was tied back haphazardly, and she wore heavy glasses that kept slipping down her long nose.
The thick lenses could not hide her bright blue eyes, though, or the anger that they currently
contained.
“What are you staring at?”
A small grin played over his face. “Nothing.”
“I’m sure you’ve already been made aware of this, Agent North, but my client has offered his
statement to the Attorney General, and that offer was declined. So unless—”
“Did you really expect the A.G. to grant immunity for a statement that may or may not lead to
additional arrests?” North asked her. The amiable smile was gone, replaced by a level stare that
reduced most people to silence. He was surprised when it failed to faze the experienced trial
lawyer. “I mean, let’s not forget that part. It wasn’t a free offer. In our opinion, your client is
seriously jeopardizing any chance of cutting a deal by withholding information.”
“Hey, buddy—”
“Shut up, Thomas.” Harris held out a warning finger and managed to cut her client off before he
got started. She met North’s penetrating stare, but it was several moments before either of them
spoke.
It was Adam North who finally broke the silence. “Could we speak in private, Ms. Harris?”
She shook her head violently, several strands of hair coming loose and drifting around her face
in the process. “My client has the right to hear anything you have to say.”
He stood abruptly and started toward the door. “Then it looks like I’ll just have to report to the
A.G. that your ‘client’ has once again failed to cooperate with this investigation. If you’re
pushing for a deal, lady, you’re gonna be pushing for a long time.”
He had the door halfway open before she called out. “Hold on, Agent North.”
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A moment later she was following him out of the room, closing the door emphatically behind
her. She turned to the guard standing by the entrance.
“I don’t want anybody coming in or out of this room until I return. Is that understood?”
“I got it, ma’am… No one in or out.”
Satisfied with that response, Alex Harris stalked toward the visitors’ lounge with Adam North
following reluctantly behind.
It took nearly five minutes of wandering around, but Ryan finally found what he was looking for.
The registration desk was built in a large semicircle with an elevated counter facing out toward
the lobby, much like the reception area in a hotel lobby. Four computers sat behind it, as did a
number of telephones. An open doorway could be seen beyond all of this equipment, but the
person manning the desk was nowhere in sight.
He leaned over the counter and studied one of the phones, taking the time to scan the
handwritten markings beside each button. When he found the right one, he looked up at the fire
plan posted on the wall. The faded paper provided a vague description of the facility’s layout.
Ryan pressed the button and lifted the receiver as the intercom crackled to life.
“Deputy Matthews, please report to Processing. Deputy Matthews to Processing.”
Matthews looked up and frowned as the message was snapped out over the public address
system. Damn… Processing was on the other side of the building, and he didn’t have the keys to
the interrogation room. At the same time, he couldn’t afford to slip up with the watch
commander. Jackson had already cut him down three weeks earlier for what he had done, or
rather, for what he had not done in breaking up a fight in the housing unit that left one man
slightly wounded and another in critical condition.
He weighed his options carefully. He knew that the big man was with the lawyer, and Elgin
wasn’t going anywhere in leg irons. Jackson had instructed him to remain outside the door, and
countermanding one of the lieutenant’s orders was usually grounds for termination.
However, Matthews also knew that Jackson and the head of Processing played basketball
together in Arlington Mills on most Saturday afternoons. He was largely dependent on his
knowledge about budding alliances within the prison hierarchy to counteract the effects of his
own ineptitude. Matthews was keenly aware of his lowly status at the detention center.
The last of his indecisiveness melted away. He couldn’t afford another poor fitness report in his
file.
The smaller visiting agent, the quiet one with the black hair and gray eyes, was already forgotten.
Matthews moved away from the door and down the long hall toward Processing.
“So what exactly is on offer here anyway?”
Harris waited impatiently as North stirred his coffee and counted the seconds.
“I’m waiting…”
“Ms. Harris, we both know that your client is looking at some serious time here. Even if you
somehow manage to get the conspiracy charge dropped, we still have him for supplying
materials to Al-Qaeda and for assault on a Federal officer.”
“This isn’t news to me, North. What’s your point?”
