Tuesday morning… August 26th
 
 

A clap of thunder startled Amanda.  She jumped up, knocking the papers that she’d been studying until the wee hours of the morning across the couch and unto the floor.

“Wha… what was that?” she gasped out in alarm.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Dotty called out from the kitchen in a soothing voice.  “I take it you fell asleep down here last night.”

Amanda blinked her eyes and tried to stretch the kinks out of her neck.  “Oh my gosh, I must have.  Did you drop something or was that…”

“Thunder, darling,” Dotty finished her thought.  “It looks like we’re going to get one heck of a storm.  You looked so peaceful; I didn’t want to disturb you.  You haven’t slept very well over the last few months.”

“What time is it?” Amanda asked, glancing outside.  The rain and dark skies didn’t give her much of a clue.

“It’s still early, a few minutes after seven.  What’s all that?” Dotty asked, nodding towards the paperwork on Amanda’s lap, the couch, and the coffee table.

Rubbing her eyes and yawning, she answered, “Jacob stopped by late last night.   A friend of ours is sorting through these files at the State Department.  Somewhere on this list, is the name of the original file that will exonerate Lee.”

Dotty squinted through her glasses.  “Seems to be a lot of pages.”

“That’s the problem, Mother,” she sighed heavily, her voice filled with defeat as she picked up the papers trying to re-organizing them.  “It will take months to find the right file.”

“What you need is a shower, and a hot breakfast.  March up those stairs and get started.  I’ll have a cup of coffee and some pancakes ready when you’re done.  After that, you’ll have a fresh perspective.”

“I don’t have time for all that,” Amanda grimaced, flipping through the pages yet again in frustration.  “A hot cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal will have to do.  I need to figure out which file it is and fast!”

Dotty came into the family room and took the pages from her daughter.  With a stern glare, she pointed upstairs.  “You can take another look at the list after your shower and that, my dear, was not a suggestion.  Now go!”

“Yes, Mother,” she replied knowing her mother was right.  With a quick kiss to her mother’s forehead, Amanda hurried up the stairs.

It wasn’t long before a freshly showered and fully dressed Amanda rushed back downstairs.  Dotty was still busy in the kitchen when her daughter reemerged.

“Coffee’s already on the table, sit down and I’ll bring over the pancakes.  They’re fresh off the griddle,” Dotty instructed with her loving voice.

“Everything smells delicious,” Amanda remarked appreciatively, taking a sip of her coffee and smiling at the plateful of pancakes offered her.

“Eat up then,” Dotty suggested as another crack of thunder rattled the house.

“I think you were right about the storm,” Amanda remarked taking a bite of her pancakes while the rain began to pelt the windows with a vengeance.

“There will be flooding all around town,” Dotty murmured, glancing out the window as the wind kicked up.

“Considering the weather, I think you should stay home today.  It’s a long walk from the parking garage to the courthouse, Mother, Lee would certainly understand.”

“Never mind the storm, eat.  You’ll think better with a full stomach.”

“I don’t know about that, Mother,” Amanda said, taking another bite of her pancakes while the wind whipped the rain against the house.   She cocked her head towards the window, listening outside before she continued with their conversation.  “There are hundreds of files and I’m not sure what I’m even looking for.  The file was made by Lee’s mentor many years ago…”

“Finish your breakfast,” Dotty urged her daughter, ignoring the noise from the storm and her daughter’s pessimistic attitude.

Amanda kept eating her pancakes, but after a few more bites she stopped, and glanced out the window.  “Did you hear that?” Amanda asked her mother.

“The rain, of course.”

“No, it sounds like something’s outside.”

“You don’t think one of those pesky reporters is trying to get another photo, do you?” Dotty asked, peeking between the blinds, out the window.  “I swear I’ll never read another ‘National Enquirer’ magazine again!”

“No,” Amanda shook her head, putting down her fork.  Tilting her head towards the window, she listened carefully.  “It sounds like… like… crying?”

“Crying?  It’s probably the wind, darling.  Please finish eating.”

Amanda ignored her mother’s suggestion.  Instead, she got up, went to the door, and cracked it open.  The noise of the storm filled the room as soon as she opened the door.  “Oh my gosh!” she gasped, as she rushed out the door.

Dotty hurried to the door to see what her daughter went after.  A few moments later, Amanda returned holding a soggy ball of fur in her hands.

“Amanda, what in God’s creation is that?” Dotty asked, closing the door as soon as Amanda came back inside.

“Oh, Mother, it’s a kitten.”

“Where did a kitten come from?” she questioned, grabbing a kitchen towel and handing it to her daughter.

