Chapter 16
The door to the hotel suite opened, then closed and Sydney tensed. She wasn't at all looking forward to what she had to do. How do you tell your sister that her father has simply been using her and might be planning something even worse? She had asked Vaughn and Weiss to leave so she and Nadia had privacy while she explained what they had discovered.
Nadia came into the room. She looked relaxed, the animosity from their argument gone. She gave her sister a slight smile, "Sydney, hi. About earlier; my Dad's explained what happened and I now understand why Jack hit him so I won't be moving out after all. I just want to say I'm sorry if I blew my stack before."
Sydney closed her eyes for a moment. It seemed that, once again, Sloane had produced some self serving explanation to justify what had happened. "Nadia, please sit down. There's something I need to tell you." she replied sadly.
Her sister gave her a confused look but did as requested. She listened carefully as Sydney laid out everything she, Vaughn and Weiss had found, paling a little at the memories of Novgorod 21.
"…so it's clear this is about Rambaldi. Given everything we know about your father, it seems likely he's behind all this." Sydney finished, trying to break the news as gently as she could.
Nadia remained silent, mulling over the information. When she spoke, her voice was steady. "Was there anything specifically linking him to Schirovsky or our tails?" she asked.
"Well no, but its Rambaldi…"
Nadia interrupted her sister. "Which proves nothing. My father's not the only one who is interested in that man. I was protected for years by followers of his and my Dad had no idea. And Rambaldi's not the only thing people can become obsessed by, Sydney. You for instance, you're obsessed by my father. Anything bad that happens where you can't immediately identify the perpetrators and you blame my Dad for it. He's changed. Why can't you accept that? He saved me from Sark and Lauren in Kyoto and I saw the madness leave him in Sienna. I don't believe he's behind this for a minute."
"So, why did my Dad beat up on him? Like you said, they've been close, especially recently."
"Jack was on edge and my Dad said something about our mother that set him off."
"How very convenient!" Sydney replied sarcastically.
"I believe him. Jack is wound so tight it makes sense that when he loses it, he'd lose it big time."
"Sloane lies so much if he said the world was round, I'd rush out to join the Flat Earth Society!"
"All you have to link him to this is a tenuous Rambaldi connection and your own prejudices. After hearing my father's explanation, I was prepared to start over. It seems like you're not. I don't see how we continue like this. I'm moving out right away!"
Nadia jumped up and strode to her room, banging the door closed behind her. Sydney could hear the sounds of drawers being violently slammed and things thrown on the bed. Sighing to herself she picked up the phone to call Vaughn and Weiss. Nadia needed to be protected from herself until she finally accepted the unpalatable truth about her father's duplicity.
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Serena completed the admin on the Herrera plea agreement and put the case file in the out tray with mixed feelings. He would spend fifteen years in prison, then, in all probability, be paroled. Hardly punishment enough for a man who'd beaten his nine year old daughter to death. On the other hand, the evidence against him had been weak and without the plea the chances were he'd walk out of court a free man to kill one of his other children. All told, this was the best result they could have gotten in the circumstances.
She turned to her in tray and leafed through its contents. The final mail delivery had taken place and one of the clerks had already opened most of it. Only one envelope remained. She looked at it and swallowed convulsively. It was marked "Confidential. To be opened by addressee only." She recognised the size, shape and block capital writing. They were all the same as the envelope that had been delivered to her home. She thanked God that her clerk was meticulous about not opening confidential documents. Her hands shook as she took her paperknife and slit open the seal. She extracted the contents to find more photographs of her and Jenny together. She went through them and was relieved to see that there were still none of a sexually explicit nature.
Even so, she realised this move for what it was, an escalation in the campaign of intimidation. First the photographs had been sent to her home, now her place of work. The unspoken threat of more being sent direct to Branch was clear. These people are real pieces of work! she thought dully.
Her hands were still unsteady as she dialled the number for the Detective Bureau at the 29th Precinct.
"Detective Briscoe… Oh, hi Councillor." Lennie Briscoe's gravely tones came down the line.
"Lennie, that thing I asked you to look into. Have you made any progress?"
His response was not entirely what she wanted to hear, "We've got a lead but it's going to take some time before we know if its goanna pan out."
"Ok. Thanks. Err… please keep on it. It's important to me."
She put down the receiver before he had time to reply and, although it was still early for her, she shovelled the pictures into her briefcase, snapped it tightly closed, picked up her coat and walked out of the office, ignoring the 'Good night' calls of her co-workers.
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In the shabby surroundings of the 29th, Briscoe put down the receiver and looked over at his partner.
"How're doing Ed?" he asked. "Serena sounds really antsy."
Detective Ed Green glanced up from his computer screen. "I've accessed the N.Y. on line phone book and programmed in a search for any person or business containing the letters P.O.D. on E61st Street but it'll be a while before it kicks out an answer."
"Jeez, I thought computers were supposed to make these enquiries faster and easier!"
