"I'm having a party in a couple of days," he said. "Once I beat this rap. Drop on by." I gave him my best stony glare, and he swept on out with his retinue.
    Not more than two minutes later, as we were entering the courtroom—the same room which I had left a little while before—we heard the explosion. Lucky's staff appeared immediately as we headed for the main doors.
    Aliese's car had been hurled some distance by the force of the explosion, and still burned fiercely. It was clear that no one inside could possibly be alive, and dental records would be required to ID the bodies. His scent trail led to the car and nowhere else, Lucky told us later. And the chemical explosives smelled similar to those which had been planted in the van at Renaissance Technologies. The few cars on the street were either stopped or moving slowly; it's a wonder no further accidents occurred.
    Lucky still doesn't think he's dead. She's had a lot longer to get good at being paranoid than I have.
    It was twenty after nine by then, and I looked at my watch and glanced at her.
    "Fire trucks are on their way," I pointed out. The sirens were already coming nearer; we weren't needed. "We're going to be late." When she didn't respond I added, "I should think you'd be happy about it." One fewer don to want vengeance on her.
    That drew a glare, but got her moving. We went in. The room was almost empty. Lucky and Simon sat at one table. At another sat a tall, distinguished-looking black man of middle age and somewhat stern demeanor—Mr. Washington, the prosecutor. There was no press presence at all, so reality was still safely under wraps. The only people in the audience were myself and Reilly on opposite sides of the room and a couple of men in the back who looked somewhat familiar. Eventually I placed them from Vincent's penthouse, the night Scott had robbed the place.
    There were three judges, prosecution and defense. Not much like your usual grand jury at all, actually; I think that, given the circumstances, they were making procedure up as they went along. Velke and Washington spent a couple of hours fencing with each other over technicalities and making opening statements; one of the judges seemed to be there expressly to remind them that there was no need to indulge in theatrics whenever their prose got too purple. Then there was a recess for lunch. It didn't seem like the morning had accomplished anything. I called base to check in with Scott, who said everything was quiet. Hans had gone out to help his family settle in.
    First thing after the recess, they called me to the stand. Washington concentrated on events, mainly. The only place I feel I came close to a lie is when he asked me if I had known that Lucky had had previous connections with Vincent. I said that I hadn't, when truthfully, I had been suspicious (then again, he hadn't been at all interested in my suspicions regarding Vincent's line of work—fair's fair). Then he was taking forever to get to the point of the whole thing, asking specifically about Vincent's injuries, and what might have caused those injuries, until finally I told him to stop beating around the bush, was he asking did I think Lucky had struck him? Yes.
    It was odd, the way he kept asking about her abilities, and mine. I've sort of stopped thinking about them. I don't talk to normal people much anymore.
    Throughout the examination I felt torn in a way I had not at all expected. I know what she did, and that it would only be just that she be punished for it. Yet I found myself doing everything I could to elude Washington's questions, could not say in so many words, for instance, that she had fled the scene, or that she had deliberately used all of her strength when she attacked, though I knew these things to be true. I never imagined my loyalties divided this way.
    The one scary moment was when he asked if I had any knowledge of any other murder Lucky might have committed recently, specifically involving the recent death of a young gang member. Velke objected to the question before I could try to think of how to avoid that one, and the judges sustained it as outside the scope of the hearing. I'm still ambivalent about that episode. Obviously, she shouldn't have done it. But they were going to kill me. The memory of that entire day is still wrapped in the shock I was feeling, then and afterwards.
    He ended his questioning there, and Simon took over. Velke was basing his defense on Lucky's otherwise sterling record on the team and her value to the community, apparently. Did I trust her, hadn't she risked her life on so and so occasions, did I think she was a threat to society, and so forth. That part was easier and didn't take as long.
    They called Reilly next. He admitted that they had not had a good relationship to start with, but that his opinion had changed for the better over time. He gave his side of events, and was trying to add the fact that she had done a considerable amount of good in the past couple of days, but Washington cut him off and ended the questioning. Velke invited him to pick up where he had left off—what amounted to a character testimonial. A few months ago I wouldn't have credited it.
    He ended with some remarks on her refusal to be controlled by circumstance, the determination with which she had taken control of her destiny despite her past, and the respect he felt for the fact that she was doing so. In fact, he rather went on about it.
    That's a copy, tower. Thanks for understanding. I didn't look at him.

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