10th Floor

One Hogan Place

8.30 am Wednesday 18 July 2007

"Colleen," Regan said, leaning on the edge of the secretary's desk. "Got a minute?"

Colleen looked up. "About …?" Regan nodded, and Colleen swallowed hard. "Okay," she said. She followed Regan into Regan's cubicle but stopped dead when she saw Jack McCoy leaning against Regan's bookshelf. "Mr McCoy."

"Regan didn't tell me," McCoy said. "But she's terrible at keeping secrets, for future reference. Come in and close the door."

Colleen shut the door behind her as Regan sat down at her desk, face flaming.

"I know you have every right to make whatever choices you think are best for you," McCoy said, studying his feet. He glanced up, giving Colleen the half-smile that she knew so well. "But I don't want you making choices just because you think they're best for me. So I'm making myself part of this conversation."

"I should have told you," Colleen said. "You deserve —"

"You don't owe me anything," McCoy said firmly. "Not a single thing, Colleen."

"I talked to Daniel James," Regan said.

Colleen bit her lip. "Why — why is he here? Back in New York?"

Regan paused. "He says he wants to apologize to you. While he still can. He says he's sick. Dying, actually"

"Oh, god."

"I'm sure the infirmary at Rikers can find room," McCoy said, unmoved. "Colleen, you don't have to do anything. You don't have to see him. You don't have to pay any attention to what he's saying. Do you understand? You don't owe him the chance to apologize, you don't owe him anything."

Colleen shook her head. "But if he's dying …"

McCoy folded his arms. "If what he really wanted was to apologize, he'd write a letter to be delivered after his death and not come here trying to manipulate you into a confrontation."

Regan nodded. "I tend to agree, Colleen. Turning up here without warning, that's not a kind or a considerate thing to do. On the other hand —"

"There is no other hand," McCoy snapped.

Regan raised her voice to talk over him. "Rey Curtis pointed out that —"

McCoy raised his own. "He doesn't even know Dan!"

"People can change —"

McCoy glared at Regan. "If you think I'm going to let Curtis's opinions about someone he's never met dictate —"

"Stop it!" Colleen cried. "Both of you, stop it!"

There was a silence. "I'm sorry," Regan said.

McCoy looked unmoved. "Good."

Regan glared at him. "I meant, I'm sorry, Colleen. Jack's right, you don't have to do anything. But I felt you deserved to know what your ex-husband said."

"I'll have him picked up," McCoy said. "I told him thirty years ago that harassing you would be an extension of the same crime. Even if I can't get a judge to buy it, a few weeks in Rikers waiting for a ruling should encourage him to rethink."

Regan rolled her eyes almost hard enough to dislocate her neck, but Colleen didn't need an A.D.A. to tell her what a bad idea that would be. Thirty years sitting outside the District Attorney's Office teaches you a little about the law — and a lot about politics.

She shook her head. "I don't want you prosecuting Dan. I won't cooperate if you do. You helped me, Mr McCoy, and I won't let you get in trouble for it."

McCoy scowled. "I'm not afraid of bad publicity —"

"You should be!" Collen snapped at him. "You think Arthur Branch wouldn't dare fire you? How about if you turned out to have brought the whole office into disrepute? You humiliated Mr Branch, Mr McCoy, and you and Ms Kibre and Mr Cutter might have said all the right things to the reporters but the public aren't the only people whose opinion matters to Mr Branch's career. I hear his side of a lot of phone calls, Mr McCoy, and he's been doing a lot of explaining to a lot of important men. Mr Branch isn't Mr Schiff. This job is a stepping stone for him! Discrediting you would make it a lot easier for him to take the next step."

"To what?" McCoy asked, and when she hesitated, "Come on, Colleen. The cat's out of the bag. Tell us what color it is."

"The Senate," she said. "Georgia. He wants to go to Washington."

"I knew it." McCoy raked his fingers through his hair. "Well, there's worse candidates. And better ones."

"What are you thinking?" Regan asked softly.

"I'm thinking that it might be in both our interests to make Arthur look very good for the next little while," he said. "And I'm also thinking, Colleen, that you are under no circumstances going to let Dan manipulate you into a meeting."

"If meet with him, he'll go away," Colleen said. "Won't he?"

"Maybe," McCoy said. "Maybe not. What if he wants to meet with you again after that, and after that, and after that? Rey Curtis notwithstanding, I know what Dan's like. And you know what he's like, Colleen, better than anyone."

"I don't …" Colleen bit her lip, and looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap. "I don't want to see him. But if there's a chance it could make him leave again …"

"If you don't want to see him, you won't," McCoy said. "It's that simple."

Regan paused. "What about Skype? It's like a teleconference with video —"

"I know what Skype is, Ms Markham," Colleen said.

"I was telling Jack," Regan said.

"So you mean it's like the wireless telegraph with moving pictures?" McCoy asked dryly. "How about it, Colleen?"

She'd still have to look at Dan, listen to him, but she wouldn't have to be in the same room. Colleen nodded. "I could do that," she said. "It would be better, than meeting him. But do you think he'd agree?"

"If he doesn't, then you can be certain he's not genuine," McCoy said.

