The Last Judgment (45 page)

“And as far as foreign sovereign immunity is concerned,” Will continued, “there is a well-known exception to the protections of such immunity. A tribunal can exercise jurisdiction over an official
of a foreign state as long as the purpose of that jurisdiction has to do with acts that
were not done
in the official capacity of such person's government position. That was the ruling in the
Estate of Ferdinand Marcos
case that I cited to this tribunal. In that case the court rejected sovereign immunity for President Marcos for alleged acts of torture and murder—ones that were done more for his own personal benefit than as an official act of his position as president of the Philippines…”

But Judge Lee was having a problem with that.

“I'm looking at your proffered reasons for questioning Minister Mullburn,” Lee said, “and—well, counsel, frankly, I am shocked. Very shocked. But more than that, you say you want to obtain evidence from Minister Mullburn about Israeli intelligence, what its computer logs showed about the Knights of the Temple Mount, and whether its computer system was possibly tampered with. And secondly, you actually propose to suggest that Minister Mullburn knows something about the source of the explosives and detonation system used to blow up the Temple Mount. You actually want to question Minister Mullburn about that?”

“I do,” Will said. “I have only two areas of inquiry for Mr. Mullburn. First, his knowledge about entries into the computer logs of the Israeli Mossad relating to the Knights of the Temple Mount. And secondly—” And with that, Will paused and took a quick breath. All three of the judges were leaning forward, wide-eyed.

“Secondly, his knowledge about—and possible complicity in—the providing of computer equipment and explosives materials used by the Knights in the Temple Mount bombings.”

This was the first time Nigel Newhouse had heard the true intent behind Will's subpoena to Mullburn. The barrister maintained a cool exterior, but inside he was wilting. Will Chambers, lead trial counsel for the defense, had in effect launched an official indictment of conspiracy to commit mass murder against the foreign minister of another nation—and not just any foreign minister, but against Warren Mullburn, the man who appeared
to be on the verge of achieving a major Middle East peace settlement.

Will scanned the faces of the three judges. Judge Lee Kwong-ju was staring at the table of New York lawyers. In spite of his expressed shock at the audacity of Will's intended questions to Mullburn, Will was counting on one thing—Lee had written in an international law journal about the need for jurisdiction by international tribunals over reluctant witnesses from other nations. In consideration of that, Will added another comment.

“Of course, the rules of this tribunal give it jurisdiction over witnesses from other nations,” Will said, “and in fact, the procedures adopted for this case were based on Rule 54 of the Rules of the International Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia—namely, that ‘The Trial Chamber may issue…such subpoenas…as may be necessary…for the conduct of trial…' ”

Lee leaned back in his chair.

Then Will looked at Judge Verdexler, who was sweeping his long gray hair back from his forehead. The attorney was counting on the Belgian's previously expressed position that his own supreme court should have been more aggressive in going after heads of state in war crimes cases. But Will didn't want to risk antagonizing him by appealing directly to that. Verdexler, he concluded, was the kind that should be left to form his own conclusion, rather than being backed into a corner.

That left only Judge Mustafa. Will knew he could not make a direct appeal to Mustafa's background as one of the framers of the Palestinian Constitution and an ardent supporter of the Palestinian Authority, as well as his background as a Muslim. That would be too obvious.

“The ultimate question here,” Will said, making his final point another way, “is whether this tribunal has the real authority it purports to have. Mr. Mullburn is here in Jerusalem and is available. My proffer of evidence shows a likelihood that he—and he alone—is the best one to give an answer regarding these profound issues. Mr. Mullburn's attorneys are saying that this tribunal
is impotent—incapable of bringing him to the witness booth and forcing him tell the truth of what he knows about the murder of hundreds of Muslims. But if they are right, that means that we and the Palestinian Authority may never know why the Temple Mount exploded, and why all those Muslims died that day.”

Judge Mustafa was eyeing Will closely. Then he reached over and turned off the microphone to the judges' bench so that the panel could deliberate in secrecy. All three turned their backs to the courtroom and began their discussion.

Gilead had a confused look on his face, and he bent over to his attorney and simply asked, “What do you think?” But Will shrugged. It was simply too close to call.

Nigel looked sympathetic, but Will could still decipher the real meaning behind the barrister's expression. It was the kind of look the passengers who were safely tucked in the lifeboats must have given to those left behind on the
Titanic
. Nigel and Will had developed a warm professional friendship, and the barrister simply didn't want to see Will, desperate to prove his client's innocence, committing professional suicide.

As for Mira, she studiously avoided Will's gaze during the arguments and the ensuing deliberations.

After some fifteen minutes, all three judges swung their chairs around. Judge Mustafa clicked on the microphone.

The small gang of New York lawyers, who had been milling around in the courtroom, scrambled back to their seats at the prosecution's counsel table.

Judge Mustafa cleared his throat.

“In the matter of the motion to quash the subpoena,” he said, “that motion is denied. Gentlemen, please bring Minister Mullburn into the courtroom and escort him into the witness booth.”

Then Mustafa turned to Will. “We will allow Foreign Minister Mullburn to be asked only a very few questions by you, Mr. Chambers. So you had better make them good.”

Nigel pushed his notepad over to Will.

It read simply, “Out of the skillet, but into the fire?”

63

W
ARREN
M
ULLBURN, BILLIONAIRE
, genius by anyone's standard of measurement, and Foreign Minister of the Republic of Maretas, was sitting in the glass witness booth. He was wearing a perfectly tailored dark-blue suit, a light-blue silk shirt, and a tie with an abstract geometric floral pattern. The tie had been personally designed for Mullburn by artist José de Vargos, a cubist painter.