“I have no idea,” Amanda answered, still dripping wet herself.  She dried the shivering little kitten with the towel.

Dotty went into the laundry room and grabbed some bath towels.  She offered them to Amanda, as the little creature continued to cry a distressed meow.  Amanda took the bath towel and continued to dry off the tiny fur ball.  Finally, the pitiful meowing ceased, and a much drier, fluffier orange kitten emerged from the towel.  Jubilantly, it poked its head out of the towel and curiously glanced around the kitchen.

“Oh, sweetheart, she’s a little darling,” Dotty remarked, hearing the fluffy little kitten who was now purring.  “I think she likes you.”

Amanda inspected the animal a little closer.  “It’s not a ‘she’; it’s a ‘he’!”

“All right, it appears that he likes you,” Dotty laughed as she petted the cute little cat. “You’ll need to brush him.  We should name him, Fluffy!”

“Fluffy!  That’s not a good name for a male cat, he needs a masculine…”  Amanda stopped short and she stared at the cat incredulously.  Her eyes and mouth were open wide, but all she could do was shake her head.  Swiftly, she deposited the cat in her mother’s willing hands, and rushed into the family room for the list of papers she’d studied all night.

“Amanda?!” Dotty called out to her daughter, following a few steps behind.  “Is something wrong?”

“No, Mother, for once, something is right!”  Amanda sorted through the list, calling out the letters on the pages, “D, E, F, where are the ‘I’s?  G, H, I… Here it is.  It’s got to be it.  It’s got to be Ike.”

“You’re going to name the cat ‘Ike’?” Dotty asked.

“No, mother, but Harry did.”

“Harry?” Dotty repeated, petting the kitten gently.  “Hairy Harry, I like it.  I think I’ll call the cat Harry.”

“You can call the cat whatever you want, Mother.  I’m talking about Harry Thornton, Lee’s mentor.  He had an orange cat named ‘Ike’.”

“So?” Dotty replied, perplexed.

“Lee’s gotten out of a lot tight spots over the years, you know, like a cat has nine lives.  Not to mention Harry treated that cat like a son.  He treated Lee like his son…”

“I’m still not following you, dear,” Dotty pressed, trying to understand.

“Oh, never mind, Mother, it doesn’t matter.  Just trust me,” Amanda replied excitedly, as her finger traced the file names on the list. “YES!” she shouted victoriously as she came across a three-letter file.  “Here it is, Mother, the file that will vindicate Lee.  IKE!”

“Amanda, you’re not making any sense.  What does a cat have to do with a file?  Will you please slow down and explain?” Dotty requested.

“Mother, I don’t have time to explain.  I’ve got to get going.”

“Amanda, you’re soaked.  At least go change your clothes.”

Amanda stopped for a second and assessed her appearance.  She grabbed the towel on the counter and dabbed herself dry.  “Mother, I’ll be fine.  A little water won’t hurt.  Besides, it’s still pouring outside.  I’m just going to get wet running out to the car.  Thanks for breakfast, Mother, and take care of the kitten.”

She rushed around for her purse, grabbed her raincoat and umbrella out of the closet, and dashed towards the door.  As she left, she called out to her mother.  “I love you, Mother.”
 

***
 

Tuesday afternoon at the courthouse…
 

Jacob Goldberg had long finished questioning Leatherneck, an old friend and co-worker of Lee Stetson.    Now, Quentin Broderick was cross-examining him, trying to find a chink in his armor.  Despite repeated attempts by the District Attorney, the old Marine buddy of Lee’s was not cracking.

While the D.A. kept trying a new angle with the witness, Jacob Goldberg kept watching the courtroom door, waiting for Francine Desmond to appear.  There were no other character witnesses to testify on Lee’s behalf.  They only had one more defense witness to call.  If Francine didn’t show soon, he would have to appeal to the judge for a recess or a continuance.  An option neither he, nor his client, wanted.

Leatherneck continued his testimony.  He’d been on the witness stand for three arduous hours.  His cheerful grin and unyielding support for his friend never wavered despite the ongoing badgering by the prosecutor.  For once, Jacob Goldberg was appreciative of his opponent’s thoroughness.  They needed more time, and unbeknownst to Broderick, with his dogged pursuit of this witness, he was buying them plenty of it.

“Did you ever meet Mr. Stetson’s first partner, Ron Seaver?” Quentin Broderick asked the witness.

“Yes, Ron was a friend.”

“Ron Seaver was killed on a mission, was he not?”

“Yes,” Leatherneck nodded.

“Wasn’t that particular mission actually Lee Stetson’s?” Broderick asked.

“It could have been.  They swapped assignment frequently.”

“Do you remember why?”

