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McCormick closed the bathroom door. He couldn't help but wonder if the next shower he took would be in a room with fifty other guys as he turned on the hot water. While waiting for the water to get hot McCormick got undressed as the old pipes began to squeal letting him know the water was now hot. Stepping in the shower he had to turn on just a bit of cold water. He stood under the warm water for a long while hoping it would wash some of his tension away. After lathering up his hair and body and rinsing off, Mark turned the cold water down a bit warming up the water to almost all hot. He let the hot water soak his wounded hand but also attempted once again to just relax and enjoy the hot water and privacy that he didn't expect to have for long. In fact he wouldn't be surprised to see Lt. Harper waiting for him in the living room when he went back in. Okay, so this was as relaxed as it got under the circumstances. Mark cut off the water and listened to the eerie silence from the other room. At least if Hardcastle had called Frank, he wasn't here yet. McCormick took the large thick blue beach towel from the shower door and begun drying. It sure beat prison towels that you could see through and were no bigger than the Judge's dish towels. After drying Mark shaved with a razor that didn't cut him and used his favorite aftershave. Just another simple luxury that you don't even think about until looking at going back to prison. Due to the alcohol content, aftershave wasn't allowed and the cheap razors issued cut more skin than whiskers. Mark picked out his curly hair remembering the small barber combs he'd been issued for two years. He rebandaged his hand and sighed. The shower was suposed to make him feel better but right now he was sure it had made him feel worse.
Opening the bathroom door, Mark saw Hardcastle studying the file at the table. "Anything?" He asked in almost a whisper.
Hardcastle looked up. "Maybe. Does Teddy know who wants this file?"
"No. He said the guy will contact him tonight about getting it. I figured it was safer here than with Teddy, besides I wanted to look at it and hoped you be able to find something..." Mark almost plead.
Hardcastle's elephant like memory was kicking in. "Have you seen that stack of newspapers I gave you last week for the windows that you never got around to cleaning?"
Mark almost jumped on the defense about the windows, but saw Hardcastle may be on to something. "Yeah, they are in the garage."
"Well, come on. Do you remember reading about that plane that crash landed at LAX a few weeks ago?" Hardcastle asked.
Mark thought, "Yeah, it was something about the landing gear failed. A lot of injuries, several deaths. You're thinking ..."
"That the company who made the landing gear and did the inspections would like this file and more important that the airlines insurance company not get it if they hadn't fulfilled the contract." Hardcastle said. "We just need that artical to make sure this was the company and see what plane that was."
"Well, come on! I know right where I put them." Mark said more animated than he'd been in days.
In the garage it took them quiet awhile to locate the right newspaper. Hardcastle knew the articale as soon as he saw it: 'Flight 233 from Atlanta to LAX crashed today when it appeared the landing gear failed as the plane touched down. The Boeing 747's landing gear was designed and manufactured by McClure, Inc. The crash caused four deaths while several passengers sustained injuries. All but ten were treated and released from local hospitals. The ten remain in guarded condition.' The crash is under investigation. Hardcastle said, "That's it. It was McClure that designed the landing gear."
"So now what do we do?" Mark asked.
Hardcastle looked at him with very sad eyes and replied, "First, let's go get some lunch."
McCormick suddenly wasn't very hungry but followed anyway. Hardcastle had already waited a couple of hours and still hadn't called Frank, but he didn't think his luck would hold until dinner.
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Lunch consisted of ham sandwiches, chips and a pickle which Hardcastle and McCormick picked at more than ate. McCormick figured he couldn't stall anymore so he began stacking the plates in the sink with one hand.
Hardcastle asked, "How's the hand? Do you need to see a doctor?"
McCormick looked down at his bandaged hand, "It's sore from the bite and the punctures are still seeping, but I'll be fine. Besides, they'd ask too many questions."
After several minutes of the loudest silence he'd ever heard, Hardcastle cleared his throat and began, "Mark."
McCormick's radar went way up at the use of his first name. It was very rare that the judge used it.
Seeing the look, Hardcastle tried again with the familiar, "McCormick, I'm an officer of the courts. I have an obligation to call Frank like he asked me to. It will only be worse on you and me if he shows up here and I haven't called him. You know Frank, he's part bloodhound. I'm surprised he's not here already. I think I may be on to something but I need to know how to get in touch with Teddy. And, I need you to not answer any questions without me being there. As a matter of fact, you may want to just plead the fifth. (Pleading the fifth amendment on the grounds that anything you say might incriminate you.) It might not make you real popular, especially if the Feds want to question you. In the mean time I'll get up with Teddy and see if we can make sure the guy who wants this file is one of McClure's players. If he is, I might be able to pull your bacon out of this, but don't get your hopes up."
McCormick had only managed to tense more as Hardcastle spoke. He looked at the clock. It was almost 1pm on a Friday which meant by the time Frank got here, played twenty questions and he was inevitably booked into County that it would be Monday morning before he could be arraigned and either a bond set or his parole revoked. No doubt about it he was going inside. If it was just for the weekend, he was going back. He simply nodded his understanding as Hardcastle turned away from him and headed to the den. For a split second Mark thought about the back door and the Coyote close by, but as expected, maybe because it was expected, he followed Hardcastle to the den, then flopped into his usual place.
