Resolutions – 18
Decisions Made
by MMB
Crystal rolled over and then sat up quickly. She was too comfortable, too warm – and her good eye peered out into the darkness trying to discern where she was. It took a long moment of complete confusion for her to remember that she was in a small, furnished apartment, courtesy of the Centre and Sydney and Sam's insistence on her having a warm and safe place to sleep that night. The moment she realized where she was, she lay back down into the comfortable mattress and covers to wonder at the abrupt turn her life had taken this time.
She'd heard of Sydney's part in the decision about her fate from Miss Parker after she'd left the older man resting quietly in his hospital bed. The intimidating woman had listened to Sam quietly and briefly relating what he'd been able to discover about her and then argue firmly for not turning her over to the authorities. Sydney, Miss Parker then related, had insisted that the Centre take some kind of steps to make sure that she was amply repaid for her Good Samaritan efforts on his behalf, something to which Sam had agreed wholeheartedly. There had been mention of her taking up temporary residence in one of the underground rooms – evidently they had housed people on a semi-permanent basis below ground at one time – but then Miss Parker had just picked up the phone and ordered some of her people to clean up this apartment for her.
Crystal turned onto her side and curled into a fetal ball. This was all too good to be true – these people were being too kind and too generous. These were the same people, she'd learned from Sam, who employed the dock workers who had pursued her so relentlessly when she made the mistake of trying to get into her warehouse refuge too early or left it too late. And she could tell from the attitude of the Parker woman that she was used to being around and wielding power – lots of it – on a regular basis. Sam, while certainly acting independently and standing up for his principles, was very deferential to her – even to the point of letting his boss tell him to take her out to dinner that night at the company's expense. Then again, seeing such a big man then turn around and cater openly and lovingly to his tiny Chinese fiancée had brought a shy smile to her lips once or twice during the evening.
But what would happen to her today, she asked herself fearfully. Surely they wouldn't let her stay in this apartment more than just the one night – nor would they feed her much more either. They'd found her a clean pair of blue jeans and tee shirt from somewhere, along with undergarments that fit, so that she felt properly dressed again and had had something at least clean and decent to wear to the restaurant. They'd even given her the surgical scrubs she'd been wearing to use later as pajamas. But it was already more than she could reasonably expect from anybody, no matter WHAT she'd done — and she hadn't done that much.
There had to be a limit to everybody's generosity – and surely she was getting close to the limits of theirs. The only question now was whether she wanted to stick around long enough to know the limit when it arrived and feel the withdrawal of approval and assistance. After all, she was just a smart-assed kid who'd done something nice once for someone they cared about. It wasn't as if they actually LIKED her…
A tear slipped out despite the heavy discipline that had prevented hundreds if not thousands just like it since she'd left home in Vermont. What she wouldn't give to be around these people more – people who treated each other AND her with respect and courtesy. She wouldn't have to behave like a porcupine all the time with them if she were going to stay – and dropping that deliberate rudeness would be a real relief – but then that wasn't going to happen, she chided herself brutally. These people wouldn't want her around for that much longer. Gratitude had its limits.
No doubt the moment she dreaded would come in the morning sometime – perhaps after they had taken her to see Sydney once more. She found herself genuinely hoping that she'd have the opportunity to say goodbye to her fellow victim. He was a good and kind man – she could still feel his hand holding hers and now wished she'd had the guts to keep hanging on longer than she had. She should never have teased Kevin about his uncle, she now realized – Kevin hadn't lied when he'd told her the man was warm and compassionate. Somehow she doubted that he would ever have thought of half of the things that she'd accused him of to Kevin – and the thought of what she'd imagined him to be as compared to the reality made her ashamed.
Heck, she should never have teased Kevin half as cruelly as she had either, she knew this now more than ever. If Kevin was anything like his uncle – and it certainly seemed as if he was picking up a lot of attitudes from the older man – he would have been a GOOD friend, the kind of friend she'd always wanted. But no, she'd had to play smart-ass, tough cookie, hard as nails that nothing ever hurt or bothered – lashing out first before others could lash out at her effectively. It had been a defense that had worked well for her, until now. Now it had ruined everything.
Crystal pulled the warm blankets up around her shoulders and tucked them in snugly around herself and closed her eyes tightly. She was warm, she was dry, she was better-fed now than she'd been in weeks. Two hearty meals in one day was more than she'd eaten in a very long time. She would have to remember that there WAS a world in which this civility and kindness towards others was the norm – and that this was the kind of world she wanted to live in some fine day.
Someday she'd find a place for herself – a place where she belonged and people to whom she mattered. Until then, her memories of the last two days would sustain her.
She hoped. Much would depend on how difficult the letdown would be.
Deb gave a deep sigh and roused slightly, and then settled back into Kevin's embrace contentedly. He had wrapped himself at her back like a warm blanket, surrounding her with his arms and holding her tightly into him, and was snoring very softly into her ear. She shifted again and his arms tightened around her possessively, as if making sure that she didn't leave his keeping.
She smiled very quietly to herself – waking up like this was like nothing she had ever expected. She knew that while Grandpa would probably be very unhappy about the development that had taken place during his absence and the living arrangement changes that would necessarily follow, she had no intention of ever going back to sleeping alone again. Her Dad would probably growl and spit his objections as well – but this was HER life, and she intended to spend it at Kevin's side.
She'd had a chance to think through some of her former long-range plans in the shower before that young girl had knocked on the door and thrown the day into complete chaos. Her plans for college would now depend on several factors. It would need to wait until her father was released from the hospital, until her Grandpa was ready to release her from daily therapy sessions for her assault, AND until Kevin would be ready to fend for himself in this wide, new world that had just opened to him. There was just so MUCH that he needed to learn – and the idea that she could be a part of the team introducing him to his new life was intoxicating.