“No,” Leatherneck shrugged.

“They switched assignments because Lee had scored a hot date,” Broderick provided, having dug up the information in Lee’s file.

“That sounds like Lee and Ron.  They both dated a lot of ladies back then.  If one of them had a date, the other would often trade assignments.  It wasn’t until after Lee met Amanda… his wife that he settled down.”

“Was there an investigation after Ron Seaver’s death?”

“Certainly, any time an agent is killed, there’s an investigation.”

“Was Lee Stetson investigated for his partner’s murder?” Broderick asked in a suggestive tone, hoping to plant seeds of doubt with the jury.

“No,” Leatherneck answered definitively.

“Really!” Broderick answered sarcastically.  “Did they ever find Ron Seaver’s killer?”

“No, and it haunted Lee for years.”

“Perhaps, the reason Mr. Stetson never found the killer was because Lee Stetson set up his partner.  Perhaps…” the D.A. hypothesized, as he glanced at the jury with a pleased smirk.

“Objection!” Jacob Goldberg shouted angrily.  “Your Honor, this whole line of questioning has no relevance to the case at hand.  My client was never under suspicion in his partner’s death.  The District Attorney is fabricating this whole scenario.”

“Sustained, the jury will disregard the line of questioning,” the judge ruled.  “Mr. Broderick, you’re trying my patience.  Does this line of questioning have a purpose?”

“Yes, sir, it shows a pattern of character, clearly demonstrating that the defendant has a rather inauspicious background.”

The judge shook his head.  “Please stick to facts, Mr. Broderick.”

“Yes, your Honor,” Broderick replied, as he continued on with yet another line of questioning…

It was shortly after that when the door to the court opened slightly.  A smiling Francine Desmond slipped into the courtroom.  The trained spy discreetly made her way over to Amanda, who picked up the raincoat she had sitting next to her, giving Francine room to sit.  The focus in the courtroom was on the witness stand, so very few people paid any attention to Francine when she sat down.  Nobody seemed to notice the large envelope she slipped to Jacob Goldberg – containing a very important file.

Jacob Goldberg immediately opened the envelope and retrieved the file.  The file itself wasn’t that thick, only a dozen or so pages inside it.  Both Jacob and Lee were hovering over the file, studying the pages intensely.  Jacob turned, his face smiling confidently before he gave a mere nod to Francine.  With that, it was clear to Amanda that their loyal friend had found exactly what they needed.

“I have no further questions for this witness,” Quentin Broderick ultimately announced to the judge as the courtroom waited restlessly to see what would happen next.

“Mr. Goldberg,” the judge called out to the defense attorney, “would you like to re-direct?”

Glancing up from the file he’d been studying, he looked at the judge and answered.  “No, your Honor, not at this time.”

“Very well,” the judge nodded and looked over at the witness and released him.  “You may step down.”

Leatherneck got up, nodded to Lee, and smiled at Amanda before returning to his seat in the gallery of the courtroom.

“Mr. Goldberg, please call your next witness.”

Taking a deep breath, Jacob stood up and buttoned his suit jacket; he nodded respectfully to the judge.  “Thank you, your Honor.  The defense calls Francine Desmond to the stand.”

Francine stood up, crossed the room, and took her seat on the witness stand.  After she was sworn in by the bailiff, Jacob Goldberg began his questioning, knowing her testimony would be key.  Jacob expected it would end the case with a sweet victory him, freedom and vindication for secret agent, Lee Stetson.

“You work at the Agency, Miss Desmond,” he began for the jury’s benefit.  “As a spy.”

Adjusting the microphone closer to her, Francine answered, “Yes, I’m an Intelligence Operative.”

“How long have you known Lee Stetson?” Jacob asked pleasantly.

“I’ve known Scarecrow… Lee Stetson, for almost thirty years.”

“You worked with him during that time?” Jacob prodded.

Francine smiled over to Lee, who was now sitting alone at the defense table.  “Yes, I’ve had the privilege to work with him since the early 1980’s when I first came to the Agency.  We were assigned to the same section chief in DC.  Over the years, we handled many cases together.  Eventually we each took different promotions within the Agency, although I’m still proud to call him a good friend.”

“Mr. Stetson, or Scarecrow as many of you agents fondly call him, was well respected by the other agents at the Agency.  Was he not?” Jacob asked, wanting his witness to paint the picture of the real Lee Stetson, and help erase the erroneous image the prosecutor had attempted to create.

“Absolutely!” Francine answered without missing a beat and then continued on praising her friend, “Lee is, by far, one of the best agents the Agency has ever had.”

