IN SPITE OF ANOTHER STERN look from Judge Hart, the media in the gallery began buzzing like a faulty transformer when the former deputy chief of mission for the U.S. embassy in Grozny entered the courtroom. They’d known for two weeks that the “surprise witness” was scheduled to testify for the prosecution, but none of them knew for sure what he was going to say.
However, Fauhomme, who sat at the defense table looking only mildly interested at the man’s appearance, knew, because he’d read Huff’s interview with Karp. Goddamn Lindsey for not pulling the trigger faster on that drone in Dagestan, and goddamn Ray Baum for not killing the girl and that bitch Stupenagel. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t be sitting here sweating bullets.
Fauhomme glanced back at the press in the gallery with a half-smile on his face that he thought exuded confidence. Journalist scum. It wasn’t so long ago they’d fallen all over themselves to be in his good graces. Laughed at his jokes. Begged to get invited to his parties. They happily ate, drank, and sometimes whored on his tab while fawning over what a great man he was, with such vision for the future of America. And then they wrote what he “suggested” they write.
Now they thought he was done. Washed up like a dead fish on the dirty shores of politics no matter what happened in the trial. The butt of late-night talk show host monologues and Facebook jokes. They look like a bunch of vultures sitting on a fence waiting for something to die; perched there on the edge of their seats, talking in loud whispers that I can hear . . . laughing at me behind my back, he thought. He winked at a television reporter who’d spent many a debauched weekend at his beach house; the reporter looked away, embarrassed to have been singled out.
Fauhomme turned back around to watch as Huff walked past him into the well of the courtroom. Well, fuck them! I’m not going anywhere. Who the hell do they think they’re dealing with? I’m the goddamned man of the hour. He was suddenly so filled with contempt that he could barely conceal the sneer that threatened to take over his face and fought to maintain a look of mild disdain when Huff stopped in front of the witness stand to be sworn in. I’ll show them. I’m going to beat this and then we’ll see who doesn’t return phone calls. I’m taking names, and I’ll be kicking ass again by the midterm election cycle.
Still, when Huff climbed up on the stand, Fauhomme felt a chill run down his spine. A lot had transpired over the past eight months that had shaken his legendary arrogance.
Two months before the trial, Faust had assured him that it was going to be difficult for Karp to introduce evidence about the events in Chechnya and Dagestan without a witness appearing on the stand. “No testimony about Chechnya, no motive—at least not better than what we’re saying really happened.”
Then she’d called with the bad news: the man who could provide a motive for murder was going to testify. “Can’t we stop him?” Fauhomme had asked as he felt a knot growing in his stomach.
“I think we can and we’re going to try—both in front of Judge Hart and at the federal level,” Faust said. “But we have to prepare just in case.”
Faust had filed a motion at the trial court level to prevent Huff from testifying on the grounds that his testimony would be solely collateral in nature and not relevant to any of the issues in the case. The U.S. Department of State filed an amicus/interveners motion supporting the defense motion and also asking the court to prohibit the testimony, alleging possible breach of national security.
In support of his opposition, Karp responded, with the jury out of the courtroom, by first arguing that the testimony was relevant since it established the motive for the murder. He further argued with respect to the alleged national security issue that there would not be sources or methods revealed by the testimony, only relevant, documented facts “about the government’s and defendants’ criminal manipulations and deceit regarding their fellow Americans and the deceased, General Sam Allen.” To satisfy the court’s inquiry, Karp supplied the court with the transcript of the proposed Huff testimony as an offer of proof.
Karp had, of course, not said anything about Huff to the press. And while the defense attorneys and State Department motions were being fought, the defense kept it quiet, too. But when Judge Hart denied their motions, Faust had “let it slip” to a member of the print media who’d been milling about in the hall outside of the courtroom that Huff was “known to be sympathetic to the opposition party and was angry over being turned down for an ambassador’s post after returning from Dagestan.”
When Judge Hart cited her for contempt, she complained within earshot of the press that Karp was “running roughshod” over the judiciary. She wondered aloud if her client could get a fair trial “anywhere Roger Karp is the district attorney.”
Confronted by the reality of yet another defeat over Huff’s testimony, Fauhomme felt panic rise in his throat like bile. He fought it by getting angry. Fuck these people. And fuck falling on my sword, he thought. They were supposed to make sure that Huff was stashed away someplace—like fucking Yemen—to keep him away from Karp, or give him whatever he wanted.
