Author's Note: A very special thank you to Cheri for completing the beta, not once, but twice. And for giving me the courage to submit this story, your assistance is much appreciated. This is my first fanfic; the story blossomed from a simple idea of Mark's uncle and was written in three days. Hope you enjoy. Please review.
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Lessons My Family & the FBI Taught Me
Mark McCormick squeezed through the throng of reporters and photographers. He attempted to answer brief questions, while continuing to nod, and smile; he was making slow progress towards his objective across the meeting room.
Before reaching his quarry, a stocky brunette stopped him with a smug question, "So your new law clinic with the honorable Judge Hardcastle will concentrate on getting criminals out of jail that have already been convicted and sentenced to crimes committed?"
Mark smiled while silently clenching his right fist, "Well, actually no, Andrea, our law clinic will concentrate on wrongly convicted individuals who could not afford proper counsel; we will also take on other clients."
McCormick threw in another of his famous Hollywood smiles that would make most women swoon, "Andrea why don't you try more of the hors d'oeuvres, the judge made a special effort to choose the ones you like." He continued the famous smile, while pointing to the large oak table covered with food.
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Judge Milton C. Hardcastle was staking out the farthermost corner of the room away from the majority of the news media; he was desperately trying to keep his promise; a half smile was plastered on his face, while his eyes and clenched teeth told of the frustration he was feeling.
Finally Mark made it though the gauntlet over to where Hardcastle stood. "Boy these media people are vultures," Mark said quietly between his teeth.
"Oh, you have no clue yet," growled Hardcastle, "wait 'til they smell blood; they'll be trying to suck us dry."
"Judge, have I thanked you for throwing this party for my graduation? And opening the law clinic, it was a great surprise."
"Surprise, huh, you knew all along didn't you?"
"Well, maybe just a little," Mark admitted, grinning, and then added, "When can we get out of here? They took enough pictures to start their own magazine; I'm still seeing dots in front of my eyes."
"Pretty soon the food will be all gone, then they'll head for greener pastures."
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Hardcastle had been right. The reporters and photographers began to vacate the premises shortly after the food supply ran out. Mark now had the daunting task of cleaning up the mess.
Hardcastle came over, putting a hand on Mark's shoulder, "I'm proud of you, kiddo. You never gave up on your dream, and graduating summa cum laude to boot."
"How could I let you down? After all, you were paying for the education. I figured if I didn't maintain my grades, you'd have me sitting back in lock-up for not studying hard enough."
"Now, kiddo, you know better," as he rolled his eyes. "Besides, how can you clean the pool, trim the hedges, and wax the cars in lock-up," he added grinning.
I think that was Hardcase's way of telling me that he wants the vehicles washed and waxed by hand this weekend, should've figured I'd end up paying for this party somehow.
Mark groaned silently while finishing the clean-up detail.
Within a half hour they were headed up the Pacific Coast Highway toward home. Once parked in the driveway, both exhausted men separated -- Hardcastle to the house, and Mark to the gatehouse, to each fall into their respective beds.
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Mark awoke with the sun streaming in the gatehouse window and Hardcastle bellowing outside that it was time for new lawyers to rise and shine.
Pulling on his jeans and a t-shirt, Mark stumbled out of the gatehouse to the porch where Hardcastle was already eating his breakfast while reading the paper.
Mark grabbed a plate of pancakes and sausages and looked across to the back of the newspaper. He saw the picture of himself and Hardcastle cutting the ribbon to the new law clinic and the subsequent headline and story about Mark's graduation from law school with top honors.
Breakfast was progressing slowly when the telephone rang. Hardcastle raised his eyes from his newspaper to make eye contact with Mark, indicating that he should be the one to answer the phone. Mark frowned but got up and answered the telephone. Frank congratulated Mark and then asked to talk to Milt.
Hardcastle answered the phone with his normal "Yeah", then got quiet, making a few glances at Mark while he listened to Frank's explanation. Finally the phone call ended with Milt stating, "So they didn't tell you anything -- just wanted information? . . . Yep, I'll check into it and let you know."
Hanging up the phone, Hardcastle appeared to be mulling something over. Mark continued to eat his pancakes until the judge cleared his throat. Mark looked over caught Hardcastle's eye . . . and the look on his face. Chewing and swallowing his last bite, he asked with his usual smirk, "Okay, so what's wrong now?"
Hardcastle struggled with how to begin. "That was Frank."
"Yep, I know that, Judge, I answered the phone remember?" he answered with a grin, using a little humor to see if that would loosen Hardcase up a bit.
"Always a smart answer with you," Hardcase snapped in return.
"Judge, just spit it out, okay?" Mark almost pleaded.
