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What Was Broken -

Chapter 7

"No further questions, your honor." Le'thal bowed toward the stand and withdrew. Sean heaved a long sigh and straightened his suit coat. It was not as sweat soaked as he had thought it would be after the prosecutor's questioning, but they were on his side so every question had been leveraged to support his claim of assault. The defense, on the other hand, would hold no punches and push the lever the other way.

That would make him really sweat. He turned his attention toward the approaching baboon with a sardonic lift of one eyebrow. His eyes lifted toward the puma, who had thus far sat more or less quietly through the prosecution's line of questioning. Most of that had reinforced the earlier testimonies, but Sean had been forced to re-experience, blow by blow, the assault that had left his as raw, his brow bloodied, and a demon cavorting about in his head.

Thankfully there was a dramatic distinction between that demon and the cat that had spawned it. One he could not escape, the other he had not only escaped he had crippled.

"I would assume, sir, that you would prefer I use your surname?" The baboon's opening question was unexpected. Sean blinked, redirecting his attention back to his inquisitor.

"I don't much care, sir." He shrugged with a lazy half-smile, "Call me Sean if it suits you."

"Very well, Sean." The baboon's remark dripped venom, but in a professional way. "Through the testimony you have thus far given, we should assume, contrary to the statement of our client, that your - ahh - tryst was not consenting?"

Sean shook his head, raising a hand to trace the scar that bisected his brow and the inner curve of one eye along his nose. "Does this look like the result of a consenting - tryst, as you call it?" He asked in return.

"Yes or no, Sean."

"No. Previously asked, and answered. Next?"

"And you were in that room, what was it, a video network hub, why?"

"To reset one of the recorders." Sean leaned back and lightly crossed his hands upon his stomach, pleased to find that they did not shake with the nervousness he felt. As with his fear of the cat, it was much subdued after watching two days of previous inquiry and suffered one day of flat out assaultive questioning by his own team.

"You are not, and were not, an employee of the Mines hotel-casino, how was it that you came to be resetting one of their recording devices?"

"At the behest of the chief of security."

"To what end?"

"To reset the device." Which was, indeed, the truth.

"Indeed. Was not the intention of that reset to mask the break in and kidnap of a Mines employee?"

Sean actually snorted an incredulous laugh at the fabrication. "No, and no."

"No? During the time that the device was cycling it was not recording, so I have been given to understand. In that time its feed could be, and was, modified to mask the intrusion of three persons intent on kidnapping a person residing at the hotel, is that not true?"

"Partially."

"Yes or no, Sean. Is it not true?"

"No."

"You are stating, on record, that the obfuscation of the recording was not to allow others to enter unobserved by surveillance and secure one Ashley Winslow-Dawkins?"

"Your honor, he asks three questions yet desires one answer, which I have stated as 'No'." Sean turned his head slightly toward the judge, "Could you ask him to clarify which portion of the question I should answer with one word?"

Judge Bachman simply turned his gaze to the baboon and raised an eyebrow. "Clarify the question, councilor."

The two held stares for several seconds before the baboon took a breath. "Was the intent during the reset to blind the video it was intended to record?"

"Yes."

"To assist in the entry of three associates of yours?"

"Yes."

"To secure the personage of one Ashley Winslow-Dawkins?"

"Yes." Sean nodded each time, answering blandly.

Mullhune scowled at him, "Then what was the 'no' for, Sean?"

"One word."

"And that was?"

Sean raised his hands to sketch air quotes, "Kidnap." He leaned forward to rest his forearms against the front of the witness stand, "And the actions of my associates in relation to Ms. Winslow-Dawkins have nothing to do with the assault delivered by your client. Could you move on to the pertinent inquiry?"

"Mister Garret, it is the purview of the litigators to follow their line of inquiry as they see fit." The judge intoned. Sean did not turn his head any more than he needed to give the weimeriner an incredulous lift of one eyebrow, then directed his gaze toward the prosecution at their table.

"The 'No' was concerning your choice of the word kidnap, sir. To the rest, I would answer yes."

"And, during the commission of that felony our client came into the room and found you?"

"Excuse me, felony?"

"In the state of Nevada, and I daresay the rest of the United States, the forceful removal of an individual from any location is considered kidnapping, Sean." The baboon explained laconically as if to a child.

"Considering Ms. Winslow-Dawkins has never pressed such charges against myself or my associates for our actions you, classifying what we did as 'kidnapping' is grossly prejudicial. Should I lay out the entire reasoning behind why I was there, again? Which, by the way, was with full acknowledgement and concord of the Mines' security chief, Bryant Ingram?" Sean asked with a slightly raised voice and a sigh, shaking his head.

"It might help the jury understand your presence in an area restricted to employees only, which our client was, sir, and you were not."

"Objection, relevance?" Tracy growled in exasperation from her seat without moving from her relaxed lean nor uncrossing her legs.

"Indeed. Get to the point, Mister Mullhune. Sean, you should answer in pertinence to the case at hand."

