"Mr. Schiff, he's right over here."
Adam followed the man to a small stairwell along the side of the building which descended into the basement level. A man slept on the ground at the foot of the stairs, just beyond the door to the building. He wore a green parka and a navy wool cap. He was curled on his side, with his legs drawn up. He clutched a plastic bag.
"Thank you," Adam said to the officer, and began to walk down the stairs.
"Should I stay, sir?" the officer asked, a little confused.
Adam turned toward him, halfway down, and replied, "That won't be necessary."
The officer shrugged and left.
Schiff sat at the foot of the stairs. McCoy never moved. Adam looked closely to make sure the man was breathing. He was. The smell of old alcohol permeated the stairway. Schiff grunted, leaned his back against the wall of the church, and waited.
It was over an hour before Jack moaned and stirred. He would have gone right back to sleep without noticing his former boss sitting near him. So Schiff said, simply, "Wake up."
Jack blinked a couple of times, felt for his bag, and sat up.
It was late afternoon. The sun was low and light was fading. Someone had joined him in the stairwell. He adjusted his eyes and looked right into the face of District Attorney Adam Schiff.
"Adam?" Jack was unsure of his perceptions.
"Jack."
Jack rose to his knees, rubbed his eyes, then stood. He looked around him for answers but, seeing none, sat back down next to Adam on the stairwell.
"How did you find me?" Jack asked. He wanted a drink. He needed a drink. But to pull out the flask in front of Adam Schiff. No, he couldn't quite do that.
"Distributed your book shot all over Manhattan Island."
"I could have gone to Brooklyn, or the Bronx."
"You didn't."
Why didn't I? thought Jack.
Jack waited. Adam didn't speak.
Ten minutes passed. Jack tried to make sense of the situation. His need for alcohol was growing. Another five minutes passed and Jack tried to remember why he was reluctant to drink in front of Adam Schiff. He couldn't remember. He pulled out his flask and gratefully swallowed. He drank deeply, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. As he put the cap back on the flask, Schiff spoke.
"Aren't you going to offer me some?"
Jack looked at Adam and looked at the flask, still in his hand. He extended it to Schiff, who removed the top and took a long drink.
When Adam passed the flask back to him, Jack drank again. Still neither man spoke.
Finally Adam broke the silence. "So, are you ready?"
Jack looked at him blankly. "For what?"
"To end this. To get cleaned up."
Jack looked forward. He began to formulate his argument - the same one he'd used with some success on Abbie Carmichael.
Adam spoke again. "I've made arrangements for you to be treated at Parkview Hospital in Nassau county. It's a 28 day program. After that you'll come and live with me for a month. Then, if you can promise to keep your hands off her, you'll live with Abbie Carmichael for a month. After that, I've got a list of people who would welcome you into their homes, until you can get a job and get back on your feet. Look at the list. I think you'll be well cared for, for as long as it takes."
Adam handed Jack a piece of paper with names on it. Jack looked at it, barely understanding.
Lennie Briscoe, Ed Green, Anita Van Buren, Jamie Ross, Rey Curtis, Mike Logan (that's got to be a mistake), Reina Perez, Mac Geller, Elizabeth Olivet, Emil Skoda,
Jack looked at Adam in confusion. He looked back at the list.
Danielle Mellnick, Al Archer, Jessica Sheets, John Murphy, Adele Diamond, Richard Billings, Gerald Fox, Brad Feldman, James Granick, Gabrielle Ruffino, Erica Castle, Gordon Schell, Kathy Teller, Margaret Nash, Warren Bartlett, Barry Nathanson, Bernie Sklar, Carla Tyrell, Aaron Blum, Charles Garnett, Mildred Caskill, Leon Chiles, Abe Mercer, Lester Hastings, Elizabeth Rogers, Lester Rosenfeld, Rudy Giuliani, Judge Donald Karan, Judge Shawn MacNamara, Judge Rosalyn Lenz, Judge David Weintraub, Judge Douglas Venturelli, Judge Nathaniel Berger, Judge Ed Richter, Judge Nathan Murray, Judge Henry Fillmore, Judge Anna Shiro, Judge Harold Rockwell, Judge Elayne Link, Judge Paul Kaylin, Judge Elizabeth Mizener, Judge Sally Goldman, Judge Harrison Taylor, Judge William Wright, Judge Walter Bradley, Judge John Sierra, Judge Vincent Miceli, Judge Joseph Rivera, Judge Lillian Barone, Judge Herman Mooney, Judge Marc Kramer, Judge Delano Burns
Judges? Defense attorneys?
"Adam, this can't be right. About half of these people can't stand me," Jack said.
"Wrong," said Adam. "Most of them can't stand you."
Jack smiled, grateful for his old friend's bluntness. It gave him a sense of rightness in his upside-down world. He looked at the list again.
Adam continued, "My phone has been ringing off the hook. These people want to help you. I don't doubt that there will be twenty more names on it by the time I get back into the office."
Jack studied the names, trying to make sense of it. He was truly touched. But the idea of accepting charity from these people was too much. Certainly it was a less preferable prospect than that of his newfound freedom. No apartment to take care of, no bills, no phone calls, no deadlines, no plea bargains, no one to answer to but himself. It was natural for his friends to think he had hit bottom. But Jack suspected that he hadn't. How could he ever make Adam understand that he just wasn't ready to end his vacation from the world yet?
"All you have to do, son, is come with me to the car that's waiting to take you to Parkview."
Adam had called him 'son'. He swallowed hard. Don't lose it, McCoy. He knew he was being given a chance that might not come again. Time to choose.
"I'm ready."
Jack and Adam stood up, and headed up the stairs toward the car.