Adam Schiff had a long day. The shocking news of the Sanguinettes grisly murder compounded by
   the news that Deitz had excused Van Buren, Briscoe and Green from duty made Adam tired.
   Endless calls, interruptions and pesky newspeople created headaches for Adam and his staff.

   Sighing, Adam had just poured himself his final brandy before heading home. A sharp knock at the
   door interrupted his thoughts and he shuffled to the door.

   "Yeah?" Not really looking, Adam opened the door.

   "Adam?" A familiar voice snapped Adam back into consciousness.

   "Ben?" incredulously Adam openly gawked at his prized former executive assistant DA standing
   rather awkwardly at the door. "Ben, come in, where the hell are my manners?"

   Adam's posture straightened and his demeanor brightened as he poured Ben a glass of scotch. He
   felt suddenly better as he thoght of the man who he hoped would seceed him was sitting in his office,
   sharing a drink.

   As he handed the drink to him, Ben smiled. "Just like the old days, Adam."

   Taking a deep breath, Adam smiled in return. "What brings you in town, or do I know the answer
   already?"

   Ben sat back, momentarily lost in the smells of the office. The memories were there, waiting to spill
   over.

   The Plodder said to the Rocket, "Never thought you'd be sucking up to a prissy guy like Sullivan."
   They were in a booth at Harald's, a German-style pub on East 85th near Lexington. The time was
   7:14 PM.

   Stan Oromocto and James Deitz had earned their nicknames when they were partners from 1977 to
   1980. James was ambitious and fast, quick to pounce on a suspect's lie or witness's mistake. Stan
   was gentle, methodical, and content to remain a detective first grade.

   James said, "I'm trying to mitigate..."

   "How? Garth and Marlo are dead, good cops are losing their badges, morale is going right down the
   f***ing tank!" Stan paused, then said, "He's got something on you, hasn't he.

   "That's none of your..." Deitz snapped. He shook his head, raised his hands in apology, and said,
   "Well, why not."

   And the Rocket took the Plodder back to 1983. The Plodder learned of a rich Senator, his
   then-troubled son, and a fiscally careless police lieutenant, the Rocket.
 

   "You mean they think he did it, as in they actually have proof? Or they think he did it, as in they want
   someone to pin it on?" Caitlin asked, her voice disdainful.

   Mike shrugged. "They're after his head."

   "That precinct is cursed," Caitlin sighed, picking up a legal pad from her desk. "All right. We start by
   making a list of everyone involved in investigating the Hill case."

   "Easy enough," Mike said. "You and me. Ransome. Lennie and Curtis. Profaci. Faith. And Van
   Buren."

   "Not so easy," Caitlin retorted. "You have all the people with CSU. You have the evidence clerk.
   Think about it, Mike."
    James said, "The boy straightened out, Stan. He's a major of military police in the Marines. I can't
   betray him or his father..."

   "Or our boys," Stan said. "Look, I know you've been trying, but it's time to come firmly into our
   camp."

   "Not that simple. I'm finding out more about Sullivan each day. He's dirty, Plodder, and to find out
   just how dirty I'll have to keep playing the toady."

   "Not acceptable, Boss. Not on your present path." Stan gazed with an intensity that the Commander
   had never seen before.
 

   January 23, 2000: Adam Schiff sat quietly as he listened to Ben's story. His former subordinate had
   been summonsed by Judge Sullivan's committee.

   Adam was certain that Ben would be interrogated in a way that would have done Joe McCarthy
   proud. "Tail Gunner Joe" had been in full fury when Adam first saw Hiram.

   *************************

   July 29, 1952: Lieutenant Adam Schiff was still pale, underweight and on sick leave after his bout of
   dysentery in Korea a few weeks earlier. But thanks to the skillful doctors at the M*A*S*H 4077th,
   he was home and on his feet.

   At 7 PM he left his parents' house and headed west. Yesterday, a family had moved into the
   brownstone three houses down. A new Studebaker was in the driveway and yet another ugly TV
   antenna blighted the neighbourhood. A man with pruning shears attacked the overgrown shrubbery,
   while a boy no older than twelve was struggling with a lawnmower.

   With a *WHANG* something spat out of the mower chute and shattered the driver's side window of
   the car. The man dropped his shears and grinned fiercely as he marched to the frightened-looking
   boy.

   "Hiram Sullivan," the man said in a soft but stern voice, "You are responsible for this, and you will
   pay. It was your duty to make sure that there was nothing on the lawn for the blade to strike. You
   failed in your duty, and that will cost you. Do you understand?"

   "Yes." Hiram was on the brink of tears.

   "Yes, what?"

   "Yes, sir."

   "So. Another strike against you. I should not have had to correct you like that. Make no mistake,
   young man, summer is over for you now."

   Hiram wept.

   "Stop that!" The man smacked Hiram on the crown of his head.

   "No, *you* stop!" said Adam.

   The man turned, still wearing his angry grin, and stalked to Adam, who was in no condition to fight.