"I'm trying to, your honor, as soon as the questions get there."

"Goes to relevance -"

"As stated, Mister Mullhune." The canine judge growled irritably. He waved a hand curtly, "Sustained. Proceed."

The baboon frowned with a purse of his expressive lips and shrugged. "When my client came into the room where you were assisting the Mines' head of security alter official secure material, what then occurred?"

"He beat me nearly senseless."

"Elucidate?"

"Objection! Asked and answered!" Tracy leaned forward with another displeased sigh, "Unless you'd like the court reporter to read back the last two hours of testimony?"

"Sustained."

"Very well, he beat you 'senseless', as you say. And then, as your counsel asked, he ordered you to remove your pants, which you did, and then proceeded with the sexual assault already outlaid in exhaustive detail?"

"Yes." Sean made a gesture of helpless frustration with his hands, rotating them up briefly from the edge of the witness stand.

"Whereupon you subdued him by strangulation, pummeled him to unconsciousness, and shot him?"

"Yes."

"Why did you not shoot him prior to the initial beating you sustained, or subsequent sexual assault?"

Leaning back, Sean tilted his head with a scowl. This was a line of questioning the prosecution had not brought up. "I did not have anything to shoot him with."

"You lacked a firearm?" The baboon feigned surprise.

"I did not own one, was not licensed to carry one, nor was one provided by my associates. When discussing casino security protocols with Mr. Ingram prior he did not mention a situation where the need for one would arise. Protocols that your client, needless to say, did not follow in any way, shape or form."

"So where did you get one?"

"It belonged to your client." Sean waved one hand curtly toward the puma. "I took his away from him."

"When?"

"After I had subdued him."

"After you subdued him." The baboon rubbed his chin with one hand and paced for a few seconds. "So, you did not have a gun, and used his." A statement, not a question. "When did he threaten you with this gun you took from him?"

Sean raised an eyebrow, "He did not. He didn't need to."

"And yet, you secured it and shot him anyway, after he was fully subdued?" The baboon turned toward the jury then waved a hand toward the defense table, "Ladies and gentlemen, please observe our client. His face is disfigured, the left side is partially paralyzed, several ribs were broken and teeth lost during the beating that the witness delivered. And only after such beating, at which point he was unconscious, did the witness shoot him."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I was scared out of my wits? I was on pure - eh - autopilot, as I told Mister Le'thal. At some point I suffered a dissociative event; my body was a puppet to - something else. Some other 'me' that I - hell, I could barely conceive, and remember only vaguely even to this point."

"Yet cogent enough not to shoot the defendant in a more lethal location, such as the head or the heart?"

"I don't recall a conscious decision not to end him. The driver aimed the pistol, I could only watch. I fired one shot, dropped the weapon, and fled."

"You did not take the gun? Did you take anything else?"

"No, I fled."

"The defendant did not bring anything with him?"

"Not that I was aware of, no." Sean shook his head, lying baldly and straight faced on the witness stand.

"Do you realize that using deadly force, such as a firearm, against a defenseless individual - even one who has allegedly committed a crime - is considered an unjustifiable act of capital assault, sir?" Mullhune asked as he stepped to the witness stand and looked up at Sean with a tilt of his head, blue lips glinting over powerful predatory teeth. "Lying in court is, as well."

Sean held his poker face as he stared down at the defense attorney, "I was in fear for my life, sir."

"In fear of an unconscious feline, Sean?" The baboon asked quietly. Sean raised his gaze and stared across at the puma, who was leering at him with that rictus half-grin, bronze eyes hard and eager to rend and maim.

"Then, yes." He raised his head and held that angry bronze regard. "Now, no. He's no longer a threat, he's a cripple; neuter."

The puma snarled loudly and leaned forward, but did not rise from his seat. The two heavy set bailiffs detailed to manage him shifted forward from their posts a couple of paces but stopped when the cat did not rise. "Careful there, Mister Garret, you're treading close." The judge warned.

"Sorry, your honor." Sean bobbed his head, but did not look away from the cat, feeling not a shred of fear for the first time in months.

"So stated, you shot a man who was, at the time, both unarmed and unconscious from a stated fear for your life, and then fled, taking nothing with you. Is that right?"

"Considering his natural attributes - teeth and claws -- I wouldn't consider him unarmed. The rest is correct."

"Are you sure?"

Sean finally tore his gaze away from the growling puma to glare down at the baboon, "Yes? Again, Yes. Care to ask again? I'll just say yes once more."

The baboon shrugged and turned to face the judge, "No further questions, your honor." His gaze swept around to level on the prosecution, "Expect a motion to dismiss the entirety of his testimony in the morning."

"Very well, if there are no more questions -"

"I have a couple, your honor." One of the other defense attorneys raised a hand as he stood, bringing all of the heads at the prosecution's table around sharply. Apparently no one expected the unidentified human to speak.

Sean, in the act of rising to leave the stand, settled back down and turned his attention to the sharply dressed older human. As he approached the man straightened his tie, which was not off kilter by the slightest margin, in a reflexive motion and offered the jury a short nod of greeting.

