Family Issues Ch. 13

Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Finally. Sorry it took so long, but this was the longest chapter and it took time to process.

As always, I need to thank, Stylus and Madison, my cool editors - for their endless patience, and great insights.

Just a quick reminder. So far:

1. The Big bang.

2. The autotrophs began to drool.

3. God, Adam and Eve and that awkward story with a talking snake.

4. Lots of other stuff.

5. Ginger who is a singer in Mike's (Kevin's best friend) band, hit on Kevin. It turns out she just wanted to use Kevin to get into a sorority. Kevin showed her the middle finger when Ginger started to trash Mike and called him a loser.

6. Suzan Owens (the Syndicate's main money launderer) killed William Richardson (CEO of Richardson and Williams – I was totally not in focus when I invented the company name).

7. The Syndicate killed Suzan Owens and Diana took her place as the Syndicate's money launderer.

8. Helen went to jail for the murder.

9. Kevin, who now lives with Nadine, asks Ginger to represent her, then went and confronted his biological father, Pastor Roy (the spiritual leader of a fanatic religious extremists called – Army of God), in jail. It turned out that the Army of God is responsible among other things, for the death of Helen's mother.

On with the story.

$$$$$$$$$$

"What time did you leave the hotel?"

"Eight p.m." Helen's voice was barely audible in the courtroom.

"Sorry? You need to speak up," Ginger said.

"Eight p.m."

Kevin swore under his breath. His Valkyrie had lost over ten pounds during her incarceration. Weren't they feeding her in jail?

"Are you certain?"

"I knew William usually stays until eight-thirty, nine, sometimes. I kept an eye on my watch because I was terrified I might miss him."

"Ms. Anderson said in her testimony, she met you around eight p.m. when she punched her card going out."

"I used the parking lot elevator to the office, and I didn't see anyone. I arrived at the office at eight-thirty, not eight. Marianne is lying!"

Ginger let that echo and sink. If she could discredit the emails and the orders signed by Helen, then it would be Marianne's word against Helen's. The jury should hear the words 'Marianne' and 'lying' as much as possible. "So, you met no one."

"I went straight to William's office."

"Go on."

"I've found William in a pool of blood with his Ka-Bar stuck in his chest."

"Did you notice anyone else in the office?"

"Maybe. I didn't check." Helen's alabaster visage was passive when she described a man whose life was ebbing away in a pool of blood. The jury, who didn't know her intimately, perceived a pale blond ice-queen. Aloof. She wore her mask like a second skin. Kevin had breached that wall long ago and wasn't fooled. Her lower lip twitched lightly. Her fingers clenched and flexed. William was dear to her, and his death had cut deep.

Helen had dark circles under her eyes. His Valkyrie's shield and armor were cracked; her will to fight was broken.

"What happened then?" Ginger said.

"I immediately began TCCC-CLS and called the emergency services."

Ginger danced an Indian victory jig in her mind. She didn't instruct Helen to use military terms; it came naturally and helped her steer the testimony in the right direction. "For the sake of anyone unfamiliar with military acronyms, TCCC-CLS?"

"Tactical Combat Casualty Care, Combat Life Saver. It's a course selected Marine Corps officers attend at Camp Pendleton, in Oceanside."

"What exactly do they teach you in that course?"

"First responder care at injury point. Treating and evacuating a casualty."

"In William's case?"

"He was still breathing, and he had a pulse. Severe bleeding was the obvious risk factor."

"TCCC is a procedure you follow from A to Z. Like an automated machine, right?"

"A thinking machine that doesn't waste critical time on hesitation. TCCC reduced US army casualties by 67%."

"I know." Ginger gave a tender smile. "I'm trying to establish the state of mind you were in. It wasn't the first time you'd had to use that skill."

"No."

"During your service, you were forced to use it several times."

"Unfortunately."

"I'd like to present a recording." Ginger pulled out a CD. "Luckily the Marine Corps save its communication channels stream for years."

"Objection, Your Honor, irrelevant." Larry looked like someone who found half a cockroach in his salad.

"Your Honor." Ginger was a singer, dark mezzo-soprano. Her statements flowed like a song and were an ear balm to Larry's nasally objections. "Mr. Durham, the security guard who responded to Ms. Anderson's call said in his testimony that Helen appeared calm and in control. Quoting his words in this court, 'Helen appeared calm. The opposite of what you'd expect a person stumbling on a murder scene.' The prosecution would have us believe she is a cold-blooded murderer, unaffected by gore. The defense will prove that my client was calm when she tried to save William's life—"

"Objection, Your Honor. Tried to save William's life?"