Faust told Fauhomme that Huff had been promised a good posting, maybe even one of the minor embassies that had already been promised to one of the president’s friends, if he decided not to testify. “He knows he’s done at State if he testifies for the prosecution,” she said.
It didn’t work. Not the promises or the threats. “We’ll deal with it,” Faust assured him again after they lost the motions to suppress his appearance. “There’s nothing in his Q&A with Karp that names you or Lindsey.” But Fauhomme wasn’t convinced.
The morning he learned that Hart had agreed with Karp’s motion to allow Huff’s testimony, Fauhomme called the senator. “Do something,” he’d demanded. But he was told there wasn’t much the president could do except more character assassination.
That afternoon, Hilb expressed “the president’s disappointment” in the decisions to allow Huff to testify, saying that it set a dangerous precedent. Hilb told press sources off the record that Huff was a disgruntled employee who’d wanted an ambassadorship following the events in Chechnya and Dagestan. “But he was not considered to be ambassador material. That did not sit well with him.”
Assistant Secretary of State Helene Vonu again took to the Sunday morning talk shows. She now seemed subdued and defensive, but still she argued that Huff was “not aware of all of the facts” and hinted that he might also be suffering from post-traumatic shock.
Meanwhile, Fauhomme had called what few friends he could still count on in the media, mostly people he had some dirt on, and said he’d appreciate seeing a story about rumors that Huff had been promised an ambassadorship with the next opposition administration. Several “sources close to the State Department,” who were in reality Fauhomme, were thus quoted as saying they’d heard Huff boasting at a department dinner welcoming him home that he had friends in high places who’d be taking care of him. “He’s rumored to be in line for the post in Berlin, a plum position, if the opposition wins the next election,” one newspaper reported.
When he’d done all the manipulating he could, Fauhomme took a deep breath and let it out. It’s going to be okay. Hadn’t he manipulated millions of people to vote for a sitting president with the economy in the toilet and his foreign policy falling apart? He’d certainly be able to manipulate at least one juror into believing he was innocent.
Of course, it had taken a man of his genius to come up with the defense theory that Blair, Lee, and Baum had been operating a blackmail scheme that had turned to murder. And that Stupenagel was an unscrupulous journalist willing to stoop to making up a story about meeting with Allen, and then turning a blind eye, in order to get a book deal.
If the events in Chechnya became a problem, he thought he could sacrifice Lindsey and plead ignorance regarding the activities of the national security adviser. In fact, a lot could be hung on his codefendant; he was the one who had talked to that idiot cop in Orvin, and he was the one recorded at the theater. He’d brought Blair’s computer to his condominium, but there was no proof he knew what was on it; just that he’d been told by the NSA to “keep it safe.” Lindsey would probably try to cast the blame on him, but who was a jury going to believe was calling the shots, a political operative, a mere campaign manager, or the president’s chief security adviser?
Still, Fauhomme had not gotten as far as he had in life by ignoring the details. He would have liked it if Blair and Lee could have been made to “disappear permanently.” But Baum had messed that up and his new man, Bobby Raitz, couldn’t find them. However, Stupenagel was a “soft target.” She hadn’t given in to intimidation, but with her expected appearance after Huff and Spooner it was maybe time to eliminate the problem. I’ll have to have a little talk with Raitz.
However, as Huff sat down in the witness seat, Fauhomme glanced over at the prosecution table and his heart skipped a beat. Karp was staring at him. Like he’s sizing me up for a fucking coffin.
The image didn’t sit well and Fauhomme’s smile faded. He looked down at the legal pad in front of him and picked up a pencil as if he’d suddenly thought of something important to make note of. Sweat beaded up on his fat forehead, his hand trembled, and his stomach knotted. He knew without turning to see that Karp was still watching him. Get a grip, Rod. He can’t touch you. You’re the fucking man of the hour, goddammit!
Having read the transcript of Huff’s interview with Karp, his testimony contained no surprises. It was a devastating indictment of the administration’s involvement in the Chechen fiasco: from his assertion that the State Department was well aware of an increase in Al Qaeda activity in the area—“It was part of the reason I was there”—to his clandestine efforts to get arms into the hands of Syrian insurgents and Chechen separatists—“The people this administration has been accusing instead of the real terrorists, Al-Sistani and Al Qaeda.”
