Afraid of the Dark - James Grippando [44]
“I think I have made the right decision. Everything I’m learning about this case tells me this guy is innocent.” It was the first time Jack had said it aloud, and it rang so true that it actually surprised him.
“That’s what I want to talk about,” said Andie. “Obviously, you know about certain black sites run by the CIA. But have you heard anything about the insurance policies?”
“No. What kind of insurance?”
“After it became public that the CIA had these black sites, some CIA officers started to get nervous about it.”
“Imagine that,” said Jack.
“Just listen. They were worried that they would need lawyers to represent them in civil or criminal lawsuits, or maybe even congressional hearings. So the government set up a private insurance plan that they could buy in to.”
“Wait a minute. You’re saying that while the administration was denying the existence of these black sites, the Pentagon was setting up an insurance plan to protect the interrogators in case they were accused of torturing the detainees?”
“Stop editorializing—but, to answer your question, yes.”
The waiter came by. “Another port, sir?”
Jack was massaging the pain between his eyes, still trying to get his head around Andie’s news. “Got any aspirin?” said Jack.
“I can check,” he said.
Andie waited for him to leave, then continued. “The important thing here is that the insurance is private. Which means you have people outside the CIA involved—people who, theoretically, you could talk to.”
“You mean people who could confirm that there was a black site in the Czech Republic?”
“I mean theoretically. Because here’s what I’m really trying to tell you. That guy who died at the Lincoln Road Mall on Saturday night, Ethan Chang.”
“The man who said he had photos of Jamal in a black site in Prague.”
“I told you to stop editorializing. If you were to talk to the right person in the private insurance industry, she would tell you that Mr. Chang approached her about insurance.”
“So he was CIA?”
“No. That’s my point. He wanted to know if the same insurance that was available to CIA interrogators was being offered to private interrogators.”
Jack knew exactly what she was saying, but he was thinking aloud: “The site was run by one of those private contractor security firms,” he said, “like a Blackwater.”
“Blackwater is now called Xe Services, but there are others. ArmorGroup North America, Inter-Risk, to name just a couple.”
“That makes things even tougher.”
“Jack, I’m not telling you this so that you’ll go the extra mile and prove the existence of a black site run by a private security firm. Don’t you get it? The CIA has deniability—there was no Czech facility run by the CIA. Your chances of getting the CIA to admit that it had a black site are slim to none. The chances of proving a privately run black site are less than zero.”
“I don’t care what the odds are. It’s his alibi.”
“Jack, sweetheart. As a former CIA director once said on his way to the White House, ‘Read my lips.’ There is no way in hell you are going to establish this alibi in a criminal trial in Miami-Dade County, Florida.”
“What do you expect me to do?”
“Do I really have to spell it out for you?”
“No, but do it anyway. And say it so I believe it.”
She leaned closer, looking him in the eye. “Find another way to win your case, Jack. Or your client is looking at the death penalty.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Vince squeezed the trigger and caught his breath. He’d been at it for almost forty minutes. Since losing his sight, this was the first time he’d discharged his Glock 9-millimeter pistol without a sound beacon attached to the target.
“Nice shot,” said the firearms trainer.
At first, his supervisors had scoffed at the idea of target practice for the blind, but Vince had made them believers. A series of slow rhythmic beeps from the target worked best for him. He’d learned to measure the pulses in each ear until the sound was equal in the left and right—which meant that the beacon was centered on his nose. From there, it was all about technique, focus, and instinct: Square