Hanley, followed a moment later by Gregg, leapt up from his chair. "Your Honor," the prosecutor said urgently, "the prosecution has the right and the obligation to be part of any discussion in this case. If there's something of import to our case - "
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hanley, but it seems that there are potential issues of national security involved, and I had been so notified earlier this morning, on a very high level. The precedent is clear enough; I don't have any choice in the matter. I will make the prosecution aware of the content of the discussion as soon as I can." Judge Sweeney nodded to Fitzpatrick, Brandon, and the others. "In my chambers, Mr. Fitzpatrick ..."
Sweeney banged his gavel. Fitzpatrick gave Gregg the smile again as he passed their table, causing the dull embers of nervous pain in Gregg's stomach to burst into a full roaring inferno. He tried to reach out with the Gift, but again it did nothing but let him sip the sour taste of confidence in Fitzpatrick's mind. The voice scolded him: "If I had Puppetman ..." We both know that old lament, Greggie. Give it up. That's not the way to redeem yourself.
Hanley shook his head, scooped up his files and dumped them in his briefcase again. He snapped the lid closed on the heap and shrugged at Gregg with a tired expression on his face. "Not a damn thing we can do about it right now," he said. "I'm going for coffee and a Danish. Join me? No? See you in an hour, then."
Brandon looked at Gregg. He shook his head almost imperceptibly.
"Gregg?" Hannah had come up from her chair. She glared at Brandon as he passed on his way out of the courtroom. "What's going on?"
"I'm not sure," he answered. "But I don't like the look of it. They've brought in some heavy suit from the government."
"Damn it!" Hannah burst out. "My God, the Sharks broke into Tachyon's lab for some reason - once they're brought to trial, everything we know can be brought out. All of it...."
Hannah leaned heavily on the railing, intense, her fingers white where they curled around the polished mahogany. Now she sighed, and Gregg sensed the woman's weariness, her despair, and her idealistic fury. She is truly incredible. I wish I had known her before ...
With Puppetman? the inner voice interjected. What would you have done with her, Greggie? You would have dragged her through the slime like all the rest. You don't deserve her. Not until you've redeemed yourself.
"These are lives we're talking about," Hannah continued, softer now. "People who happen to be jokers. People who laugh, and love - and hurt."
"Hannah," Gregg said quietly. "You're preaching to the converted."
That earned him a fleeting smile. "I know. It's just ..." She stared at the door through which the judge and Fitzpatrick had gone. "I just wish I could do something."
"So do I," Gregg told her. But you can't, the voice answered him. Not this way. Gregg had the sense of being outmaneuvered, of being hemmed in by unseen forces behind the scenes. He could feel the Sharks' presence again, a hidden, sinister presence tugging on his line from below the surface. The sensation brought back strange feelings of yearning. If only I'd known, back then. If only I'd stumbled across them before, with Puppetman ...
An hour later, Gregg heard the words he'd somehow known he was going to hear as soon as he'd seen Fitzpatrick and van Renssaeler. Judge Sweeney cleared the courtroom of everyone but the lawyers and himself. He took a long breath before he spoke. "Mr. Hanley, I regret this, as I can tell by the reams of paper that you've stacked over there that you've done your usual exemplary job of preparing your case. However, I must tell you and your co-counsel that I have been informed of certain mitigating circumstances regarding the break-in at the Jokertown Clinic. I have already ordered the release of Mr. Battle and Mr. Puckett from custody."
"No!" Hanley slapped his hand down on his briefcase. Sweeney glowered at the prosecutor, but the judge's attention snapped back to Gregg as he stood. Gregg reached out with the Gift and felt the emotions within Sweeney. He could sense a nagging irritation within the man - evidently the judge had been looking forward to the publicity this trial would bring him as well.
"Your Honor," Gregg began, letting the Gift lend his words all the power it could, "surely the defendants are not claiming that this was a matter of national security. That's ludicrous. The Jokertown Clinic treats the poor jokers of this city. It provides a badly needed service to people who would not otherwise have it available to them, and it has done that good work for decades. The clinic is hardly a threat to the nation; in fact, it is quite the opposite. There are no hidden agendas there, no weapons, no secret laboratories, no threat to the public welfare. There are only caring people and a dedicated, caring staff."
Gregg could feel Sweeney's agreement, like an azure sea deep within him, but the Gift would only let him raise the smallest wavelets on that surface. He could also sense something else holding back that agreement, a dam of scarlet, nameless fear that made Gregg wonder. Puppetman could have raised a storm of certainty, a hurricane of assurance that would have shattered that dam. With Puppetman, Sweeney would have nodded and smiled and spread his hands wide. "I have never heard anything more convincing," he would have said. "I have never been so moved...."
The words flared with the Gift. Incandescent, they battered against the dark fear and fell guttering into silence. Something inside Sweeney was stronger than the Gift. Gregg could sense the seed of compassion the Gift found within the man, but the seed was locked in stone, captured in a hold the Gift could not break.
What is it that holds him? Damn it! What use is this power if it doesn't work?
The voice chided him. Accept it as it is, Greggie. Use the Gift correctly and it will become powerful.
Sweeney was speaking. "Mr. Hanley, Mr. Hartmann, it is done. I have no choice. This court has dropped all charges against George G. Battle and Robert Joseph Puckett in the matter of the Jokertown Clinic burglary."
"Judge Sweeney," Hanley persisted "Mr. Battle is known to be attached to the Special Executive Task Force. Are Mr. Fitzpatrick and Mr. van Renssaeler claiming that the burglary of the clinic was performed at the behest of the executive branch?"
Sweeney looked at Fitzpatrick, and then back at Hanley. "I have nothing more to say on the matter at all, Mr. Hanley." Sweeney raised his hand as Hanley started to speak again. "The matter is closed. One more word, and you'll be held in contempt. Mr. Battle and Mr. Puckett have been cleared of all charges against them. That is the ruling of this court. Furthermore, I must warn both of you to be very careful as to what you say to the press outside ..." The judge was still talking, but Gregg heard nothing of it.
Brandon van Renssaeler snapped shut the locks of his briefcase. The sound was very loud in the room.
♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
In the cab afterward, Gregg looked over to see tears gathering in Hannah's eyes. He was surprised momentarily, to see the vulnerability in the woman. She would have been a glorious puppet. She feels so deeply, so strongly....
"What now?" Hannah asked him. She stared straight ahead as the cab headed uptown. "We're sunk, right?"
Gregg reached over to her and touched her shoulder gently with his left hand, his real hand. Hannah shrugged away from him, glaring at him. "Hannah," he said, and he let the Gift, the power, touch the word. Greggie ... the voice said warningly inside him, but he ignored it. "I'm very sorry."
The tears fell then, twin droplets tracking down either cheek. Hannah brushed them away angrily. The desire to use the power came on him. Even with this poor shadow of the old ability, he knew he could make this grief that so filled her overflow. He could take her in his arms and let her sob her despair, sheltering her, and once the tears were gone, she might look up at him and ...