He took a deep breath and a long sip of coffee before answering. “The assault charge is a lock,
okay? I’ll testify myself, if the prosecutor asks. Hell, I’ll probably volunteer my services. But I can
deal on the other stuff. You know who the key witness against Elgin is, right?”
She nodded. The impatience began to dissipate, replaced by a mild interest. “Your CI.”
“You got it. He’s pretty sharp, a hell of a lot more reliable than most of the people we’re forced
to work with. And I think he’ll make a good witness. That said, his memory could get a little
fuzzy if your client decides to cooperate.”
Alex Harris spread her hands out on the table, palms up in a conciliatory gesture. “I think we
have something to build on here, but that just isn’t good enough. I need a retraction from your
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informant, and I need it in writing. That’s the only way that Elgin is going to talk.”
North didn’t respond immediately, but his mind was working away. You might be surprised,
lady. Your boy might be talking sooner than you think. His eyes involuntarily moved to the
clock mounted on the wall of the lounge. Five minutes had elapsed since they left the
interrogation room.
Never before had five minutes felt so long to the young DEA agent.
Ryan was walking away from the desk when a voice reached out behind him. “Sir? Excuse me,
sir… What were you doing in here, just now?”
He kept walking, and the voice got a little louder. “Sir, please answer my question.”
Ryan turned his head to answer but kept moving forward. He wasn’t really concerned; the words
were authoritative, but the voice itself was tinged with indecision. It was a woman speaking, and
not in the tone typically used by a deputy sheriff hardened from years of guarding prisoners.
“I’m a Federal agent. Take it up with Jackson, he’s the one who ordered the call.”
Ryan realized that his last sentence didn’t really make any sense, but it did what he intended. The
receptionist was confused as she stared after him with worried eyes. She reached for the phone.
She knew about Lieutenant Jackson, had heard in the break room the whispered rumors of his
legendary temper. Why bother him without good cause? Besides, the man walking away from
her desk was obviously not a prisoner.
What harm could be done?
The receiver was returned to its cradle as the receptionist sat down at her desk and resumed her
work.
After three hallways and two turns, Ryan was once again standing outside the door. He was
relieved to see that Matthews was gone, but felt a sudden streak of anger, mostly directed at
himself, when he realized that the guard had probably locked the door before leaving.
If so, then that was it. He didn’t have time to get through the lock; it was only a matter of
minutes before North and the lawyer came back down the hallway, or before Matthews realized
what had happened and returned with reinforcements. If only the guard was as stupid as he
looked…
And it appeared that he was. Kealey breathed a soft sigh of relief when the knob turned easily in
his hand.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
“You have to be realistic here,” North continued. He was hunched over the table, staring
intently at Alex Harris. “A full retraction in writing is not going to happen, because that
translates into immunity on the conspiracy charge and providing aid to a foreign terrorist
organization.”
“I thought that’s what you were pedaling,” she said in exasperation. “You just expect me to take
your word for it and then get Elgin to hand over his statement? Is that it?”
He stared at her for a long time. Seven minutes had passed. He hoped that Ryan was moving
fast. “Ms. Harris, are you aware that the Treasury Department has already frozen your client’s
assets?”
Her face changed, and she tried to hide it by lifting her cup and taking a long sip of cold coffee.
From the way her cheeks burned, North knew that the news had come as a surprise to her. He
decided to tighten the screws.
“There’s no reason you should have known about it, since it wasn’t initiated by the presiding
judge. From what I hear, you run a pretty small firm. I don’t imagine that you have a lot of time
for pro bono work—”
“So what are you saying?” she asked, cutting him off in midsentence. Her voice followed her
temper and began to rise. “That I should file a motion for withdrawal? Hand it off to a
court-appointed attorney fresh out of night school? If that was your plan, Agent North, then
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you’re wasting your time. And mine.”
She stood up and snatched at her briefcase, angrily pushing up on the bridge of her glasses as
they slipped down her nose. As she moved to leave the lounge, he called out to her one last
time.
“Why are you representing him then?” She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him.