One thing was for certain: she had no intention of leaving his side for any reason. She loved him completely – loved his naïveté and his curiosity about the world, loved the way he pampered her and supported her, and loved the way he loved her so wholeheartedly and had made her the most important thing in his universe. She'd never been quite so loved and catered to since her very first days with her father after the divorce and custody battle. Kevin was very rapidly becoming the very center of HER world now too. When she thought of plans now, those plans were phrased in terms of "us" not "me."
They still hadn't had their discussion where she laid out some of those plans for his input. Crystal's knock had torn them out of the house and down to a dingy alleyway behind a diner, where they'd waited for the Centre ambulance and Sam's assurance that he'd keep them informed as to her Grandpa's condition before they finally let Joe drive them home. Then it had been time for her to eat lunch quickly and get ready to go to work at the library, leaving Kevin behind to sort through those endless papers for another long afternoon. Sam had called while she was out, recommending that they come to visit Sydney after supper, which they had done. Then, after Kevin had finished his lesson out in the back yard with Ikeda, they had retired early to rest up from a long day of excitement and relief. She had walked back across the hall after changing into her pajamas and climbed into bed with him, and he had pulled her close and kissed her gently before they both had very quickly fallen asleep.
She shifted again and felt him give a big sigh behind her and pull her in even closer to him. "Go back to sleep," he mumbled in a low, soft voice. "It's too early to get up."
"I'm not getting up yet," she whispered back, rolling in his arms so that she was facing him. She kissed his nose. "Good morning."
One sleepy, blue eye opened part way, and then he stretched out to kiss her lips gently. "Good morning," he replied in a slightly more alert tone. "Another nightmare?"
She shook her head. Once more, she'd broken his sleep in the wee hours with her shriek and sitting bolt upright in fear. Once more his soft voice and gentle caresses had broken through the wall of terror that had surrounded her until she had huddled against him in relief and in desperate need of his comforting and finally – eventually – fallen asleep again. "No," she replied. "I just woke up." She moved her hand to hold him back, her hand smoothing over warm skin. "I was thinking…"
"About what?" the other blue eye opened now and gazed at her softly.
"About what's going to happen with us," she replied, settling her head on his shoulder and looking into his face earnestly. "About how I'm not going to go away to college until you're ready to come with me."
"Me go with you?" Kevin breathed. "You'll wait for me?"
"I'm not leaving you," she answered, her hand smoothing up and down his back.
"What about marriage?"
"What about it?"
"Will we get married then?"
She stretched up to kiss him. "I think Grandpa and Daddy would prefer that we get married if we're going to be living together this way."
"But, do you want to?" he persisted. "You said before that marriage was a big decision that couldn't be made so quickly."
"I know," she nodded. "But I've had a chance to think about it now, and I think, maybe, yeah."
"Yeah?" Kevin was fully awake now. "You're sure?"
She smiled up at him. "Mmm-hmmm," she nodded. "I've been waiting a long time for someone like you to come into my life."
He stretched down and caught her lips with his in a deep and passionate kiss. "I do love you," he breathed at her when they finally separated. "But what are we going to do when Sydney comes back? He's not going to be very happy about…"
"We'll talk to him," she reassured him, "and we'll tell him what we plan."
Somehow Kevin wasn't so sure Sydney would be placated quite as easily as Deb wanted to believe, but he kept his reservations to himself. He had already resigned himself to facing a long and probably very uncomfortable session with his mentor about the entire situation once the psychiatrist was feeling better. Besides, Sydney was not the only one who stood to be made angry by the change in his relationship with Deb — one other in particular stood out in his mind.
"What if your Dad says no?"
"I'm twenty-one years old, Kevin. My Dad can tell me what he thinks, but he can't tell me what to do anymore. Just like Sydney can tell you what he thinks, but he can't tell you what you do either." Her hand smoothed up his back in broader strokes. "At the worst, we'd have to move out of Grandpa's and find a place of our own."
Kevin tipped his head so that he could see her face more clearly. "We could do that?"
"We'd both have to be making money to keep the rent and utilities paid, but…" She smiled. "Lots of people our age are already married."
"What do we have to do to get married then?" he asked curiously.
"I'm sure Grandpa will tell us all we need to know when he gets home," Deb said, moving closer to him and shifting her body against his. "Until then…"
Kevin could feel how her touch had changed, become more provocative. "Oh yeah?" he chuckled, deliberately setting aside all his questions and worries to focus on the moment — and on Deb.
"Yeah," she breathed back and started to nibble.
"I think I can handle that…" he said, bending his head to capture her lips again and then rolled her into her pillow. Deb sighed in contentment as she felt his caress slip beneath the silken pajama blouse in search of warm skin and anything else he could find.
She would never tire of Kevin's touch…
"I told you that we'd still be here in the morning," Sylvie grumbled at Gillespie and then yawned widely.
"Have you two finished cataloging the evidence from the office?" Chuck Whelan breezed into the NSA office fresh from his morning shower, the crispness of his dress belied by the exhaustion in his eyes.
"Almost," Sylvie replied in a seriously grumpy voice. The only reason she wasn't snapping at her boss at the moment was that Chuck had been at work as long as she had – only leaving a half hour earlier to shower and change for a new day down in the locker room. "Are all the warrants sworn out yet?"
"I haven't heard from A. D. Berghoff yet," Chuck answered while reaching for a Styrofoam cup with one hand and the half-empty coffeepot with the other. "I'm assuming, however, that we should have them by noon."
"Good," Gillespie retorted. "The news of the military arrests is going to be spreading around the Beltway pretty soon, and we don't want any of these bozos to get the idea that they can run very far. I'm too tired to play fetch anymore today."
"You two won't have to be playing fetch," Chuck responded with a chuckle. "Finish what you're doing and then knock off – report back in twelve hours to meet with the federal prosecutor."
Sylvie finished typing her report into the little laptop, saved the document, and then paused at the very brink of closing down the system. "Is there anything else we need to add to that one?" she asked Gillespie.
