Chapter 4

Jack Bristow lay awake, listening to the snores from the bunk above. His cellmate was a butcher from Queen's who had stabbed his wife to death during a domestic argument. He had plea bargained the charge down to Man. One and an agreed sentence of seven to fourteen years. Now he was waiting to be formally sentenced. Jack appreciated the unintended irony of the situation.

Two wife killers in a cage, he thought.

He looked round the cage, the bars casting shadows in the prison's dim, night time lighting. A 7' by 9' cell containing two men, a combination toilet and sink unit, a fixed desk with a floor mounted stool and a shelf above it and a small storage unit for such clothing and personal items they were permitted. He looked at his watch, 5:55. Only another five minutes to the wake up call.

Unlike his previous experiences of incarceration he had been allowed to keep his watch, could buy personal items from the commissary and have books and newspapers sent in. He could move freely within the cell block for much of the day and use the adjacent exercise yard. This meant he could take a shower when he wanted to, watch the communal television, play cards or board games and keep fit, even telephone Sydney. Limited as these privileges were, they were a lot better than the mind sapping monotony of solitary confinement. The downside was sharing a confined space with a complete stranger, enduring the constant noise, fear, anger, hopelessness and repressed violence of too many people in too small a space and the constant vigilance he had to maintain against fellow inmates as well as guards. All told, the experience was probably no better, if no worse.

He and Sloane had spent the past week considering scenarios. Although they had not entirely discounted Sloane's initial suspicions that he had been set up by enemies within the Federal Government, it was not their favoured theory. Given the mountain of evidence of more recent criminal activities, the Government was unlikely to use a thirty year old case against him, especially one where the facts were, to say the least, embarrassing to the CIA. Jack's own continued imprisonment also argued against this explanation. They had considered whether Elena had discovered they were searching for her and had orchestrated their arrest. The extent of her resources was unknown but if she could keep both Sydney and Nadia under surveillance for most of their lives, she was certainly capable of framing them. The Chilean operation, however, had been classified as Delta Red 1 and it was difficult to see how she would have had access to enough details to fake a convincing case. In fact, the most likely scenario was the most obvious. Somehow, certain information regarding the operation had come to the attention of the New York authorities and their arrest had been driven by some publicity hungry local prosecutor. What he had and how he had obtained it was another question. They expected to know more soon. Then they could start developing a counter strategy.

The wake up call sounded throughout the block and simultaneously the harsh neon day time lighting came on. Following the routine into which he had fallen over the last week; Jack got up, straightened his bunk, used the toilet, washed his hands and splashed water on his face. He dressed in the jail issue shirt and pants, pulled on some socks Sydney had bought him and a pair of sneakers, and then stood against the cell bars. He heard his cell mate climb out of his bunk and lumber over to stand beside him. They remained there while a guard walked past, glanced into the cell and made a quick notation on his clipboard. Eventually the PA system announced, "Head count cleared."

A buzzer sounded and hundreds of cell doors slid open with a thunderous clash. Jack left the cell and joined the line of other inmates making their way to the mess hall. On the bottom tier Sloane was leaning against the open doorway of his cell. He levered himself up and fell into step beside him.

"Hopefully we'll learn what the DA hopes to gain by this pressure play of incarcerating us later today." Sloane observed, "Does he expect us to take a deal for a reduced sentence, or one of us to turn State's Evidence against the other, or does he want us to incriminate others?"

"It's useless to speculate at this point." Jack replied, "We'll know once we've met with his representatives." He paused, and then went on, "Arvin, I don't need to remind you that this scenario is a classic illustration of the Prisoners Dilemma in Game Theory?"

Sloane gave him an enigmatic smile but didn't reply.

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"The DA's office just called. They want to know if you've made any progress in tracing that Chilean prison guard." Lieutenant van Buren said.

Detective Ed Green shrugged, "It's a dead end. Do you know how many Rodriguez's there are in the phone book? Four hundred and fifty eight."