“You’re not getting any money out of it, and this is a pretty reckless way to earn a reputation as a
defense lawyer, because he’s looking at twenty years any way you cut it.” A lingering pause as
North debated whether to ask the next question. The indecision resolved itself quickly, though,
as he was genuinely interested in her response. “You have access to his criminal record. You
know what he did. As a woman, why would you want anything to do with helping a man like
that?”
When she finally smiled at him, North saw a cold, detached intelligence that gave him the answer
before she even opened her mouth. “Come on, Agent North. Don’t be so naive. This trial is
going to be headline news all the way up until the verdict. For that kind of attention, I think I’m
willing to set aside the feminist agenda, at least temporarily. After all, principles can’t buy air
time, can they?”
She winked at him, actually winked at him, and then spun on her heel to leave the room. North
leaned back in his chair. Well, that was that. Good luck, Ryan. Better you than me, pal.
Especially if you have to deal with her.
When he stepped into the room, Ryan didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look in Elgin’s
direction. He shut and locked the door behind him, then checked for a camera in the upper
right-hand corner near the ceiling. Seeing nothing but bare walls, he turned to face the prisoner.
Elgin was already up and cowering at the far side of the room. His movements were awkward
because of the handcuffs and leg irons that bound him, as well as the heavy brace on his left knee
that served as a reminder of their last encounter. The smug look was long gone, replaced by a
mask of pure terror.
“What the fuck! What are you doing here, man? Where’s my lawyer at?”
Kealey advanced with startling speed, kicking a metal chair out of the way before reaching the
prisoner. His right fist moved in a blur, slamming up into Elgin’s solar plexus. As Elgin slumped
and choked for breath, Ryan lifted him up and pinned him against the wall, wrapping his left
hand around the man’s windpipe and squeezing hard.
“I don’t have time to fuck around anymore, Tommy. You told me a half truth once. It won’t
happen again. There was another name on that bill of lading, wasn’t there? You’re going to—”
“I don’t know! I don’t know anything, I swear!”
Pulling back a few feet, Kealey pushed his weight forward and slammed the injured man hard
into the wall. This was immediately followed by another violent blow to the stomach. The
second was less powerful than the first, as Ryan struggled to keep the man upright and maintain
his own leverage at the same time.
All the same, it was enough. Elgin retched and continued to slump to the ground. Ryan let him
go, then reached around and pulled an object from underneath his jacket at the small of his back.
Elgin’s eyes grew wide when the knife was produced. He leaned away from the weapon, which
only made Ryan’s job easier as he reached to pull Elgin’s head back by grabbing a handful of
greasy hair, leaving the man’s throat unprotected.
“Do you remember this?” Kealey waved the ceramic knife in front of Elgin’s bulging eyes. “I’m
sure you do. That was a bad move, by the way. You really pissed me off with that little stunt. She
still got the drop on you, though, didn’t she? I guess you’re not as tough as you thought… There
was another name on that bill of lading, wasn’t there? Otherwise, it wouldn’t have gone missing
from the harbormaster’s office at NIT. Last chance — What was the name?”
Another violent shake of the head. Ryan’s fist was like a stone around the tape-covered handle.
He was taking it too far, and he knew it. The knife was on Elgin’s throat, and he pushed it down
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until the blade began to sink and a thin red line appeared, little rivulets of blood running down
and pooling on the cold tile. Elgin was screaming, muffled screams until Ryan realized that he
was holding his hand over the man’s mouth. He pulled it away and tried to collect himself. He
realized that his hands were shaking.
“I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you anything! Please stop! Just… Jesus, just stop!” Elgin continued to
ramble on, although the words were twisted and made incomprehensible by fear and pain.
“The name, Tommy. Right now.”
It was a long hallway, but Alex Harris was in no particular hurry, still fuming at the DEA agent’s
arrogance and her own wounded pride. His jab about money was especially painful because it
was true. She had spent the better part of the last decade in a prominent Chicago-based firm, but
her own firm was in its fledgling years, and she didn’t have the time or resources to represent a
client who couldn’t pay, even a client whose case enjoyed broad publicity. Despite what she had