"Let's beat it," was the tired response, followed by another yawn.
"Cut that out!" Chuck grumbled. "I'm as tired as you two are, and I DON'T get to go home yet."
"That's why they pay you the big bucks, boss," Sylvie quipped as the computer shut itself off and she closed the lid. She looked at Gillespie. "How about you buy a girl some breakfast downstairs, and THEN we can head home."
Gillespie slowly began to smile. He like this NSA agent – she was smart and she was sharp and she was more than capable of keeping up with him both professionally and humor-wise. "That sounds like an excellent idea," he answered, holding out an elbow to receive her hand after she had retrieved her purse from her desk drawer.
Chuck watched Sylvie's shapely form contentedly follow that of the seasoned FBI agent toward the elevators, vaguely aware that his chances to get to know the pretty agent in his chain of command had just taken a serious hit. He sighed and headed for the glass door of his internal office. Those were the breaks of command, he told himself brusquely.
Once this mess was concluded, he'd have to see if that blonde in Treasury was still interested in martial arts flicks.
The hot shower to begin the day had been heaven, especially with the idea that there was nobody pushing at her to get out or waiting for her. Crystal dried herself carefully with the thick, terry towel, braided her wet hair into a single rope to hang down her back and then donned her clean daytime clothing, folding the scrubs neatly to take with her when she left. She then made the bed — something she hadn't done for a very long time — and then sat on the edge of it, feeling sorry for herself. She looked around the room in the light of the new morning and decided that it would be very comfortable to live in a place like this.
The décor of the apartment had a decidedly oriental bent to it — screens of calligraphy and brush paintings adorned the walls and the furniture was low and quite functional. She was surprised to find a small carton of fresh milk in the fridge, which she drank straight down, and a loaf of bread. She gobbled two slices before she was done, and then carefully folded the thin plastic so that the remaining slices wouldn't dry out in the fridge. Then she moved to the low futon couch in the living room, waiting for the knock on the door that told her that her respite from life was over. She smoothed her hand across the canvas upholstery lovingly — this was nothing fancy, but it was heaven compared to what she'd had for months now. What she wouldn't give…
No, she schooled herself sternly. She couldn't think that way, it would only tear her apart. She had no part in this kind of life — and these people couldn't be expected to give her anything more than what they already had. She had had a two-day reprieve from the struggle to survive, she should be content with that.
The knock came far too soon, as far as she was concerned. She opened the door to find herself looking down into the round, smiling face of another very pretty Chinese lady. "Miss? Mr. Atlee called me this morning and asked me to escort you back to his office at the Centre — and Dr. Mitchell and I are ready to go in that direction. Do you have anything you need to do before…"
"No, I'm ready," Crystal replied, reaching behind her for the folded scrubs. "I'll need to return these…"
"No, no," the Chinese lady was shaking her head. "Leave them here for now — you'll need them later."
Crystal folded her brows into a frown. "I won't be coming back here — will I?"
Xing-Li shrugged. "I don't know, Miss. But I'm sure you'll be allowed to pick them up if you're being moved elsewhere." She gestured at the car waiting below, with Mitchell sitting at the wheel already. "At least we don't have to walk…"
Crystal picked up the key ring with the brass plate that held the Centre logo and carefully locked the door of her temporary refuge and put it in her pocket. She then followed Xing-Li down the stairs and obediently took a seat in the back seat of the comfortable and expensive little sedan. She listened half-heartedly as the Chinese lady and the woman at the wheel chatted familiarly during the short drive back to the complex of buildings and a construction site, looking out the window behind her with longing. Then the car pulled to a stop in a parking spot, and she was climbing out again to quietly follow the Chinese woman wherever it was that Mr. Atlee kept his office.
Xing-Li knocked and then pushed the door open. "Mr. Atlee, I have the young lady with me…"
"Thanks, Xing-Li. I appreciate this…" Sam smiled at his fiancée's former roommate and then gestured for Crystal to come into the office. "Sit down — I have a couple of things I need to do first…"
Crystal obeyed without a word, taking a seat in the comfortable chair across the desk from the huge man and folding her hands nervously in her lap. She deliberately found something interesting to look at in the worn carpeting while she steeled herself for the kind and compassionate brush-off that was sure to follow.
Sam cast a concerned eye at his guest — this complete lack of fire or bravado was not encouraging. Then it hit him. She was expecting to be given the boot. She'd had a meal and a warm bed, and that was to be her thanks for what she'd done for Sydney, and now she expected to be shown the door and given a rough shove into the cold world again. Not that he could blame her — from some of the small comments she'd made at dinner the evening before, it had been a long time since anybody had given this young woman a decent break. It had been so long since she'd been on her own that she'd started thinking of herself as street trash — and expected to be treated that way by everybody now.
He hurried through the rest of the evening's security reports, making sure that nothing had happened in the night that urgently needed immediate attention, then set his paperwork aside. "We have an appointment," he announced rising. "Come on."
"I wish you'd just tell me to get lost and let me go," she muttered finally as she rose as well. "Dragging it out isn't making it any easier, you know…"
"Miss Parker called me last night after I left you off, asking that I bring you to her office this morning," Sam explained. "I'm not sure what it is she has in store for you. Just hang in with me a little longer."
Crystal shrugged off Sam's attempt to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and walked obediently at his side when he took her elbow in his hand instead. For some reason, the idea that she was a prisoner escorted from place to place made this more tolerable.
"Is she…" he asked Mei-Chiang, who merely nodded.
"She's expecting you," she replied and waved the pair on past her desk.
"There you are," Miss Parker looked up from her own paperwork and set it aside for the time being. "Sit down."