"A few simple ones, if you please, Mister Garret. What was your relationship with Miss Ashley Winslow-Dawkins?"

Sean leaned back with a tilt of his head, abruptly on the defensive. "She - she was my girlfriend."

"Was?"

"Until she ended our relationship."

"And why would she do that?"

"Apparently to come work as a manager at one of the casinos out here."

"The Mines?"

"She did not tell me. She simply left."

"And the three accomplices who attempted to infiltrate the Mines to secure said woman?"

"What about them?"

"Would you please tell the court who they were?"

"That question has already been asked, and answered," Sean growled. Tracy moved to stand but the Judge raised a hand to stay her and glowered at the man. He merely shrugged with a nod.

"Strike that last, please." The attorney directed with a lazy wave of one hand toward the court reporter, "Two federal agents and one of your co-workers, is that not true?"

"As previously stated, yes."

"So, a co-worker, one Taws' McLellan, a simple office worker like yourself, sought to join forces with federal agents, one of them apparently her brother, to enter a highly secure casino and - what, rescue? - your ex-girlfriend?"

Sean decided take the opportunity. "Good to see the defense is no longer trying to construe what happened as a kidnapping. And, yes, she did."

"The co-worker is - your new companion?"

Sean chuffed softly through his nose, "Companion? What the heck is that supposed to mean?"

"Lover? Mistress?"

"Girlfriend? Yes."

"She is a bitch, Mister Garret, is that not true? A non-human?"

Sean bridled, his teeth clenching and the muscles in his jaw twitching. "She is a woman, sir. A female dog, yes, but a woman all the same."

"You feel strongly for her?"

"Objection, what's the point?" Tracy growled.

"Councilor!" Judge Bachman barked sharply as he leaned forward from his seat, "One more comment like that and I'll have you thrown out with a contempt charge!" Sharp white teeth gleamed as the slender dog snarled in fury. "I suggest that you bring your questions back to matters relevant to the case at hand," he warned with a growl, waving his gavel for emphasis, "before I have the jury disregard this whole line of questioning. This is _my_courtroom, and such conduct will _not_be tolerated!" The defense attorney glanced briefly at him with a slight lift of one brow as one might a barking dog on the end of a chain; noisy but harmless.

"No, your honor, I'll answer." Sean looked briefly to the judge and then back to the distinguished attorney in the five digit suit. "Yes, I do. If you, and yours, seek to cow me by alluding to a threat to her safety, I would strongly suggest against it. As you saw, I - and she - know federal associates with long reach. None of us will rest if she is ever harmed until those that caused it are brought to justice."

The man quirked one corner of his mouth in a sly smile, "Within the law or without, is that not so, Mister Garret? We have already seen how closely you skirt that distinction."

"With a pocket knife and claw hammer, if I must." Sean growled.

"Your honor!" Prosecutor Liebengood exclaimed furiously, "Move to strike this entire line of inquiry!"

The man waved him off as one might an annoying insect buzzing in his ear, "Feel free. Now, one more question, if I might. Have you had any contact with your ex since she was - rescued?"

Sean shook his head, "None." He swept his hand outward, "She is out of my life, for good. That bridge is ashes."

"Thank you, Mister Garret. No further questions, your honor." Tugging his coat and re-straightening the tie that had not budged a micron, the man turned and ambled back toward the defense table.

"You're free to go, Mister Garret, thank you for your time." Judge Bachman growled levelly. "This court with adjourn until tomorrow morning," he concluded to the gallery with a bang of his gavel. With a nod Sean rose and stepped down out of the witness box, crossing over to the prosecutors' table.

"What the hell was that last about?" He muttered a low hiss to them when he crossed around behind the table.

"It was about as close to crossing the line as they could get. They're trying to figure out if you and she have been in contact to make your testimonies line up. They're looking for a hole they can exploit, and you didn't give them one."

"And threaten me; Taws? What the -"

Le'thal held up a quieting hand, "You've got another case to sit in on, however briefly, as a tertiary witness. Immediately, once you were done here, which you are. They would rather prefer that you not offer what little testimony you have." He nodded his head toward the defense table, "That little joke was a veiled attempt to spook you."

Sean scowled at him, "What the hell?"

"They've been waiting for you to get into town, knowing you were slated to take the stand in this case."

"Who?!"

"Sammuels. That's why he hasn't been here the past three days; he's in another trial that's a bit - well - higher up the food chain than this one."

"What do I have to do with it?" Sean asked as Le'thal gently too his arm and steered him toward the swinging door of the partition wall. Tracy stepped up to his opposite side and together the two of them lead him to the door.

"You're the only eye witness to an attempted murder charge, which is part of the RICO case against Abraham Sharpson." They led him through the doors where four bailiffs waited. The two who had been guarding the door, and two more who seemed to be waiting.

