“It’s Dino. Where the fuck are you?”
“Enjoying the traffic in your fine city. Why didn’t you give me a motorcycle escort?”
“Get your ass here, pronto!”
56
Stone got out of the Bentley, leaving Fred at the wheel and Meg, who didn’t want to be present in the courtroom, in the rear seat. He walked into the courtroom at the stroke of eleven on the big clock over the bench. Dino glared at him from the front row of spectator seats and waved him forward.
Stone took a seat. He saw Owaki’s back ahead of him, next to a silver-haired attorney in a ten-thousand-dollar suit.
“It’s about fucking time,” Dino growled under his breath.
“What are you doing here anyway?” Stone asked. “You’re not a fed.”
“Once in a while I just like to enjoy myself, you know?”
The bailiff called for all to rise, and the judge entered the courtroom and sat down. “Call the first case,” she said, and the clerk yelled, “Bail hearing for one Selwyn Owakow.”
Stone suppressed a laugh, and the judge looked at him oddly. Stone had known her for a long time, but not for some years. He gave her a slight nod.
She turned toward the federal prosecutor. “Counsel?”
The prosecutor stood. “Your Honor, the defendant, one Selwyn Owaki—I believe I have the name right—last night arrived at Teterboro Airport in New Jersey aboard a Gulfstream 650, an aircraft valued at something on the order of sixty million dollars, upon which a search warrant, signed by Your Honor, was served by the United States Customs Service. Their search was fruitful, producing some two dozen illegal weapons, among them Russian automatic assault weapons. The defendant is an infamous weapons dealer, and extremely wealthy. He owns three jet aircraft with intercontinental range, the Gulfstream having a range of more than eight thousand nautical miles, and he has large quantities of cash in banks around the world. He has two passports, and thus is a monumental candidate for risk of flight, as well as being of poor character. We request that he be held without bail until trial.”
“Do you have any witnesses to call on the question of risk of flight or character?”
“Indeed I do, Judge. I call Mr. Stone Barrington, who is a member of the New York State Bar and who has experience of Mr. Owaki’s character and conduct.”
“Swear the witness,” the judge said.
Stone took the oath and had a seat.
The prosecutor consulted his notes. “Mr. Barrington, how long have you known Mr. Selwyn Owaki?”
“Too long,” Stone replied, glancing at his watch. “Almost thirty-six hours.”
The courtroom burst into laughter, and the judge smirked. “All right,” she said, “get on with it.”
“And how did you come to make Mr. Owaki’s acquaintance?”
“I have a home in England, and I was there for a few days of relaxation when Mr. Owaki appeared at my door, uninvited. By way of context, I should explain that Mr. Owaki engineered the theft of some very valuable software belonging to a client of mine, and in the process, two murders were committed.”
Owaki’s attorney was on his feet. “Objection, facts not in evidence.”
“Goes to character,” the prosecutor said.
“This is not a trial, I’ll allow it.”
“The software was recovered, and I removed it and my client from the country after receiving threats from henchmen of Mr. Owaki’s. To my surprise, he turned up there, in England, where he had already bought a factory to manufacture the product of the stolen software, which certainly goes to intent. He offered either to buy the software or sell the factory. When my client declined to sell the software and made a derisory offer for the factory, Mr. Owaki became incensed and began to make vile threats. I asked him to leave, and he did so angrily. Less than an hour later a fire was set at my home, which the local fire department declared to be arson. I made plans to depart England the following morning before dawn, and gunshots were fired at my airplane while it was still on the private runway.”
“And you attribute these actions to Mr. Owaki?”
“I have no other enemies who would threaten my life and that of my client.”
“Do you know whether Mr. Owaki had any interaction with the authorities during his stay in Britain?”
“I am reliably informed that he was deported from the United Kingdom yesterday by the home secretary, with immediate effect. He was escorted to the airport, put aboard his airplane, then he left for Teterboro, where U.S. Customs met him and served their warrant.”
“I have no further evidence at this time,” the prosecutor said.
“Mr. Kenneth Conway, I believe,” the judge said to Owaki’s attorney. “Do you have any questions for the witness?”
The lawyer rose. “None, Your Honor, but I have a statement.”
“Proceed.”
“Your Honor, Mr. Selwyn Owaki is widely known around the world as a distributor of defense materials to legitimately constituted governments. He holds a United States passport, has maintained a home in New York City for many years, and has been a model citizen. This is the first occasion on which he has been arrested. He is no risk of flight and will willingly surrender his passport while awaiting trial.”
“All of them?” the judge asked, getting a laugh.
“He has only two.”
“That we know of,” the prosecutor interjected, gaining a warning glance from the judge.
“What’s the other one?” she asked.
“Turkish, Your Honor.”
“Is Mr. Owaki a native of either the United States or Turkey?”
“No, Your Honor. He is naturalized in both.”
“Why does he have so many airplanes?” she asked.
“He does most of his business internationally and must always have an aircraft available.”
“Do either of you wish to call Mr. Owaki to testify?”
“No, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said.
“No,” the defense attorney replied.
“Do either of you have any other evidence to submit in this matter?”
“No,” the defense attorney said.
“Yes, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said. He walked forward holding a thick file. “This contains facts about Mr. Owaki and his businesses from many sources. Your Honor might find it interesting reading. I have a copy for the defense.” His assistant handed one to Conway.
The judge opened the file and leafed through it for a minute or two. “Very well,” she said, “I’ll rule.”
Both attorneys and Owaki stood.
“The motion to deny bail until trial is granted. The defendant is remanded to the custody of the Federal Detention Center until trial.” She leafed through her calendar. “I will set a date of three months from today at ten AM for trial,” she said.
“The defense requests leave to file an appeal,” the attorney said.
“File away,” the judge said, banging her gavel. “This case is adjourned for the duration.”
A court officer handcuffed Owaki and led him away. The prosecutor came over to Stone, shook his hand, and thanked him.
“How do you rate the chances of his appeal?” Stone asked.
“Not very good,” the man replied.
“Let’s get out of here,” Dino said.
57
Stone and Dino walked out of the courthouse and down the long front steps. Stone’s Bentley was idling at the curb, and Dino’s official SUV pulled up behind it as they approached.
“I don’t guess you need a lift,” Dino said.
“No, Fred and Meg are waiting for me,” Stone replied, then he stopped and looked at his car. Fred was slumped over the steering wheel, and the rear seat was empty. The driver’s window was down; Fred liked his fresh air. “Hang on,” Stone said. He opened the driver’s door, and Fred fell into his arms.
“Do we need an ambulance?” Dino asked.
Stone examined Fred’s head but found no wounds; then he saw a drop of blood trickle down his neck. “We’re going to need an ambulance and a lot more,” Stone said. “Meg has been taken.”