"Look, I appreciate all you've done for me, and I know that…"
"Hush." Miss Parker held up a cautionary finger. "Sit." She pointed, and then waited for Crystal to finally do as she'd been told before continuing. "I spent a lot of time thinking about you and your situation last night, and weighing the options we have. Part of what I had to consider was the fact that Sydney and Sam would have my hide if I just let you slip away out there again," she waved at her window and the view beyond.
"I can take care of myself," Crystal complained, insulted. "I've done fine so far…"
"You've been lucky so far," Miss Parker corrected. "And as for doing fine so far, take a look at your face."
"That's…"
"Part of the problem is your age. We can't just let you go out there again without trying to make some kind of provisions for you."
Crystal's one good eye snapped. "I don't need another mommy," she growled.
"I'm not saying that you do — but like I said, Sydney and Sam here would be very angry with me if I didn't make some kind of effort on your behalf. So, I have a proposition for you."
"You could just let me go," Crystal begged, "before I do something that will make you wish you'd let me go."
"That's not one of the options I had open to me. What I am doing, however, is offering you a job."
"WHAT?" Crystal stared. That was the absolute LAST thing she had expected.
"Nothing great or spectacular — you'd be delivering interdepartmental paperwork, maybe doing some filing between times or any other small odd job that a department head might need done that you can handle." Miss Parker could see that she had absolutely stymied the girl. "The little apartment you stayed in last night would be provided to you as part of your pay along with a food budget and a small stipend that will give you spending money for luxuries as time goes by. Technically, you would be in Centre custody — although we wouldn't have to make it official unless you insisted or wanted it that way."
"Why?" The question was soft and almost pleading.
"Because we could use a roaming Girl Friday Go-Fer type person around here," Miss Parker replied with the beginnings of a smile. "And because it would keep you safe from others that would treat you like that bastard did that beat up my father and stole his car, and give you a place of your own, more or less, until you're old enough to actually BE out on your own."
"But you don't know me…" This was too much. Things this good just didn't happen to her. This was a dream — when was she going to wake up?
"I know all I need to know — you didn't run when just about anybody else would have seen to their own skin and let my father lie in the gutter," Miss Parker said kindly. "You didn't have to help him then — and you didn't have to go for help for him the next day either. That says more about who you are than anything you can tell me in words." She smiled. Jarod's advice had been sound — why, if all this girl would do was run away again, send her back into a bad place when she could stay here, be safe, and maybe even contribute to the kind of Centre she wanted to create.
"You're serious." Crystal still couldn't wrap her mind around it. Far from being shown the door, she was being offered a job and a place to call her own — and safety among people who treated her like a human being.
"Absolutely," Miss Parker smiled up at Sam and saw that he very obviously and thoroughly approved of her solution to the problem. "All I need now is to know if that is agreeable to you."
The dark eye peered at Miss Parker intently and showed just the faintest glimmer of hope in its depths. "Would I see Sydney sometimes?"
Miss Parker smiled a little more widely. The tough little street kid had a soft spot in her heart after all — and for Sydney to boot. "When he's well enough to come back to work, I'm sure you'll see him from time to time — if he doesn't decide to visit you himself before then. I think he's found a soft spot in his heart for you, if you hadn't noticed. So… what do you say?"
"Nobody's done anything this nice for me for…" Crystal started and then looked up at the intimidating woman across the desk from her. "I'd like very much to try that job. I'm just afraid I'll be a disappointment. I haven't ever done anything like that before."
"That's OK," Miss Parker soothed. "I'll set you up with the head of the clerical department and have her train you over the next few weeks — so you'll know where your deliveries have to go, if nothing else." She opened a drawer and pulled out a slip of paper. "Before then, you'll take this to the bank in town. I'll call them and tell them to expect you and to cash the check. I want you to go buy yourself some decent clothing for work — nothing fancy, but no jeans or tees, OK? Use what's left to get yourself some food. You'll need to eat, and you'll have to fend for yourself on that score — no more dinners out on the Centre for a while."
Crystal stared down again. "Miss Parker, this is too much…"
"Very well — think of this part of it as a loan, then. You can work and pay us back that way for a while. When we agree that you've paid it off, your stipend will increase some to reflect what had been withheld," Miss Parker assured her, then turned to Sam. "Assign a sweeper to take Crystal where she needs to go this morning, and then drop her back at her apartment." She returned her attention to the stunned girl. "You can start tomorrow morning, after you've rested a little more. Tomorrow's Friday — you can get oriented a bit, take the weekend to settle in a bit more, then start to work in earnest on Monday."
Crystal stood and had to restrain herself from throwing herself into the woman's arms. "I… don't know what to say, Miss Parker. I'll try very hard not to let you down."
"I know you will," she said, then eyed Sam again. "Maybe a visit with Syd before he gets sprung wouldn't be such a bad thing before the sweeper takes over. What do you think?"
"I'd like that very much," Crystal answered for herself, the first of a cautious smile teasing at her lips.
"I haven't been here for a while," Becca Ashland remarked as she looked all around her at the Pentagon corridor. Her arms were full of the combined FBI/NSA report on the evidence gathered from the dead conspirator. Colonel Fox, who had met her in the lobby of the huge complex, didn't reply and ushered her into a small conference room where Admiral Samson, General Fisher from the Air Force and Admiral Weston from JAG filled out the military end of things. Chuck Whelan from NSA, FBI Assistant Director Berghoff and Clint Charleston from the Justice Department were the rest of the civilians at the table.
"Senator," General Fisher was the first one to his feet as she entered the room. "Thank you for coming. Quite an interesting little knot of trouble we've been unravelling."
Ashland appreciated the dry wit of the General — after all, it was HIS attaché that had been involved in the conspiracy. Including him in this meeting had been a diplomatic way of apologizing for not bringing him in earlier.
"It's good to see you again," she replied and then nodded to the other gentlemen at the table. She found the seat that had been prepared for her and took her seat. "As General Fisher said, we have quite a little knot here. I'm hoping we have enough evidence to provide grounds for federal warrants against some very powerful men."