"Room seven-oh-three." Tracy said as the two fell into step ahead of them. The two who had been guarding the door fell in behind them, making Sean feel distinctly uneasy. The seven of them made their way to the elevator at the end of the hall; the very same elevator that Sean and Oda had used the day before. When the doors opened Sean's gaze reflexively rose.

The light fixture had been removed and replaced with a clearly newer tile to cover its absence but the hole in the elevator wall had not yet been repaired or patched.

With the seven of them the elevator was crowded but no one said anything and the doors opened a few moments later on the seventh floor. Where the lower floor had been a bustle of activity with lawyers and their employers going about the various activities that brought them to the federal court house the seventh floor was utter chaos. Sean stumbled as they turned into the hallway and half a dozen people turned and eyed them like sharks hearing fresh chum hit the water. Something flashed and Sean blinked in surprise, but none of the six came forward, eyeballing the quartet of guards and pair of lawyers escorting him toward one of the few doors in the hallway.

Two guards sat in chairs to either side of the door and two more stood against the wall opposite. Only one watched their approach and pulled the door open when they arrived. The quartet fell back and the three of them entered a crowded courtroom. Sean saw that almost everyone in the gallery had some manner of paper pad, either to write on or draw on, but none of them held cameras or other recording devices. A few looked up when they entered.

The Judge's bench was empty, as was the witness stand and the jury box. Sean walked behind Tracy down the center aisle, ignoring the light back and forth flick of the tail that brushed the front of his slacks. Le'thal walked along slightly behind and to one side of him. There were three at the prosecution's table and Sean recognized District Attorney Sammuels in the center. On the defense side were no less than seven, all sharply dressed in expensive suits to such a degree that Sean could not tell who was a lawyer and who a defendant.

When they passed through the swinging gate people from both sides of the courtroom looked up curiously. Sammuels stood and approached. "Hello again, Sean." He said warmly, extending a hand which Sean grasped to share a warm handshake. "I hope your testimony went well."

"It was pretty rough, sir." Sean admitted with a shrug and walked toward the prosecution's table. Le'thal excused himself and Tracy took one of the empty chairs. "But your co-counsel's grilling prepared me well."

"I'm glad, I'm glad. My apologies for having them go at you so rough."

"It worked." Sean drew up a chair and was introduced to the two other men at the table. "The defense confused me, but they couldn't make me sweat nearly as much as Tracy, there." He nodded toward the seductress with a smile and she flashed one back at him.

"Good." Sammuels sat back down and drew his chair close, "Look, we're not going to hold you long, but thought we'd get you here before you returned to New York. You're kind of a lynch pin in this case but we held off until the cat's case came up on the docket."

"What's this one about?"

"Sharpson's order to have your girlfriend Ashley murdered and dumped." Sammuels said gravely, "Have you been following the news?"

Sean shook his head, "No, but I've been told a little. They found a mine with some remains in it? And she was my ex-girlfriend; is."

"Yes, quite a few. One of the two you took down struck a deal; immunity for the location of those bodies."

"Which one?"

"The driver. Just a petty thug more than happy to slip out of the noose."

Sean raised an incredulous eyebrow and frowned, "Skate out on how many murders?"

"None, apparently. He was a hopped up chauffer, nothing more. He wasn't even armed when he was captured."

"He certainly had to be accessory, at the very least."

"Little fish versus big fish, Sean, such is the law." Sammuels shook his head with a shrug, "We called a recess when Lethal let us know your testimony was wrapping up. They're going to bring the jury back in shortly. We're only going to have a couple of questions for you, then the defense will have the floor." His gaze slid across to Tracy and then back, "More of the same, from that quarter."

"Figured." They looked up as the Jury began to file in, all of them human and only three of them women. The susurrus of conversation died down as the jury was seated. A few moments later everyone rose as the judge, a broad shouldered bruiser of a man who had to top six and half feet, came from his chambers and took the stand. He was easily as intimidating as the puma and his two handlers.

While the court sat the judge stood behind his stand, "I apologize for the recess, ladies and gentlemen. One of the prosecutor's witnesses lives quite some distance away and was only able to arrive in the past few days, for another case. We've suspended the current witness' testimony to bring in the State's Witness before he returns from whence he came. Mister Sammuels, you have the floor." With that the huge man eased down into his seat with all the stately grace of a battle tank parking itself.

Standing, DA Sammuels took the floor and reprised the scene that he would be bringing before the court, apparently one that they were familiar with, but from a different perspective; chiefly Sean's. After that he called Sean forward and the court's lead bailiff swore him in. He had Sean identify himself, as he had on each of his previous testimonies.

"At the date in question and at the time already given to the court, where were you, Mister Garret?"

"In one of the delivery docks at the Diamond Mine hotel-casino."

"And what did you see there?"

"Three men and a woman. The woman was being manhandled into a car by two of them, while a third was giving orders."

"Might I ask what those orders were?"

"To make the woman disappear."

"Could you state what was said, or paraphrase it?"

