The Last Judgment (27 page)

Will had not expected an exuberant reception from the court-appointed Palestinian counsel, and he was not disappointed.

At the end of the day, after Will glanced at his watch, he packed up some of his files, threw them into his briefcase, and drove home.

He noticed some of the cars of Fiona's recording team parked in front of the recording studio. He pulled over there and, inside, slipped into the recording booth.

“Fiona, I want you to try that again,” the board engineer was saying. “That last vocal sounded a little bright. I want to soften it up at my end. So let's try it again…”

Will gave a quick wave to his wife, who was standing in front of the microphone with one hand on each headphone. She glanced up at Will, gave him a quick wave, but threw him only a half-smile.

After slipping out of the studio, he drove over to the house and trudged into the living room.

He wasn't hungry and, glancing at his watch, saw that he had two hours to kill before he had to pick up Andrew after his practice.

Will clicked on the television and flipped through the channels, finally landing on a talk show discussing Gilead's case.

A representative of the Evangelical Coalition was up against the president of the American Secular Society. The latter was arguing that the Amahn case proved one thing—that religious fanatics, and particularly Christian religious fanatics, needed to be scrutinized regarding their potential for inciting violence through their “apocalyptic and prophetic nonsense.”

His opponent from the EC disagreed and tried to point out that the free exercise of religion under the First Amendment and the principle of religious tolerance should require us to be very careful before we start censuring people, even religious extremists, because of the content of their religious speech.

Will had had enough. He clicked off the television and sat in the quiet of the great room, thinking about some of the messages he had received since the announcement of his defense of Gilead Amahn had hit the news media.

He had received a raft of harassing telephone calls and e-mails accusing him of collaborating with a dangerous terrorist.

He had also had phone calls from legal counsel from several Christian evangelical and mainline denominational organizations. Each of the phone calls was courteous but highly cautious. Most were seeking information about Mr. Amahn's true theological position. Will, just as courteously, declined to discuss Mr. Amahn's case until such time as his client authorized him to make a public statement.

Will was aware also that two Christian legal organizations had offered to meet with his client to discuss the possibility of representing him. But Gilead had refused both invitations, indicating that he was waiting for contact first from the lawyer of his choice—Will Chambers.

Somewhere, Will was hearing his cell phone ring.

He strolled over to his briefcase, opened it, retrieved the phone, and checked the number on the screen. It was a call from Jack Hornby.

“Jack, how are you?” Will asked after picking up.

“So, now that you're entering into the jaws of the beast,” Hornby said sardonically, “are you going to give me an exclusive on the Gilead Amahn case?”

Will chuckled.

“Sure. When the timing is right.”

“Okay. Just checking to make sure you're still kicking. And you haven't forgotten me,” Hornby shot back. “Keep your powder dry and your musket loaded…”

Will clicked off and began to page through some press clippings in his file. Then, glancing at his watch, he decided he needed to head out to pick up Andy.

Pulling away from the house, he saw Fiona waving to her recording staff as they climbed into their cars. As Will headed down the driveway away from the house, he could see Fiona walking toward it as he looked in his rearview mirror.

That glimpse, for Will, was sadly symbolic. He and Fiona seemed, at least for the present, to be walking in opposite directions.

40

“W
ILL, BUDDY
,”
THE VOICE AT THE OTHER END
of the telephone said, “this is your roving private investigator calling.”

“Tiny, how are you?”

“I'm still surviving,” Tiny Heftland replied. “It's been a while since I've been over here in the Middle East. Reminds me of the good old days—when I was doing security detail for the State Department.”

“What do you have for me?”

“Well, let's put it this way—on the one hand I've got some bad news—and on the other hand, I've got even worse news. Which one do you want first?”

“You're always so optimistic,” Will said. “Any way you want to give it to me. Hit me.”

“Well, first of all, it took me a full day to work my way through the red tape at Ramallah in order to get permission to see your guy. I had your written authorization, of course. So I finally get in to see this Gilead Amahn—and the first thing the guy does is, he comes up and gives me a big hug, like I'm family or something…because he found out I was coming from your office. This guy really thinks you're the greatest thing since pizza delivery…”

“How did the interview go?”

“Well…it didn't.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just like I said. I go in. The guy's all smiles. Gives me a big hug. Goes on and on about what a great guy you are. Terrific lawyer…but then he says he can't talk to me.”

“What? Why?”

“He didn't give me any reason. Says he's got to talk to you in person. I try to finesse him a little—tell him I'm your eyes and ears. I'm your advance man. I'm the point man. I'm using every angle I can. And he's not buying it. He's just sitting there smiling, shaking his head saying no, no way, not going to talk until you and he are sitting across the table together. But he did say one thing…”

“And what was that?”

“He sure is happy—he's happy as a loon on a lake that you're representing him. For what that's worth…”

“How did he look? Are they treating him okay?”

“Oh…you know, at the time of his arrest, I think the Palestinians roughed him up a little. He's got a black eye. Some bruises. But all in all, it doesn't look like they're hanging him by his fingernails or anything like that. So in that regard, he ought to count himself lucky. But he didn't look too good.”

“Is he sick or something?”

“I don't think so. He didn't say that. He said they're giving him three squares a day. Although he said the menu's pretty limited. I'm sure that's the understatement of the last ten thousand years. But—he just looks really whipped. I don't know what he looked like before they put him in the detention center. But, you know—circles under his eyes. Drawn. Looking nervous. That kind of thing.”