"I can't say that we have an absolutely air-tight case," Chuck Whelan replied, "but both AD Berghoff and I agree that the information collected from Phil Baldwin, the dead conspirator from NSA ties this whole package together and makes it coherent."
At that point, AD Berghoff took over the narration. "We have a case where elected officials accepted money from lobbyists representing companies that stood to profit from destabilization of the Middle East and other hot spots around the globe via the application of the projects being commissioned from the Centre. We have calendar entries, photocopies of checks — complete with memo notes regarding the project being funded, bank statements and ledger entries detailing checks written to the Centre — complete with memo notes regarding the project being funded."
"We have recently recovered the missing documentation for the projects the Centre deliberately discontinued due to questionable authorization," Colonel Fox reported. "Lemme tell ya, the descriptions of the project goals and research procedures is enough to curl your hair, frankly — and if true, would be enough to indict key Centre personnel as well, if they weren't already dead. Current Centre administration had nothing to do with any of it and is to be commended for putting a stop to such madness." He patted the summary sheet and the folder of brief descriptions in front of him, then moved another folder on top of it. "We also have transcripts provided by the Centre detailing threats to Centre personnel made by key military members of the conspiracy, as well as the results of a DNA test run on a knife suspected in an assault on a Centre scientist, tying that particular military man directly to the assault. We have a transcript of another phone conversation where a high-ranking Pentagon official openly abets and encourages this attack."
"You say we have evidence linking companies and corporations that stood to profit from the chaos caused by these projects — what proof do we have linking the legislators with all of this, and can we prove that they knew of the kind of work being funded?" Senator Ashland wanted to know.
Fox nodded. "We have transcripts of General Curtis and Senator Burns discussion two of the more egregious projects here — Veracity and Black Hole. From the context, it would appear that not only did Senator Burns know about what the projects entailed, but was anxious that they be put back into development."
"We are still transcribing conversations between the principles of this conspiracy," AD Berghoff stated primly. "We will be paying special attention to any mention of the projects by name and/or any contextual reference that indicates direct knowledge of what they involved."
Whelan leaned forward. "We also have eye-witness testimony that Phil Baldwin deliberately instigated two frivolous investigations into innocent Centre personnel. We are working under the assumption that the intent was to pressure the current administration of the Centre into being more cooperative."
Now it was the Justice Department's turn to speak up. "Gentlemen, I can see we have enough to justify warrants against those whose 'blind eyes' and unquestioning cooperation furthered the agendas of this group. DO we have enough to issue warrants on the Senators themselves?"
"Phil Baldwin's appointment calendars and ledgers tie those men in rather tightly to the funding of these projects," Whelan answered with certainty. "The way I see it, the Senators were the brains and the instigators, the military men were the muscle and the errand boys getting the job done quietly."
"I have 'round the clock surveillance on all three of these men," Berghoff added. "If they meet, we'll have a transcript of what is being said. If THAT doesn't put the nails in their coffins…"
Ashland folded her hands on the table. "Well, boys, I have enough to at least justify the start of an ethics investigation into misuse of PAC funds and collusion. But how do you suggest we give these legislators who've done such a good job of staying in the shadows of this whole thing enough rope to hang themselves criminally?"
"Make public the news of the military arrests," Fox said firmly, drawing all eyes to him. "I'm betting dollars to donuts that they'll get together one last time to try to cut their ties to any of this. The discussion should be enough to hang them all."
General Fisher was nodding. "I like it. It would prove the connection between the military end of the conspiracy and the civilian end and really tie everything up in a nice bow for you Justice fellas," he ended, looking at Charleston.
"I'd like to see the peripheral civvies also get hauled in," Admiral Samson finally spoke up. "Seeing their circle of associates dwindle and be hauled in might make that meeting happen just all that much faster — and then we can end this whole damned thing except for the trials."
"We want them all," Whelan agreed, "from the top on down. Do we know the patsies in the military?"
"There will be a problem with that," Colonel Fox informed him. "For example, the duty sergeant at the Pentagon Archives was acting under the direct orders of his superior when he obstructed our ability to investigate — not out of any loyalty to the conspiracy agenda or even as the result of a bribe. That's how the military end of this became so powerful — the men involved were powerful and could just order things to happen, and have them happen. We nail the top dogs, we'll HAVE the military end of things sewn up."
"Then, Mr. Charleston, I suggest you get the warrants for everybody BUT the three legislators issued and served as soon as possible," Senator Ashland said, "while I go back to the Capitol and get the machinery there moving to start the investigation. We want these clowns' world to just suddenly start falling in."
"I'm already feeding NCIS all the information I have received from Admiral Samson," Admiral Weston added. "If there are any others involved that we haven't discovered to date, hopefully they can smoke them out eventually."
"I think we all know what we need to do," Admiral Samson said finally. "Let's keep lively and keep in touch openly now. The more we are seen as closing the net, the more we can drive the guilty ahead of us until we have them boxed."
Everyone at the table rose en masse and the meeting was adjourned. "That means you don't have to feel like a spy anymore, Becca," Samson smiled at his old friend.
Her eyes twinkled. "I was just starting to get into the swing of it," she complained in mock distress.
"We'll just have to find something else to tweak your fancy one of these days," Samson chuckled back. "You would have made a good military officer."
"As long as I make a good Senator, Greg," she retorted with a chuckle. "Wanna go get some coffee?"
He gestured for her to lead, and then followed her from the conference room.
"Jarod?" Margaret called from the front door.
"In here, Mom," he called back, Ginger pulled back between his legs so that he could button the back of her dress up properly.
Ginger began to squirm the moment she caught sight of her grandmother. "Gamma, me wear buffa-fies?"