"Let me rephrase. When Mr. Durham saw the defendant leaning over the victim. The defense would like to present a different explanation for the defendant's demeanor."

"Overruled."

Ginger took off her glasses and gave the judge a smile that could melt the ice-caps. She wore a navy black pencil dress to court. Professional without losing her long legs' effect. Kevin could swear that Judge Henley blushed.

Ginger turned back to Helen. "In Husaybah, Iraq, your company was sent to clear an insurgents' headquarters, and your commander accidentally activated a booby-trap, right?"

"An IED disguised inside a mattress."

Ginger inserted the CD into the court's device and pressed play.

The recording opened with a distinct, static chirping, followed by a few bleeps. A heavy machine gun burst in the distance, then quiet fell again. Suddenly, someone screamed in the background, begging for his mother to come and take him.

"Hitman Two-Two, this is Hitman Two-Three, come in. Over. We've got nine men hit. I repeat. We've got men wounded on the ground." Helen's throaty voice was easily recognizable above the channel's static hiss. "Immediate evac, immediate evac, at point Alpha, Charlie, Charlie."

"Hitman Two-Three, this is Hitman Two-Two, say again. Nine men down?" Compared to Helen's calm, the soldier responding sounded like a frightened teenager.

"Hitman Two-Two, we've hit an IED. Multiple casualties! Nine men down!" Helen raised her voice, but there was no stress, just an attempt to focus the other guy. "Immediate evac, immediate evac, at point Alpha, Charlie, Charlie."

"Hitman Two-Three, can you get to the Humvees?"

"Negative. Negative. Hitman Two-Three—"

Ginger stopped the recording because Helen's face turned ashen. She breathed heavily, her fingers clenched around the stand's microphone. She was visibly shaking.

"Ms. Brion, do you need a recess?" Judge Henley was alarmed by her reaction.

Helen caught Ginger's eye, and her new lawyer shook her head quickly. She wanted to hit the iron when it was still hot.

"I'm okay. It's just..."

"You were heavily injured in that incident?" Ginger was in command again.

Helen nodded.

"Please?"

"Yes."

"You lost your left eye. Three operations and six months' recovery. You were diagnosed with PTSD three years ago, am I correct?"

Helen bit her lip and added a barely audible yes.

"And even though you were in terrible pain, you treated and saved the life of four marines. You kept your cool, notified the HQ, you remembered to call off an airstrike on your position, and you treated the injured. In fact, you received a Bronze Star for your conduct."

Helen nodded.

"I'm sorry?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, it's hard to hear—"

"Yes!" Helen finally raised her tone. "It's difficult for me..." Her voice broke. "I lost brothers. My soldiers, my commanding officer, I..."

"It's understandable, Ms. Brion. No one can deny your pain. I deeply apologize for taking you back to that horrible day." Ginger waited for a little before she continued. "But nobody should be surprised that you appeared calm when you treated William!"

"That's what I've been trained to do."

Kevin felt like kissing Ginger. She'd instructed Helen to dump the ugly business suit and bought her a clean-cut black dress. While recounting her injury must have been emotionally overpowering, it left a deep impression on the jury. Helen was no longer an unfeeling alabaster statue. She was flesh and blood, hurting from her comrades' loss. A war hero. The fresh look and the testimony gave them a different perspective. They were finally fighting back.

The prosecutor sure looked like he was about to have a fit.

–-

"Ms. Brion, I hold in my hands," Larry waved the document, "a daily maintenance and floor-polishing order issued for G&G Cleaning Service. The money was transferred in September, but the cleaning job never took place. G&G can't offer cleaning services, because they don't have a cleaning staff or any staff at all. G&G is a dummy company. An entity that exists only on paper. Do you recognize the signature?"

Helen took the document wrapped in plastic using two fingers, like she has just received a live snake. She stared at it before giving it back. "It's mine, but it's a fake."

"Is it?"

"I'm an analyst. The operations officer issues cleaning orders."

"But any vice president has the authority to issue such an order, not just the chief of operations."

"It wasn't me."

"And the email telling Miriam Anderson to launch Destiny Mall?"

"Wasn't mine either. I opposed Destiny Mall from day one."

"How do you explain that this order, and hundreds like it to G&G and other dummy companies, plus the Destiny Mall email, were all sent from your office's email account?"

"I... I didn't send those emails. Maybe the same person who forged my signature hacked into my account."

"Sure."