Mullburn was tan, and as he sat in the stand he smiled pleasantly, appearing rested and at ease. The global financial titan had reason to look confident. In breaks during his shuttle diplomacy between Israel and the Palestinians, he had managed to host an international economic summit in Singapore. His move toward forging the Global Economic Alliance, linking together transnational corporations, had been fabulously successful. Mullburn had successfully sold the idea of an alliance as a necessary defensive reaction to the attempts by the United Nation and the European Union attempt to impose operating standards on all international businesses.

The cartel of megacorporations, loosely headed up now by Mullburn, currently spanned the areas of transportation, communications, computer, satellite, and aerospace technology, international banking, mining, and of course, petroleum products. His own share of the world oil market now seemed secure since the Republic of Maretas had recently been permitted a seat in OPEC. But after all, the little island republic's oil interests
were simply a front for Mullburn's now well-established Mexico oil bonanza, and his more recent successful bid for oil production in the Black Sea and in Siberia.

In the two hours before Mullburn had walked into the courtroom, there had been a flurry of legal maneuvers from his New York lawyers. First they tried to delay his testimony, though he was admittedly in the witness waiting room just down the hall. Then they moved for the panel to reconsider their ruling that Mullburn must give some limited testimony. Their last effort was to request that Mullburn testify in the open courtroom rather than in the witness booth, arguing that “his high official position as Foreign Minister would be demeaned by giving testimony in such a cramped little venue.”

But the judges, all wanting to move the trial along, denied the requests.

Now Will was at the podium in the courtroom, gazing at Warren Mullburn, ready to begin his questioning. The Virginia trial lawyer's first task was to put aside all of the tortured history between the two men and focus on the task at hand. To disregard what Will believed had been Mullburn's hidden conspiracy to destroy, first Will, and then his wife, Fiona, in the past. He needed to ignore the all-too-coincidental attacks on his family that had happened during two of his cases—two different lawsuits. But in both cases Will's pursuit of justice had produced evidence that had tainted the billionaire and frustrated some of his economic schemes. For Will, knowing Mullburn as he did, the cause-and-effect relationship was too close to be coincidental.

He glanced down at his outline of questions, then looked Mullburn in the eye.

“Mr. Mullburn, we meet again,” he said calmly.

Mullburn gave a smile but did not respond.

“I know your time is valuable,” Will continued, “and so I intend to be brief.”

His eyes quickly glanced over two papers on the podium. First, the intelligence-research memo generated from Mike Michalany's
contacts with the FBI. And second, the corresponding memo from Tiny Heftland, outlining his meeting with Israel's Mossad. Michalany and Tiny had painstakingly scouted out the opposing team.

Now it was Will's time to put the ball into play. He would start with a number of fastballs.

“Within the past year you have purchased a controlling share in oil production companies in Russia—Yukos and Sibneft—correct?”

“You are correct,” Mullburn said in a booming and deliberate cadence.

“The
World Financial Times
says you have had many personal telephone contacts with Secretary Lazenko in the Russian Federation—have you?”

“That is also correct.”

“In your dealings with the former Soviet-bloc countries, you have come to learn that there is an ongoing problem over there with criminal syndicates?”

“Yes. And there is also an ongoing problem with criminal syndicates in New York, Baghdad, and Mexico City, Mr. Chambers. And I would imagine you may even have criminal elements in the pastoral hills of the Commonwealth of Virginia, where you come from.”

Judges Verdexler and Mustafa smiled at that.

“Secretary Lazenko, in a statement given to a Moscow newspaper, mentioned the problem with contraband weapons and explosives being smuggled out of the Russian Federation countries by criminal elements and sold on the black market. Would you dispute that?”

“I would have nothing to contradict that. It's a sad fact.”

“One of your degrees was in mechanical engineering, with an emphasis on geophysical location of petroleum?”

“Yes,” Mullburn said with a sigh.

“Do you know what Semtex is?”

Mullburn paused for only the briefest millisecond and then bulleted his answer out.

“No.”

“If I told you it was a substance made in Slovakia, would that assist in refreshing your memory?”

“No. I would still have no idea what it is.”

“In its uncolored form it has a whitish appearance. That doesn't help?”

“No,” Mullburn said showing only the slightest irritation.

“But in light of your engineering degree and your considerable knowledge in international matters, can you explain why you would not know what Semtex is?”

“How can I explain why I don't know what I don't know?” He chuckled to himself at that.

Zayed was on his feet, objecting to the last question as “badgering the witness.” Judge Mustafa sustained it.

“Ever present in a meeting or discussion of any kind where Semtex was mentioned?”

“No.”

“Well, don't engineers use explosives in both construction and demolition projects?”

“Occasionally. Yes. Fine. They do. So?”

“Well, given that engineering is your background, and that you own oil companies and vast exploration projects, I would think that the use of explosives—Semtex in particular—would have come up in certain conversations among your engineers.”

“Plastic explosives may be the force majeure in terrorist attacks, Mr. Chambers, such as in this case,” Mullburn said with a smug smile, “but civil engineers have much more conventional means of demolition. So to answer your question, no, I cannot recall the mention of Semtex in recent conversations—”

Will paused. The three judges had all caught that, Will was sure of it. But to make sure he asked the court reporter to read back the answer and have all of the translators repeat it too.

They began to repeat Mullburn's answer, starting with “Plastic explosives may be the force majeure—” And at that point Will asked them to stop.