Illegal Alien

*10*

Hask had been placed in a special cell at Parker Center, separate from the other prisoners. But that was the only concession to his unique status. The cell was filthy, with graffiti scrawled on its walls. There was a toilet and a sink, both in plain view. There was also a chair, but it wasn’t suitable for a Tosok, so Hask had been standing for hours, his back hand grasping one of the bars for support.

Frank Nobilio and Dale Rice approached the cage, and the guard let them inside.

“Frank!” said Hask, his tuft moving excitedly. “Thank you for coming back.”

“Hask, I apologize for all this,” said Frank. “These people—the police—they’ve obviously made a terrible mistake. We’ll get this all straightened out.” A beat. “Let me introduce you to your lawyer. Dale Rice, meet Hask.”

“The name again?” said Hask.

“Rice,” said Frank. “R-I-C-E. Dale. D-A-L-E.” He looked at the other human. “The Tosoks sometimes have trouble parsing human names.”

“Greetings, Mr. Rice,” said Hask. “You are the person who can get me out of here?”

“You may call me Dale. And I’ll do everything I can.”

“I will be grateful. Let me—”

“Wait. Frank, you have to leave now.”

Frank frowned. “All right. Hask, I’ve got some other business to attend to, anyway, but I’ll come back to talk to you when you and Dale are finished.”

“I want you here,” said Hask.

“Not possible,” said Dale. “Hask, under our law, private conversation between an attorney and his client are privileged. That means they can never be introduced in court—but only if the conversations are private. You’ll meet my associate, Ms. Katayama, soon; she’s in court today, but I’ll bring her by tomorrow. But only conversations you have while alone with either her or me are protected under law.”

“It’ll be okay,” said Frank, to Hask. “Dale is one of the most famous lawyers on this planet.” Frank left, and Dale took the one chair; it protested loudly under his massive body.

“I tell you, Dale, I—”

“Shut up.”

Hask took a half step backward. “Pardon?”

“Shut up. Shut up. You were about to tell me if you are guilty or innocent, right? Don’t tell me anything unless I ask you. The Supreme Court has ruled that I can’t put you on the stand to testify to your innocence if you’ve already told me you’re guilty; it’s tantamount to suborning.”

“Suborning?”

“Inducing a witness to perjure himself.”

“But—”

“Not a word, unless I ask for it. Understood?”

Hask’s topknot waved in apparent bewilderment. But at last he said, “Yes.”

“How are they treating you?”

“I have no chair that I can use.”

“I’ll send someone from my office to bring one for you from the USC dorm.”

“I wish to leave this place,” said Hask.

“I understand that—and we’re working on that right now. There will be a bail hearing later today. If it’s successful, you will be able to go.”

“And this will be over?”

Dale shook his head. “No. No, it won’t. But you’ll be able to rejoin the other Tosoks, and have your liberty until the main trial.”

“And when will that occur?”

“That’s the first issue we have to address. You have a right to a speedy trial, but, well, I’m going to ask you to waive that right. We’re going to need time to prepare your defense.”

“If, as I am told, I am presumed to be innocent, then why must I mount a defense at all?”

Dale nodded. “Technically, you don’t have to. But the prosecution will present the most compelling case it can. If we don’t try to counter their arguments, they will likely win.”

“I have already publicly declared my innocence. What other defense is possible?”

“Well, the simplest defense is just that—saying you didn’t do it. But that means somebody else must have. The security at the USC residence was such that no one could get in or out without being seen. That means somebody inside killed Dr. Calhoun. It had to be either one of the seven Tosoks, or one of the eighteen humans who had access, including the members of the entourage and the LAPD officers. If it can be proved that none of the others did it, then your simple declaration won’t be enough to find you innocent.”

“Then we must find the killer.”

Dale frowned. “It’s not our responsibility to prove who did do it, and normally I’d not even try—but with so few possible suspects, it’s certainly in our interest to consider the question. Without indicating one way or the other whether you yourself really did it, do you know anyone else who might have had reason to kill Calhoun?”

“No.”

“A lot of the prosecution’s case will probably hinge on proving that the crimes were committed by a Tosok rather than a human. Do you think it’s possible that one of the other Tosoks did it?”

“We are not killers.”

“Generally speaking, humans aren’t, either. But a man is dead.”

“Yes.”

“One of my people will ask everyone in the residence this at some point, but did you ever see anyone fighting or arguing with Calhoun?”

“No.”

Dale let out a hurricane of a sigh. “All right. We’ve certainly got our work cut out for us. Now, we better get prepared for the arraignment.”

Frank Nobilio walked the two blocks to the Los Angeles County Criminal Courts Building, at the corner of Temple and Broadway. It was a great concrete cube, with wafflelike sides. Just inside the front door, Frank passed through a metal detector operated by two uniformed guards.