   He came almost nose-to-nose with Adam, then said with soft menace, "You just mind your own
   business, sir."

   Then he turned back to Hiram, who had not moved from his spot, and he said, "What are you
   waiting for, clean up this mess. Then we'll talk some more. We all have to pay for our mistakes."

   "Y-yes, sir."

   "We all have to pay for our mistakes. Never forget that."

   *************************

   Adam did not yet know what mistakes Ben Stone had made in Judge Hiram Sullivan's eyes, but any
   target of Sullivan was potentially a paying target. And not just in money.
 

   Tired Cassi returned to her apartment after a long day of going between Mike, Phil, Carol and even
   Anita, filling everyone in on what was what. She ended the day with talking to Donnie. Inside, the
   apartment it was dark. Neglecting to turn on the light near the door, she walked around the oversized
   sofa over to the desk she had near the window in the living room. She turned on a lamp and placed
   her keys next to her computer. Dropping in the large office chair, Cassi leaned her head back and
   closed her eyes.

   *Ben Stone.* She thought. *I know why you're back here. I just don't know if I really want to see
   you again.* Rubbing her face she got up and headed into her bedroom. The bed hadn't been made
   up properly for several days. She had not had time for any domestic work, not with what hung in the
   balance. Careers of many of her friends and maybe even her own if she was't careful.

   Walking over to her dresser chest, Cassi opened the top drawer and reached under the intimate
   apparel way to the back and pulled out a small blue velvet box. She held it in her hands and stroked
   her hand over the box.

   *So soft.* she thought just before she opened it. Inside was a small round locket, embossed with a
   leaf design. Finally Cassi opened it. One one side was a picture. It was a picture of Cassi, Ben and
   Lilly, her daughter. Cassi smiled while she looked at it. Then she rubbed her fingers on the other half
   of the locket. The engaved part. It read.

   *To Cassi, with all my love Ben.* Cassi closed her eyes and let out a big sigh.

   * I remember the night you gave me this Ben. The night we both confessed to each other about our
   sins.*
 

   "God." Caitlin rubbed at her eyes wearily. The lines of print were running together. She and Mike
   were closeted in the FBI research library, going over everything Caitlin had been able to pull about
   the Hill case. So far, they'd found nothing. Mike,leaning back in his chair, the top buttons on his shirt
   undone, glanced up. He'd discarded his jacket and tie hours ago, and the weariness was showing in
   his face, too. Caitlin sighed. "We're not getting anywhere. What would someone have to gain from
   keeping Hill out of jail?"

   Mike shrugged. "I don't know. But they damn sure want to use it to hang the two-seven." Stretching,
   he rose from the creaking chair. "I'm going to find a bathroom. I'll be right back."

   "Don't hurry on my account," Caitlin muttered, her gaze drifting back to the folder in front of her.
   Minutes passed, her frustration mounting.

   Footsteps sounded on the tile hallway, but Caitlin didn't glance up, assuming it was simply Mike
   returning.

   "Where's Mike?"

   Cassi O'Connor's familiar voice caught Caitlin's attention, but she glanced up slowly, her mouth set in
   a cold smile. "He'll be right back," she said, eyeing the two cups of coffee Cassi held and wondering
   how she'd gotten into the building. "Pull up a chair and wait, Detective O'Connor."
    In an opulent office on West 46th Street, a group of men sat surrounded by cigar smoke and the
   aroma of old leather.

   "Is it going well, Hiram?" a well-manicured man asked.

   "Very well," Hiram Sullivan answered, his voice rich with satisfaction.

   "If there are any problems," a gravelly voiced man commented, his cigarette smoking into ash. "We'll
   have to take care of them."
 

   Cassi sighed. Cait's face was the last one she wanted to see tonight. Sizing up the situation, she
   gingerly sat down as if expecting Cait to pull it out from under her. Silence loomed as Cassi cleared
   her throat.

   "What are you two doing?" Cassi eyed the two chairs.

   "You don't have to worry, Detective O'Connor. Mike has gone to the bathroom." The fake smile
   was plastered on Cait's face and Cassi grew more irritated.

   "You know, Mike doesn't need any more hurt in his life. He doesn't need you in his face, reminding
   him of his pain." Cassi clenched her teeth.

   "Trust me, O'Connor, I am not interested in 'hurting' Mike. But if I were you, I'd be careful."

   Slowly rising out of her chair, Cassi focused her anger in Cait's face.

   "What the hell does that mean"

   "Take however you want it, detective. But I know the man and you need to wake up." Cassi saw
   with shock, pain melting the ice in Cait's eyes.

   Cassi seated herself again and leaned foward. "What made you two break-up?"

   "My marriage is none of your business, Detective. But if you really want to know, maybe you should
   ask Mike. I'm sure his story is much more interesting then mine.

   "Actually, I can't get anything out of him. What's the secret?" Cassi's voice was hushed.

   "No secret," Cait replied. "He couldn't keep it in his pants."

