Sorry for the delay but here's chapter 3 of my Jack/Sloane story. There's a legal glossary at the end for anyone unfamiliar with legal terms.

Hope you like this chapter.

Chapter 3

When Arthur Branch had warned Jack McCoy about the trouble the Manhattan DA's office would experience, even he hadn't expected it to come this fast or this heavy. The call from Washington had arrived a mere hour after Bristow and Sloane's arraignment and a meeting had been arranged for first thing today. It was a high-powered Federal deputation, led by the senior assistant to the Attorney-General, including representatives not only from Justice but from the State Department and a man, introduced only as "Mr Morton", who Branch strongly suspected was from Langley. He was coming to the conclusion that Serena had been wrong when she said Bristow and Sloane had no current affiliation to the CIA. The meeting had been going on for nearly an hour and a half now, with the Feds doing most of the talking.

"…trial will undermine national security by revealing classified information about CIA operations." the senior assistant was saying.

"Oh, come on." Jack McCoy responded. "This crime took place over thirty years ago. What details about the operation could possibly threaten us now?"

"Mr Morton" spoke, "Any trial will bring out information on counter-terrorism and counter insurgency tactics still in use today. This would be of immense value to Al-Qaeda and our other enemies."

"Tactics like torture you mean?" asked Serena.

"The US doesn't use torture. We have never used torture. Nor did we have any involvement in the coup against Allende. We admit the men you've arrested were CIA operatives but they were in Chile purely as observers." one of the State Department representatives said, "As New Yorker's surely you can see the harm that could be caused to the fight against terrorism and our ability to protect the homeland if details of CIA operational protocols come out."

Branch interceded, "This is purely a murder trial. You have my word we have no intention of blowing CIA tactics."

"It's not just the issue of what happens if there's a trial that's causing concern in Washington." said the man from State, "There was no CIA conspiracy, no order to kill this guy …Selzer, and we believe your case will be dismissed at the motions hearing due to lack of jurisdiction. The PR fallout, however, will be massive. The Democrats and liberals will take full advantage of it and the impact in South America and elsewhere could be immensely damaging to the reputation of our country, especially at a time; quite frankly, we don't want to make any more enemies."

"Maybe Mr Branch and his colleagues don't care about that." speculated "Mr Morton", "New York's full of liberals. Maybe Mr Branch thinks his chances of being re-elected will be improved by having a pop at the CIA and reviving those conspiracy theories about the CIA and US support for Pinochet."

Branch lost his temper, "I've been a life-long Republican." he thundered, his Texan drawl becoming stronger, "People knew that when they elected me to this office and when I come up for re-election, I'll stand on my record as DA …all of it. If the gentleman from Langley thinks I'm doing this because going after the CIA is politically popular, then he clearly wasn't here to see the Twin Towers fall and knows nothing of this city, its people or me. This meeting is ended!"

The A-G's senior assistant spoke, "The Federal government provides a lot of money and support to local law enforcement. All that could be put at risk if you persist with this prosecution."

"Lady, didn't your boss warn to never threaten a Texan? Now, get out!"

He watched as they filed out and, when the door had closed behind them, he turned to McCoy,

"Jack, you know I stopped you from subpoenaing CIA records. Well I've changed my mind. If they won't give them up voluntarily, get a warrant to search their offices', raid them if you have to, but get those records. And go see Bristow and Sloane and offer them a deal if they give up their superior. If those sons of bitches want to play hardball we'll give 'em a contest they'll never forget!"

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You said they would get bail!" she shouted angrily.

"I'm sorry," Shapiro said, "Had it been any other judge than Bloomberg they would have. He's a liberal and should have been outraged by the prosecutorial overreach here. Unfortunately, his dislike of covert CIA intervention in other countries trumped that. Now, we'll have to get an early motions hearing and renew the bail application there."

Nadia returned to the present. Wilson and Shapiro had explained that New York City DOC regulations entitled inmates to a visit from their relatives and friends within twenty-four hours of being incarcerated. Following their directions she and Sydney had taken a cab to the Queens Abutment and caught the bus to the Riker's Island Control Building. She looked out the window and saw they were crossing the causeway that provided the only access to the Island. Nadia looked around. She was unsurprised to see that most of their fellow passengers were Afro-Americans and Hispanics. Jails were always disproportionately full of those too poor to make bail or hire a decent lawyer. This had been true in Argentina; it was true here and was probably true everywhere.

She glanced across at her sister and was concerned to see her face lacking its normal self assurance and confidence. Of course, Sydney had probably never visited a prison in anything other than an official capacity before, she, on the other hand, had spent her youth on the streets where it was an everyday part of life. Her eyes turned to the parcel resting on Sydney's lap. She knew what was in it because she was holding its' duplicate. Shapiro and Wilson had explained that only two changes of clothing a week were issued to jail inmates at City expense but friends and relatives could supplement this allowance. They had gone shopping that morning and bought sufficient hard wearing, not too expensive T shirts, shorts and socks, white, as required by jail regulations, for their fathers to have a clean set every day. They were each also carrying a $100 in cash, the maximum amount allowed, to deposit in their inmate accounts so they could buy toiletries, soft drinks, candy and other basic items from the commissary.

