Silver Justice

by Blake, Russell

  “We both know he’ll never live long enough for this to go to a jury.”

  “It’s really the perfect crime.”

  “You sound like you…like you understand him.”

  “I sort of do,” Richard admitted.

  “But you can’t condone what he’s done. It’s wrong. You can’t just kill everyone you think has been bad. That’s what the law is for. The system.”

  “Yes. I know. But he does raise an interesting question. What do you do when the system is broken?”

  “Obviously, you need to work within the system to change it.”

  “Sure. But if your research has shown that change is impossible? That the bad guys are just going to get away with it because the system itself is so flawed meaningful change is impossible?”

  “I don’t know, Richard.”

  “If someone broke into your house and raped Kennedy, and then you discovered that it was the mayor’s son, and because it was him, that he’d never be prosecuted…what would you do? No, even better, if you discovered that he did it all the time and had never been stopped and never would be?”

  “I don’t like that kind of question.”

  “I know. But that’s the question he’s forcing us to consider. It’s very much like that. We know who committed the crime, we know they’ve done it before, we know they’ll do it again, and we know nobody is ever going to stop them. So what’s your responsibility in that case?”

  Their food came, and they ate in silence.

  After a while Silver said, “I suddenly don’t like the world I’m living in.”

  “I know. Me neither.”

  “Then what’s the solution? What’s the right answer?” Silver asked, putting her fork down disgustedly.

  “I don’t think there is one. I think there’s just a right answer for you. I think the hard part is when you remove all the rules and have to decide what’s right, not because you’re afraid of being punished or caught, but because of what you’ve decided. For me, I think all we can do is try to be happy and be glad we’re not in Howard’s position.” Richard took another bite of pasta.

  “That’s it? Try to be happy? That’s your solution?”

  “I didn’t say it was a complete solution. But it’s the only one I’ve come up with. So I’ll keep going to work every day, put one foot in front of the other, put a bad guy in jail every now and then, and try to focus on the good in my life – of which you are one of the big things at the moment.”

  “The good?”

  He nodded. “The best.”

  “Is this where we talk about us?”

  “I think we just did. You want a chocolaty dessert?”

  Chapter 27

  The guards moved with Rob through the prison corridor, his feet shuffling due to the hobbling from the restraints around his ankles. His wrists were likewise bound, and the two huge guards escorting him towered over his lanky frame.

  He had been pulled out of his cell at seven a.m. with no warning or explanation other than that he was being transferred to a new facility. No reason had been given, but he knew when he heard the words super max that his life was about to change for the worse.

  The larger of the two guards grinned his enjoyment of Rob’s predicament. “Hey, buddy, I hear you’re headed to Southport. That should be fun, huh? Rest of your life in an eight by twelve box. If you’re good, you get one hour a day in the yard. Rest of the time you’re in solitary.”

  “I’ll be back before you know it. They got no grounds to move me to super max,” Rob said with confidence.

  “I won’t be putting any money into that pool. I hear you pissed off the wrong people.”

  Rob struggled vainly against the four point restraint system as he was led to the prison loading dock, where a truck much like an armored car waited to ferry him to his new home. Three guards stood impassively by as he was manhandled into the back of the truck, which was a specially constructed vault designed for prisoner transport. The driver signed a sheaf of forms, and the back slammed shut with a heavy thud. A few moments later, they were moving.

  After several hours on the road, the truck lurched to a halt, and the door opened. Four guards stood waiting, and a fifth signed the paperwork, taking receipt of the former motorcycle gang chief. He glared at them. The guard that had signed for him moved into his field of vision. Rob noted that part of his face had burn scars on it.

  “Hello, douchebag. Welcome to Southport. This is your new home until the end of time. There are some rules you’ll need to learn, and I’ll let the boys fill you in about them. But I’m here to let you know about the only ones you need to remember. You are not here to be rehabilitated. You are not here to improve your mental health. You are not here to operate a criminal enterprise, or network with others, or piss anyone here off, or you will find yourself in an absolute world of hurt. Contrary to what you might believe, you have no rights. You have no expectation of fair treatment. You live and you will die by however I feel, and I’m usually pissed-off that my life consists of looking after scum like you. That makes me very angry on a good day. You do not want to test that anger. It is sudden and swift, and it will land on you like a piano dropped from a twenty-story building if I even imagine you’re giving me problems. I’m the head of the day shift on your block. The night guy is not as patient or compassionate as I am. You will sit in your cell and rot until you die, which for me can’t happen soon enough. I won’t bother asking you if you have any questions because I don’t care. You are nothing. A zero. So begins the rest of your miserable life, which my sole aim is to make as unpleasant as humanly possible.”

  Rob blinked at him without expression. The man nodded at his fellow guards, who jerked him into motion.

  A solitary figure in a suit stood watching the procession at the far end of the receiving facility and nodded when the head of the day shift approached him.

  “If there’s anything you can do to make his life worse than it will be just by virtue of being here, think of it as my special request for you to do so. He put out a contract on an FBI agent. We’ll keep him here until that works its way through the system, or until he dies – whichever occurs first,” Agent Heron said.

