” Hornby replied. “Back when I was a reporter for the
Washington Herald,
they gave us almost no expense account for that kind of thing.”

“Even for Pulitzer Prize–winning reporters like you?” Will replied nonchalantly, nodding his thanks to the waitress who was filling his water glass.

“Yes, I did win one of those, didn't I?” Hornby said sardonically. “I'm glad somebody around this town remembers that. But
that was a long time ago. A lot of water has gone under the bridge since then…”

After Will had ordered a Caesar salad and Hornby had asked for the mahi mahi special, he opened the door to what was really on the bureau chief's mind.

“I appreciate you coming to my father-in-law's funeral. That was very thoughtful of you. I know Fiona was touched.”

“Don't mention it. And don't think I attended just because I wanted an opportunity to get a story out of you…”

“I appreciate that,” Will said with a smile.

“Which is interesting, because it leads me to the reason you and I are sitting here having this friendly little chat. Of course, before your Resurrection Fragment case—if I can call it that—I knew you a little bit from some of your civil-liberties cases. But when I dove into the
Reichstad v. MacCameron
lawsuit and your defense of Angus MacCameron, it was my first up-close and personal with you. And also it was my first introduction to a guy who, at first, I considered a bit player in your legal drama.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. He was there, sort of lurking in the background. He was the odd man out. A celebrity oddity, admittedly, but an oddity nevertheless. And then the more I dug into the background, the more I realized this guy was cut from a whole different piece of cloth. In other words, I decided that—continuing with my fabric metaphor—he was a whole bizarre tapestry himself…”

“Who are you talking about?” Will suspected where Hornby was heading.

“The world's filthiest-rich man,” Hornby said with a sardonic smile. “I never really got a chance to do a feature piece on Warren Mullburn back then. But I kept my notes. Every good newspaperman does. And so I've followed him. I've watched him. Not just the stuff on the news—I've continued to do my own spadework on the guy over the years.”

Hornby finished the martini he'd ordered and put the glass down on the table with a flourish.

“You see, some people collect things. Stamps. Antiques. My mother had this little ceramic bunny rabbit collection. I don't know what they were called. Little rabbits in those cute little poses with coats and hats on—that kind of thing.”

“And you?”

“I collect information on Warren Mullburn. In addition to the work I do at API, they let me do freelance writing on the side. I've been hired to do a cover piece on Mullburn for
Vanity Fair
. And I'm not talking about just a puff piece—I want to blow the roof off. Literally. I think you know what I mean…”

“So where do I fit in?” Will asked, as the waitress set down their plates on the starched white-linen tablecloth.

Hornby smiled at the waitress but waited until she had left before he resumed.

“So here's the skinny on all this,” Hornby said in a hushed but intense voice.

Then he paused, took his notepad out, and pulled out a blank piece of paper. In the middle he drew a circle. Then he drew an arrow from the edge of the paper, pointing toward the circle.

“This arrow,” he continued, “this is point number one. It takes us back…way back to your handling of the lawsuit of Dr. Albert Reichstad against Angus MacCameron and his archaeological magazine,
Digging for Truth.
Warren Mullburn was funding Reichstad's research center and was therefore—at least indirectly—behind the so-called discovery of the Resurrection Papyrus. Obviously, if that two-thousand-year-old fragment had actually disproved the resurrection of Christ, it would have been of immense value to the Muslims. But what I later found out was that Mullburn's ultimate goal was to make inroads into OPEC and bolster his own oil interests.

“So, that's the first arrow here.” Then, taking a few bites of his mahi mahi, he quickly launched into his next point.

“Okay, so you defend Angus MacCameron against the defamation suit Reichstad filed and in the process debunk Reichstad's
theories—but also in the process you stumble onto the seamy side of Warren Mullburn's dealings.”

Hornby then drew a second arrow from a different edge of the paper, pointing, like the other, directly toward the empty circle in the middle.

“So this brings us to our second point—the second arrow here. I was getting some bits and pieces of data to the effect that Mullburn had used his wealth and influence to push the White House to broker a large arms deal with several Arab countries. My guess is that Undersecretary of State Kenneth Sharptin was working on the inside with Mullburn to illegally force the arms deal. But something happened…I figure it was when you were interviewed by the FBI and told them what you'd discovered about Mullburn. So, bingo, a grand-jury investigation—and when that hits the fan, Sharptin decides to drink a highball laced with Seconal and ends up sleeping the Big Sleep.”

Hornby then drew a third arrow pointing to the empty circle.

“Now, point number three. In the grand jury investigation, Mullburn is not listed as an official target. But the Justice Department still issues a witness subpoena for him to testify. Mullburn hightails it out of town, vacating his massive Nevada desert compound, leaving behind very little except the empty mansion and the dead body of his personal bodyguard.”

“All this history,” Will said, “is very interesting, Jack. And you and I have gone over this before. But I'm not quite sure what this has to do with me now—”

“Hold on now,” Hornby replied, bringing his hands up in the air like a referee in a boxing match. “Don't get ahead of me here. Stick with me—which brings us to our fourth arrow.”

And with that Hornby drew yet another arrow.

“So the Department of Justice tries to extradite Mullburn from Switzerland. However, some very reliable sources have told me that Mullburn had an accomplice on Capitol Hill who was keeping an eye on DOJ's legal steps for him. Now I ask you, who might his contact have been?”

Will shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“Does ‘Senator Jason Bell Purdy' ring a bell?”

Now Will stopped eating. He put down his fork, folded his hands in front of him, and leaned over the table.

“As you know…I have some history with Purdy. At least before he got kicked out of the Senate. But what you're telling me about his connection with Mullburn is new information…”

“Of course it is,” Hornby said with glee. “You may be a great trial lawyer, but what kind of news reporter would I be if I didn't have the real scoop on all the nasty dealings here in Washington, DC?”

And with that, Hornby toasted himself with his glass.

30

“L
IKE YOU SAY
,” J
ACK
H
ORNBY CONTINUED
, “you had a history with Jason Bell Purdy. I know all about your case down in Georgia, where you exposed his corrupt financial dealings. But that's not the end of it…”

Hornby then drew a fifth arrow pointing to the circle in the middle of the piece of paper.

“Purdy leaves the Peachtree State and goes to Washington, DC as a new senator, all right. Just about that time a decorated Marine colonel, a United States special-ops guy by the name of Caleb Marlowe, leads an ill-fated attack on terrorists down in the jungles of Mexico. You defend Marlowe against war-crimes charges—first in a court-martial. But then, in a weird twist of fate, end up being subpoenaed to appear before that dog-and-pony-show excuse of a subcommittee of Senator Purdy.”

“Yeah,” Will said. “I did not find that hearing a pleasant experience.”

“No, I suppose not,” Hornby replied with a sarcastic chuckle. “But I have to tell you that you did a whole lot better against Purdy than you had any idea—in fact, in my humble opinion, you made mincemeat out of him.

“That brings us to our sixth arrow here,” he said, and drew his last arrow pointing to the circle.

“By then, Mullburn is quickly escalating from oil magnate to mega oil titan with his new petroleum exploration project in Mexico. He wants to capitalize on dwindling oil resources versus the increased petroleum demand that has just been reported by
the Energy Department. The way I see it, Mullburn figures that when Mexico files its complaint against America's military hero, Colonel Marlowe, relating to that Mexican jungle incident, useful pressure could be brought to bear against the United States.”