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her lawyer, I’d say it’s a dead-bang loser. And I’m not sure even you can pull the rabbit out of this hat.”
    Sloane pulled the witness statements from his briefcase and handed them across the table. “She got these through a FOIA request. Something caught my eye while reading them last night. Take a look.”
    Jenkins removed his sunglasses and stretched out his arms.
    “Alex isn’t the only one who needs glasses,” Sloane said.
    “Don’t start.”
    By the time Jenkins had finished reading the four statements, they were halfway through lunch. “Are these your highlights?” he asked.
    “Have you read the Bible, Charlie?”
    “I was raised Baptist. I didn’t have a choice. It was burned into my memory. I can recite chapter and verse.”
    “So you’re familiar with the four Gospels.”
    “Intimately.”
    “Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Four men, all recording the same historical events, yet each Gospel is different. Why is that?”
    “Different perspectives.”
    Sloane put down his fork. “I once heard a priest reason that an argument for the accuracy of the Gospels is the fact that they are different , that if someone had wanted to perpetrate a fraud, they would have made them identical, or nearly so. I can also tell you from experience that people don’t inherently remember or see things the same way. Put two people on a street corner to witness a car accident and you’ll get two different versions.” Sloane tapped the witness statements. “These four men were involved in a harrowing ordeal, and yet they each remember it damn near identically: Caught in a sandstorm, they drive off course and are suddenly ambushed. The details are impressive.”
    Jenkins flipped through a statement. “You think these were coordinated, someone made sure they said the same thing?”
    Sloane shrugged. “I don’t know. The other options are the men got together to get the story straight, which also makes it interesting, or it’s a coincidence.”
    “Which neither of us believe in.” Jenkins put down the statements. “Still, seems thin for a lawsuit, Counselor. You sure you’re only curious?”
    Sloane watched a ferry crossing Elliott Bay. “I thought about Joe Branick yesterday.”
    “Listen, what Joe did he did as much out of guilt as he did out of altruism. Both of us felt responsible for what had happened to you. He was trying to right a wrong and he died doing it, but that doesn’t mean you have to try to right every wrong to honor him.”
    “She needs help. I’m thinking maybe my reputation might, you know…”
    “Get the government to pay her some money to get rid of her.”
    “It’s better than nothing.”
    Jenkins picked up the statements. “You want me to find these guys?”
    “They should be back stateside by now.” Sloane’s cell phone rang. He considered the caller ID window. “It’s Carolyn.”
    “That woman scares me,” Jenkins said. “Why doesn’t she like me?”
    Sloane flipped open the phone. “She loves you.”
    “Can you and the Jolly Green Giant take a break from checking out the eye candy for a minute to work?” Carolyn asked.
    Sloane chuckled. “Charles says he loves you too.”
    Jenkins looked genuinely concerned.
    “Right,” Carolyn said. “I found you a military lawyer. Don’t know anything about him, but you said pronto, so this is pronto. You get what you get.”
    Sloane took out a pen and turned over the napkin. “Thanks. Go ahead.”
    “He’s a solo practitioner in Pioneer Square. Says he has to be in court at two-thirty for a DUI hearing—not sure if he’s the defendant or the lawyer. Otherwise, he starts an assault and battery trial tomorrow and won’t be available for the next four to five days. So it’s today or two weeks, unless he’s convicted and gets sent to jail.”
    “Carolyn, do you know Henny Youngman?”
    “Who?”
    “Never mind.” Sloane considered his watch. “Call him back and tell him I’ll meet him at his office at one-thirty.