Hardcastle picked up the phone and found it a little hard to find his voice when the phone was answered, finally, he spoke, "Lt. Frank Harper please."
The voice replied, "He's not in his office at this time."
Hardcastle said, "This is Judge Hardcastle, can you patch me through to him?"
"Just a minute." she said.
The connection way made, "Lt. Harper."
Hardcastle said, "Frank it's Milt."
"Milt I was just on my way over there. Is he home?" Frank asked.
"Yeah." Hardcastle sighed.
"And?" Frank asked.
"Just come on over Frank." Milt's reply told the Lt. he was right.
"Damm. I hoped I was wrong." Harper said.
"Yeah, me too." Milt replied simply, being patched through like they were, it was hard to tell who as listening.
McCormick looked at Hardcastle as he hung up the phone.
"He was already on his way over." Hardcastle explained.
McCormick stood up, "Think I'll walk out to the pool." He saw the look from Hardcastle, reached in his jeans pocket, tossed the familiar key chain with the Coyote's keys on it onto the desk. It was a feeble gesture of good faith, but didn't go unnoticed by Hardcastle, who purposely didn't pick them up.
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After talking to Hardcastle, Frank swore. He had hoped for Milt's sake that he had been wrong about the kid. He knew that in some ways this would hurt the judge more than if it had been his own son who had messed up. The kid had been the light in Hardcastle eyes almost from the time the kid walked back into Hardcastle's court for the second time. He himself had seen the kid go above and beyond the call to save Milt. Like the time the Judge had been arrested on bogus charges in San Rio Blanco. Milt told him how McCormick had hired a helicopter to break him out of jail when the embassy wouldn't listen. He had seen the kid hit by cars and bullets in the name of Hardcastle justice. Now, it was going to end like this with Milt having to report that it was him who broke into a Federal building. It had been all Harper could do to keep his suspicion to himself for the last few hours. The Feds were taking the embarrassing security breach personally.
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McCormick stood by the pool watching the surf breaking. It was a sight he never tired of. He knew the sound of the Grey sedan without turning around. Frank was here. He didn't move as he heard the car door close. He'd give Hardcastle and him a few minutes before going inside.
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As Lt. Frank Harper approached the front of the main house the door opened. He noticed the tension in his long time friend. "Milt."
"Come on in Frank." Hardcastle proceeded to the den.
Frank had noticed both cars and the truck when he came in, yet he hadn't seen McCormick by the pool. "Where is he?"
"By the pool." Hardcastle replied calmly.
"What?" Harper asked, more than a bit concerned.
Hardcastle reached on the desk and showed the Coyote's keys to Frank.
"With anybody else, those may make me feel better, but we are talking about McCormick." Frank said seriously.
Hardcastle gave a weak strained smile he didn't feel.
"Shall we?" Harper asked.
It was then they both heard the door open and McCormick walked in. He didn't want Harper to have to come looking for him. The instance he stepped through the door, Mark's face went to the blank lifeless face that Harper and Hardcastle had seen in his old mug shots. McCormick said flatly, "Lieutenant."
Frank noticed the bandage on his hand. "How's the hand?" he said out of concern.
McCormick thought the question was safe enough, "Sore."
"How did it happen?" Frank asked.
McCormick said flatly, "I'd rather not say."
Dammit. Milt was advising him. Harper knew he shouldn't be surprised. "Look McCormick I need to ask you some questions. Believe me, I'm asking them a lot nicer than the agents working the case will."
McCormick had zoned out, "You can ask me anything Lieutenant."
"Where were you when you hurt your hand?" Frank asked.
McCormick answered, "I'd like to plead the fifth to that question."
Harper was usually the 'good cop' in the good cop / bad cop situations, but right now the kid was getting to him. "Where were you at 3 am this morning?"
"I'd like to plead the fifth to that question." McCormick replied.
Harper tried one more question, "When was the last time you were in the warehouse at 10327 Fredrick Street?"
McCormick looked up from his lap, and said, "I'd like to plead the fifth to that question."
Frank folded his notebook up and placed it in his pocket. "Mr. McCormick I'd like to see you outside. Alone." Frank shot Milt a look that almost begged him to stay inside.
McCormick knew where this was going as well as the other two men did. He stood up and as he walked by Hardcastle's desk he tossed his necklace with his medallion on it onto the desk followed by the subtle gesture of 'patting himself down'. With his pockets empty, McCormick walked outside ahead of Harper.
Frank stepped to follow, when he saw Milt also start to follow. He held up his hand, "Milt."
McCormick heard and stopped at the door. "Judge. It's okay. Just work on that other. Okay?"
Hardcastle saw the pain in McCormick's eyes. He also knew that Harper wanted him to stay inside to 'spare' him the scene, but dammit he didn't want to be spared. But he did stop, able to only nod his assurance to McCormick.
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