"And that's just in Manhattan." his partner Lennie Briscoe added dryly, "We're talking thousands if we include the other four Boroughs …and that's assuming he wasn't visiting from out of town when our witness recognised him and that he's still using his real name; which I wouldn't be if I'd been involved in torturing and killing hundreds of my fellow countrymen!"

"We've also tried the Chilean embassy and Chilean community groups, but no luck." Green said.

"That's what I've always admired about you two." van Buren replied, "Your unfailing optimism. Go back and re-interview the wit. See if he remembers anything else that could help. But before you do, the DA's office has finally reached a deal with the Feds on the disclosure of their records. You're to go to the CIA building and observe while they pack them in secure containers. Then you and two CIA employees are to escort them to Judge Reinhardt's office. She'll review them for relevance to the case."

"Right." Green said cynically, "and it's not like they haven't had time to sanitise their papers. After all it's only been a week!"

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When she and Jack McCoy had sat down to decide how they were going to play these meetings they had decided on a divide and rule strategy. The physically imposing Jonathan Bristow had appeared the toughest so Mc Coy had taken him. Now she was sitting in the interview room with Arvin Sloane and his lawyer. He appeared older that the age given in his file and the disposable beige paper jumpsuit, worn as a precaution against smuggling by all prisoners receiving visitors, was a size too large, making him seem small and helpless. Remembering the pictures of James Selzer's bloody and mutilated body she would have found it difficult to believe the man in front of her could have committed an act of such brutality if it hadn't been for her experience in the District Attorney's office.

"Mr Sloane," she began, "I am ADA Serena Southerlyn. You should know that we have found witnesses who saw you and Mr Bristow torture and kill Mr Selzer and their evidence, supported by documentation, will stand up even after thirty-three years. You are fifty-six years old and the sentence for 2nd degree murder is twenty five years to life imprisonment. Given the average life expectancy of American men, it is highly unlikely you will ever breathe the sweet air of freedom ever again. On the other hand, if you co-operate I can offer a substantial reduction in sentence. You have a daughter; you could be free in time to help your grandchildren with their high school homework."

Jerry Shapiro interrupted. "Ms. Southerlyn, you're jumping the gun. First off, you have to get this case past a motions hearing on the jurisdictional issue. I believe you'll fail. Second, in the unlikely event a court agrees you do have jurisdiction to prosecute, you have to prove my client murdered Selzer. You may believe your witnesses will stand up, I wonder what a jury will think after they've been cross-examined."

Serena looked at Sloane, "Don't listen to your attorney sir; he's the one who's over confident."

"What is your offer, Ms Southerlyn?" Sloane asked. He held up his hand to stop Shapiro from protesting, "Let's hear her out, Jerry."

Serena took a deep breath, "Give us the names of your superiors in the operation, testify against them and your accomplice and we'll let you plead out to Man One, eight to fifteen years."

She was surprised to see Sloane settle back in his chair and grin at her.

"And this is a one off, non repeatable offer, available to only one of us. A colleague of yours is interviewing Jack Bristow even as we speak and I should tell all now, before Jack takes the deal. Correct?"

Serena felt more unsettled than she had in a long time. This man was not acting according to type. He was a middle aged, white professional. After a week in jail he should be in culture shock; not sitting calmly, accurately predicting the rest of her presentation.

The smile left Sloane's face and he leaned forward, staring at her intently. His body language changed in an instant and Serena found herself looking into the eyes of a predator. She wondered how she had ever thought him harmless. She suddenly felt cold. She had sat facing mass murderers, serial killers, professional hitmen; but none of them had intimidated her the way this man was doing just by sitting there.

"Ms Southerlyn, you are offering me the certainty of a prison sentence. Why should I take it when I have every reason to believe the motions hearing will rule against you or a jury will find me Not Guilty? In either of those cases, I go free."

She tried to keep her voice calm as she replied, "You are looking at dying in prison if your accomplice takes the deal."