“How so?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Lee got the job done, even when others would have given up.  He would doggedly pursuit a case until it was resolved.  At one point in his career he was given the ‘Q Bureau’, which was not the easiest of assignments.”

“Could you explain?” Jacob prompted.

“Sure,” Francine nodded.  “The Q bureau, as in ‘Question’ – the place where the toughest unsolved case files ended up – you know cold cases.  Scarecrow always went the extra mile.  He was persistent, loyal, and hard-working.”

“What made Lee Stetson so successful in his job?”

“There are a lot of attributes that make Lee a great agent.  For one thing, he has an extensive network, or as we call it ‘a family’.”

“Snitches?” Jacob suggested.

Francine shook her head.  “Oh no, Lee didn’t depend on snitches, they were too unreliable for him.  Lee relied on sources.  His sources or ‘family’ were made up of ordinary people, who heard or saw things.  Other people often dismiss them as being insignificant, and will speak freely around them.”

“Could you give us an example of a source, or his ‘family’?”

“Sure, people you see every day.  Like, hairdressers, or your barber, the plumber, or maybe the water delivery man,” Francine explained logically, glancing over at Amanda for a moment and smiling.  “Common citizens who are plainly visible, but many people don’t notice them or think they have to be tight lipped around them.  You’d be surprised what people say in front of them.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” Jacob noted, as there was muffled laughter in the courtroom.  He persisted with his line of questioning, continuing to paint the real picture of Lee Stetson, the person behind the agent.  “You knew Agent Stetson during the alleged Yushenko years, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe that Lee Stetson is guilty of being a double agent?”

“Absolutely not!” she answered quickly.  “As soon as I heard about the charges, I knew there was more to the story.  I knew it had to be a lie.  Lee Stetson is an excellent agent, but he’s also a patriot.  There’s never been a doubt in my mind about that.”

“Objection, your Honor,” Quentin Broderick complained with a bored look on his face.  “Miss Desmond’s opinion of the defendant is not on trial here.”

“It goes to show character, your Honor,” Jacob quickly argued.

“We could easily bring a dozen witnesses who would dispute her opinion of the defendant.  In order to save the court time, we respectfully request facts, not meager opinions,” the District Attorney barked back.

“Sustained,” the judge nodded, agreeing to Broderick’s request.  “Mr. Goldberg, does Miss Desmond have any factual information to offer regarding the case?”

Jacob Goldberg had assumed that Broderick’s patience would be wearing thin. They both knew this was his last witness, and the D.A. wanted nothing more than this case to end before it became an albatross around his neck.  “Sir, we’re getting there.”

“May I suggest you do it expeditiously.”

“Yes, sir,” Jacob nodded and walked back to the defense table and picked up the file that Francine had brought. He strode across the courtroom and confidently handed it to the judge.  “Defense would like to submit ‘Exhibit B’.  Since the prosecutor’s office misplaced the Melrose file, we took the initiative to locate the original, Thornton file instead.”

“Continue on, Mr. Goldberg,” the judge replied with a curious look on his face, as he thumbed through the file that had been placed on his desk.

“As we’ve already discussed, Harry V. Thornton was the founder of the Agency, and the man who recruited Lee Stetson.  Isn’t that correct, Miss Desmond?”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“Did you know Harry Thornton?”

“Yes, I had the honor and privilege of meeting him several times during my career.  He was a true American hero.”

“From what I hear about the man, I would certainly agree.  Harry Thornton was active with the Agency even after his retirement, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, he was on the Board of Directors until his death.”

“Harry Thornton had a lot of faith in Lee Stetson.  In fact, from the information inside the Melrose files, it was Harry Thornton who counseled Lee Stetson into becoming a triple agent!”  Jacob paused for a moment and glanced over at Quentin Broderick.  This time there was no objection from the man; in fact, the prosecutor was beginning to appear rather pale and had started to perspire.  “Isn’t that true, Miss Desmond?”

“Yes, you are 100% correct,” she nodded, and smirked haughtily over at the D.A., as only Francine Desmond could.  “I’ve followed this case closely, as have many of my colleagues in the intelligence community.  I never believed Lee was guilty, and when a reliable source of mine recently urged searching the Thornton files for the proof, I took it upon myself to find the truth.”

“The Melrose file was actually a copy of the original, ‘Thornton files’ written by Harry V. Thornton himself, wasn’t it?” Jacob Goldberg suggested.

Although he was leading the witness, there was no objection from Broderick.  There was no way the truth wasn’t coming to light at this point, and the D.A. knew it.  He was smart enough to keep silent and not bury himself any deeper.