"Objection, Your Honor, argumentative," Ginger jumped.

"Sustained." Judge Henley gave Larry a warning glance.

"Ms. Brion," Larry didn't lose a beat," you have a strict password policy at Richardson and Williams. A password expires every three weeks, right?"

"Yes."

"So you're saying that for several months someone repeatedly hacked your account, even though the FBI has found no evidence of intrusive hacking activity in your office?"

"Objection, Your Honor. My colleague is badgering the witness. She is not a computer expert, and she said she didn't send those emails."

"Withdrawing the question." Larry went for his sourpuss smile that could make onions cry. "Ms. Brion, on November the sixth, you didn't show up for a CEO monthly meeting. A meeting that launched Destiny Mall."

"Yes."

"Destiny Mall was an attempt to steal 700 million. It's a land fraud."

"I don't know the exact details." Helen glowered. "I've been cut off from the outside world since November."

"Because the FBI decided you're a prime suspect in a fraud case."

"Objection, Your Honor." Ginger jumped, her face red at the dirty trick. "The FBI didn't press any charges."

"Yet." Larry raised his hands palms forward. "Sorry, sorry, bad phrasing. Tell me, Ms. Brion, how many CEO monthly meetings have you missed prior to November the sixth?"

"None."

"What happened on November the sixth, then?"

"I..." Helen glanced at Kevin.

"Does Kevin know?" Larry's grin got bigger as Helen flinched and blushed deeply.

"I was supposed to meet Kevin at the Comfort Inn near Lincoln Park."

"What for?" Larry said.

"It's unimportant, and he didn't show up, anyway."

Kevin stared at her, rapidly blinking.

The prosecutor smirked. "You need to synchronize your versions. Kevin didn't mention a hotel meeting in his police testimony."

"Objection, Your—"

"Let me rephrase. It doesn't really matter if Kevin supports your claim or not. You've told the police you came to the hotel at two-thirty p.m. Why did you miss the meeting at four p.m.? A meeting that was all about Destiny Mall. You claimed you had opposed Destiny Mall from its inception. How come you missed your chance to shoot it down? Why did you stay in the hotel until eight p.m. even though no one came to meet you?"

"I fell asleep."

The room erupted with giggles that were hushed by the judge's gavel.

"So to sum it up. You, a vice president in a major company, who never missed a CEO meeting in her entire career. You had a meeting," Larry made air quotes, "at a hotel with someone who has no clue what you're talking about. In your words, he didn't show up. So, instead of going to an important, decisive meeting, you took a six-hour nap in the middle of the day. Don't blame me if I find it a bit hard to believe."

There were more sniggers from around the room.

"I think I might have been drugged," Helen said.

Larry rolled his eyes. "I'd like to present a more reasonable alternative." He spoke tenderly, faking empathy for the poor idiot on the stand, tangled up in her childish lies. You were Destiny Mall project's advocator and initiator, but you didn't want your name associated with its launch. You knew it was a fraud that could bring the whole company down. That's why you didn't show up for the meeting. You only showed up after you've received an email from William, saying he wanted to cancel Destiny Mall."

"That's not true, I'd never—"

Larry altered his tone and waved his blaming index finger in the air, accusing. "You showed up with an intent to murder, and you followed through. Only you didn't take into account Marianne Anderson coming back to the office."

"I didn't murder anybody! I didn't write those emails! I did fall asleep! Why doesn't anyone believe me?" Helen burst out in tears and buried her face in her hands.

"No further questions, Your Honor."

Only Ginger's firm hand on his shoulder prevented Kevin from launching himself at the prosecutor.

–-

"Why on earth did Helen say she was going to meet me in that hotel?"

"She told me you texted her, Kev." Ginger's voice sounded muffled. "She said you invited her to the hotel but never showed up."

"I never texted her."

"I know. The police let me check her mobile. Why do you think she said that?"

"I don't know anymore." Kevin sighed. "Maybe fear is making her invent stuff like that. Why do you sound like you're in a box?"

"Because I'm on the toilet seat. My team-manager said I could work on Helen's case in my free time, but the day he catches me doing voluntary work at his expense, I'll have to clean out my desk."

"I don't want you to lose your job."

"Don't worry, and anyway I got this job because the company belongs to my sorority roomie's mother, and you got me into Alpha Pi Alpha. If they kick my ass, it evens out. Why does it sound like you're in a construction site?"