"Yes, Sprite," Margaret chuckled at the look of frustration on Jarod's face as he tried to catch the last of the tiny fasteners with his daughter trying to escape. "But stand still so Daddy can finish buttoning you up first." She went to the vanity and picked up the hairbrush as Jarod finally let out a satisfied sigh and gave his little girl a nudge in the direction of her grandmother.
"You know, I have never felt this nervous before," he admitted, standing and heading over to stand behind the women and work at tying his tie. "I think I'm all thumbs today."
"Take a deep breath," Margaret advised, drawing the brush through the long, dark hair on one side of Ginger's head and beginning the braid. "Nothing's going to go wrong. This was meant to be, and you know it."
"I don't dare take anything for granted right now, Mom," he paused after his tie was arranged properly. "This is just about the time that things have this horrible tendency to go completely wrong…"
"That's just your nerves talking," she soothed. "You told me that this Mr. Rizzo from CPS was going to be speaking on your behalf, and there's the evidence from the last evaluation that Ethan did on her that shows marked improvement…"
"I know that." He slipped into his sports coat and watched as his mother finished braiding the long hair and finally attached the beloved 'buffa-fies' at the temples. "You look like a Princess, Sprite."
"Daddy," the little girl turned on the vanity seat and looked up at him seriously. "Me 'kared."
"Of what, baby?" Margaret asked kindly.
The dark little eyes grew thoughtful. "Maybe take me 'way — no more Daddy…"
"We won't let that happen, my little fairy child," Jarod bent and picked her up and held her close. "All you have to do is answer all the questions the judge asks you and tell the truth."
"Daddy be dere?"
"I think so," he told her truthfully. "But maybe the judge wants to talk to you alone. Do you think you can do that?"
"Him hurt?"
"No!" Margaret exclaimed softly. "Of course not. He just wants to make sure that you would be safe and happy with your Daddy before he makes it all official."
"Fishal?" The dark eyes were confused. "Wha' dat mean?"
"For real," Jarod told her with a kiss and then put her down. "It means that I'd be your real Daddy, and nobody could ever take you away again."
Ginger thought for a moment. "Den me talk an' answer questions."
"Good girl." Margaret smoothed a hand down the child's back as she turned to her son. "What time do you need to be there?"
"Nine," he answered.
"Gamma come too?" Ginger wanted to know then.
Margaret and Jarod exchanged glances. "Do you want me there?" she asked him softly.
"Me wan' Gamma come," Ginger urged, taking her father's hand and shaking it for emphasis.
"If you wouldn't mind," Jarod answered with a smile. "I think I'd like you there too."
She smoothed her hands down her blouse and trousers. "Do you think I'm suitably dressed?"
"You look fine, Mom," Jarod replied, bending to drop a kiss on his mother's cheek. "But I think that we'd better get a move on."
"C'mon, Gamma! Time to go!" Ginger exclaimed, grabbing first for her teddy bear and then at her grandmother's hand and beginning to drag at her.
"OK, OK," Margaret laughed. "Let's not forget your Daddy, shall we?"
"Daddy, hurry up!"
"I'm right behind you, Sprite," Jarod chuckled too. "You help Grandma get into the car while I finish something real quick."
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and pressed a programmed number and then waited.
"Parker…"
"It's me," he said. "I'm on my way to the courthouse."
"Call me when you have news, Jarod," Miss Parker said, leaning back in her chair and wishing she could be there with him. "And tell Sprite that I'm thinking of her today."
"I will. I just wanted to hear your voice…" It was an inadequate excuse, he knew.
"It will be fine, Jarod." She smiled, remembering the case of stomach butterflies that she'd had on the morning of the day Davy had been pronounced hers at last. "I love you, and I love Sprite. Don't forget."
"I won't, Missy. I love you too."
"Call me after."
"I will."
"Jarod!" Margaret's voice came at him through the open front door. "Get a move on!"
"I gotta go."
"Love you."
"You too." He disconnected and walked quickly through the house and out the front door, feeling just a touch more reassured than he had a minute or two earlier. He settled in behind the steering wheel and looked at Ginger in the back seat, her butterflies sparkling in her hair like jewels. "You ready?"
"Me ready!" she chirped.
"Then let's go and make you my little girl for real," he said, starting the engine and backing carefully down the drive.
Sydney reached for his shirt with a wince as the movement irritated his cracked ribs. At least either Sam or Miss Parker had arranged for his clothing to be laundered and returned to him in a condition fit to wear again. That morning he had actually showered and shaved and was starting to once more feel human. What was more, he genuinely was looking forward to bunking back down on his daybed again — comparatively speaking, it was ten times more comfortable than the hospital bed he'd been in for roughly the last twenty-four hours.
"Are you up for a visitor, Syd?" Sam's voice came at him from behind the flowing white curtains that edged the room.
"I'm dressed and decent, if that means anything," Sydney replied.
Sam looked down into Crystal's face. "They're letting him go home today," he explained. "Go on in. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you. I've got to make the arrangements for a sweeper to take you into town anyway. I'll be back in a bit."
Crystal slipped past the Security Chief and through the curtains to where she could see Sydney sitting on the edge of the bed in clean clothes that looked a lot like what he'd been wearing before. "Hi," she said shyly, hanging back.
"Oh good, I was hoping I'd get a chance to see you again," he said and gestured at the chair that Miss Parker had had brought into the room when she had sat and waited for him to wake up. "Sit down."
She obeyed quietly, and looked up at him with a shining eye. "I wanted to thank you," she said with feeling. "Miss Parker told me what you said…"
"Did she come up with some kind of idea on how to help you?" Sydney wanted to know.
"She offered me a job," Crystal couldn't help the smile that burst across her face, "and she's letting me stay in this neat little apartment building. She even gave me money for clothes and food…"
Sydney nodded approvingly. "And you took the offer?"
"Yeah," she scuffed the toe of her sandal against he linoleum. "I'm still not sure I'm not dreaming, though. Things like this don't happen to folks like me."
