The federal courthouse in Chicago was a fortress of glass and steel.
Adam stood on the sidewalk, looking up at the building where Viktor's testimony would be heard. The sun was cold, the sky pale. A wind off the lake cut through his jacket.
Sandra stood beside him. She had insisted on coming.
“You don't have to do this,” she said.
“I know.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because someone has to speak for my father. He can't speak for himself anymore.”
---
The courtroom was smaller than Adam expected.
A few rows of benches. A judge's bench. A witness stand. Viktor sat at the prosecution table, flanked by federal agents. His face was gray, his hands cuffed.
Miller was there, in the front row.
Adam sat behind him.
“You didn't have to come,” Miller whispered.
“Yes, I did.”
The judge en
