One nodded. “So, they’re survivors.”
“Exactly. They do what it takes to thrive.”
One was quiet for quite a while, obviously thinking over all Hess had said. “OK. I think I understand. Just one more question, please?”
“Go ahead.”
“Why does the Raven Society just target judges? What about juries? Don’t they get in the way?”
Hess laughed, a rare sound that jangled in the room. “Goddamnit One, that’s three questions. But definitely three good ones.”
One’s cheeks actually flushed at the unusual compliment. “Thank you, Herr Hess.”
“First, judges can manipulate jurors, who look up to them—figuratively and literally—as the most important neutral person in the courtroom. So, judges have outsized importance during a trial. They can easily turn a jury against one party or the other with pre-trial orders, evidentiary rulings, facial expressions disapproving of a party or her witnesses, general attitude toward a party, her witnesses or even her lawyer, tone of voice, and other tricks. And if those tactics don’t work, there’s always the appeals process where other judges—without the bother of jurors being involved—simply overturn the jury decisions.”
“But what about truth?”
Hess stood and stared down at One. “Truth? Truth? Truth is defined as what serves the Society. Don’t ever forget that.”
One stared at a spot on the floor between his boots. “Yes, Herr Hess.”
“Look, it’s simple. Power in the judicial system rests with judges. That’s why we must control them.”
One glanced up quickly and then back down at the floor. “But how do we do that?”
“Well, there are only so many judges for sale. Greed goes only so far. After that, we coerce, threaten, exploit. As His Eminence likes to say: Find weaknesses; impose your will.”
At that very moment, the voice of His Eminence thundered through the intercom. “Bring the golden-haired boy.” Hess rushed to his study while One fetched the boy from the basement. When Hess arrived, the velvet drapes in the room were drawn, and the only light came from the single desk lamp to His Eminence’s right. “Sit him there,” His Eminence pointed at the left chair in front of his huge desk.
Four minutes later, after One brought in and sat the boy, he and Hess silently left the room. Hess was smiling. Again, he was ahead of things. He knew the golden-haired boy would be worthy and therefore he’d already made arrangements for a Tuesday night ceremony in the Great Room, right after the Board meeting. He had notified the participants, directed One and the other Watchmen to set up the room, and ordered the vestments prepared by Two and Three. In their earliest ceremonies, Hess had argued against using vestments, but His Eminence insisted. “Makes everyone feel part of a special team,” he had said. “After all we can’t control facts, but we can control feelings. That’s why cults work.”
Hess was summoned back to the study twenty minutes later. The room was still soaked in dark shadows, but the velvet curtains had been retracted. His Eminence, sitting in his black leather chair with its gold-plated seatback, turned to look at Hess as he entered the room. The boy, standing now, staring straight ahead, said nothing.
“He is worthy. Prepare him and make arrangements for the ceremony. Tomorrow, 9 p.m., after the Board meeting. I want everyone there.”
CHAPTER 23
Ridge hated staff meetings. Too much talk. Not enough action. But like birth and death, they were part of life, and it had been too long since the last one. So, at 4:15 p.m. on Monday afternoon, when Terry returned from San Diego, Ridge gathered everyone—lawyers, paralegals, staff and interns—in the conference room.
Kate summarized case activities over the last two weeks and reviewed the upcoming week’s calendar, while Ridge answered questions and posed others to the team. Ridge broke up the meeting at 5 p.m., but asked Terry to stick around.
When everyone had gone, Ridge sat down across the table from Terry. “Don’t be blabbing this to Jayne or the others, but yesterday I flew up to Goleta. To check out 66 Sixteen Road.”
“You what?” Terry jumped to his feet and slapped his hands on the table. “Solo? You’ve finally gone out of your goddamned mind. How many times do I say it? Unnecessary risks get people hurt.”
Ridge motioned for Terry to sit down. “Sometimes, compadre, taking unnecessary risks is necessary. We’ve got to know more about that address. It’s the only lead to Hulk and what the sonofabitch is up to.”
“For God’s sake.” Terry groaned, rubbed his forehead, and sat back down heavily in his seat. “You couldn’t wait for me, or Dan, or someone to go with you?”
“You were in San Diego. And Goleta is way outside Dan’s jurisdiction at LAPD. Anyway, it was just to look. That’s all. But one thing led to another and, well, I have some photos to show you.” Using the overhead digital projector and drop-screen in the conference room, Ridge went through the pictures with Terry, explaining each. When finished with the photos, Ridge turned to Terry and mentioned the two guys and guns.
“Jesus, you fucking idiot. Two guys with rifles? You could have been killed! Sometimes you make me so goddamn mad.”
“Calm down. Forget the rifles. Let’s talk about what you, Super Sleuth, see in these photos.”
Terry sighed. “Not much, other than someone liked dogs. Not to cuddle, maybe, but to hunt? Maybe they kept hunting dogs in the barn? That’s not so unusual.”
Ridge leaned his elbows on the table. “Maybe, but you know what my first thought was? The cages reminded me of the ones used in Southeast Asia by both the Communists and the CIA to soften up prisoners. Before the hard questions.”
“CIA? But they can’t operate in the U.S.”
Ridge raised his eyebrows. They both knew that since 1981, the CIA could collect foreign intelligence information on U.S. soil. No harm, no foul. And since 9/11, the CIA could conduct specific counterintelligence activities within the United States. Today, they were an integral part of the FBI’s terrorism task forces in more than 50 U.S. cities, including L.A.
Terry leaned forward. “What? Do you seriously think the CIA is involved with anything at 66 Sixteen Road?”
“No. Just mentioning that the dog cage arrangement, without dogs, looked familiar.”
Terry nodded slowly and looked at his notes. “Okay, keeping that in mind, let’s get back to the evidence. I did spot a few suspicious things.”
Terry picked up the projector’s remote and went back to the first photo. “First, look at the inside of the door. It has two bolt locks up high near the top. Why two? Why any? Why high up on the door? I mean—the locks are located in a way that only a very tall person could reach them. Why?”
Ridge raised his eyebrows. “Go on.”
“Unless they’re really smart dogs, one bolt lock four feet from the ground should do the trick, don’t you think?”
“OK. What else?” Ridge said with a nod.
