Justice by InSilva
Disclaimer: do not own.
A/N: nothing to do with this fic, but still a bit shocked about Bernie Mac. Going to be so strange writing Frank C in the future.
Chapter Nineteen: Revelation
Morning arrived and found Vincente deep in his tai chi routine. He'd flown in from the East Coast on the redeye, sleeping as easily on the plane as he did anywhere.
Business in New York concluded, he was focused once more on the trial and the thorny problem of Mr Ryan. On the plane, he'd thought about the extremely likely fact that Ryan had had similar run-ins with people like him before and the possibilities of Ryan being simply a hotel owner who rubbed the wrong people up the wrong way. Which, to be frank, was not so likely. He'd put out calls to wider sources. He needed to find out the truth.
Today, he figured, would see the trial move into the jury room. That left tonight as the best time to strike. Tonight, when Ryan left the courthouse, he'd be watching and waiting, and he would by then be armed with Ryan's true identity and he would finally, finally feel like he had the upper hand here.
As for this morning…Vincente "carried the tiger to the mountain" and nodded to himself. A little pep talk on the way in wasn't going to do any harm either.
The four of them had risen, dressed and breakfasted and Rusty had realised he had to spell something out to Saul and Turk. Well, mostly to Turk.
"You need to leave this morning as if you're leaving. If the trial ends today, I won't be coming back."
"If it isn't over?" Turk asked, frowning at Rusty who was stood, arms folded, not taking any nonsense.
"If it isn't, I still want you guys out of here. You've done a brilliant job. And thank you. But it's not safe and it's not going to get any less dangerous."
Rusty's eyes moved over to Danny, sat on the couch.
You know that means you too.
I know you think it does.
Rusty made an exasperated little noise.
Danny smiled. "Thought we ought to make sure-"
"-both of them-"
"-just in case."
"Bobby?"
"Yeah."
"I'll-"
"I will."
OK…
And that was Anna-Mae and Barbara taken care of.
It wasn't in his nature to do goodbyes. Too final. Too dramatic. Too "Adieu" and he was an "Au revoir" kind of guy.
He shook hands with Turk and with Saul and accepted a none too cryptic "Thanks" from the former and an even less cryptic "Robert" from the latter and they'd left.
Now he was looking over at Danny, still sat on the couch.
"You gonna be there all day?"
He saw Danny smile and stand up, stretching as he did so. Then he sauntered over to stand in front of Rusty.
"I want you to know," Danny began, "that I am fighting to keep my sentimental side in check."
"Not planning on kissing me or anything, are you?"
Danny's mouth twitched.
"I'll go and call Bobby. And I'll see you soon."
"Yeah." Because "soon" didn't need to be defined.
It was after Danny had left and as he was fruitlessly searching for the Oreos he was sure should have been there that he realised. Something in Danny was different. He was calmer and the concern had vanished overnight. Something in Danny was different: the something that meant he had a plan.
Rusty swore to himself.
He'd hesitated over which car to pick and reluctantly had left his favourite behind and settled for a low-key convertible. He'd put his toothbrush and a few passports in his pocket and raided the petty cash tin in the office and walked out the door. It was possible he'd be back tonight but it was best to be prepared.
As he walked from the car to the courthouse, past shops and shoppers, he reflected yet again on why he felt so comfortable in Hollywood. Here, everyone was beautiful. Waitresses, gas station attendants, shop assistants…beauty could be and was found everywhere. It was the one place he felt his looks didn't stand out. He was going to miss it and his spirits sighed a little at the impending separation.
Rusty's mood didn't improve when he saw Vincente waiting for him outside the courthouse.
"Mr Ryan. Fully recovered, I hope?" he said as Rusty drew near.
"Oh, I'm fighting fit."
"Pleased to hear it."
Rusty went to move past him and Vincente laid a hand on his arm.
"Just a moment. I would like to make sure you completely understand what page we are on."
"Too much to hope the book's closed, I guess."
Vincente smiled. "Consider your actions carefully, Mr Ryan. I don't take rejection well. I asked the defence nicely for a recess on Friday and I can do the same again. And if you insist on being so recalcitrant, you have to know that I will take that amiss."
He stared at Rusty.
"You thinking about that?"