"Sometimes they do," Sydney said gently.
"You brought me luck," she told him firmly. "You and Kevin — if I hadn't met Kevin, I wouldn't have known about you, and I couldn't have helped you, and then none of this would have happened to me."
"You remember now," he said, putting out a hand to her again, much as he had the previous day, "that if you need help, all you have to do is come to me."
She put her hand in his with a little more certainty of its reception. "I won't forget. I owe you so much, Sydney."
"No you don't," he shook his head. "This just makes us even."
Crystal cocked her head. "You know, I didn't have the guts to hug Miss Parker after she gave me all of this — but… do you think…"
Sydney smiled at her and opened his arms. Crystal moved slowly and cautiously and sat down on the bed next to him and let him pull her close. She leaned. "I'm sorry I told Kevin all those things about what I thought you were like," she apologized, not wanting that to sit unattended in her conscience anymore. "I was so jealous…"
"Kevin told me a little of what you'd told him," he said softly. "I know why you said those things — there's nothing to forgive, my dear."
"I know that you don't really know me or anything but… Will you…" She pushed away a little so she could look up at him — but not far enough to dislodge the arm around her shoulder. "Do you think you might come and visit me sometime? You're the closest thing I've had to a friend for a very long time."
"I'd be happy to," he replied, "as soon as I'm walking better. But I'll keep in touch through Sam and Miss Parker until then. If you need to contact me, you can leave a message with one of them, and they'll get it to me."
"You have your crutches back?" she asked, her eyes landing on the polished set next to the headboard of the bed.
"New ones," he said. "Seems my old ones ended up in the ocean."
"How are you feeling? Your ribs…"
"Sore as hell," he admitted. "And my head still feels like it's stuffed. I'm not going to be moving very fast for a while after I get home." He looked at her carefully. "How about you — how's your face today?"
"It hurts," she admitted. "I look like shit, don't I?"
"Don't worry about that," he soothed. "Bruises and swelling go away — and something tells me that you'll be a very pretty girl when you're all healed." He noticed that she hadn't moved away like she had the last time she'd visited him but was once more leaning — her prickly bravado had shredded a little and exposed a child's need for comfort that had been hiding beneath. "How long have you been alone?" he asked softly, tightening his arm just a little.
"Too long," she replied with a hitch in her voice. "Too long."
"You're far too young to live in that kind of despair," he stated and smoothed a hand down her arm. "Life changes for you now. I fully expect to see you blossom, young lady, or hear from you the reason why not."
"I'll try," she promised, her eyes closed and soaking up the gentle embrace from her fellow victim — someone who had now come to HER aid with just a word in the right ear. "I promise I'll try."
Judge Roy Barbera looked down into the documents that were on his bench and then up again at the pair that was sitting at the table. Dr. Jarod Russell had a sterling reputation, a busy practice as a child psychiatrist often working pro bono for the State, and character references that any other man would covet. He seemed very calm and collected, sitting quietly and waiting to do whatever would be required of him.
Next to him sat a charmer of a little girl — a teddy bear clasped tightly to her breast with sparkling butterfly clips in her hair and looking all around her with curiosity. The family court judge didn't miss the way the girl seemed to cling to Dr. Russell's arm tightly with her other hand, turning from time to time to the older woman sitting next to her. The woman would bend to the girl and apparently respond to some question posed to her.
He looked back down at the record of this child — a ward of the courts for three years and apparently a victim of the sometimes broken system. Both of the foster homes in which she had been placed after being taken away from her abusive parents had only served to see her abused again. There was a picture of her taken just a few weeks earlier after being removed from her second foster home — she was listless, curled into a fetal ball on a shelter bed. The report of the caseworker stated that she was completely unresponsive and uncommunicative — catatonic.
The bright little button sitting in the chair in front of him looked quite recovered from that pitiful photo. That, if nothing else, helped erase many of the worries he had had in reviewing the way this adoption had had all the impediments summarily removed and been pushed to the top of his list.
He cleared his voice. "Doctor Russell, I assume you will understand some of my concerns when I note the expeditious manner in which this adoption has been moved to the head of my calendar."
"I do, your honor," Jarod answered and rose to his feet. "And I appreciate your seeing us."
"If you don't mind my asking, why the rush?"
"In the first place," Jarod answered with a glance down at his daughter, "there is no question about my wanting to adopt Ginger. I love her with all my heart and want to have the chance to give her a home and a family she can call her own. In the second place, I am getting ready to move — to go back to Delaware where I was raised. I'll be married there soon, and I have accepted a position with a prominent research and development firm, a position that I need to assume as soon as possible. When I go, I want to take her with me as my legal daughter."
"I would like a chance to talk to the child in my chambers. Would that be agreeable?"
Jarod bent to his daughter. "The judge wants to take you into a room back there and talk to you for a little bit, Sprite. Remember we talked about that?"
Ginger looked at the somber older man in the black robe at the tall desk and then nodded nervously. "Him ask questions?"
"That's right, and you just tell him the truth."
"OK, Daddy." Ginger got to her feet, clutching Bear to her like a shield, and let her father lead her up to the bench.
"She's a little frightened of big men," Jarod warned, shooting a glance at the bailiff — a huge man in a policeman's uniform.
Judge Barbera nodded and then rose and came down from behind his bench. He put out a large hand to the little girl. "Can you come with me for a minute or two?" he asked kindly.
Ginger shot her father a look of nervousness and then carefully put her hand in that of the judge.
"Stay here, Harry," the judge advised his bailiff and opened the door to the office behind his official bench. "You can sit on the couch," he told the girl, releasing her hand. He watched her walk to the couch and climb up on it and then turn to face him, holding her teddy bear tightly with both hands now. He took a seat in a chair not far away. "Who is this?" he asked, pointing at the teddy bear.
"Bear," was the answer, along with a tight squeeze of the toy.