Behind him, a crane lifted a grand piano over the pool's dome. A porters' army, like a trail of ants wearing jumpsuits, were hauling the Astor mansion's interior onto trucks. Aleki, with Cecilia's directives, drove Nadine's ridiculously expensive sport-cars collection onto a car-carrying trailer. The activity had been droning since noon of the day before.

"Don't ask. I don't have answers, anyway. It's chaotic. Any good news, Ginger?"

"I'm sorry. It's... I have a hard time getting Helen's cooperation. It's three hours' drive to jail, and she's... It's like she lost the will to fight. I can't help her if she's not helping me. She keeps asking about you, and I'm not allowed to say much."

"Jesus, she feels abandoned. Can you tell her I love her and that I'm getting her out?"

"I'm not allowed to deliver her any messages. An FBI officer is watching over us all the time. I'll lose my license."

"Just tell her I said I love her, that can't be breaching the FBI—"

"Tell her you love who?"

Kevin jumped two feet in the air.

Nadine glared at him behind his back, and he wondered how long she had been standing there.

She wore a sharp suit; her raven-black hair was tied in a tight bun. Tall, every button and line straight like a North Korean army parade. Her stance said 'don't mess with me,' and when she was in that mood, even Madam Hulk was skittish. Nadine's power resided in her beautiful eyes. People scurried to get out of the way when her smoky orbs fell on them. Now that menacing stare was focused on the only person who could make her heart flutter.

"You're talking to that pixie-cut blond, Helen's new lawyer?"

Kevin nodded.

"You've made up your mind."

Kevin nodded slowly.

"And you didn't have the balls to come and tell me about it?"

"Nadine, you don't own me. I'm not a Lace Boy."

"You're not that special either, Kevin. I've been gentle with you, but it can end right here, right now."

"I know."

"I can take what I want from you."

He shook his head. "I'm so sorry, but you can't."

She closed the gap between them in a flash and grabbed his collar. "You keep forgetting who you're talking to," she growled.

"No, I don't. I'm so sorry, Nadine."

"Stop apologizing!" She released his collar.

"What you want from me can only be given, not taken. I'm so sorry that I can't give it to you. I love Helen. Please let me go quietly."

"The fuck I will," she snarled. "This isn't some..." She choked, but then straightened her back. Her black eyes were a dark storm. "We're going, and you're coming with us."

"Nadine."

"One more fucking word out of your big fucking mouth, and I tell Cecilia she can ride your ass. You wouldn't be able to walk straight for a year."

"Thanks, very graphic."

Nadine placed her index finger under his nose, and Kevin was sure she meant to smack him, but then she turned around and strutted back into the house on stiff legs.

–

"The air in California is not healthy for us anymore."

"In what way?"

"Hand me a wrench, Kev."

"Which one?"

"Whatcha got?" Brigitte chose two wrenches out of the set Kevin offered and tightened the screw on her Kawasaki Ninja beast. She revved the engine twice and winced because she didn't like the sound. "Goddamn motherfucking piece of gook shit."

"Tell the other Hitler Youth I said hi."

"Kev, you know you don't need no sweet talking with me. I'll sleep with ya, just say when."

"You're not my type."

"I'm hot."

"You're also a racist bigot and a cold-blooded murderer."

Brigitte shrugged. "Nobody's perfect."

"And it's not the motor's fault. You trashed your Kawasaki last night on the lawn. Iman and I found you naked on the bathroom's floor. Totally shitfaced."

"It was you who dragged me to bed?"

"Yep."

"Oh my god, you're such a pussy, Kevin. You could have had anal."

"Next time."

The saber-thin futanari hooked a voltmeter to her battery's positive and fired up the engine. "Eleven thirty-seven, goddamn, it won't even charge properly." She spat. "Anyway, I'm not a racist. I hate everyone equally. Niggers, Injuns, kikes, gooks, fairies, futas, Democrats, all of them. Except you, you purple-eyed freak, I'm crazy about you."

In the yard behind him, an Asian Lace Boys' group, carrying suitcases and dressed in miniskirts, crammed into a bus in a flurry of color and laughter.

"Why is everyone packing, Brigitte?"

"Told you, you short-attention git. The air in California is not healthy for us anymore. What Suzan Owens did at Richardson and Williams has sent out too many ripples. We can't contain them all. It might take a month or two, but the FBI is sure to pay us a visit."

"I thought the Feds and cops were in your back pocket."

"Hand me the fuel injector synchronizer. Not every cop, you dumbass. Someone is bound to make a connection eventually, and we're not going to be here when it happens. Nadine sold the mansion a week ago. We're downsizing in the US. Moving our operation base. "