Sean shook his head, "Not word for word, no. One of the men wanted to put her in the kennels, which I understood to be some sort of brothel, or dump her on a street level pimp, but the one giving the orders wanted her to disappear, and never reappear."

"By disappear, you mean what?"

"Kill her, would be my best guess, and dump her somewhere nobody would find her."

"And then what happened?"

"She was loaded into the car by two of the men, and the third returned to the casino."

"What did you do then?"

"I had already called nine-one-one and identified the car, stating erroneously that it was involved in a drug deal, but that was before they put the woman in the car. So I chased it up to the street, and joined some friends chasing it with their truck."

Sammuels picked up a remote control from a table situated in front of the judge's stand, on which were several items in clear plastic bags, and a few firearms with evidence tags. "Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to show you another short video montage of police dash camera and security camera footage of what occurred after the vehicle was identified by police and pursued." He turned on a large screen television mounted on one wall opposite the jury. A smaller one mounted in one corner of the witness stand mirrored what was being displayed on the larger one. Sean could only assume that similar monitors on the defense and prosecution table, and two others at either end of the jury box, showed the same.

Initially it was video footage from a patrol car, ostensibly the one that originated the chase, attempting to pull over the subject vehicle; a black European style sport sedan. Despite a large blue and white truck trying to cut in front of it, Lazarus' truck, the vehicle sped away and the police car chased, following behind the truck that took off at an alarming clip. What followed was a confusing bob and weave until the initial car withdrew and the camera view switched to another, and then a third. At some point Lazarus' truck was no longer visible as a part of the chase.

It reappeared some minutes later as the car, some distance ahead of the closest pursuing unit, wove around a semi and came to a noisy, crashing halt under the canted front of the huge pickup. The police video showed the police swarming in to set up a heavily armed perimeter while a door on the truck was laboriously pushed open and two of those on the car. A man in a bloodied, ragged suit climbed from the truck as the occupants of the car tried to exit.

Sean watched himself, with detached fascination, dispatch the driver with a violent kick to the face and then turn his attention to the man holding Ashley. Over the wail of sirens, bellowing of police, and audible radio chatter nothing could be heard of Sean's exchange with the man. Only his wild arm waving and pugnacious approach revealed his anger, and then rather abruptly he kicked the hostage with such force that she crumpled and he launched himself at the gunman. Both went down, with Oda followed a second later by Lazarus, falling furiously upon him.

But Sean's attention was no longer on the hostage scene; he watched in distress as Taws crawled awkwardly through the broken window of the passenger side door and drop to the ground with police pointing their guns at her. She slumped back against the truck and held her head, clearly stunned by the violent impact. Three police officers closed on her with guns drawn. One holstered his weapon and stepped forward to grasp her upper arm and ask her some question to which her answer was a shake of her head. The video froze, a swarm of police filling one side of the screen, blotting out the fight on the ground, and Taws an afterthought on the other side surrounded by her own entourage of police.

"As you can see, Mister Garret was responsible not only for identifying the kidnappers of the woman seen there, but his subsequent arrest as well. He's - well - quite the hero, I would say. Just yesterday he, and the white canine you saw in the video, thwarted another hostage attempt in this very building. I'm sure that many of you saw that on the news last night." Sammuels commented blandly with a smile as he shut off the video. "And we thank you for that service, both times, sir. Now, a final question. Do you see any of the men here today that you saw on that dock discussing the fate of their hostage?"

Sean drew his gaze up from the blank video screen and toward the defense side of the courtroom. "I do."

"Could you point them out to us?"

"Two of them are here." Sean raised a steady hand and pointed, "The one in the brown Martin Grant suit, seated in the second chair from the left, was the man in the car. I don't see the driver." He had to wrack his brain to recall the specifics of the dock; it was well lit and he had been close, yet he had seen the third man only briefly. But, in comparison to the men who sat around him, he stood out. "And the one in the blue Givassi Laroche, sitting in the fifth chair, was the one who gave the order to make the woman disappear."

"Impeccable eye for detail, Mister Garret. Thank you. No further questions."

"Does the defense have any questions?"

"Yes, your honor." One of the men at the table stood. He was quite young in appearance, but his face was shrewd. "Mister Garret, how is it that you can so easily point out any of the men you saw that day? From what I understand you had just suffered an almost debilitating assault prior to witnessing the events you have spoken of."

"Trauma paints a pretty clear memory, sir." Sean replied with a shrug. How clear those memories could be, he thought to himself, with that demon torturing him since that day.

"It can also fog those memories. What if I told you that one of the men you saw was not here at all?"

"One is not, the bald man with the brown eyes is not here."

"And if I said he was not the only one of the three not present?"

"I would expect you to recuse yourself for perjury."

"Touché." The man actually chuckled, "And the woman in question, who was she that you would join a pursuit undertaken by trained professionals, crawl out of a wreck, and face down an armed man? While, as we saw, delivering a blow to the victim before her attacker?"

