"Yeah, but the person who magnified that image is an FBI computer technician who'll testify under oath that the face wasn't altered."
"I can't wait to cross-examine that agent."
"Not in this state, counselor. You're not licensed. Also, I did some checking about your famous brother-in-law. The great defense attorney Lester Beauchamp is on vacation in Europe."
On the monitor, a green-tinted image showed a flat roof.
"The green comes from a night-vision camera," Mosely said. "At the Southern Belle. That hotel has a state-of-the-art surveillance system, also. The management even put a camera on the roof. Those are air-conditioning units you see in the background. And here comes our co-star, who spray-painted the surveillance cameras on the stairway to the roof but who didn't know about this other camera."
On the screen, silhouetted by the lights of the city, a far-away woman came into view. She knelt, removed a knife from her belt, and unscrewed its cap. Abruptly, the image was enlarged. The woman was clearly Jamie.
"No objections this time, counselor?" Mosely asked.
"I'll save them for court."
"You do that."
The group watched as Jamie pulled tools from the knife's handle and used them to unscrew an air-conditioning duct. Next, she flipped a switch on an object and put it inside. Finally, she used the tools from her knife to close the duct.
"The switch activated a timer on a tear-gas bomb," Mosely said. "The switch Cavanaugh tripped was on a smoke bomb. Naturally, he and his wife used latex gloves. No fingerprints. But seeing's believing, don't you think?"
"You already know my opinion about that," William responded.
"Well, here's my opinion. Cavanaugh or Stoddard or whoever you are, you got lucky. The trade minister who broke his leg needed a pin put in it. The one who had a heart attack is still in intensive care. The people whose cars hit the emergency vehicles are still in the hospital, also. You put four hotels out of business for the days it'll take to repair the damage. Millions of dollars have been lost."
"Now you sound like you belong to the Chamber of Commerce," William said.
"Counselor, shut your mouth. You have no legal authority here." Mosely stared at Cavanaugh. "You're under arrest."
"Don't do this," Cavanaugh said.
"You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you can't afford an attorney, one will be appointed--"
Cavanaugh turned toward Rutherford. "John, isn't there any way you can stop this?"
"The time for him to have stopped this was last night," Mosely interrupted. "Trusting civilians is one of the first things an agent learns not to do."
Chapter 2.
"Bankrupt?"
In a stark interview room in the New Orleans detention center, Cavanaugh and Jamie listened in disbelief to what William told them.
"You knew Global Protective Services was in precarious financial condition."
"That's why I ordered the cancellation of the planned Tokyo office and cutbacks at the others," Cavanaugh said.
"Both were good ideas, but the downsizing came too late. It's not your fault. Duncan overextended the corporation, and this is the consequence. In normal circumstances, the cash outflow and inflow might have been balanced enough for Global Protective Services to rebuild its strength. But the attack on the New York office and the tremendous resources you put into security for the conference tipped the balance. It's only a matter of weeks before GPS collapses."
"Couldn't you have waited a while longer before you gave us more bad news?" Jamie asked.
"Unfortunately, that wasn't an option. The judge set bail at a half million dollars for each of you. I tried to persuade the bail bondsman to accept GPS as equivalent value for the bond. But even a hurried examination of the corporation's finances was enough to show how wobbly its balance sheet is. If you want to be released on bail, you need to use your personal resources as collateral."
"Personal resources?" Cavanaugh seemed not to understand.
"Your Jackson Hole property," William said. "Because the government owns most of the valley and only four percent is available for private ownership, the area's land values keep surging. Even without a structure on it, your ranch is worth several million dollars."
Cavanaugh exhaled in what was nearly a gasp, not because of the worth of his home but because he suddenly realized how threatened he was. "Carl tried to kill us. He burned our home. He destroyed my business. Because of him, we'll probably go to prison, which means I'll lose my security status."
"Don't assume you're going to prison," William said. "Mosely arrested you because he's in line to be the Bureau's director. By refusing to ignore the laws you broke, he shows he can't be influenced, doesn't play favorites, or make exceptions. But a lot of people are on your side. Here are copies of as many national newspapers as I could find. USA Today, The Washington Post, The New York Times. You're on the front pages and, more important, the op-ed pages, where you're favorably presented as preventing an even greater disaster. You're the topic of every talk show. Every network called, asking for an interview."
"Hard to do an interview when we're in custody," Cavanaugh said, "not to mention, protectors shouldn't put their faces on national television programs. Removes our effectiveness, don't you think? Assuming we're ever allowed to work again."
"The point is, a lot of people understand the difficult choice you had to make."
"What matters is what the court thinks," Jamie said.
"What a jury thinks. Lester Beauchamp's on his way back from Europe. He's extremely persuasive. I believe there's a good chance you'll be exonerated."
"When? The trial might not happen for a year."
William's cell phone rang.
"One moment." He pulled the phone from his pocket and raised it to his ear. "William Faraday." He listened. "Yes." He listened further. "Yes." He concentrated. "That's very generous of you. . . . I agree--if things had gone the other way, you wouldn't have had the opportunity to be generous. You'll make the arrangements? . . . Thank you."