  “People die all the time. He doesn’t look particularly healthy.”

  “No, I suspect he isn’t.”

  “Consider it my pleasure, then. You need an escort out?”

  “I was never here.”

  ~~ ~

  Silver adjusted the cushion at the base of her spine and swiveled the chair a little as she tried to get comfortable. The headaches had receded over the last three days, but the back was still prone to aching. Her doctors had assured her that in time it, too, would fade; as far as she was concerned, it couldn’t happen fast enough.

  This was her first full day back at work, and she studied the pile of paperwork with loathing. A week off and she’d accumulated enough on her desk to require a month of her time just to get even. The good news was that she didn’t have much else to do – with Howard in custody, the task force had wound down, so she was between assignments at present.

  Sam avoided her as much as possible, which was fine. If she never had to deal with him again that would be too soon. He’d taken her success in apprehending Howard almost personally, as a deliberately contrived sleight, and had been moping all morning after coming in and giving her a desultory, obligatory congratulation.

  Some people were just magnets for bad karma. Sam was clearly one of those.

  Whatever – it wasn’t her problem.

  Dendt had died the prior morning from radiation poisoning. She’d deliberately avoided paying too much attention to the descriptions of his decline. Perhaps he was a malignancy, as Howard had posited, but still, nobody deserved to go that way.

  Seth knocked lightly on her door jamb. She looked up from her pile with relief.

  “How does it feel to be back in the saddle?” he asked with a smile.

  “Like being a third grade teacher with five hun
dred homework assignments to grade.” She gestured at the mounds of reports.

  “Hey, at least it’s over, and the good guys won again,” he said as he sat down. “And you’re now an official legend in Bureau history. I think taking a serial into custody while flat on your back and on leave is a first. I’m not sure how you top that.”

  “I’m not planning to. Besides, that was mostly luck.”

  Seth gave her a disbelieving look. “I sort of figured.”

  “Sam doesn’t look too happy about it,” Silver observed.

  “Yeah, well, he was gearing up to hang the whole thing on a Muslim fundamentalist terror cell, or the mob, or both, and you spoiled his party. It would have made quite a name for him if that had turned out to be right.”

  “I was thinking exactly the same thing when I didn’t win The Big Spin again last night. If only…”

  They both chuckled, then Silver raised an eyebrow in warning.

  Brett’s suited form filled the doorway, causing Seth to jump to his feet.

  “I was just leaving,” he said.

  Brett nodded.

  Once Seth had departed, Brett closed the door behind him and took a seat in front of her desk.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Not bad. Tough to get back into the swing of things, but then again, I was never much for pushing a pencil.”

  “I know the feeling. I’ve put you in for a commendation, by the way. I’m pretty sure it will be a laydown.”

  “Thank you for that. It means a lot to me.” Which was true. Recognition of her excellence on the job was one of the ways she measured herself, and it never hurt to hear you were doing a good job.

  “I read the interrogation transcript. Pretty heavy stuff. Anything you want to talk about?”

  Silver considered her words carefully. “What did you think about it?”

  Brett leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. “We live by rules and conventions, Silver. You know that. They aren’t perfect, and God knows we’ve all had moments where we wish we could take matters into our own hands. But what keeps everything from breaking down is that we don’t. As flawed as things are, they’re better than a lot of other places in the world, so even if I conceded that he has some valid points, which I’m not saying he does, what are the alternatives? In the end, he got what he wanted, which is notoriety, and you did what you had to do, which is your job. That’s why you show up here every day.”

  “I suppose so. But would it be stupid or naïve for me to ask whether anything will ever come of his claims? If he’s even half right this was the crime of the century.”

  “I’ll run it up the flagpole, but I don’t expect much. You know how things work. We’re very good at tracking a bank robber or a killer. Not so great at trying to build a case against, well, most of the big names in the world of high finance. Where do you even start?” Brett shook his head.

  “With most crimes, you start at the beginning.”

  “I know. But white collar crime isn’t the same. It’s frustrating for that reason. There are a lot of gray areas…”

  “And a lot of very powerful people with their congressman’s home phone numbers on speed dial. I get it. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it’s one of the more frustrating cases I’ve had.”

  Brett nodded as he got to his feet. “No disagreement there. But all we can do is mush on and live to fight another day. Right?” He walked to her door and opened it.

  “That will have to do.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Ben welcomed Silver into his office and gestured at his receptionist to bring her a bottle of water. He beamed at her as she sat down.

  Once the woman had returned with the drink, he motioned for her to shut the door.

  Silver gave him a quizzical look. “What’s the news?” she asked.

  “Do you believe in Santa Claus?”

  “Not since I was eight. Why?”

  “Because from where I’m sitting, it’s Christmas in April.”

  “Spit it out, Ben. I don’t think I can afford the humor. You’re too expensive by the joke.”