“Well, I suppose if you're arrested in the Middle East for committing mass murder at an Islamic mosque that's the hottest hot spot in the world and you're facing the death penalty, it's going to take a terrible toll.”

“Oh, yeah. Big time. Big time!”

“So what's the rest of your cheery news?”

“I just shipped off, via the computer at the International Palestinian Court, a huge download of electronic discovery for you that was ordered by the Court for both sides to exchange. Stuff like the investigative reports. Some of the forensic material on the device used to blow up the top of the Mount. Some of the court documents from when that English dude was representing Amahn. It should be coming into your office any second.”

“You said you had worse news…”

“Yeah. Well…let me get my notes in front of me. Okay—get ready to twist and shout. First of all. This is from the office of the public prosecutor for the Palestinian Authority. They say they've got proof that Gilead Amahn previously traveled to Jerusalem and Jordan prior to the trip when the Temple Mount blew up.”

“I already knew that,” Will replied.

“Well, maybe. But I bet you didn't know this. That during this prior trip to Jerusalem—I guess it was last year some time—he was in the middle of a Bible study attended by several members of the Knights of the Temple Mount. So right there, you've got a prior connection going back at least a year between your guy and a group of those cult zombies.”

“What else did you learn?”

“They got several statements from witnesses, including a statement from an Israeli police officer who was right there watching Gilead Amahn seconds before the explosion went off. Supposedly, your guy was doing his preaching gig…really working up a head of steam…and then, suddenly, he gives this signal—he says that the Temple Mount needs to get blown up. And then, all of a sudden, KABLOOM—bodies and buildings and everything else start flying in the air when the bombs go off.”

“Do you have anything positive for me?”

“Not really. You didn't let me finish. I've got some more incoming mortar fire for you. Before the attack, did you know that Gilead had visited Cairo?”

“Yeah. As a matter of fact, he called me. I helped get him out of jail when he was rounded up there for preaching on a public street.”

“Do you know why he visited Cairo?”

“Not really. That was a little bit foggy. What's the deal?”

“Well, according to a statement that they've got on file here from the Ministry of Religious Affairs for the Palestinian Authority, the Knights of the Temple Mount are kind of a splinter group from the Druze religion. Sort of a combination of a bunch of different Middle Eastern religions. Anyway, they were predicting that some kind of messiah would show up in Cairo, Egypt. And guess what? The exact day and place where these cult dudes were looking for the appearance of a messiah—that's when Gilead Amahn shows up. In this really prominent public square in Cairo. And he starts beating his chest and doing his preaching thing—and practically starts a riot there. Some coincidence, huh?”

Will, now deep in thought, didn't respond.

“You still there, buddy?” Tiny asked.

“Yeah, just thinking about something. What else did you uncover?”

“Well, last but not least—the reports from the Palestinians say that just before the bombing took place, he was walking through Jerusalem. He attracted this big mob. They're swarming around him like he's some kind of rock star, you know, and he's smiling and shaking hands and doing his thing like the high holy man, like…you know, there was this movie I saw. What was the name of it? A really, really old black-and-white movie. It was about this holy guy who sat up on the top of a mountain. And everybody's coming to him asking him when the world's going to end. That kind of stuff. He's just smiling back giving them all this good religious vibes stuff. Anyway, it's like that. You know, like the Big Kahuna. The High Yogi. I think it took place up in the Himalayas—”

“The movie was called
Lost Horizon,
” Will said. “And he was called the High Lama.”

“Oh yeah, yeah. Exactly. It was on about two in the morning one night I couldn't sleep. And I start watching the thing. Pretty interesting…”

“Actually, I was thinking of a different comparison,” Will said. “About another entrance into Jerusalem. Two thousand years ago.”

“Oh, yikes! Of course! Wow! No kidding! You know, I saw a part of that movie too. Or some of it. I think. I'm not really sure.”

“Tiny,” Will asked, “how long do you and I go back?”

“Wow! Oh, man. A long time.”

“Well, I must have really blown it. Because I don't think I ever got you to read any of the Gospel stories in the Bible about the life of Jesus.”

“I'm really more of a video guy,” Tiny said. “I read stuff only when I have to. PI-type stuff. Police reports. Autopsies. Public records. Death certificates. Credit reports. Missing persons reports…”

“I get the picture,” Will said with a chuckle. “Okay. What I'm going to do is one of these days I'll get you a video—an accurate portrayal of the life of Christ. But you've got to promise you'll watch it. Okay?”

“You got it, general.” And then he added sarcastically, “So, general, where do I go from here? Not that I'm complaining about staying in this fleabag hotel here on the West Bank, where the only thing on TV is some dude singing and chanting…and then some angry-looking dude giving a lecture in Arabic…then some politico comes on waving his arms and yelling…and then another dude comes on the TV singing and chanting again…so, where do we go from here?”

“The last time I was in Jerusalem, working on the
Reichstad v. MacCameron
case, I developed a contact. I'm sure the guy was a member of the Mossad, though he never admitted as much. Good man. He helped me. He's got a little ancient artifacts shop in the Jewish Quarter of the Old City. His name is Nathan Goldwaithe. Look him up. See what you can find out about the Israeli side of the investigation into the bombing. See if you can get some leads within the Jerusalem police, the IDF, or even the Mossad. Find
out what the unofficial Israeli take is on the bombing, the suspects, the Knights of the Temple Mount, even the forensics issue.”