Patriot games - Tom Clancy [61]
"No further questions," Atkinson said.
"The witness may step down," Mr. Justice Wheeler said.
Jack stood up from the stool and turned to find the way out. As he did so, his eyes swept across Miller one last time, long enough to see that the look and the smile hadn't changed.
Jack walked back out to the grand hall as another witness passed in the other direction. He found Dan Murray waiting for him.
"Not bad," the FBI agent observed, "but you want to be careful locking horns with a lawyer. He almost tripped you up."
"You think it'll matter?"
Murray shook his head. "Nah. The trial's a formality, the case is airtight."
"What'll he get?"
"Life. Normally over here 'life' doesn't mean any more than it does stateside-six or eight years. For this kid, 'life' means life. Oh, there you are, Jimmy."
Commander Owens came down the corridor and joined them. "How did our lad perform?"
"Not an Oscar winner, but the jury liked him," Murray said.
"How can you tell that?"
"That's right, you've never been through this, have you? They sat perfectly still, hardly even breathed while you were telling your story. They believed everything you said, especially the part about how you've thought and worried about it. You come across as an honest guy."
"I am," Ryan said. "So?"
"Not everybody is," Owens pointed out. "And juries are actually quite good at noticing it. That is, some of the time."
Murray nodded. "We both have some good-well, not so good-stories about what a jury can do, but when you get down to it, the system works pretty well. Commander Owens, why don't we buy this gentleman a beer?"
"A fine idea. Agent Murray." Owens took Ryan's arm and led him to the staircase:
"That kid's a scary little bastard, isn't he?" Ryan said. He wanted a professional opinion.
"You noticed, eh?" Murray observed. "Welcome to the wonderful world of the international terrorist. Yeah, he's a tough little son of a bitch, all right. Most of 'em are, at first."
"A year from now he'll have been changed a bit. He's a hard one, mind, but the hard ones are often rather brittle," Owens said. "They sometimes crack. Time is very much on our side, Jack. And even if he doesn't, that's one less to worry about."
"A very confident witness," the TV news commentator said. "Doctor Ryan fended off a determined attack by the defense counsel, Charles Atkinson, and identified defendant Sean Miller quite positively in the second day of The Mall Murder trial in Old Bailey Number Two." The picture showed Ryan walking down the hill from the courthouse with two men in attendance. The American was gesturing about something, then laughed as he passed the TV news camera.
"Our old friend Owens. Who's the other one?" O'Donnell asked.
"Daniel E. Murray, FBI representative at Grosvenor Square," replied his intelligence officer.
"Oh. Never saw his face. So that's what he looks like. Going out for a jar, I'll wager. The hero and his coat-holders. Pity we couldn't have had a man with an RPG right there " They'd scouted James Owens once, trying to figure a way to assassinate him, but the man always had a chase car and never used the same route twice. His house was always watched. They could have killed him, but the getaway would have been too risky, and O'Donnell was not given to sending his men on suicide missions. "Ryan goes home either tomorrow or next day."
"Oh?" The intelligence officer hadn't learned that. Where does Kevin get all his special information ?
"Too bad, isn't it? Wouldn't it be grand to send him home in a coffin, Michael?"
"I thought you said he was not a worthwhile target," Mike McKenney said.
"Ah, but he's a proud one, isn't he? Crosses swords with our friend Charlie and prances out of the Bailey for a pint of beer. Bloody American,