  “Well, I can give you the long version or the short version. Seeing as you’re so testy, I’ll stick with the short. Your ex is no longer a problem. He’s pulled his motion, and I can’t see him being an issue for you anytime soon.”

  “What? You’re kidding!” she exclaimed. “Tell me you’re not kidding, Ben.”

  “You’re not kidding, Ben.”

  Silver winced at the lame joke. “What happened?”

  “Ah, so the longer version is suddenly of interest? Fine. Remember all those expensive private detectives you’ve been paying for? Well, they’re worth it. One of them was able to find a twenty-year-old intern who claims that your ex forced her to perform a whole slew of deplorable sexual acts while she was working for him, and that she ultimately quit because of the constant harassment. Apparently some money changed hands, so she never filed any charges, but she still holds a grudge. To make a long story short, even a hint of that would kill Eric’s chances of running for public office, so when we approached him for a friendly chat about it, he suddenly expressed fatigue over the toll that his custody battle was taking on everyone.”

  “Yes, I imagine that signing the complaint was exhausting.”

  “I commiserated with him and pointed out that we could probably make the entire thing go away without raising any problems with the current arrangement if he was willing to cover your accumulated legal expenses to date. That seemed fair to him.”

  Silver nodded. “I hope you triple-billed him.”

  “That wouldn’t be ethical. But there were quite a few items that I’d somehow omitted from our calculations for your fee the last time we spoke. That’s why I’m an attorney, not an accountant.” Ben’s face could have been carved from granite. He opened a highly-polished burled walnut box on his desk and withdrew a rectangular slip of paper, then handed it to her. She took it, and her eyes got large when she read the script.

  “That’s a hundred percent of your retainer back, plus a little to help compensate for the fees you must have incurred when looking at selling the flat. It’s not my place to probe too deeply, but I hope that will be satisfactory?”

  Silver folded the paper and put it into her purse. “More than satisfactory, Ben. You do great work. As always.”

  “Just trying to keep the world safe for single mothers, Silver. Today I did my small part.”

  “On behalf of single mothers everywhere, I thank you.”

  “I saw you in the paper yesterday, by the way. Congratulations. That’s a big achievement. You must be very excited.”

  “I thought the photo made me look kind of…heavy.”

  “Nonsense. You’re perfect. The camera always adds fifteen pounds. You looked stunning.”

  “You’re very kind. So what now? Do I need to do anything more?”

  “I’ll ask you to stop on the way out and sign a few documents putting this episode behind us. Beyond that, you’re done.”

  Silver stood and extended her hand. “Thanks for everything, Ben. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope I never have to see you again.”

  He nodded and smiled as he shook her hand. “Believe it or not, I get that a lot.”

  ~ ~ ~

  The sommelier brought the bottle of wine to the table and presented the label for Richard’s inspection. He nodded his approval, and the man made a big show of opening it and pouring a little for him to taste. He swirled it around in his mouth, then made an approving noise and gestured to Silver’s glass. She watched as the deep purple liquid filled the bottom fifth of the goblet. Once the man had left, they raised their glasses in a toast.

  “All’s well that ends well,” she said.

  “Bottoms up,” he suggested, then took a sip.

  “Mmm. This is really good,” Silver enthused. “Better than the one we had the last time we were here.”

  “I agree. Australian Shiraz. Big, bold bruise
r of a mouthful.”

  “G’day, mate,” she intoned in an exaggerated accent.

  They bantered easily as they enjoyed each other’s company. Richard was sliding his hand over to hold hers on the tabletop when they were interrupted by the waiter’s arrival with their entrées – they had both ordered the ostrich special.

  She took another taste of the wine.

  “I really can’t believe how much I like this wine,” she said.

  “It will go well with your ostrich.”

  “Doesn’t everything go well with my ostrich?”

  “Why, Agent Cassidy. Are you flirting with me?” he asked in a low voice, fixing her with a troubled look.

  “It’s sexual harassment I was shooting for.”

  “You don’t have to threaten me to get me to admire your ostrich.”

  “Admiring it wasn’t what I had in mind, but it’s a start.”

  They sipped their wine contentedly. Silver stared off at a distant table, losing the moment for a split second, then she picked up her fork, as did Richard.

  “You still have him on the brain?” Richard asked.

  She returned her focus to him. “Hard not to, isn’t it?”

  “I’m with you there. But there’s no point in dwelling on all of it. We did our jobs. Our part is over.”

  “I know. But I can’t completely let go of it. Kind of like a fixation. Once you know a little, you want to know more. Pretty soon you’re spending a lot of your time doing research that doesn’t lead anywhere good.”

  Richard nodded. “I understand. In the end, though, it sort of is what it is. Neither you nor I can change the world. The best we can do is try to leave it safer for our stay on it. If I can manage that, it’s a good day.”

  “You ever wish you didn’t know some of the things you know?”

  It was Richard’s turn to stare off into the distance. “All the time, Silver. All the time.”

  “Kind of sucks, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s a highly imperfect world. Always has been. But yes, it does suck.” He took a large swallow of wine and then picked up his knife.