The next morning, just inside the courthouse, Dornan stood face to face with a U.S. Marshal. Dornan, balding and fit, was still imposing in his post, post-middle age. After last week, he vowed, I won’t be counting the damn birthdays anymore.
“Where are your scanners and the metal detectors?”
The Deputy Marshal, a man in his late twenties, shrugged apologetically. “They were removed last night, Mr. Dornan.”
“On whose authority?”
“The Commission has issued another Retirement order. Everything is perfectly legal, sir.”
“Retirement order? This isn’t high tech stuff. X-rays have been around a hundred years.”
“Not our kind, sir. It was the new chips, I think.”
“This is a fine mess. How the hell do you propose to keep this zoo safe?”
“We’ve added Deputies. Nobody gets into that courtroom without a thorough search.”
“Damn well better be thorough.”
A second Marshal stepped forward. “May I inspect that pistol of yours, sir?”
“I am licensed,” Dornan growled, slipping the weapon out of his shoulder holster.
The second Deputy turned the semiautomatic over in his hands, squinting.
“No TERET date stamp,” he said.
“Technology Retirement date? You are kidding me, son. This is old fashioned technology,” Dornan said, holding out his hand. “But it works.”
But the Deputy kept the gun. “Sorry. You can pick it up in the Marshal’s office after the session.
“This won’t do,” Dornan barked. Then a huge entourage entered the main lobby. Dornan turned. “Here comes the Boss,” he said. John Owen was flanked by Wiggins and two of Dornan’s security detachment. Alder trailed behind with three law clerks.
“Dr. Owen,” the new Deputy Marshal called out. “Over here, sir.”
When John approached, the Marshal motioned and several more Deputies converged. “This will just take a minute, sir. Oh, oh. I’m afraid certain body armor is included in the current Retirement order. May I inspect that vest you are wearing under your coat?” A man in a suit stepped forward and distributed copies of the latest Commission Retirement Order to Owen, Alder and Wiggins.
Dornan grabbed a copy from the man’s hand, and scowled as he scanned the two-page document. “Interesting timing,” he mumbled. “He’s not going into that courtroom without an armored vest.”
“Not much choice, today,” Alder said.
“Sorry, John,” Wiggins added. “They are playing dirty. I’ll scare up an old-fashioned one for tomorrow.”
“But our security agreement,” Owen said.
“It didn’t cover technology,” Alder said.
“It didn’t?” Dornan growled. “What about all those hi-tech cameras?”
“Media was covered under a different section,” Alder said.
“Yes. I insisted on the cameras,” John said. He exchanged looks with Dornan, then motioned. “Let’s get this over with. Deputies, we expect you to do your job. Come on Bill, you can sit with me at the counsel table.”
Dornan looked at his watch. “We’re pretty early. I suggest that you gentlemen,” addressing the lawyers and clerks, “go on ahead. John and I need to talk a minute.” Dornan jerked his head toward the door. As the legal team headed to the elevator, Owen and Dornan stepped outside. A large crowd had already gathered. Owen waved and smiled at them while Dornan whispered fiercely into his ear. “They confiscated my gun. I don’t like this. Not one damn bit.”
“On the way over, Alder said to expect a move to put me in custody as soon as the new charges are filed,” Owen said, covering his mouth with his hand.
“Can Wiggins stop it?”
Owen turned with his back to the crowd. “Alder didn’t think so. Bill…I think Alder was suggesting that I should split.”
Dornan scanned the crowd, the cameras, and the Marshals standing close by. He nodded and whispered in Owen’s ear. “Well, that’s not feasible right now.”
“Well?” Owen said.
“Let’s consider all options later. Upstairs then?”
“Upstairs,” Owen said.
On entering the courtroom, Dornan noticed that the number of Marshals on duty had been doubled. Alder and Wiggins were engrossed in heated conversation at counsel table, while their law clerks sat in the front row of the audience. The U.S. Attorney shot a glance over his shoulder as the team of Marshals escorting Owen moved toward the front. As soon as Owen reached the table, a voice said, “All rise!”