However, Fauhomme did his best to look as if the testimony was all news to him and as if he was as shocked as everyone else when Huff recounted in vivid detail the battle for the compound. Listening raptly, he shook his head in horror as the diplomat depicted in words and tone what it was like to have brave men dying all around him as his radio operator desperately and futilely called for help. He was conscious that the eyes of the jurors and the spectators in the gallery went from Huff to him and back to Huff as the witness emotionally described the execution of former Navy SEAL Jason Gilbert in the courtyard while a drone buzzed overhead. “And did nothing.”
There’d been a brief interlude when the jury was asked to step out of the courtroom while the lawyers argued in front of Judge Hart about Karp’s plan to question Huff regarding his ordeal under Al-Sistani and his rescue in Dagestan. Faust had objected and demanded a hearing outside the presence of the jury.
“Your Honor, while we have disagreed with the court’s allowing any of the testimony by this witness as irrelevant and inflammatory, the prosecution’s theory is that General Allen was killed to prevent him from testifying in front of Congress and to prevent whatever perceived harm that would do to the president’s campaign,” Faust argued at the bench. “The events in Dagestan occurred well after General Allen’s death. The prosecution is once again attempting to appeal to the jury’s emotions rather than sticking with the relevant facts.”
Judge Hart made a note on a pad he kept on his dais and then looked at Karp. “Mr. Karp?”
“Your Honor, we expect the witness to testify that during the rescue in Dagestan, a Russian double agent named Sergei Nikitin, also known as Bula Umarov, was able to summon an American unmanned aerial vehicle, a drone, to attack the area where the hostages were still in jeopardy. This same agent, Nikitin, was also in the compound pretending to be assisting the American delegation trying to negotiate with Chechen separatist Lom Daudov. The purpose of calling the drone was to kill the witnesses who would expose the White House’s and defendants’ lies and also protect the defendants from possible disclosure.”
Judge Hart thought about it for a minute, but then ruled in favor of Karp. “Please limit yourself, Mr. Karp, to establishing this nexus between what happened regarding the drones and the U.S. government’s involvement in these events.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Karp had said, and waited for the jury to be recalled before continuing. The prosecutor had quickly led Huff through a series of questions about the rescue in Dagestan and the confrontation between the spy Umarov-Nikitin and some woman named Nadya Malovo. “What, if anything, occurred at that point?”
“Malovo shot Bula Umarov-slash-Nikitin and then told us to run,” Huff said.
“Why did she tell you to run?”
“Because the Russian agent Bula Umarov-Nikitin had informed her that a U.S. drone had been contacted and would be attacking the mosque.”
“Were you or the other hostage or your rescuers away from the mosque?”
“No. We were all still on the grounds. That’s why Malovo said we needed to run. We told the others and got in a truck and had gone maybe a few hundred yards when the missiles struck the mosque.”
“And what, if anything, did this indicate to you?”
“That Nadya Malovo was right: a Russian agent was in contact with an American drone operator and whoever the drone operator worked for went forward with the attack knowing that we were not safe.”
Pretending to make notes on his legal pad, Fauhomme kept his face down. Then Karp shifted gears. “Mr. Huff, since your rescue and return to the United States have you had the opportunity to review statements made by the administration regarding the events in Chechnya and Dagestan either to the media or otherwise disseminated?”
“Yes I have.”
“Would you say that these reports and statements were accurate?”
“By and large . . . no.”
“And would you say that by and large, on many of the major points, they contradict what you’ve just told the jury?”
“Yes.”
“And how would you describe those contradictions?”
Huff shrugged his shoulders and looked over at the defense table. “They lied.”
“Please explain.”
“I am aware of reports, as well as internal memos within the State Department and with the White House, that have not been shared with the media, the public, or Congress. They’re simply fabrications; the memos also indicate that the cover-up was necessary to keep the public misinformed, deluded that Al Qaeda was diminished and on the run.”
Karp had walked over until he was standing in front of the defense table looking down on Fauhomme, who made it a point to look up at him as if he wasn’t impressed with his opponent. But internally he quailed as the big man’s gold-flecked gray eyes locked onto his.
“Mr. Huff, a few minutes ago you said that one of the reasons you were at the compound in Chechnya was an increase in Al Qaeda activity in the area,” Karp went on without taking his eyes off Fauhomme.
“Yes.”
“However, in the statements to the media, the public, and Congress, would you say that the spokespeople for the president, and the president himself, denied that Al Qaeda was involved in the attack . . . indeed, they denied that Al Qaeda as an effective terrorist organization continues to exist, am I right?”
“Yes.”
“Were they being truthful?”
“No. They were not being truthful.”
“What in your opinion would prompt them to lie about Al Qaeda being involved?”
