Page 138 of Hush

“His statements were backed up by the evidence, which Special Agent Barnes has already testified to.” Ballard again left off the honorific, refusing to address Tom directly. Tom saw several of the jurors’ eyebrows slowly rise. “The witness’s veracity, in this instance, has been established.”

Again, fair points raised by both Ballard and Renner. Tom wanted to overrule Ballard’s objection because of his attitude, his seething rage that was so poorly covered. His obvious ire at Tom that was infecting the courtroom, and had already poisoned the prosecution.

Bulat Desheriyev, by all measures, was a terrible human being. A murderer. Possibly a liar?

The evidencehadbacked up his testimony.

“I’m overruling the objection.” Ballard’s glare spat daggers toward the bench. “I believe the evidence stands on its own merits,” he finished. “Truth is found in evidence, counselors. Not razor-sharp repartee.”

Several of the jurors nodded. Renner pretended to look contrite. He turned back to Desheriyev. “Please. Were you motivated enough to make a deal with the government that you may have lied about the involvement of my client?”

Desheriyev shrugged. “There is nothing to lie about. He hired me. He also sabotage my escape plan. Why would I not turn on him?”

“Allegedly.” Renner smiled indulgently. “My client, unlike yourself, has not pled guilty. He is still presumed innocent.”

Desheriyev’s snort and eyeroll clearly said what he thought of that.

“Mr. Desheriyev.” Tom’s voice hardened. “You will conduct yourself with more decorum than that.”

Desheriyev, seemingly following Ballard’s lead, did not respond to him. No ‘Yes, Your Honor’ from him. Just a slight straightening, and a tiny grin.

“Let’s switch tracks.” Renner paced away, heading for the jury box, as if he were putting a puzzle together in his mind. “You never met Vadim Kryukov face-to-face, did you?”

“No.”

“In fact, you still have never met him face-to-face. This is the closest you have ever been to Vadim Kryukov, is that right?” He gestured between the two men, one in the witness stand, the other wounded and bruised at the defense table.

“Da. It is.”

“The bag of cocaine given to you at the dead drop. Did you actually see Kryukov put it in the dead drop?”

“No.”

“Did you see anyone put anything in the dead drop?”

“No.”

“Is it possible that the cocaine was bought by some other person and added to the materials placed in the dead drop?”

Desheriyev shrugged. “That would not make sense.”

“I didn’t ask if it made sense. I just asked if it was possible.”

Scowling, Desheriyev’s lip curled. “Maybe. Could be.”

“Someone, perhaps, who wanted to frame Vadim Kryukov?”

“Objection! This is wildly speculative.”

Tom ground his molars together. Behind him, he heard Mike hiss, a frustrated grunt of air between his clenched teeth. Ballard was driving his disrespect home. It would be all over the media, the internet, running on every headline of the trial. A fracture in the justice system, a U.S. Attorney and a judge squaring off in the biggest case of the modern era.

“Withdrawn.” Renner sent Tom a small smile, as if apologizing. For his own flashy approach to the trial, or Ballard’s conduct, he couldn’t tell.

Renner squared himself in front of Desheriyev, pausing. “Mr. Desheriyev,” he said slowly. “Do you have any knowledge of any persons who may be responsible for this crime, other than my client?”

Tom saw panic spark in Ballard’s eyes. Ballard couldn’t object, not yet. The question was carefully, perfectly worded.

Desheriyev nodded, walking into Renner’s trap. “The CIA.”