Clear and Present Danger

"Mr. Doe," Wegener replied, "in case you haven't figured it out yet, you are on trial for piracy, rape, and murder. This book" - the captain lifted his "Rocks and Shoals" - "says I can try you here and now, and this book says that if we find you guilty, we can decide to hang you from the yardarm. Now, the Coast Guard hasn't done this in over fifty years, but you better believe that I can damned well do it if I want to! They haven't bothered changing the law. So now things are different from what you expected, aren't they? You want a lawyer - you have Mr. Alison right there. You want to defend yourself? Here's your chance. But, Mr. Doe, there is no appeal from this court, and you'd better think about that real hard and real fast."

"I think this is all bullshit. Go fuck yourself!"

"The court will disregard the defendant's statement," Wegener said, struggling to keep his face straight and sober, as befitting the presiding officer in a capital case.

Counsel for the defense spoke for fifteen minutes, making a valiant but futile attempt to counter the weight of evidence already presented by the trial judge advocate. Case summaries took five minutes each. Then it was time for Captain Wegener to speak again.

"Having heard the evidence, the members of the court will now vote on the verdict. This will be by secret written ballot. The trial judge advocate will pass out the voting papers, and collect them."

This took less than one minute. The prosecutor handed each of the five members a slip of note paper. The members of the court all looked at the defendant before and after marking their votes. The prosecutor then collected the ballots, and after shuffling them in his hand about as adroitly as a five-year-old with his Old Maid cards, handed them to the captain. Wegener unfolded the ballots and set them on the table in front of him. He made a note in his yellow pad before speaking.

"Defendant will stand and face the court. Mr. Doe, do you have anything to say before sentence is passed?"

He didn't, an amused, disbelieving smirk on his face.

"Very well. The court having voted, two-thirds of the members concurring, finds the defendant guilty, and sentences him to death by hanging. Sentence to be carried out within the hour. May God have mercy on your soul. Court is adjourned."

"Sorry, sir," the defense counsel said to his client. "You didn't give me much to work with."

"Now get me a lawyer!" Mr. Doe snarled.

"Sir, you don't need a lawyer just now. You need a priest." As if to emphasize that fact, Chief Riley took him by the arm.

"Come on, sweetheart. You got a date with a rope." The master chief led him out of the room.

The other prisoner, known as James Doe, had watched the entire proceeding in fascinated disbelief. The disbelief was still there, everyone saw, but it was more the sort of disbelief that you'd expect to see on the face of a man stuck in front of an onrushing train.

"Do you understand what's going on here?" the lieutenant asked.

"This ain't real, man," the prisoner said, his voice lacking much of the conviction it might have held an hour or so earlier.

"Hey, man, aren't you paying attention? Didn't they tell you guys that some of your kind just sort of disappear out here? We've been doing this for almost six months. The prisons are all full up, and the judges just don't want to be bothered. If we bag somebody and we have the evidence we need, they let us handle things at sea. Didn't anybody tell you that the rules have changed some?"

"You can't do this!" he almost screamed in reply.

"Think so? Tell you what. In about ten minutes I'll take you topside, and you can watch. I'm telling you, if you don't cooperate, we are not going to fuck around with you, pal. We're tired of that. Why don't you just sit quiet and think it over, and when the time comes, I'll let you see how serious we are." The lieutenant helped himself to a cup of coffee to pass the time, not speaking at all to his client. About the time he finished, the door opened again.

"Hands topside to witness punishment," Chief Oreza announced.

"Come on, Mr. Doe. You'd better see this." The lieutenant took him by the arm and led him forward. Just outside the wardroom door was a ladder that led upward. At the top of it was a narrow passageway, and both men headed aft toward the cutter's vacant helicopter deck.

The lieutenant's name was Rick Alison. A black kid from Albany, New York, and the ship's navigator, Alison thanked God every night for serving under Red Wegener, who was far and away the best commander he'd ever met. He'd thought about leaving the service more than once, but now planned on staying in as long as he could. He led Mr. Doe aft, about thirty feet from the festivities.