This time it was Huff who looked over at Fauhomme and locked eyes. “Because the president had declared that Al Qaeda didn’t exist.”
“Do you know why that was important?”
“Objection,” Faust cried out, rising to her feet. “The very nature of the question calls for the witness to speculate.”
Taking his eyes off Fauhomme, Karp turned to the judge. “Quite the contrary, Mr. Huff will give us a firsthand, up-close and personal account of his insider’s knowledge regarding these events.”
“Objection overruled,” Hart said, “you may proceed.”
Karp turned back to Huff. “You may answer the question.”
“The president was in the middle of an election campaign,” Huff said. “Within the State Department it was known that his public ratings in regard to foreign policy were weak; so he declared that due to his leadership Al Qaeda was extinct.”
“Was it true?”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“And in fact, you were at the compound in part because that was not true.”
“Yes. Last summer, I was recalled to Washington to be briefed about an apparent increase in Al Qaeda activity in Chechnya and a plan being formulated to deal with it as well as the administration’s desire to secretly arm Syrian rebels. The administration was concerned about the former because part of the president’s campaign platform was based on having eliminated the threat posed by Al Qaeda. Others had raised the concern that arming Syrian rebels would be putting weapons in the hands of Al Qaeda; we had to find another way without directly involving this administration in an unofficial arms deal. So we worked through classified channels to reach out to Lom Daudov, a Chechen separatist leader of the Free Chechnya movement.”
“And you knew that going in.”
“Yes.”
“And you found that out in a horribly personal way when you learned that the attackers were with Al Qaeda.”
Huff had looked down for a moment and then nodded. “Yes, ironic, but yes.”
Karp shifted gears again as he strolled over to the jury box and leaned back against the rail. “Mr. Huff, what, if anything, were you told by your superiors, or anyone else, regarding what you should or shouldn’t say about your experiences in Chechnya and Dagestan?”
“Assistant Secretary of State Helene Vonu told me that I was not to talk to anyone about this.”
“Anyone meaning who?”
“Everybody, but in particular the media, Congress . . . and you.”
“And did you remain silent?”
“Until I called your office, yes.”
“And what, if anything, has been the result of your coming forward to testify at this trial?”
“I’ve been placed on administrative leave,” Huff replied.
“Mr. Huff, were you derelict in your duty in Chechnya?”
Huff shook his head. “Not as my bosses would have seen it, or as I saw it at the time. It’s a messy world and sometimes you get dirty trying to clean it up. But with twenty-twenty hindsight, I wish I had questioned the wisdom of what we were trying to do and maybe stopped it.”
“Just a couple more questions, your honor,” Karp said, returning to his position at the jury rail. As he did, the disquiet Fauhomme felt deep in his gut made him nauseated. He was afraid, and fear made him hate even more. He wanted Karp dead.
“Mr. Huff,” his antagonist asked, walking slowly to the witness stand. “What, if anything, were you offered by my office to testify here today?”
“Nothing. I’m here of my own free will.”
“What, if anything, were you offered by anyone else if you declined to testify?”
“After I contacted you and gave a statement, I was called into Vonu’s office again. She said that if I refused to testify, the Department of Justice would be able to keep me off the stand, and that if I cooperated with her, I could expect to be appointed as an ambassador in the near future.”
“Ambassador,” Karp repeated, sounding impressed. “Would that be something you’d want?”
“It’s what I’ve been working toward my entire twenty-three-year career at State.”
“And what, if anything, do you expect to happen now that you went ahead and testified?”
“Objection!” Faust argued. “Calls for speculation.”
Karp shot back, “Quite astounding that the State Department sought to interfere with this trial. The witness has established predicate and laid a proper foundation with respect to the bribe offered by his bosses that he would have an ambassadorship if he declined to testify. So this is hardly speculative; to the contrary, it’s downright direct and painfully pointed.”
Judge Hart looked at Faust and said, “You will have the opportunity to deal with this in your case. Objection overruled, please proceed.”
“I expect that I am finished at the State Department,” Huff said.
Karp looked over at the jurors and kept his eyes on them when he asked, “So why did you agree to testify?”
Huff glanced briefly toward the gallery, and Fauhomme turned to see who he might have been looking at. But he found himself looking at a sea of hostile faces and turned back around.
“My conscience,” Huff replied. “Brave men died trying to protect me and then to rescue me. I felt like I owed them more than my silence. And the American people who went to the polls last November believing a lie deserve to know the truth.”