Sean could only laugh, deeply and heartily. "My ex, sir. I'm sure many here have ex's and will understand." He shrugged and grinned as a rumble of laughter rolled briefly through the jury and gallery. "As they say, 'shoot the hostage', it's the last thing their captor expects."

"And where is she now? How has your relationship changed?"

Sean shrugged again, "Witness protection, I don't know. The last time I saw her was in the hospital they took us to. That was the only time I saw her since she cut me out of her life. That relationship was over a long time ago. And the kick probably didn't help matters."

The man turned, and then stopped and looked back over his shoulder, "Oh, and when they came out to the car, did they have anything else with them besides the woman?"

Sean frowned briefly, thinking back, "Luggage, I think? They put it in the trunk and that's the last I saw of it. Probably her belongings, which would've disappeared in the same way she was supposed to."

"One piece? Two? More?"

"I didn't count, honestly. I was too surprised seeing Ashley to pay that much attention to bags."

"Very well. Thank you, Mister Garret, no further questions."

"You may step down."

With a great sigh Sean stood and stepped down from the witness box and returned to the prosecutor's table. "Excellently done, Sean. You're free to go, and give that collie of yours our warmest regards. She's made out quite well with you."

Unaccompanied, Sean made his way to the door. When he stepped out he found that, of the four that had escorted him down none remained. One of the guards near the door asked Sean for his identification before returning his cell phone from a strong box behind a nearby security desk. Sean was composing a text to Oda when a surge of motion caught his attention. People carrying cameras, recorders, and note pads were pouring down the hallway in a mass, forcing Sean to back up against the wall next to one of the imperturbable guards.

The mob of media filled the hallway within seconds as the door to a nearby courtroom opened and guards forced the mob back. Questions were fired in a barrage that made them unintelligible and flashbulbs went off like machinegun fire during an overrun. Sean blinked in surprise and could only watch as the guards bored a path into the mob, forcing their way through for a bevy of suits. Through the crowd Sean spotted a black and white dog, a border collie in a dark gray business suit, with someone in a brilliant red dress on his arm. Only when they drew abreast of where Sean was plastered back against the wall did he see the face of the woman in the dress.

Ashley!

Her head was bowed, one hand up to protect her from the invasive crush of the media, and she did not look his direction as they were hustled past. Sean raised a hand half way and almost called out to her, but stopped. He could not have been heard over the shouting media anyway, and what good could ever come from it. She was out of his life, now; a stranger for all intents and purposes. Sean just hoped that what lay before her was better than what had been left behind.

"Know her?" The guard beside him asked. Despite his calm outward demeanor he was as sidelined against the wall as Sean was.

"Did." Sean shot him a glance, quickly recovering from the moment of surprise, as he watched the crowd of guards and suits move down the hallway surrounded by yelling reporters like seagulls on a trawler. "Told myself that she was right for me," he continued, "But felt so lonely in her company." He shrugged and cast a glance at the guard as the tight pack of glory seekers pressed on down the hallway. "That was love and it's an ache I still remember."

"She must've meant something to ya, eh?" The guard pushed away from the wall slightly to resume his post. Sean shook his head and ambled on in the wake of the throng.

"Now she's just somebody that I used to know."

Oda arrived a few minutes after the hubbub had died down to escort Sean out of the building. Sean said nothing on the elevator ride down with the inscrutable wolf standing like a display of dangerous statuary beside him, only peripherally aware of the people around them as they passed the court house hallways. The broiling wall of heat that descended upon him the moment he stepped through the exit was such a direct assault that it stopped him in his tracks and snapped him out of his revere.

"What's up?" Oda asked. Sean had started softly chuckling to himself.

"It's over. It just really hit me; it's over." He closed his eyes and basked in the sear of the sun and the city around him as he continued to chuckle. It was hardly a pleasant change from the air conditioned coolness of the courthouse, but it did not come with the lingering sense of impending doom hanging over his shoulder.

"Never say that until the jury is back with the verdict."

Sean smiled and shook his head, catching up with the wolf again. "You never saw their faces, Oda. One, maybe two counts he could get out of. There were jurists there that wanted to crucify him on Anna Dancer's testimony alone. No, it would shock me if he sees the outside world again anytime soon."

"Let's just hope you're right," rumbled Oda comfortingly beside him. "It's gettin' towards dinner, how do you want to handle that?"

"Anything!" Sean replied, spinning around and throwing his arms wide as they continued to walk to Oda's car. "Tonight is my treat, to you, for all the help you've been through this. No limit. Pick someplace you've always wanted to go but could never justify. Knock my socks off, what've you got?"

"Um, I think the 'knocking socks off' will come later," said Oda in that calm, flat rumble but when Sean looked his way, he amended it with a wink and lick of his chops, his tail swaying with a jaunty bob. He let Sean mull that one over for a few moments as he just gave a thin lupine grin. "Okay, I think I know someplace that'll hurt your wallet good."