"Actually wondering how many points you'd get for "recalcitrant" in Scrabble."
Vincente shook his head. "You want to know what you'll get for "recalcitrant"?" he asked, his voice even. "Long and slow, Mr Ryan. Long and slow and final."
He took his hand away and Rusty looked into those eyes that said they meant every single word. Rusty's own eyes weren't giving an inch either.
"Enjoy the day, Mr Ryan. I'll be watching to make sure you do."
From where he sat on the front row of the jury, Rusty had a great view of the courtroom. Vincente was in his usual seat, studying him as promised. Gino's mother and sister were there and the law student and the courtroom groupies. No Danny. No Saul. No Turk.
He'd hoped they would listen; he'd worried they wouldn't. Relieved, Rusty settled down to watch Barbara Campbell do her stuff.
"Defence wishes to recall Anna-Mae Nicholls."
Anna-Mae took the stand and as the judge reminded her she was still under oath, Rusty had the pleasure of seeing Vincente surprised. Vincente's face gave a hint of a frown then settled into a moment's disbelief before coming back to impassivity.
"I believe you have some new evidence you'd like to share with us."
Anna-Mae was trembling but she was resolute. She glanced at Gino and then back at Barbara and she stuck her chin out defiantly.
"I remembered something," she said. "When the man…when Marcello…when the man attacked Marcello, he was wearing gloves. But Marcello caught his arm and he pulled one of them part way back. Whoever killed Marcello had a name on his hand. Percy something. Gino…well…I saw Gino's hands earlier. He doesn't have tattoos or anything."
Time seemed to be happening all at once for Rusty. There was a general murmur in court; Barbara instructed Gino to hold up his unblemished hands for the jury; Anna-Mae was smiling at Gino who was smiling back; Gino's mother and sister were hugging each other; the law student was staring open-mouthed.
On top of all this, Rusty was coming to terms with the realisation that Vincente had in fact cared about the truth very much indeed.
Percy something. Per siempre.
He looked at Vincente. There was a hint of shock, a glance at the law student (maybe not a law student…?) who was still staring at Anna-Mae, a look of resignation and then another look. A look just for him. Long and slow, it said…long and slow, it promised…well, he'd have to catch him first.
Prosecution and defence summed up and rested. Judge Fuller explained the jury's duties to them and was about to dismiss them when suddenly, a court usher burst into the courtroom smothered in the repressed excitement of someone who's seen a few too many movies. He approached the bench with paperwork and whispered hurriedly to the judge.
Vincente and Rusty stared at each other hard and simultaneously frowned as they each realised this was nothing to do with either of them.
Judge Fuller scanned his eyes over the paperwork and then, before he could say anything, the doors to the courtroom opened and five men walked down to the front: five men, with shades and earpieces and holsters and dark suits that didn't have the letters "FBI" stitched on the back but actually didn't need them. They marched in front of the jury box and stood alternately facing in and out, watching the people, watching the room.
Judge Everton Fuller cleared his throat. "Apparently some threats to the jury have come to light and it has been suggested and I must perforce agree that the jury be sequestered."
Now that was a long, fancy word…Rusty stared at the Fed closest to him whose features looked exceedingly familiar.
"We gotcha," Bobby said lightly.
A sixth Fed had hung back by the door and as he caught a glimpse of him, Rusty's mouth set in a very straight line. Because like he'd said, Danny wasn't sitting in court. He was standing in it; all done up in shades and suit; doing the disguise thing Rusty'd said he couldn't do; hiding those eyes; smiling from ear to ear.
The fury rose up within Rusty. He couldn't let it show. He couldn't. Vincente… He had to lock it down. Had to. Danny…damn him… No. No. It would be better if he could shut his eyes. Better if he could do anything other than fight this losing battle because the rage was approaching incandescence. He could feel his face draining of colour, could feel his lips thin and his eyes…
Bobby got the full blast of the unblinking blue.
"Jeez, Rusty," he muttered.
He daren't look again at Danny even for a nanosecond. He knew Vincente had already seen the anger. He dare not let him know why.
Sequestration. Protection. Locked away safely from Vincente until after the verdict. No wonder Danny's concern had vanished: he wasn't playing fair.