Christmas decorations were hanging from the walls.

There was a shoeshine stand with four stations in the large, dim lobby. In front of it was a white foam-core board written on in brown Magic Marker:

Frank looked down at his own brown loafers. He was sweating a fair bit; the walk had been easy (although gently uphill), but L.A. was having a winter heat wave.

He made his way past the information desk—which seemed to specialize in giving bus maps to jurors—and found a building directory. The room he wanted was 18-709. He pushed the button to call an elevator that went to that floor.

He got into the elevator and heard the clacking of heels on the floor behind him. He held out a hand to keep the door from closing, and in came a severe-looking, thin white woman with short brown hair. Frank felt his eyes widen as he recognized her: Marcia Clark, the lead prosecutor in the Simpson criminal case. Clark must have just been dropping in for a visit, since she was now a TV host, rather than a member of the DA’s office—Frank wondered if she got the same kind of flak about selling out from professional colleagues that Cletus Calhoun had. She punched a floor button; Frank pushed the one labeled 18 and tried not to stare at her. A sign in the elevator said “All Persons Will Be Searched on the 9th Floor.”

The warning was repeated in Spanish.

The elevator stopped. Marcia Clark got off. The cab resumed motion, and a moment later Frank exited. He found the door labeled “Montgomery Ajax, District Attorney,” stopped to adjust his tie and smooth out his hair, then entered the outer office.

“I’m Frank Nobilio,” he said. “I have an appointment with Mr. Ajax.”

The secretary nodded, picked up her telephone handset, and spoke briefly into it. She then pushed a button on her desk, apparently unlocking the door to Ajax’s private office. “You may go in,” she said.

Frank walked into the large wood-paneled office with his hand extended.

“Mr. Ajax,” he said, “thank you for agreeing to see me.”

Ajax’s fox face was not smiling. “Frankly,” he said, “I’m not sure I should. In precisely what capacity are you here, Doctor?”

“A private citizen, that’s all.”

“Because if Washington is interfering—”

“No one is interfering, Mr. Ajax, believe me. But Cletus Calhoun was my friend—we’d known each other almost twenty years. Believe me, no one wants to see justice done more than I do.”

“Well, then,” said Ajax, sitting back down. The view of L.A. through his office windows was breathtaking.

Frank sat down, too. “But Hask is also my friend,” he said. “I find it hard to believe that he killed Clete. Remember, I’ve spent more time with the Tosoks than anyone—anyone still alive, that is. I’ve seen no sign of malevolence in them.”

“So?”

“So, I’m wondering—I’m just wondering, is all—I’m wondering, Mr. Ajax, if perhaps you’ve been a bit too hasty in going after one of the Tosoks.”

Ajax stiffened noticeably. “Are you suggesting that my office should drop this case?”

“It might be prudent,” said Frank gently. “After all, this is the first contact between humans and aliens. The Tosoks are much more advanced than we are. They could revolutionize our science and technology. We don’t want to antagonize them.”

“ ‘We’?” said Ajax. “Who is ‘we’?”

“Well—all of us. Humanity.”

“One might say that it’s the Tosoks who have antagonized us, not the other way around.”

“But this case has an impact on the entire world.”

“That may be so. But the fact is that one of your aliens committed murder. That crime has to be addressed.”

Frank tried to keep his voice from rising. “No, sir. The fact is that a Tosok may have committed murder. But then again, he may be completely innocent. And if he is—”

Ajax spread his arms; Frank noticed he wore a Rolex watch. “If he is, he will be exonerated, and no harm done. But if he’s guilty—”

“If he’s guilty, you’ll be seen as the great white knight in the fight against evil, the crusading DA who wouldn’t back down.”

Ajax’s pale blue eyes flashed with anger, but he said nothing.

“I’m sorry,” said Frank. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“If there’s nothing else, Doctor…” The DA gestured toward his office door.

Frank considered for a moment whether to go on. “Rumor has it that you’re going to run for the governorship of California.”

“I’ve made no public announcement.”

“You could certainly use all sorts of support in that bid.”

“Are you trying to bribe me into dropping this case, Doctor?”

“Not at all. I’m just pointing out that the ramifications run deep.”

“Dr. Nobilio, if I run for governor, it’ll be because I believe in law and order. I believe we shouldn’t let criminals go free. And I think America can take a certain justifiable pride that one of its institutions is working the way it was intended to, as the great leveler and as the bastion of truth.”

Frank nodded. “And therefore you can’t be seen as being soft; I understand that. But surely you can see that you’re letting political ambition blind you to the larger issues—”

Ajax held up a hand. “We’re through here, Doctor. Good day.”

Frank exhaled. “All I’m saying is think about what you’re doing, Mr. Ajax.”

“I have thought about it. And I intend to proceed against this alien killer with all speed.”