Alder and Wiggins stood, along with the spectators and press. The chambers’ doors opened and Judge Wandright, a portly man with graying temples and a well-tanned face, strode to the bench. He tapped the gavel. “Be seated.”
Moments after settling in, Judge Wandright cleared his throat, smiling at the cameras. “This is the matter of Technology Licensing Commission versus John Owen. Good morning Dr. Owen.” Wandright smiled and John Owen nodded. “I am well acquainted with counsel. Can we skip the introductions? Thank you and good morning, gentlemen.” The lawyers nodded.
“Your Honor,” U.S. Attorney Gert Frame began. “If the court pleases, the government is requesting a brief continuance.”
“Really, Mr. Frame,” Wandright said with insincere surprise. “A delay? For how long?”
“Just a few hours, Your Honor. The Grand Jury is meeting as I speak. We expect an additional indictment by 2:00 P.M. The charge will be aggravated genetic engineering, in violation of Commission Criminal Regulation 2.446.”
“I believe that is a capital offense, Mr. Frame. If the government is seeking the death penalty, bail will not be permitted. Mr. Wiggins?”
“We will strongly object, Judge,” Wiggins bellowed on cue. “Dr. Owen’s surrender agreement specifically allows my client full liberty before trial. This impliedly bars the government from seeking the death penalty. Moreover, we are confident that any showing offered as proof of the so-called genetic engineering charges will consist of tainted and incompetent evidence. To threaten Dr. Owen with custody in these circumstances—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Wiggins,” Wandright interrupted with exaggerated politeness. “This court does not make threats. And it does not make up the law. The offense that the U.S. Attorney says the Grand Jury is considering carries the death penalty on conviction. I am sure that if the allegation is founded in evidence that is ‘tainted and incompetent,’ the Grand Jury will not return a true bill and your client will not be charged.” Judge Wandright knew otherwise, but was playing to the cameras. “On the other hand, if the charge is added to the indictment, and the government does not rule out the death penalty, I will have no discretion to grant bail.” He peered down from the bench like an overweight owl. “Mr. Frame?”
“We will seek the death penalty if the Grand jury indicts.”
“Well there you have it. Now, if that is all—” Wandright glared, while he paused for effect, “I will see everyone back here at 9:00 A.M. tomorrow. Court is adjourned until then.” The gavel slammed and Wandright disappeared into his chambers. The room erupted. Everyone stood up so quickly, that Karen, standing next to Cahoon, was unable to get Owen in view as he was swept from the courtroom surrounded by a brace of Marshals.
“If Dr. Owen goes into jail before trial, can we interview him?” she asked.
“Great idea,” Cahoon said. “…If he’ll see us.”
“Can I bring the camera in the jail?”
“That’s up to the Marshal’s office. I’ll find out first thing tomorrow,” Cahoon said.
——
The following morning, a special service took place on the steps of St. John’s Church on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan. Because the late Bishop Gardiner’s covert Human Conspiracy Project was designed to insulate the Mother Church from retaliation, Snowfeather had quietly arranged to use a friendly, non-Catholic location to deflect undue attention on St. Patrick’s Cathedral. The crowd filled the streets and intersection as far as the eye could see. Snowfeather’s voice was amplified and carried on two networks.
“Bishop Gardiner was a simple man, a kind man, who followed his God and valued life over death, birth over destruction, re-birth over despair. He was a friend of humanity. He would not have favored revenge for this brutal murder nor any other. But he would have counseled us to oppose evil…to fight it with every fiber of our moral being. And this day, of all days, we are here to say: Bishop Gardiner, we are with you, and the Lord is with us.”
Standing in the back of the crowd, Cynthia Thomas hissed to a companion. “If Longworthy doesn’t stop this display, we have resources.”
The companion nodded gravely. “If we have to, Tan can easily persuade Deputy Longworthy to help. His family may need medical attention, you see. But Longworthy may screw this up.”
“It will be simpler if we do it directly. After all, she was one of us. You will ask K to take care of it?”
“Of course, Sister Gloris, of course.”