Page 125 of Hush

“Do most drug users dispose of the baggies, Agent Barnes?”

“Yes. Most baggies are flushed down the toilet.”

“Which would imply that Vadim Kryukov, a known user and dealer of cocaine, expected this baggie to be flushed, which would then eliminate his fingerprint. He’d have no need to conceal his fingerprint then, correct?”

Tom waited for Renner’s objection. Renner stayed seated and said nothing. His eyes shone.

“Correct.”

“Which would make his behavior—leaving his fingerprint on the baggie—not unusual or odd at all?”

“Not at all.”

Ballard nodded. “Pass the witness.”

“Recross.” Renner stood. “Agent Barnes, you said that most cocaine users will flush their empty baggies down the toilet. Did Mr. Desheriyev give a reason as to why he did not?”

“Yes.”

“What was his reason?”

“He forgot to.”

“Hmm.” Renner smiled as he spread his hands. “How convenient. He forgot to dispose of a major piece of evidence tying my client to the shooter, the only man in this entire trial who is unquestionably guilty. How fortunate for the prosecution.”

“Objection! Argumentative!”

“Withdrawn. I’ll rephrase.” Renner bowed his head, as if apologizing. Tom knew better. “Is it possible, Agent Barnes, that one of your key pieces of evidence, which inexplicably survived destruction, is meant to frame Vadim Kryukov?”

“Frame by who?” Barnes frowned.

“Well, that would be your job.” Renner smiled indulgently. “As the chief investigator to uncover.”

Barnes’s lips thinned, and he glared at Renner. He shifted, his neck turning tomato-red.

“Agent Barnes, is it possible?”

“It’s possible,” Barnes grunted through gritted teeth. “It’s also extremely unlikely,” he added. “Extremely.”

“Did the FBI, prior to the shooting, have any information on Vadim Kryukov that would have indicated he was capable of planning a violent terrorist act?”

Barnes hesitated again. “No.”

“So out of the blue, Vadim Kryukov plans an elaborate assassination plot, makes contact with Bulat Desheriyev, a world-renowned assassin, and directs his every move to the United States, including his actions up to the afternoon of the shooting. How did he find Desheriyev, anyway?”

“We don’t know how they initially made contact, or how Mr. Kryukov knew how to reach out to Mr. Desheriyev. Mr. Desheriyev only answered the phone when the first recruitment call was made. And when he did so, he heard Vadim Kryukov’s voice.”

“Was this a complex operation, Agent Barnes? Seems like it to me. Moving a shooter from Russia to the United States. Keeping him in hiding. Predicting the exact travel plans of the Russian president, and lying in wait for him at the perfect place and time. Concealing their activities with a high degree of sophistication.”

“It was characterized as a complex operation during the investigation. The conspirators used sophisticated counterterrorism techniques in order to avoid interdiction.”

“In your experience as a counterterrorism investigator, does Vadim Kryukov have the background knowledge or life experience to pull off an operation like this?”

Barnes squirmed. One corner of his mouth pulled down. “Not that we have uncovered so far.”

“Are you saying that the FBI was stumped by an amateur? That Vadim Kryukov bested the counterterrorism chops of the best law enforcement agency on the planet?”

Now Barnes really frowned. He scowled at Renner and looked beyond him to Ballard. Ballard had a death grip on his pen, his knuckles white.