Hear No Evil

“They work as a unit,” said the captain. “I’m afraid they’ve all been reassigned.”

“So they’re unavailable, too?”

“Completely.”

Jack marked another X, then moved on. “Let’s talk about perso

“Okay.”

“I noticed guard towers all over the place here. I’d like to speak with the guard who was posted nearest to the crime scene.”

“Mmmmmm. That would be PFC Frank Novich. Once again, sorry.”

“Not available?”

“No.”

“Reassigned?”

“Shipped out yesterday. You just missed him. Tough break.”

“Where is he?”

“I believe he’s in…well, I’m not at liberty to say.”

Jack leaned into the table, doing his best to put some fire behind his tired eyes. “Captain, let’s do this another way. Is there anyone on my list who has not been reassigned and relocated?”

“I seem to recall there was someone.”

“Perhaps the captain’s direct commanding officer?”

“No, I’m afraid she’s gone.”

“How about the three Marines he was with the night before his death?”

“Gone as well.”

“So, exactly who did Ms. Suarez and I come down here to interview?”

“Looks like it’s going to be Lieutenant Damont Johnson.”

“Of the sixteen people I’ve asked to interview, you’re giving me one?”

“Actually, I’m not giving you anything. Lieutenant Johnson is with the United States Coast Guard, and he is still here on the base.”

“That’s it? We came all this way to talk to one witness?”

“It’s well worth the trip, I’d say. Lieutenant Johnson was Oscar Pintado’s best friend.”

“Oscar’s best friend, or Lindsey’s worst enemy?”

He didn’t seem to appreciate the sarcasm. “Mr. Swyteck, I shouldn’t have to remind a former federal prosecutor that these witnesses are under no obligation to meet with you before trial. The U.S. government has gone beyond the call of duty by arranging for you to talk to Lieutenant Johnson.”

“I know the rules. But I can’t help but smell a rat with these sudden reassignments.”

“Reassignments happen all the time in the military.”

“Some of them even for valid reasons, I’m sure.”

The captain’s expression soured. “Mr. Swyteck, I’m sure you’re aware of the statements your client made to the local paper after her husband’s death-her ridiculous suggestions that Captain Pintado was effectively rubbed out by someone here on the base because he knew too much about a top-secret matter. I also read statements to the same effect that your cocounsel here, Ms. Suarez, made on television after Lindsey’s arrest. So let me put this in terms you can understand. I have no interest in helping a couple of slick Miami lawyers get their client off the hook by building a cockeyed big-government conspiracy theory. Pardon me if I seem unreasonable. But I owe that much to the victim’s family.”

“My client is the victim’s family. So do me a favor, would you? Stop the speeches and bring me Lieutenant Johnson.”

Their eyes locked, and finally the captain blinked. Jack watched as he pushed away from the table and left the room in silence. The door closed behind him.

Sofia said, “What kind of crap is this? They make us fly all the way down here for just one interview?”

“Yeah,” said Jack. “Better make it count.”

15

We are the front line in the battle for regional security,” said Lieutenant Damont Johnson.

It sounded like the opening line from a presidential speech, and the lieutenant did have the air of a young leader about him. A handsome and articulate African American, obviously intelligent, the kind of guy you wanted on your side. He might have had a future in politics, if he could tone down the arrogance.

Jack and Sofia were seated on one side of the conference table. The lieutenant and the JAG lawyer, Captain Kessinger, were on the other. Kessinger wasn’t the lieutenant’s personal attorney, but he was there to make sure that nothing happened to “compromise the government’s interests”-however those interests were defined.

“What does that mean?” asked Jack. “The front line in the battle for regional security?”

“It means we’re in Castro’s backyard. Or,” he said as he glanced at the framed map on the wall, “if you envision the island as a big Cuban iguana with its tail cut off, some people say we’re crawling straight up its asshole.”

“And as America ’s ambassadors to proctology, what’s your mission here?”

The lieutenant almost smiled. He seemed to like the way Jack stayed with him, blow for blow.

“I’m not sure how to answer that,” said Johnson. “The Coast Guard conducts daily operations in the Caribbean theater, many of them out of Guantánamo. By doing that, we protect the United States of America from its two biggest external threats. Drug trafficking and terrorism.”

“Which of those two matters are you personally involved in most?”

“I’d say my time is divided several ways. The two I just mentioned being a big part of my job. Immigration and rescue-recovery matters being equally important.”

“By ‘immigration’ you mean illegal immigration matters, I assume.”

“Depends how you define illegal.”

“You’re not there to give away green cards, are you?”

The JAG lawyer grumbled. “Mr. Swyteck, I realize that this is not a formal deposition, but I don’t think there’s any need for sarcasm. The lieutenant is here on his own time, on a volunteer basis. You could at least be polite.”

“Fair enough,” said Jack. “Lieutenant Johnson, if I’ve offended you, I apologize. But let me go about it this way. You’re Coast Guard. Oscar Pintado was a Marine. Correct?”

“That’s right.”

“And you guys were friends?”

“That’s right. Best friends.”

“Right. Best friends. Now, that’s probably not as unusual as a joint tailgate party between a midshipman and a West Point cadet at the a

“We hit it off. What can I say?”

“How? What is it that made you guys such good friends?”

“I don’t know. What makes anybody friends?”

Jack shrugged. “Common interests?”

Again the JAG lawyer mumbled. “Mr. Swyteck, I don’t represent Lieutenant Johnson here, but I feel compelled to point out that the man is taking time off duty for this interview. He has more important things to do than ponder the essence of friendship. I mean, this isn’t Oprah.”

“Here’s my point,” said Jack. “Oscar Pintado’s father is the founder of Brothers for Freedom. He has flown thousands of hours over the Florida Straits looking for Cuban rafters, hoping to bring them to America. You are an officer in the Coast Guard. You look for rafters every day, trying to return them to Cuba. Am I stating this fairly?”

“Basically, yes.”

“Yet, you and the son of Alejandro Pintado became best friends. What’s that all about?”

“You’re analyzing it too much. Oscar and I would go out, have a few a beers, shoot some pool. When you’re surrounded by razor wire all day long, you don’t usually talk about the world’s problems when you get some R and R.”

“Did you ever meet Oscar’s father?”

“Nah.”

“You know he’s a very wealthy man, right?”

“Yeah, I heard that.”

“If someone were to say that Lieutenant Johnson was buddying up to Oscar Pintado just because he likes to have rich friends, how would you respond?”

“I’d say that sounds like Lindsey Hart talking.”

“How so?”

The JAG lawyer spoke up. “Excuse me, but Lieutenant Johnson volunteered to tell what he knows about the death of Captain Pintado. Why is it that you seem interested in talking to him about anything but that?”

“Why is it that you seem interested only in reminding him every five minutes that he’s here on a volunteer basis and doesn’t have to answer my questions?”