Chapter 16

“And that’s everything you had on me?” An older gentleman smiles at the young black man wearing a suit sitting in his office.

“Everything.”

“You sure you want to do this. I mean square us up for this one favor.” The older gentleman peers at the young agent. He’s unreadable. Changed.

“I made the deal, didn’t I?”

“That you did. Heh, and this is a long way from the Civil Corruption Division ... Tell me something, son. How does it feel to be a dirty Fed?” The older man smiles. “I only know it from the dirty warden’s perspective.”

The young man remains unchanged, but his words reveal his soul. “This is the way it is. Are you playing ball or not?”

The old man reaches forward and takes the young man’s hand in his for a shake. But instead of a cordial shake and a smile, he pulls him in close and gropes his chest searching for a wire. He smiles. “I think we’re done here.”

The young man is shaken, but when the older man sits he begins humming an old tune, Take Me Out to the Ballgame. He gives the young man a wink.

Wallace Jackson leaves his honor behind and closes the door on his future. It is done. Time to grow up. He tells himself it is the only way. He knows he is lying to himself. This is personal. Beyond personal. This is righteous. It has to be done. When he is through telling tales to himself, he acknowledges one truth. Come what may, he is going to sleep easy after this is all over.

Despite not having any record, the judge denies bail, citing the prosecutors assertion that Ryan’s plentiful means, access to private travel, and heavy ties with non-extradition countries makes him a credible flight risk. Ryan’s attorneys claim persecution of the rich and offer to surrender his passport and provide a multi-million dollar bond, but are denied. Rachel is missing from the proceedings. She’s focused on business matters, not criminal law.

Thankfully, the prison is fairly clean and the inmates are friendly enough. Rachel does come by to check in on him. Behind her are a group of criminal defense attorneys chatting for hundreds an hour. She’s first to go in to see him surrounded by tile, metal, and glass.

“Is this what I asked for?” He looks over the papers she presents him.

“Yes, sir.”

“You didn’t try to get out over your skis again, did you?” His eyes pierce her.

“No, sir.”

“She’s prepared for it. You have my contacts for her in due time. You’ll see. Once I’m back out, this will all settle out, and if I’m stuck here, then this makes sure I’m protected. It’s all about incentives.”

“The associates?”

“Make sure that they get wind of this. It’ll calm nerves if they know I am still thinking big picture.”

She nods.

The last of the signatures are made. She stamps and notarizes the document, making it legally binding. Now all that is left is to wait. His other attorneys enter to discuss strategy. She leaves him behind knowing he is in good hands. She wishes that she could be the one to save him. Maybe he’d finally see her for who she truly is to him. But it is one battle she can’t fight for him.

Ryan is pleased with his attorneys. If their theory of the case is right, they’ll possibly be able to excluded mountains of evidence and if they prevail there, it will be very easy to establish reasonable doubt. He is so pleased that he wears a smile when he goes back to the other inmates to play cards.

A week later, he is moved to a different facility, one that is closer to the venue for his preliminary hearings. It is much sooner than he’d like but when he gets his own cell instead of sharing one, he doesn’t complain. It is a slight step up since even in the minimum security prison, the minds are generally small and it is better to not bother with most of the riff raff. The walls are yellowed beige and the food is not great, but the library is much bigger. He’ll only be here a little while longer if things work out as expected.

“Hey Flaherty, you have a visitor.” The guard’s low voice booms out. He’s a corpulent man, bulging with low willpower against pastries and high will power for pumping iron.

He grins. It’s almost 3 PM. If his lawyers are coming to see him so early in the day, they likely have good news. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

He’s walked past the visitors area and stopped outside a door. A camera catches his eye, it’s hanging down loosely, out of commission. He doesn’t have time to contemplate it when he’s shoved into a room.

“Hey, what the fuck?!”

The door slams shut.

“You just fucked up, buddy.” He breaks out into laughter. “You just set me free. Once my lawyer gets this I’m going to own your ass! I’ll own your house, your car, your dog, Hell, I might even let your wife stay if she sits on my cock! You cuck nig-”

His racial slur is cut off when a man emerges from the shadows and grabs his throat. The chokehold isn’t the thing that stops his words. It’s the searing pain from two quick stabs in succession. The man holds the blade deep inside and growls. “She was my daughter.”

It is all he can say. He stabs over and over, digging out his brother from behind. There will be no medical intervention, there will be no amount of money to save him. Patrick Flaherty is crying, saying the words over and over. He sees in his mind the image of his sex-crazed and broken little girl and he stabs without remorse. Vengeance moves his hands when he lacks the breath to keep cutting. The sputtering corpse to be drops from his hands. He doesn’t look back at it. Patrick is done. There is nothing left for him. He looks at the knife and considers his own neck. He stares at it for long moments with only wet sounds of weakening struggle behind him. It falls from his nerveless fingers.

“It’s done.” he calls out.

Guards rush in and beat him down before taking him into custody. He doesn’t fight. He doesn’t have any left in him.

Wallace Jackson gets a text. He sleeps soundly that night.

The news coverage is sensational: a billionaire arrested in connection with human sex trafficking is murdered in a most Shakespearean manner by his own brother. Headlines abounded and investigations began, but the elder brother held firm insistence that he sought out and found his brother in prison. Blame is placed on guards being overworked and no one is held accountable.