"I was ordered by the state attorney general to prepare the indictment and legal case against Alex Konevitch."

"He's a wanted man in Russia, I take it?"

"Number one on our most wanted list."

"Do you believe he's guilty?"

"That would be a matter for our courts to decide."

"But Mr. Konevitch claims your courts are unfair." "Ridiculous. Under the old communist system, maybe. We are a democracy now. Our courts are every bit as judicious and fair as yours."

"So he would be allowed to hire a lawyer?"

"As many as he can afford. If he can't afford any, the state will appoint one."

"He would be allowed to present evidence on his own behalf?"

"Just like here, Mr. Caldwell. Konevitch will enjoy the full benefit of innocence until proven guilty."

"Are you aware that some Americans have a poor impression of your legal system?"

"Are you aware that some Russians have a poor impression of yours?"

"Touche." Caldwell decided to step out on a limb, directed his gaze at Alex, then asked, "Why would Mr. Konevitch feel he can't get an honest shake in Russia?"

The Russian also directed his gaze at Alex, who nodded politely but otherwise appeared indifferent.

"Maybe an honest shake, as you call it, is the last thing he wants."

Caldwell paused and waited for the loud but inevitable objection from MP Jones. He had led this witness. He had openly encouraged an act of naked conjecture-how could the chief prosecutor possibly know what Alex was thinking?

Silence. MP sat in his seat, doodling on a legal pad. He looked bored out of his mind. Beside him, Alex appeared to be studying MP's doodles, as transfixed as he would be by a da Vinci or a Picasso.

"Thank you," Caldwell said to his witness, then studied the ceiling a moment as though he needed a little help from the Lord to remember his next point. He snapped his fingers. "Oh, another question. The money Mr. Konevitch stole? Did you ever find it?"

The chief prosecutor looked at Alex. "Some of it, yes. We tracked a few million to a bank in Bermuda."

Another of Caldwell's aides hustled over and shoved a sheet of paper at the witness.

Caldwell asked with construed curiosity, "Would this be the account information?" What else could it be?

After a careful examination, "Yes, this is it."

"How much is currently in the account?"

"Two and half million dollars."

"That's it?"

"Yes, that's all."

"I thought he stole 250 million dollars. Where's the remainder of Konevitch's money?"

"It's not Konevitch's money, sir."

"No?" A look of surprise. "Well, whose money is it?"

"It's money he robbed from poor people in Russia. They trusted him and are now bankrupt. We won't know where he stashed it all until we get him home and he confesses. Only then can those poor people be repaid."

Caldwell let that fester a moment-all those miserable victims back home starving and freezing while they waited for Alex to give them back their money-then said, "Are you familiar with a company named Orangutan Media?"

"I most certainly am."

"How are you familiar with this company?"

"It became the subject of police interest a few years ago."

"How did this come about?"

"The result of a tip from a source inside one of our crime syndicates. A Chechen mob, a nasty group involved in a number of criminal activities, from kidnapping to drugs to murder."

"Sounds like our Mafia."

"You should be so lucky. Compared to these people, your Mafia's a Boy Scout group. After the tip, a wiretap was installed and the police heard Konevitch arranging payments and transfers of cash. He was using Orangutan as a front to launder syndicate money."

"What was the nature of Orangutan Media?"

"Reputedly it was an advertising company. And it was established in Austria to evade our scrutiny. The syndicate money came into the company under the guise of client contracts. Orangutan turned around and gave the same money right back to the syndicate as subcontractors. It was all very neat."

"It sounds quite elaborate."

"Not really. It's a very common shell game. Child's play for a sophisticated financial mastermind like Konevitch."

"And you have Mr. Konevitch on tape discussing these arrangements with a syndicate?"

"Right there on your table," he said, pointing at the defense table. "The taped discussions are in Russian, of course, so I left them back in Russia. They would be incomprehensible to you, anyway. I therefore turned over paper transcripts to your people."

"Yes, you did." The aide took the cue and hauled a bunch of papers to the bench. "We introduce these translated transcripts," Caldwell said very slowly, with another flash of teeth. "As well, I submit statements collected by state prosecutors from a number of Orangutan Media employees confessing to the schemes inside the company."

He held his breath and waited in anticipation for Jones to jerk out of his chair. Without the tapes there was no way to verify that the written transcripts were accurate, or indeed whether any tapes even existed. There had to be an objection this time-a noisy protest infused with enraged anger would follow, he was sure.

In fact, Jones looked ready to jump out of his seat before Alex reached over and grabbed his arm. Alex briefly whispered something into his ear. MP relented, relaxed back into his seat, and went back to doodling on a yellow legal pad.

Caldwell silently congratulated himself. A brilliant move, and he couldn't believe he got away with it. Having the chief prosecutor in the witness chair obviously nullified the discrediting strategy Jones had pulled off in immigration court. Welcome to the big leagues, pal.

Caldwell triumphantly announced, "I'm through with this witness," and returned to his seat.

Judge Willis peered down from his perch at MP. Jones was still focused intensely on his yellow legal pad, which now was cluttered with aimless squiggles and shapes. "Mr. Jones, do you wish to cross-examine?"

MP looked up. "What?… Uh, no, thank you, Your Honor." "You're sure?"

"Yes, quite sure."

Willis rubbed his eyes for a moment. "You heard what the witness presented?"

"I did."

"And you're sure you don't want to ask him a few questions?"

"Very sure."

"Is this your first time in federal court, Mr. Jones?"

"Yes sir. Very first. It's much nicer than immigration court. Quite lovely."

"I'm glad it appeals to your tastes. Do you understand how our procedures work?"

"I believe I do, Your Honor."

"Once I release this witness, he cannot be recalled."

"Then please do it quickly. I don't know about you, but he was becoming tiresome, Your Honor."

This caused a twitter of laughter among the reporters.

His Honor did not appear to get the joke. "I advise you, Mr. Jones, to think harder about questioning the witnesses than trying to entertain us with humor."

"Can I be blunt, Your Honor?"

"You can try, Mr. Jones."

"I don't wish to waste your time."

"To the contrary, Mr. Jones, I'm here to listen to both sides. It's an adversarial system, by design. I encourage you to participate."

"Well, I don't want to encourage him to tell more lies."

"I see. The witness is released."

Caldwell rose to call his next witness, but the judge put up a hand. "Hold on a moment." His eyes turned to Alex. "Can you please rise?"

Alex stood.

Judge Willis leaned far forward on his elbows. "Are you aware your attorney has no experience in federal jurisdictions?"

"In fact, he emphasized the same thing last week."

"I'm sure you're in a great hurry to get out of prison, Mr. Konevitch. I'm just wondering if this hearing might be premature."

"On the contrary, my arrest and imprisonment were premature, Your Honor."