"Hey, think of it like this; how much time and effort would this have taken before the internet when we'd have had to go through the phone books by hand?"
"Yeah, well it had better not take too long," Briscoe grunted, "She sounds like she's reaching the end of her tether. I'd give a lot to know what the hell she's gotten herself into."
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Jack crouched down by the air vent at the bottom of his cell door. He had already torn a long strip from his jumpsuit and carefully twisted it into a narrow cord. He'd tied one end round his neck in a slip knot, passed it through one of the grilles in the air vent, carefully drawn it back inside the cell to tie off around his wrists.
The arrangement wasn't ideal but he'd spent some time carefully examining his cell for an alternative, only to come up empty handed. He spared a moments grudging admiration for Captain O'Brien's professionalism. No doubt he was also aware of the possibilities provided by the vent but, given the need to adequately ventilate the cells, hadn't been able to come up with another solution.
The air vent also served another useful purpose. The SHU cells were designed to hold inmates in solitary confinement. The doors were solid metal several inches thick and the walls concrete. Although two people on either side of the door could communicate through the observation window if the metal cover was removed, when it was in place, the prisoner was effectively cut off from the outside world. Except for the air vent. An inmate placing his ear close to that could make out the noise of the activities taking place in the corridor outside.
He heard the buzzer sound and the gate at the end of the corridor slowly rumbling open, closely followed by the rattle of the meal trolley and knew from experience that it would take several minutes before it reached his cell. Jack took a deep breath, this was going to be one of the most difficult things he had ever done. He wound the slack from his makeshift rope round his wrists and slowly allowed himself to fall backwards. His hands jammed against the vent, bringing his fall to a stop before his head hit the floor. The knot bit deep into his neck, preventing him from breathing. He fought down his natural instinct to save himself. Everything around him became fuzzy and indistinct as his brain reacted to the lack of oxygen. Then he lost consciousness.
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"Finished?"
The inmate orderly nodded towards the meal tray sitting on the over bed table in front of Sloane.
Sloane nodded graciously towards him; for all the world like he was being waited on in an up scale restaurant.
"Yes. Thank you."
The way the man picked up the tray and stomped off with it, however, forced Sloane to conclude that, even if he did want to go straight, this was not a career path to which he was suited. With a sigh, he poured some water into the plastic cup in front of him and took a sip. Satisfied that all his basic needs had been met, he picked up his spectacles and opened his book. But, before he had a chance to begin reading, the sound of a gurney being wheeled at speed over the linoleum flooring outside drew his attention to the observation window. He put down the book and watched as the gurney rattled past, accompanied by four guards. Keys jangled in the lock to the Infirmary door and then the gurney and its entourage burst into the room. The duty nurse sped over and began examining the new patient.
"Attempted suicide." A guard with Lieutenant's insignia tersely explained. "The guy was being held in the SHU for a disciplinary infraction. He tore a strip off his jumpsuit and tried to strangle himself on the air vent. We did CPR and got him breathing again."
The nurse looked at the man, "How did he come to hurt his head like that?" he asked.
"He was jammed against the door; we hit him when we were trying to force it open."
The nurse finished and looked up. "OK. Looks like you caught him in time. There doesn't seem to be any serious or lasting damage. The head injury looks worse than it actually is. I'll clean it up and keep him in overnight for observation. I'll leave a note for the M.O. He can look at him tomorrow and order a psychiatric assessment if necessary. Name and number of inmate?"
"Bristow." The Lieutenant replied. "Number 25674."
Sloane levered himself up from the bed slightly to confirm the new patient's identity and noted Jack's success at joining him in the Infirmary. The arrangements had been made and he was ready to move as soon as Jack was able. He watched, in satisfaction, as his former partner's still unconscious body was transferred to a bed at the far end of the ward but his pleasure was somewhat diminished at the Lieutenant's next words and actions.
"This guy has an institutional record of violence so I'll be increasing the checks by the night guard. Also…" He stepped forward and handcuffed Jack's right wrist to the side rail. "...that should hold him when he comes round."
The Lieutenant was turning to leave when he halted and surveyed the rest of the patients, his eyes stopping at Sloane. He walked over and checked the medical chart. "You're the guy Bristow beat up on." It was a statement not a question. He held out his hand and one of the other guards passed him another pair of handcuffs. With a practiced movement he also shackled Sloane's right wrist to the side rail. "Just in case you were thinking of getting a little pay back while Bristow is out of it." he explained.
Sloane rattled the chain. "What happens when I need to go to the bathroom?" he asked, his voice rising in outrage.
The Lieutenant shrugged. "Ask for a bedpan." he suggested before leaving.
Sloane gave his shackle a long suffering look. This is an inconvenience he thought, before reaching out with his left hand to pick up his discarded book. He opened it at the marked page and began reading. As he did so, he surreptitiously checked inside the spine. The piece of wire he'd fashioned into a picklock was nestling safely inside, held in place with a piece of chewing gum.
T.B.C.