The silence that Karp allowed for the response to sink in seemed to last forever for Fauhomme. “Thank you, Mr. Huff. Your Honor, I have no further questions,” the prosecutor said at last.
Faust stood up, and Fauhomme’s spirits rose. She was the hotshot out of the Justice Department; so far she’d been beaten at every turn by Karp, but she’d assured Fauhomme it was all part of winning the war. She had told him before court that morning that she wasn’t going to ask a lot of questions about what happened in Chechnya and Dagestan.
“Our contention in my summation will be that the events may or may not have happened as Huff will describe them, but in any event, they have nothing to do with you and Lindsey,” she said. “The more we act like we’re trying to make him out to be a liar, the more we look like we’re being defensive and have something to hide. Act like you’ve never heard most of what he says.”
Faust at first kept it short and sweet. She asked a few questions as if to understand the events herself, but then she stepped right in it. “Even if we were to accept your account of what occurred in Chechnya and Dagestan as accurate, do you have any evidence, any evidence whatsoever, that Mr. Fauhomme or Mr. Lindsey were responsible for these events?”
“Yes,” Huff replied. Faust looked stunned, but before she could speak up the diplomat continued. “We, and by that I mean those of us in the State Department, were well aware that everything was being passed through the NSA and the president’s campaign manager. We’d—”
“OBJECTION!” Faust almost screamed, before recovering her wits and addressing the judge in a normal tone. “Your Honor, I ask that the witness’s statement be stricken as unresponsive.”
“How do you mean?” Hart asked.
“I was asking if he had any real evidence that our clients were linked to the events described by the witness other than that they worked for the administration, like thousands of other people do.”
Hart raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “Ms. Faust, you opened the door to this and the witness walked right in. What we in the law profession regard as legally admissible evidence when we prepare our cases and consider what will be, or won’t be, admitted according to the rules of evidence is not what a layperson considers ‘evidence.’ You may not like how he is responding to your question, but he is being directly responsive. You asked the witness if he had any evidence to link the defendants to the events he described, and he believes that he does. It will be up to the jury to decide if his testimony is persuasive. Your objection is overruled and the witness may continue with his answer.”
Sitting at the defense table, Tucker Lindsey sighed and buried his face in his hands. Fauhomme battled to keep his expression neutral, but he was nearly overwhelmed by the desire to run to the bathroom and throw up.
“Mr. Huff, please continue,” Hart said.
Huff nodded. “Before I returned to Chechnya, I was aware that nearly everything was passing through the national security adviser’s office, which was to be expected, but also the president’s campaign manager, Mr. Fauhomme. Since my return, I have seen memos from Mr. Fauhomme prior to the election directing others in the State Department to insist that Al Qaeda was not responsible for the attack on the compound, or my capture.”
Fidgeting in the well of the courtroom while Huff spoke, Faust at first did not seem to realize that he had stopped. When she did, she quickly tried to attack. “Is it true, Mr. Huff, that upon your return you requested an appointment to a post as an ambassador?”
“It’s true,” Huff replied. “I’ve made that request several times over the past ten years.”
“Is it true that you believed that after everything you went through, you were owed such a posting?”
Huff frowned. “I wouldn’t say I was owed,” he said. “But I do think I’ve worked hard to deserve such a post, and done my best and proved my integrity, including during my ordeal in Chechnya and Dagestan, though I was certainly not the only one.”
Faust sneered. “Yes, that’s right,” she said, “there’s this unidentified female hostage, this ‘Wallflower’ whom the district attorney has conjured up several times. Does she even exist?”
Huff looked at the attorney with disdain. “Does she exist? Yes, she exists.” Huff paused, trying to keep his emotional grip. “She was a lot braver than I was. In fact,” he said, visibly starting to tear up, “she was willing to sacrifice herself for me.”
Faust didn’t hesitate. “Yes, so we’ve heard,” she said drily, “but not from her. And I don’t see her anywhere on the district attorney’s witness list. Why not?”
Huff shrugged. “I haven’t asked.”
“Who is she?”
“Again, all I know is that her first name is Lucy and she was an interpreter for a high-level counterterrorism team that happened to be at the compound when I was there.”
“Mr. Karp, can you answer counsel’s question as to this woman’s existence?” Judge Hart inquired.
Karp stood and nodded reluctantly. “Yes, Your Honor. And I can make her available to the defense to call if they so wish. I did not include her on the witness list for reasons that will be obvious; her name is Lucy Karp and she’s my daughter.”