The jury room walls were painted in taupe and Rusty didn't have the will to comment to himself about it. The anger was still live, still painfully hard to manage. And being separated from Danny…enforced separation at that…Feds outside the door…Danny outside somewhere…Vincente outside somewhere… Rusty sat in a chair and closed his eyes, pushing away the thoughts, the worry and the feeling of absolute helplessness. He hated not being in control.
"Excuse me…?"
He opened his eyes. It was Alice, shy and timid. "You are going to be the foreperson, right?"
Right. He was. He damn well was. Back in control, eyes sharp and focused, he looked around the table. Let's get on with it and get it over with.
Saul and Turk were sitting in the same hotel lounge that Vincente had sat in the previous week. They looked across at the courthouse and sipped their coffees.
"You planning on heading back anytime today?"
Turk shook his head. "Thought I'd stick around and see what happens…"
"Me too."
The courtroom had been cleared and Danny had pocketed his shades and left Bobby and the Feds to it. He'd seen Rusty's face and he was a little sorry for that but overall? Not that sorry. He didn't doubt that Vincente would try again tonight to convince Rusty of the error of his ways. And the convincing would be even stronger in nature. This way, Rusty was safe. This way, he could do what he needed to and still walk away.
Danny decided he was ready to call Tess for real.
Rusty was in a place where Henry Fonda, Jimmy Stewart and Gary Cooper would be proud. He'd torn the prosecution case to shreds. He'd highlighted Anna-Mae's evidence. He'd pointed out Gino's beautifully clean hands that could not possibly have been responsible for Marcello's death.
The Suit aside, the other jurors had all nodded. Vincente had been right. They would happily follow where Rusty led them.
"We cannot let Gino go to prison for a crime he did not commit," he said, infusing his voice with passion. "We cannot have that on our conscience. There is only one verdict we can return."
The nods were even more fervent and Rusty sat back in his chair. Job done.
"Anna-Mae?" Barbara caught up with her beside the large first floor window with the heavy green velvet drapes that overlooked the front square. "Anna-Mae, I just wanted to thank you and to say how well you did in court."
"Oh…" Anna-Mae blushed slightly. "That's OK. I was a little nervous but it was better than I thought."
"I don't know what made you come forward again, but thank you so much. I think Gino would like to thank you too if he were here."
Anna-Mae's blush deepened and to hide it, she turned to look out of the window.
"Oh, it's Mr Hennessey from the paper!"
Barbara followed Anna-Mae's gaze.
"That's Stephen Trent," she corrected. "He works for the Bar Association."
Anna-Mae frowned and shrugged. It looked like Mr Hennessey but she could be wrong. She smiled at Barbara.
"I hope it works out for Gino. He really was a nice man."
Barbara watched her leave and then slowly walked in the opposite direction. Time to grab a coffee, she felt.
Behind the left green velvet drape, Vincente stared down at a man with many names. His phone rang and he answered it.
"I still can't find a Robert Ryan," the voice at the other end said apologetically. "Closest I've come is a Rusty Ryan. Not a hotel owner, though. Con man. Good con man."
"Description?"
"'Bout 5'11". Blond. Pretty. Lots of charm."
Con man... Vincente's mouth twisted at the irony of Ryan's true identity.
"Used to be mentioned in the same breath as Danny Ocean though that died down about six years or so back."
"Description?" Vincente demanded, gripping the phone, his gaze focused on the man below.
"Same height as Ryan but dark. Good-looking. All eyes and smile and voice. Did a spell inside about-"
Abruptly, Vincente closed the call and made another.
"Bring the van round to the front. Quickly."
"Tess…I promise everything's fine. This thing with Rusty'll be over the next day or so. I know that's what I said the last time. And the time before. But it really is the truth. Yes. Yes. I will. I am. I do. Very much. So much. I love you. 'Bye, Tess."
She had sounded comforted but still anxious. He didn't know what else to do, what else to say. And she was still the one he was going to. It wasn't her that he wouldn't be able to see at the drop of a hat. It wasn't as if he'd even lied about anything; there was nothing to feel guilty about. He still felt bad.
"Mr Ocean?" Vincente's voice at his shoulder was like a bucket of cold water. "Please would you accompany me?"
A/N: This cliffhangery thing. It could catch on. :)