Sloane settled back and he once again seemed the small, insignificant man he'd appeared to be at the start of the interview. The change was so complete Serena wondered if he was totally sane.

No, she told herself firmly, he's trying to mess with your head.

"You don't know Jack Bristow do you?" was all Sloane said.

"I'll see you both in court." with that, Serena got up and left the room.

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Once the door closed, Sloane turned to Shapiro.

"Jerry, please find out everything you can about Ms Southerlyn and her colleague. Their backgrounds, home addresses, family, weaknesses. I think we need to take out some insurance."

Shapiro nodded, "I really thought you were considering the deal for a time there."

Sloane shrugged, "I was curious but it was never an option. If I had taken it, the Federal Government would have arrested me for violating my pardon agreement on my release and then I'd be facing an appointment with the needle again."

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"Detectives Briscoe and Green, sir."

The PA ushered them into the office and a middle aged man rose from an easy chair. He didn't offer to shake hands and neither did they. The detectives noticed that they appeared to have interrupted a meeting with two attractive young women, who were sitting on a couch facing him.

Briscoe looked around, "This is a really nice office Director Healy but we're here to monitor the packing and transportation of the records subpoenaed in New York-v-Bristow and Sloane."

"You got their ID Jane?" Healy asked. After receiving her nod, he turned back to the detectives and said, "I'll escort you to the file room after your security clearance has been confirmed."

"That wasn't in the agreement." Green pointed out, a tinge of anger in his voice.

"Detectives, I am under orders from Washington to co-operate. But I'll be damned if I let two complete strangers into a secure area without checking them out first. While we wait, let me introduce Ms Bristow and Ms Santos. They're the daughters of the two former CIA officers you're treating like common criminals."

Briscoe and Green murmured an acknowledgement of the introduction. The women were looking at them in disgust and contempt but that wasn't surprising. No matter how personally law abiding or tough on crime they were when it came to others; the families of criminal defendants almost never felt those principles should apply to their nearest and dearest.

"Do you feel proud, staging a dawn raid and transporting our fathers the length of the country without even letting them phone to say what was happening?" asked the smaller of the two, Ms Santos. They noticed that she had a slight and very attractive accent.

Green shrugged, "We were doing our job, ma'am. A warrant was issued and we executed it in accordance with the law." he answered.

"The evidence all points to your fathers. Selzer's parents have been seeking justice for their son's death for over thirty years. How would you feel if someone close to you had been murdered and the perp. was still walking around? Wouldn't you want them to pay for what they did? If your fathers didn't kill him, they have the opportunity to convince a jury of that at their trial."

Lennie Briscoe noticed Bristow's daughter eyes become haunted. She suddenly looked as if she'd been punched in the stomach and he knew that something he'd said had hit home. He decided to follow up his advantage.

"Do you remember your father ever mentioning a Rodriguez, Ms Bristow?" he asked, "Perhaps an old colleague or friend?"

Ms Bristow shook her head distractedly. He turned to the other woman only to receive a glare in return.

Just then the PA returned, "They both check out, sir."

"OK." said Healy, "Follow me. You are to observe only. If you touch anything in the file room or in any secure area the deal's off."

"What if we want to scratch an itch?" asked Green sarcastically as they followed Healy out.

Once the door had closed Sydney and Nadia looked at each other.

Rodriguez, they mouthed.

Glossary

Cross-Examination – Questioning of a witness by the lawyer who did not call them as a witness.
Man. One – slang for 1st degree Manslaughter. (With intent to cause serious physical injury to another person, they cause that person's death).
Perp – Slang for perpetrator (person who committed the crime)
Plea Bargain – an agreement between the defendant and the DA to resolve the case without a trial.
Prisoners Dilemma – Game Theory concept. If you type it into your search engine there are plenty of sites that describe it.
State's Evidence – person charged with a crime who co-operates with the prosecution in return for a lighter sentence.
Wit – slang for witness.