Dropping the government sedan at a curbside valet, Oda lead Sean into the cavernous atrium of The Royal, a prime casino on the Strip. Fountains burbled on all sides and, despite lacking doors at the maw of the entry, a few paces within saw the temperature drop from broiling to pleasantly cool. Above them an arched ceiling changed patterns slowly from afternoon sky to a galactic expanse. The wolf led him past innumerable shops and kiosks, as plentiful as any strip mall but all keeping with the venue of the casino. Highly polished vehicles, from motorbikes to SUVs, rotated on various pedestals while well-dressed tourists milled around them. They came to a stop before a pair of intricately carved wooden doors with etched leaded glass windows. A menu was propped on a stand to one side of the door.

Sean paused to scan it, noting that the prices were certainly steep but hardly a threat to his account balances. "No kobe beef, no fancy tuna. Good."

"Eh?" Oda whuffed curiously.

"Kobe's not imported in any measurable quantity so anyplace that has it on the menu is ripping you off." Sean tapped one of the entries, "'Prime Texas sirloin' - that I can believe. No Kobe. No random slab of meat being passed off as rare tuna, either. Sure, this is Vegas, but I wouldn't trust any place not on the coast to have really fresh tuna, if it's tuna at all. So, this place has got a clue." His finger flicked across a hefty entre price, just over a hundred dollars, and he chuckled, "And if you wanted to dent my wallet, you failed."

Oda dropped a hand on Sean's shoulder and pushed him toward the door with a laugh, "It's not your wallet I want to dent, pup. I just wanted a good slab of prime red meat." Within the door, however, they were met with a cool faced maitre'd, replete with spotless white gloves and sharp bowtie, who stopped them before they had made two steps.

"Reservations?"

Sean cast a sidelong glance at the wolf and shrugged, "None, sorry."

The man's eyes were as cold as iced shark but one corner of his mouth lifted, ever so slightly. "Very well, if you wish to wait a short time, I am sure a table can be arranged." He did not otherwise move.

Sean blinked at the man who stood like the stereotypical British lord's servant; robotically immobile. "Well, I guess we wait outside."

"I am afraid so, sirs. We have an unfortunate derth of seats for those not reserved to wait. If you wish a drink from the bar I can have one brought to you."

"Something tall, cold, and virgin, my good chap." Sean drawled, though it came out more Coney Island than Windsor Castle. Oda snorted a short laugh through his nose and ordered the same as they withdrew through the sound-deadening doors again. Back out in the crowd Sean lounged against a pillar while Oda stood and watched the crowd, hands laced behind his back looking all the world like Sean's body guard.

"Hey, waiting on stoneface in there?" Someone asked at Sean's elbow. Oda had noticed the young man, whose kiosk was hardly ten paces away backed up to a Cadillac on one of those rotating pedestals with a heavy motorbike perched behind it.

"Yup." Sean replied after a cursory glance. The man was young enough to still have the fading remnants of acne on his cheeks but exuded pure unsullied hucksterism.

"Care to try your luck while you wait?" The kid's eyes were all for Sean, as if afraid to look toward the silent white statue regarding him levelly from a pace away. Sean looked at him again and then raised his eyes toward the kiosk. He had no need whatsoever for either car or bike, nor any of the other items being hawked at the fancy vertical roulette wheel.

"What're the odds, eh?" At least it was conversation, and out in the current public environ Oda did not seem precluded to idle chit chat.

"One in fifteen thousand. Damn sight better than the one armed bandits at the end of the hall." The kid proclaimed with a beaming smile. Sean regarded the wheel with its host of colors offering everything from a one-hundred thousand cash payout to a car, motorbike, even a motorcoach which understandably could not be put on display. With a shrug Sean dug out his wallet and glanced inside.

"How much for a whirl?"

The kid danced merrily back behind his kiosk and resumed his post with a flourish, "Starts at just five dollars a spin, my good mark - er - man!" he joked with contagious cheer, waving his hand back at the twelve foot wheel. "Goes up from there. Higher the wager, grander the prize. Inner ring's five dollars, then ten. Good stuff starts at twenty, and the big prizes are a hundred. Pony up as little as a Lincoln, grab the wheel, and we can get started. Give her a yank, every spin's a winner!" Sean idly noted that more than three quarters of the 'prizes' were worth considerably less than their respective rings. "Or play big! Get a bike, get a car! Get a luxury motor home to drive back to the missus!" His eyes glanced over at Oda who had wandered closer at Sean's back, as inscrutable as ever. "If'n it's a missus you're going back to, of course." He amended with a smile.

"Aye, and a lovely grace of fur she is." Sean chuckled as he slid a five across the glass top of the kiosk. It disappeared in a blink and the kid waved Sean over to the side of the wheel where he could grasp one of the projections sticking out from its rim.

"Fur? Huh, yeah, cool man. Sister's got her a pony, too." The youth offered with a shrug and a somewhat more diffident smile, glancing again at Oda. "Give her a whirl, man! Whatever that white flapper up there lands on is yours."