After a resounding sigh, Hardcastle replied, "Okay, Frank said that an agent from the FBI was just in his office . . . asking about you . . . something I should know about McCormick? . . . I mean you didn't do anything stupid recently that I don't know about . . . anything that might be construed as being illegal?"
Mark looked confused and stunned at the same time. "Judge, I just took finals. You know as well as I do that all I've been doing for weeks, four weeks to be exact, is studying every waking moment, and now I'm trying to get ready to sit for the bar exam. When would I even get any time to do anything but study? I haven't left the estate other than for classes, tests, or graduation ceremonies. Why would the feds be interested in me?"
All of a sudden my radar is hammering into full gear giving off that tingling feeling at the back of my neck which I can feel down my spine and around to my stomach. Pay attention, Mark, this usually is not a good sign.
Nah, come on, I didn't do anything the feds would be interested in. It's gotta just be something stupid. Enough of these crazy thoughts for God's sake, you're gonna be a full fledged lawyer soon, quit acting like an ex-con, thinking everybody and everything is out to get you!
"You're telling me that you haven't left the estate for anything else . . . you're telling me the truth now?" Milt studied Mark's face, trying to see any hint of a deception or falsehood.
"Judge, I swear those are the only times I've been away from the estate, and when I'm not doing my chores I'm studying, you know I wouldn't lie to you. And besides that, do you know the percentage of people who flunk the bar exam on their first attempt?" the pitch of Mark's voice rising slightly.
"Well, actually the meat loaf the other night was a little dry, seeing as how you had your head buried in a law book when you were supposed to be cooking. . . . But I just don't understand how you got the attention of the Bureau and why? You don't think Sonny did anything do you?" Hardcastle added as he ran his hand through his hair.
"Oh man, I didn't even think about him; of course it was him, have you ever known Sonny to stay out of trouble for more than ten seconds? God, you don't think he got me in trouble do you? . . . Do you think we should contact the feds?"
"Let me make some calls to my contacts and see what they want with Sonny this time," he stated gruffly as he got up to trudge into the house.
Mark cleared the dirty dishes off the table and carried them into the kitchen where he started clean-up duty, while contemplating what problems Sonny could have caused for him this time.
Sonny, that stupid idiot, what did he do now? I bet the feds think I have an idea where he is; hell I don't even care where he is. I just wish everyone would leave me alone.
Just as Mark was drying the last plate and placing it in the cupboard, Hardcastle entered the kitchen quietly with his eyebrows furrowed together.
"So what did you find out? What did Sonny do this time?" Mark chimed.
When Hardcastle didn't answer, Mark repeated, "Judge . . . what did you find out? . . . Is anything wrong?"
Milt raised his worried eyes to meet Mark's. A long silence seemed to stretch between them. Mark swallowed hard, bracing for bad news.
Finally Hardcastle sighed, rubbed his hand across his face, and responded in a quiet monotone, "I didn't find anything out, even with all my contacts. They tell me it's off limits or they can't discuss it with me."
Mark studied Hardcastle briefly, sensing his discomfort and confusion. Mark knew from experience that Hardcase liked to be on top of things and particularly didn't like when he was kept out of the mix, so to speak. And why would they be keeping anything from him, especially if it had anything to do with him or Sonny, as Hardcastle was his former parole officer and now his mentor, friend, and law partner.
"That just doesn't make any sense, why couldn't they tell you what's going on?" Mark asked, getting more anxious as the sinking feeling in his gut started to take over.
For the next hour, Hardcastle and McCormick discussed all kinds of possible scenarios of Sonny's possible involvement, and speculated on the Bureau's sudden silent treatment. Finally Hardcastle concluded that he would go and see some old friends that owed him favors and apply a little more pressure in person, while McCormick was supposed to go study his civil law torts.
Mark balked at the idea, saying that he should be accompanying Hardcastle as the FBI was asking the questions about him, adding that civil law torts were boring.
Milt cut him off, reminding him, "The way to pass the bar exam is to really know the material, now go study and let me use my resources to get the answers to some questions."
Mark reluctantly returned to the gatehouse as Milt was exiting the driveway in the pickup.
Okay, you know he's right study, study, study, show Hardcase you can do it and pass the bar exam on the first try. Show all the doubters that this ex-con is making something of himself. No, most important, show the select few of Hardcase's fancy friends that never approved of me that they were wrong. Yep, I'm gonna show them, bet they're gonna like having me as a peer and equal. Yep, an equal.
Out of sight, hidden behind some trees, sat a dark colored four door, larger model Ford with two male occupants. As soon as the pickup turned onto the Pacific Coast Highway, the male in the front passenger's seat picked up and dialed a car phone which only rang once and was answered. He stated, "Hardcastle just left . . . yes he's still at the estate . . . we'll keep watching and inform you if he makes any moves."
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