Title: Administration Of Justice


Author: Vikki


Disclaimer: The SMK characters and the Agency belong to Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon Productions. I'm borrowing them for my own amusement, and I'm not profiting from doing so. This story and the new characters I have created belong to me; please don't distribute or reproduce my story without permission.


Timeframe: The story is set in June 1987, shortly post-series. In chapters 2 through 6, following ####, there are flashbacks.


Summary: Past and present merge as Lee Stetson faces the scales of Agency justice.


Warning: While this story contains no graphic violence, it does explore a sensitive issue: How would the Agency handle a character's death in the line of duty?


Author's Notes: Thanks to Shelly for challenging me to complete this story and to a great beta team for helping to clarify and polish the rough draft. Thanks also to Ann for allowing me to borrow Eric Jarvis.


Archiving: Eman and Merel have blanket permission to archive anything I post. Anyone else, please ask first.


Feedback: Certainly! All feedback is welcome, on or off list.


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Chapter 1

The stuffy, windowless chamber could have passed for a courtroom. Not one of the large, ornate courtrooms typical of movies and television series, but the kind from real life: small and barren -- the prosecution and defense presenting cases from shabby, cluttered tables within arms' reach of their opponents.

Lee Stetson shifted restlessly on an uncomfortable, hard-backed chair. Taking a slow, deep breath, he turned his attention from the battered tabletop to the man seated to his left. He found his section chief's dark eyes studying him, the older man's thoughts unreadable in the solemn face. Sitting shoulder to shoulder, he wondered how he had failed to notice the subtle signs of aging in his longtime friend and associate. Or had the gray appeared in the thinning hair and the deep creases in the dark complexioned skin only during the last few interminable days?

"Focus, Scarecrow. You know what's at stake here." Although Billy Melrose's voice was almost monotone, Lee heard a distinct warning in the level words.

Biting back the reply that rose in his throat, Lee nodded. He lowered his gaze to his clenched hands and slowly relaxed his fingers, trying to mask some of his inner tension. Only with supreme effort would it be possible to clear his mind of everything except this place, this moment in time. He couldn't afford to reveal the maelstrom of emotions churning within. He couldn't let her down.

The sound of shuffling footsteps brought his head up once again, and he watched silently as four silver-haired men took their places at a table facing the one at which he and Billy were seated. With their plain, dark suits and somber demeanors, the men could have blended into the Board of Directors of most corporations in the country. They could have been meeting to listen to reports of profits and losses, sales projections and market forecasts. Instead they awaited accounts of violence and betrayal, of life and death.

Bile burned upward from Lee's stomach as he watched the figure on the far right of the group. The man's pale eyes flickered toward him, and the barest hint of a sardonic smile formed on the thin lips before Austin Smyth raised his ever-present cigarette. There was an unmistakable challenge in the cold visage as the Agency Director took a leisurely drag and then allowed the smoke to escape in a narrow column toward the ceiling.

Lee stared steadily into his superior's countenance and felt a brief stab of satisfaction when Smyth broke eye contact, looking away with a haughty flare of his nostrils and a faint elevation of his narrow chin, as though the entire procedure was somehow unworthy of his notice. If not for the anger burning through him, Lee might have appreciated the irony in that attitude; after all, Smyth was solely responsible for the events of the past week. He had, as usual, directed his minions with the precision and ruthlessness of a chess master, never concerning himself over how many pawns were lost as long as the desired outcome was achieved.

As though reading his thoughts, Billy nudged Lee firmly in the side, prompting him to drag his gaze toward Dirk Fredericks, who was rising from the adjacent table. Smyth's detachment clearly wasn't shared by the Internal Affairs guru. Fredericks almost vibrated with zealous urgency as he stalked to the middle of the room and then turned to face the defense table.

"I want to remind you, Scarecrow, that this is an administrative hearing, not a criminal trial. While I will be presenting the case against you, each member of the panel has the right to request clarification or pose supplemental questions. You must answer all questions fully and truthfully, unless the chief hearing officer," Fredericks turned to nod briefly toward Dr. Smyth, "strikes a question in response to an objection by your chosen representative." Dirk glanced impassively at Billy Melrose before continuing. "You have no fifth amendment right to refuse to testify during this proceeding. I'm certain you understand; you've been through this process once before, haven't you?"

Lee glared mutinously but kept a firm command over his temper. "Yes," he replied stiffly.

"Very good. Please note that Ms. Black --," Fredericks gestured toward a matronly woman seated near the panel, her fingers already flying across the keys of a stenograph machine, "is recording this proceeding, and will provide a full transcript for Agency records and for any criminal or civil actions that may arise from the incident."

"It is the purpose of this Board of Inquiry to determine whether Lee Stetson was negligent in the death of his associate, Mrs. Amanda King."