The bus drew to a halt outside the Control Building and the two of them followed the other passengers inside. Riker's Island was actually a complex of ten separate jails, each holding a different type and custody level of inmate. They joined the queue for the maximum security facility where all those charged with murder were held. When they reached the front, an officer thrust a blank form at them. They filled it in, their names and addresses, names and custody numbers of inmates to be visited and their relationship to them. Once it was completed the officer snatched it back and consulted the computer in front of her. She tore off the top copy and handed back the duplicate.

"Over there." she grunted, waving towards a growing crowd of people who appeared to be waiting for something.

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Sydney sat on the hard, uncomfortable stool which, like the table in front of her, was bolted to the floor. The last hour and a half had been among the most frustrating and humiliating experiences of her life. She and Nadia had been herded from place to place, joined what seemed like endless successions of queues, been made to fill in yet more forms, answer ever more questions about their reasons for being there and their exact relationship with the men they wanted to visit, had their outer clothing and purses taken away to be stored in lockers and finally been searched by people whose attitude showed all too clearly they regarded anyone who wanted to visit a prisoner as being themselves little better than a criminal. It had brought home to her the difference between visiting a custodial facility as a government agent and doing it as a private citizen.

Now she waited in the shabby and impersonal visiting room, staring at the barred door at the opposite end of the room from which she and Nadia had entered. Her feelings were an odd mixture of anticipation at the thought of speaking to her father for the first time since this nightmare had begun and embarrassment at seeing him here, under these circumstances. She watched as, with a loud buzz and harsh metallic clang, the door slid open admitting Jack and Sloane with their escorting officer. They were dressed in the same beige paper jumpsuits with slippers covering their bare feet as the other inmates in the visiting room. She studied them as they were brought over. They looked alert and well but there was a wariness about their movements and a tired look around their eyes. They were both unshaven and lacking their usual careful grooming. Her heart ached for her father. She glanced over to her sister and read the same feelings there.

When they had sat down, the guard grabbed the visiting form from her hand, glanced at the wall clock and scrawled 15:56 across it.

"You've got two hours from now. You can embrace and engage in other physical contact of a socially acceptable nature but your hands must be in plain sight at all times. Violation will lead to your visiting privileges being suspended and the inmates being disciplined." he warned mechanically, then marched away.

Sloane immediately got up and drew Nadia into a hug. "Sweetheart." he said, placing a kiss on her forehead, "It's good to see you." He sat down again but continued to hold Nadia's hand.

Jack, less demonstrative, nodded towards her, "Sydney." he acknowledged.

"Dad."

"How are you holding up?" All four of them spoke together.

There was an uncomfortable pause. The topic that was at the forefront of everyone's mind was the one they were forbidden to talk about. Shapiro and Wilson had warned them not to discuss the murder charges in case they were overheard by guards or jailhouse snitches.

"We've brought you some extra underwear and made up your commissary accounts to the maximum allowed." Sydney dropped into the silence.

A look of shame at this return to an almost childlike state of dependence on others, especially their daughter's, flickered across Jack and Sloane's faces before they smoothed it away.

Eventually Jack asked, "How are things at the bank?"

Sydney recognised the reference to APO's cover story.

"Everything's under control." she replied, "The Bank President has been very supportive. She's made Dixon temporary Head of the Division and told us not to take on any new clients until this is over. She says to tell you that the bank is behind you 100. You'll both continue to be paid and we've been given leave of absence on full pay."

"What about the loan we were due to discuss the morning we were arrested?" Sloane asked.

"That's been passed to another Division." Nadia said.

After that, the conversation turned to personal topics.

Where were they staying, what room number, was it comfortable, what amenities did it have, what was the telephone number? Jack and Sloane wanted to know

Were they being treated well, what cell blocks were they assigned to, did they have cellmates; if so what were they like? Sydney and Nadia asked.

Sloane spoke of places of interest they might like to visit while they were in New York. Jack offered a few other suggestions.

CO's patrolled the visiting room area, listening in to their conversation as they came within earshot while the hands of the clock turned. Eventually, one of them came over, checked the time on the visiting form against that shown on the clock.

"Time's up." he announced, then, turning to Jack and Sloane, "Let's go."

Sloane kissed Nadia on the cheek while Jack clumsily hugged Sydney, then the sisters watched as their fathers were led away to disappear through the barred door which closed behind them with a clang.

They were silent on the journey back to their hotel, each busy with their own thoughts, trying to sort out their feelings. As they entered the lobby they recognised two familiar figures. They went over, buried their faces in Vaughn and Weiss's chests and sought comfort and support in their arms.

Glossary

Attorney-General – Chief legal officer of the Federal or a State government. Responsible for advising the government on all legal matters.

CO – Correctional Officer (Prison/Jail Guard)

DOC – Department of Corrections (Official body with responsibility for management and running of jails/prisons)

Jurisdiction – area over which legal authority extends

Snitch – Informer (Slang)

Subpoena – legal order summoning a witness or requiring evidence to be submitted to a court.