“Yes.  After Harry Thornton retired, all his files were moved to the State Department vaults, for safekeeping.  It took a while to find the specific file in question.  Harry Thornton’s files are rather extensive, but with some insight, the proper file was located.  I signed it out personally, earlier this afternoon.”

There was a gasp in the courtroom and the judge wielded his gavel to quiet down the commotion.  The mumbles and whispers quickly dissipated.

Jacob Goldberg retrieved the file from the judges’ desk and held it up for the jury to see.  “Is this the file you signed out this afternoon from the State Department?”

“Yes,” she answered succinctly.

Jacob opened up the file and removed the top sheet of paper.  Francine had carefully placed Harry Thornton’s written letter of proof on the top of the file.  Jacob had seen it immediately when Francine had given it to him.  He handed it to her while she sat on the witness stand.  “This letter was in Harry V. Thornton’s personal file.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Could you please read this letter to the court?”

“I’d be delighted,” Francine answered, first glaring at Quentin Broderick, and then smiling over towards Lee and Amanda.  She cleared her throat and in a strong voice, she read loud enough for all in the court to hear:
 

 “This letter will serve as verification, that Lee Stetson, AKA Agent Scarecrow, is not, and has never been, a double agent.  Lee Stetson has acted with my full knowledge and recommendation as a triple agent.  The Soviet government, more specifically, Anton Yushenko, and his associates approached Agent Stetson while he served in Berlin, East Germany in 1975.

  At that time, I assisted Agent Stetson in setting up a Swiss Bank account.  The money in that account has been accessed by the Agency to fund various other European missions.  Although there is often activity in the account, Mr. Stetson does not access the funds, and has never benefited from said fund.  Several key employees at the Agency have authorization to utilize the funds as directed by protocol.

 This vital information will be entrusted to Agency Section Chief, William Melrose upon my retirement.  William ‘Billy’ Melrose has served as Lee’s Section Chief at the Agency for many years and can personally vouch for Lee Stetson’s character.  Lee is an honorable and trustworthy man, and one of the best agents the Agency has.  Lee Stetson has always put his country and the Agency first and foremost.  The sacrifices he has made for his country are numerous, and most likely will never be publicly acknowledged."

When Francine finished reading the letter, she glanced over at Lee and Amanda, unable to conceal her smile.  She added at the end, “The letter is signed, personally, by Harry V. Thornton.”

“Thank you, Miss Desmond,” Jacob Goldberg replied, taking the file from Francine and placing it back up on the judge’s bench.  Jacob then turned, staring at Quentin Broderick, but he wouldn’t meet his steady gaze.  The defense attorney then studied the faces of the jury, sitting across the room.  Making eye contact with each and every one of them, he knew there was nothing the prosecutor could say or do now to change their verdict.  With great pleasure, Lee’s attorney walked back towards his client and added one last sentence before sitting down.  “Your Honor, the defense rests.”

“Very well, Mr. Goldberg,” the judge acknowledged, before he turned to the District Attorney.  “Mr. Broderick, you may question the witness.”

In a small voice, the District Attorney, shook his head.  “We have no questions for this witness.”

The judge smiled at Francine and stated authoritatively, “Very well, then, you may step down.”

Francine stood up and left the witness stand, grinning at Lee as she made her way back to the seat next to Amanda.  She whispered something to Amanda and they both smiled and nodded.

The judge’s voice filled the room once again.  “Mr. Goldberg, you may begin your closing arguments.”

“Your honor, in light of the evidence located by Miss Desmond, from the State Department’s own files, I respectfully make a motion to dismiss all charges against my client.”

The judge picked up the file that sat on his desk, opened it up, and studied it closely.  The courtroom was silent except for the sound of the pages in the file when the judge turned them.  Lee and Amanda stared at the judge expectantly, waiting for a response.  Time seemed to tick by slowly, but eventually, he glanced up and surveyed the courtroom.  Then, he glared intensely over at the prosecutor, Quentin Broderick, and shook his head, disapprovingly.

“Based on the evidence brought forth by the earlier testimony of Janet Melrose Stewart of the National Security Agency, the testimony from the Agency’s own Intelligence Operative, Francine Desmond, and the file she has procured forthwith from the State Department files, your request for a dismissal is granted.”

The courtroom exploded with an excited buzz.  Amanda jumped up and shouted with joy reaching over to her husband; they kissed and hugged each other jubilantly.  Several reporters dashed out of the courtroom, planning to be the first to broadcast the breaking news.

The judge cracked his gavel on the bench, demandingly.  “Order in the court!”

It took several minutes before the noise in the room quieted down to a low hum.  Clearing his voice, the judge’s last words were important ones.  “Mr. Stetson, you are hereby released from custody.  You are free to go.”
 

End Part Seven
 

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