Regan nodded. "I'll call him at his hotel," she said. "Make it clear to him that it's the only option."

"You'd better get to arraignment court first, Ms Markham," Colleen reminded her.

Regan smiled at her. "Got my files right here," she said, patting the pile on the corner of her desk.

"Rivera up?" McCoy asked, and when she nodded, "Mind if I come watch?"

"I don't mind if you take it," Regan said. "I can't help feeling Neil Gorton is going to hand me my ass." She glanced at Colleen. "Sorry, Colleen."

"You should be," Colleen said. "Not for the language, but for the sentiment. Mr Gorton is just another sleazy defense attorney, after all, and you are an A.D.A. in the Manhattan District Attorney's Office." She stood up and opened the door. "It's your job to hand him his ass, Ms Markham."

"I'll consider myself told," Regan said gravely.

Colleen went back to her desk and opened her letters file. She concentrated on triaging Arthur Branch's correspondence into three piles — standard response, custom response, and the District Attorney's own in-tray — to avoid thinking about having to talk to Dan, even if only by the computer. From time to time she glanced up to make sure that Regan Markham's door was still open.

When Regan headed for the elevator, files under her arm, McCoy following her, Colleen noticed that when the elevator arrived, McCoy held the doors for Regan — as he always did, for any woman — and ushered her through them with a hand at the small of her back.

Colleen turned back to her letters, shaking her head. She'd seen him do exactly the same thing with Sally Bell, with Diana Hawthorne, with poor Claire Kincaid. With Abbie Carmichael, in the last few weeks before Ms Carmichael left to work for the US Attorney for the Southern District.

With Casey Novak, for a week or so last year, with Christine Danielson for a while … And with all the others.

It always meant that Jack McCoy was playing with fire. Playing with fire again.

If only he and Sally Bell had lasted. Sally had been smart, and combative — they all were — but she'd never taken McCoy entirely seriously, which in Colleen's opinion was the best approach. She'd seen the two of them, sometimes, McCoy striding around his office shouting about some point of law or a trial strategy that, right at that moment, was the most important thing in the world to him, and Sally calmly working on her files as McCoy's rant washed over her. And then she'd look up, and ask him if he was finished, and explain why he was wrong in two or three sentences.

Colleen sighed. Sally Bell had been good for Jack McCoy, but she'd eventually decided that he wasn't good for her, and that had been that. And then Diana, and what a piece of work she turned out to be. And Claire, poor Claire … and all the others, after.

And now Regan Markham. Colleen glanced over her shoulder at Arthur Branch's office door, firmly closed. If he asks me where she is, I'll tell him arraignment. And if he asks me where Mr McCoy is, I'll just say 'the courthouse'. It's not a lie.

Not the first time she hadn't quite lied for Jack McCoy.

And on previous experience, far from the last.

Arraignment Court

9.30 am Wednesday 18 July 2007

"Docket ending 764, People v Daniel Parnell, charges are scheme to defraud in the first degree, grand larceny in the first degree, identity theft in the first degree," the clerk read.

Judge Janice Goldberg glanced at the paperwork as it was handed to her. "Counsel for the defense?"

"Here, your honor." Shambala Green strode up the aisle of the court, her braids twisted into a crown that added six inches to her already-impressive height. "Excuse my tardiness— motions hearing in chambers ran longer than expected."

"Did you win?" Goldberg asked.

"Of course," Shambala said with a slight smile.

"Then you're excused. Does you client have a plea for me?"

"I don't know who they're talking about!" Parnell said loudly.

"My client pleads not guilty," Shambala said, putting a soothing hand on Parnell's arm.

"Who's 'your client'?" Parnell asked.

Judge Goldberg regarded him impassively. "Counselor, does Mr Parnell understand the proceedings?"

"My client would preferred to be called …" Shambala leaned toward Parnell and he whispered to her. "Letitia, your honor. For the moment."

"And would Letitia benefit from a 730 exam?" Goldberg asked.

Shambala inclined her head graciously. "Thank you, your honor."

"Don't thank me yet," the judge said. "People on bail?"

From the prosecutor's lectern, Qiao Chen said, "People seek remand, your honor. The police have yet to recover the bulk of the money this defendant is charged with stealing. In addition, when apprehended, the defendant was in possession of eight different identity documents in eight different names."

"My client had no intention of fraud, your honor," Shambala said. "Those documents reflected my client's perceived identity at the time they were acquired."

"I take it Letitia's not guilty plea will include the words 'by reason of mental disease or defect' by the time the trial starts," Judge Goldberg said dryly.

"Your honor, without engaging with defense's assertion of a discredited diagnosis," Chen said smoothly, "the People would like to point out that if any one of the defendant's personalities should chose to depart the jurisdiction, the others would perforce also fail to appear for trial."

"Perforce, nice touch," the judge said. "I don't hear perforce nearly enough these days. Remand, pending a 730." She banged her gavel. "Next!"

Regan stepped through the bar and took Chen's place at the lectern as he gathered his papers. "Nice work," she murmured to him, and he gave her a quick grin.