Sean gamely gave the wheel a yank and listened to the rapid buzz of the plastic pointer. It rattled and then slowly clicked to a stop on: a six pack of a local microbrew beer. Sean blinked and chuckled with a shrug. Fishing in a box below the counter the kid pulled out a ticket and slid it across, "I've heard that's some good brew, but, well, drinking age and all." He shrugged with a game smile, "Care to try your luck again?"

"Maybe next -" He paused when a cat, sharply dressed in the burgundy and brown livery of the restaurant with a white towel draped over one arm, ambled up with a tray to deliver their drinks.

"Try again." Oda rumbled, slapping a twenty on the glass top of the kiosk as he grinned, all teeth, down at the proprietor, "One six pack will hardly cut it, see if we can make it a case." He leaned forward slightly and the kid quailed back with a look of trepidation, "And she's not a pony, son, she's a collie. A damn fine collie." His act was only offset slightly by the tall glass of iced tea clinking in his free hand with a pastel green umbrella jutting out of the lemon wedge on the lip of the glass.

Sean waited for Oda's note to be whisked away, rubbing his hands together before reaching up and hauling on the wheel again. Once more the buzz became a rattle and slowed to a few desultory clicks before coming to rest while Sean sipped his lemon flavored iced tea.

"Well, a wolf's luck is pretty good, man! You got that bike, there." He turned to wave his hand toward the motorbike slowly revolving behind the Cadillac. "All American's latest flagship model, the Comanche. Full upgrade package included; custom leather in The Royal's motif, in-dash satellite radio and helmet bluetooth, reverse gear, the works!" It was more car than bike, in Sean's opinion, merely lacking the sheet metal and a couple of wheels.

Sean blinked, one eyebrow creeping up on his brow before he let out a laugh. "Well... shucks. And here I was hoping to dent the hood on another Cadillac." Oda blinked, his stern mien breaking in a sudden whoop of laughter that made the kid jump and stare at him, wide eyed. "Hey, it's not mine, it's his." Sean hooked his thumb toward Oda. "It wouldn't fit in my luggage, anyway."

But Oda simply shook his head slowly, still chuckling. "Can't gamble, Sean, or accept proceeds from such." He shrugged helplessly, "Agency policy. She's all yours." Sean looked at him for a moment and then shrugged with a smile, motioning for the kid to hand him the papers he had fished out from beneath the kiosk. A few others had gathered during their play at the wheel and a few gave quiet applause at his win.

It took Sean about forty five minutes to complete the paperwork accepting his prize, and temporary insurance to cover it at an exorbitant price until he could transfer it to his more affordable policy. Oda supplied an address, not that of the safe house so Sean assumed that it was his own residence, to where it could be delivered. A short time before he finished the cat re-appeared to tell them that their table was ready. "Hey, Oda, about the bike -"

"Nor can I accept gifts, Sean." Oda smiled as they stepped into the cooler dimness of the restaurant. "Agency policy and all that."

Sean chuckled as they were led toward a table near a tall window overlooking an indoor lagoon around which the casino appeared to have been built. Brightly colored birds flitted around while unidentifiable fish lazily cruised the water. "I guess not. Look, you asked to borrow it, okay. I just haven't asked for it back. Will that be cool?" They sat down and the feline withdrew only to be replaced by a somber faced man, not the stone faced maitre'd, who introduced himself as their server. "I just don't see myself on a hog like that."

"Even so, she's a handsome machine. Can't say as I haven't looked at them a time or two." He shrugged while they perused the heavy leather bound menus, "Even ridden one, a Chief, during one of my undercover ops. But she was a beater with those handlebars so tall I looked utterly foolish riding it."

Sean laughed at the mental image of Oda, epitome of lupine masculinity, on such a machine. He could've doubled as the poster boy for American machismo. "I hardly imagine you'd look foolish on anything, wolf."

"Ever think about those quarter rides at the grocery store?"

Sean guffawed behind his hand but the tables were dispersed enough he hardly drew any notice, "Okay, you got me there. You on a tiny pink plastic pony ... yeah, that'd be the sight."

Oda started himself off with a pan-seared duck foie gras, accompanied by beignets and grilled peach puree; his main was a respectable chunk of Texas wild boar chop served atop cabbage leaf and crusted with cumin and chestnuts, with autumn vegetables and armagnac-soaked apricot on the side. Dessert was a far less manly strawberry soufflé with white chocolate sauce. He confided to Sean that he'd never tried soufflé, and thus indulged as instructed. Sean took things differently, starting with a wonderfully sweet and creamy lobster and corn bisque. His adjika crusted rack of lamb was cooked to perfection, coated in a delightful roasted garlic and thyme sauce with chorizo and potato napoleon and various roast veg on the side. He finished his dinner with a chocolate mousse topped with fresh berries and whipped cream.

Golden sunlight was filtering through the high windows as they sat back, relaxing over cups of some manner of exquisite coffee. Rich and flavorful, Sean could only compare, favorably, to Taws' special recipe. "A perfect end to a perfect meal. Just the right way to close the book on this trial."

Chapter 6 < ** **> Chapter 8