"Where did you get Bear?"
"Daddy gib me."
Evidently she was ready to talk to him now that the ice was broken. Judge Barbera got down to business. "Now, tell me the truth. Do you want to stay with Doctor Russell?"
The dark head bobbed vigorously, making the butterflies sparkle.
"Do you like him?"
"Me lub Daddy," was the quick answer. "Him lub me."
Judge Barbera couldn't miss the fact that she was already calling him 'Daddy.' "Even if he wants to take you a long way away?"
"Me 'tay Daddy," was the firm answer. "Gamma come too."
"It sounds like you have quite a nice family now," he commented invitingly.
The dark head nodded again.
"Does your Daddy take good care of you?"
"Me 'tay Gamma when Daddy wo'k, see Aunt Em an' Unka Naffen an' Sammy too," she replied easily. "Sometime Unka Ee-fan an' Unka Jay."
"Are you going to miss everybody when your Daddy moves you far away?"
She nodded. "But Davy dere — and Gam-pa…"
"Who's Davy?"
The dark eyes twinkled. "Daddy say him bruvver. Him nice — me like him lots."
"A brother?" That brought the judge's eyebrows up. "Does Davy have a mother?"
She nodded again. "Her lub Daddy, an' Daddy lub Her."
"So she's going to be your new Mommy?"
Ginger thought for a moment, then nodded.
"Is that OK with you? Do you like her?"
Ginger nodded again. She had fixed Bear, She had been gentle and kind, She even smelled nice. "Me like Her."
"Well then," the judge stood and put out his hand to her again, "let's go back in and talk to your Daddy some more, OK?"
"OK." Ginger put her hand in the judge's and let him lead her back out into the courtroom, where he released her and watched her scamper quickly back over to Dr. Russell's side and cling tightly to his hand.
The judge took his seat at the bench again and cleared his throat. "Is there anyone else here who would like to speak in regards to this adoption?"
"I would, your honor," Rizzo rose from his seat toward the back of the courtroom. "I know that my report has pictures of Ginger taken just prior to her being placed with Dr. Russell, but I would like to tell you that the change in this child over the period of time Dr. Russell has taken care of her has been nothing short of miraculous. Prior to being removed from the foster home, she hadn't spoken a word for nearly a year — and as you can see now, she is capable of answering questions put to her with more than just a shake or nod of the head. When he came to the shelter to pick her up, she hadn't moved or responded to anyone for over six hours — he had her responding to him within minutes. Since then, Dr. Russell has, in my presence, acted very protectively toward her, especially when she showed signs of stress and terror at a co-worker of mine who was behaving quite inappropriately under the circumstances. It is my opinion that he would be a good father to her and care for her the way a parent should care for a child. He is financially well set and has a more than adequate family support system here — and, from all indications, has an equally adequate support system in Delaware."
"I so rarely hear you give such a glowing referral, Mr. Rizzo," Judge Barbera commented, impressed.
"I so rarely have a reason to give a glowing referral, your honor. This case has bothered me ever since Ginger entered the system and then seemed to have the system fail her so miserably. And once, just once, I'd like to see a kid get the kind of home they deserve without the impediment of an unnecessary and onerous wait."
"Well!" Judge Barbera folded his hands on the paperwork in front of him. "Is there anyone else who would like to speak?" He looked around the room at the sparse scattering of court spectators and other parents and children whose cases were coming before him that morning. "Since there are no objections, and in view of the evidence presented, I can see no reason not to formalize the adoption of this young lady." He bent and signed his name at the bottom of the form finalizing the adoption. "Dr. Russell, this young lady is now officially your daughter — and her birth certificate will be amended to reflect the fact that you are now her father. Her legal name shall henceforth be…" he looked down to make sure he was saying it properly, "…Ginger Elizabeth Russell." He looked back up again. "Congratulations to you both."
"Wha' him say, Daddy?" Ginger tugged on her father's hand and whispered up at him.
"That you're my little girl for real now," Jarod said with a huge lump in his throat, "from now until forever."
"No more take me 'way?"
He bent and picked her up and hugged her tightly. "Nope. Never, never, never again."
"I wish you a good life, Miss Russell," Judge Barbera said with a smile as he watched the two hug and then be joined by the attractive older woman in a group hug. "You are excused. Next case, please."
Margaret grabbed her purse from where she'd been sitting and walked with her son from the courtroom, his new daughter in his arms. The moment the three of them were beyond the door of the courtroom, she sniffled and wound her arm around Jarod's waist. "I can't believe it went so easily."
"Me lub you, Daddy." Ginger had her arms around her father's neck tightly.
"I love you too, Sprite," he answered, kissing her cheek gently, "very much."
"I think this calls for a celebration," Margaret announced, dashing the tears from her cheek. "How about I spring for some ice cream?"
"Yeah!" Ginger cheered from her elevated post in her father's arms.
"Yeah," Jarod breathed and then bent and kissed his mother on the cheek too. "Thanks for being here with me, Mom. It meant a lot."
"It was my pleasure," she answered, wishing with all her heart that Charles could have been here to see this. "And I'm sure your father would have been just as proud of you as I am right now."
Jarod kissed her again and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "I miss him too, Mom. C'mon now. Let's go get ice cream and celebrate."
"Harry, it's Tom."
"Tom! What's up?" Burns frowned — Tom Jackson NEVER called him.
"Have you heard the news?"
"What news?"
"Phil Baldwin is dead."
"Dead!" Burns nearly dropped the receiver. "When did you hear that?"
"It was on the news this morning." There was a pause. "And I haven't been able to reach General Curtis at all."
"What about Harris?"
"Nope."
"Damn!"
"What are we going to do?"
"I'll call George — we'll meet for lunch at Jocko's and discuss this."
"Jocko's at noon. See you then."
Burns put the receiver down carefully and then slammed his fist into the table next to the phone. "Shit!"
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