"Docket ending 765, People v John Rivera, charge is murder in the second degree," the clerk read in a loud clear voice, and handed the papers up to Judge Goldberg.

"Neil Gorton for the defense, your honor," Gorton said, stepping forward to the table as the bailiffs took off Rivera's handcuffs.

"Assistant District Attorney Markham for the People," Regan said, not without misgivings.

Judge Goldberg looked over the top of her glasses. "How do you plead, Mr Rivera?"

"Not guilty," Rivera said.

"I always like to see a defendant upholding tradition," Goldberg said. "Do the People wish to be heard on bail, Ms Markham?"

"The People request remand," Regan said. "The defendant pursued his former intimate partner to an isolated location and shot her five times."

"Officer Rivera is a respected police officer who had previously been wounded by the so-called victim in the case," Gorton said.

"Mr Rivera was slightly injured in a shooting in which the assailant was never conclusively identified and no charges were brought," Regan countered. "Ten months ago. Brutally murdering her in a possibly-mistaken belief he was taking revenge certainly loses him my respect."

"My client has strong ties with the community and will be entering a defense of extreme emotional disturbance. There is no risk of him offending while on —"

Regan talked through him, voice even and pitched to carry. "What Mr Gorton means to say is, Mr Rivera will at best be convicted of manslaughter," she said. "That being so, there is an increased risk of flight and no disadvantage to the defendant in remand. Whether he does his time at Rikers or Attica, he'll be doing time."

"As a police officer, remand is unduly onerous — and dangerous," Gorton said.

"Fortunately, that's what protective custody is for," Judge Goldberg said. She brought her gavel down. "So ordered."

"What a bitch," Rivera muttered to Gorton.

"Something to share with the class, Mr Rivera?" the judge asked.

"My client is distressed by the —" Gorton started.

"Your client is remanded, Mr Gorton," Judge Goldberg said. "And advised to remember when his trial comes around that justice may be blind, but many judges have excellent hearing. Next!"

Regan escaped down the aisle as Rivera was led away. McCoy was leaning against the wall at the back of the courtroom and as she neared him he pushed himself upright and reached out to open the door for her, steering her through with a hand at the small of her back. "Good," he said.

"I didn't do anything special," Regan said.

"You beat Neil Gorton," McCoy countered with a smile.

Regan glanced over her shoulder to make sure Gorton hadn't followed them out of the courtroom too closely. "He took a dive, Jack. Why?"

"Probably waiting to revisit bail when he files his omnibus motion."

Regan frowned. "For what? On what grounds?"

They reached the courthouse doors and McCoy stepped ahead of her to get that door as well. "On all grounds. Neil favors wallpapering as a defense strategy, like most attorneys with big firms and lots of staff." He steered her through the door and loosened his tie as they left the air-conditioned interior. "Not something you've needed to worry about, going up against legal aid. Draw up a list of … say five paralegals, two secretaries, a couple of other A. if you can prise any loose."

Regan nodded. "Later do? I've got People versus Grady in part 18 in …" she checked her watch. "Twenty-five minutes."

"Sure," McCoy said. "I'm in chambers before Steinman before lunch, anyway, on this E.E.D. hail Mary of Neil's. How long do you think Grady will run?"

Regan shrugged. "Not long. He was caught on camera, caught in the car, identified by the victim, and confessed to the police."

McCoy frowned. "This is your diminished capacity carjacker, isn't it? Remind me again why he didn't take a plea?"

"I wouldn't go low enough. He put a gun to a woman's head with her five-year old in the back seat. Thank god he let her take the child with her or we'd be talking about a whole other tragedy." Regan considered reminding McCoy that he'd signed off on her taking Grady to trial when she'd told him the defense's bottom line. If he's forgotten, it'll be the first time that Jack McCoy couldn't recall the details of any case that crossed his desk. "Grady's got one prior, non-violent class C, but still. He was willing to plead to robbery in the third with a sentencing recommendation of three years. I was willing to go as low as eight on the top count, but three?"

"Too low," McCoy agreed. "Is he getting bad advice? Are we going to have to retry this on an incompetent counsel appeal?"

"I don't know," Regan admitted. "Do you want me to get a continuance so you can —"

McCoy shook his head. "No, no, get your conviction and let the Appeals Bureau handle any fallout. Just don't let the trial —"

"Turn into a battle of the experts, I know," Regan said.

He gave her a quick, sideways smile that made her stomach swoop a little, and touched her arm. "Go get 'em," he said, and strode across the street toward the D.A's Office.

Regan turned back to the courthouse. What was that about? Asking her to go over a case she was sure he could remember just as well now as when she'd briefed him on the arraignment, and the case conference, and Grady's refusal of a reasonable plea deal, and his affirmative defense of diminished capacity, and the defense's witness list …

Almost as if …

Regan couldn't help smiling. Almost as if he just wanted to spend a few more minutes talking to me.

"Ms Markham," Neil Gorton said, coming out of the courthouse doors as she yanked the left leaf open. "Is that smile because you managed to get my client remanded? Enjoy the feeling while it lasts."

"I intend to," Regan said as blandly as she could, stepped past him, and headed inside to send a carjacker to jail.