   A wave of cold air swept over Cassi and she shivered. "He cheated on you? There must be some
   explanation..."

   "Yeah, I always wondered about that," Cait smiled. "When you find out, let me know."

   Cassi heard her heart thump in her ears and she realized that her breathing was becoming labored.
   She had to get out. Fast! Leaving the cups of coffee behind, Cassi bolted for the door, rushing out of
   there before she vomitted.
 

   Major Benjamin Schurz, Jr. had not seen his old man so worried since 1983. Although the Senator
   hadn't been named in any of Judge Sullivan's press releases, the elder Schurz made it clear that the
   family had much to lose.

   The Major had cited a family emergency to get a leave of absence from his CO at Camp Lejeune.
   Now he was home to pay his debts. It was 8:22 AM Monday, January 24, and the Schurzs were at
   the door to greet their visitor.

   Major Schurz was shocked at the changes in James Deitz just since last month, when they'd met at a
   party. The Commander's eyes were bloodshot and baggy, and his whole face seemed to sag. He
   looked as if he'd aged ten years.

   The three men went to a table in the den. After a maid served coffee and breakfast, the Major got to
   business.

   "Commander, I'd like to know who we can trust."

   Deitz told the names, and thought: *Among them we have a womanizer who popped a city
   councilman, a secretary who barely knows the definition of 'qwerty,' her sister the cop who tried to
   sue her own Department, and a detective called the Plodder. How can we possibly lose against the
   Judge?*
 

   Three Witches Restaurant
   New York City
   8:13 a.m.

   "Stop snapping at me, Mike," Caitlin said coldly, watching her ex-husband stir milk into his coffee.
   "I'm doing what I can to help you, but I've got to get my desk cleared off, too."

   They had been sifting through all the documentation on the Hill case for two days; they had no leads.
   That and Cassi's sudden departure from his life had frustration bearing down on Mike. He'd left
   countless messages on her answering machine; she hadn't returned them. "Maybe you should try
   harder."

   He regretted the words as soon as they left his tongue. Anger flared in her emerald eyes, and she
   pushed away from the table. "Or maybe I shouldn't try at all." She smiled a him with icy, sacharrine
   sweetness. "Get Detective O'Connor to help you with the damn legwork, Mike. I get the impression
   she'd walk through the fires of hell if she thought you wanted her to."

   "Cait-" Mike half rose from his chair.

   But she was already gone, striding away through the crowded restaurant, out of his life again.
 

   Precinct 110
   Queens, NY
   10:16 a.m.

   The hiss of the radiator was nonexistant beneath the steady hum of typewriters and drone of voices.
   Instead, the radiator belched our hot air taht settled over Cassi's desk and left her feeling withered.
   Stifling a yawn, she morosely thumbed through her unyielding stack of paperwork taht needed to be
   done. It had been a rough week, that resulted in Cassi getting hardly any sleep. Since she found out
   about Mike's betrayal, she avoided the 2-7 or any of the former members of that precinct.

   Cassi fished out a slip of paper and stared at it for what seemed like hours. Phil, a former detective at
   the 2-7 had given her the news of Ben's arrival days ago and even gave her the phone number to his
   hotel. Eyeing the phone, she bit her lip, unsure of her next move. Quickly, before she lost her guts,
   she dialed the number, hoping no one would answer. After three rings, Cassi soon heard the
   unmistakably soothing voice of Ben.

   "Ben, Hi, this is Cas- Yes, a long time. I need to talk to you Ben. I really need you. Ok, see you
   there. Bye and Ben? Thanks."

   Diving into her stack of folders, Cassi suddenly felt someone glaring at her. Turning around, she
   gasped when she saw Mike standing there. All her limbs went cold and her body felt like a wet dish
   rag.

   "What do you want, Detective Logan?" She crossedher arms in front of her in an act that Mike
   recognized as defiance. Great! He had successfully alienated two women from his life and he was
   baffled as to why Cassi was acting this way.

   "What is it with you, Cassi? You ditched me this week? What's wrong with you?" Leaning on her
   desk, he attempted to pull her to him.

   Snapping back from his grip, she remained calm. "I don't think you came here to talk about our
   relationship or lack of one. What's on your mind?"

   Quietly, he leaned toward her ear. "I need your help. I need you to investigate Judge Sullivan. He's
   breathing down a lot of necks lately."

   "Why should I help you?" Cassi asked coldly.

   "Look, don't do it for me, do it for Lennie, for Donnie, for the 2-7."

   "You just want me to save your ass, Logan." Cassi picked up a handful of files and began sorting
   them, ignoring Mike.

   Mike was incensed. THis was too much for him. Snatching the files from her hand, ripping a few,
   Mike leaned in nose to nose. "Listen, stop acting like a little bitch and help the 2-7."

   Fury burned in Cassi, threatening to explode. "Damnit. You don't call me a bitch you two-time snake
   in the grass! And as far as helping you, I wouldn't save your skinny ass if I could help it. But, I won't
   punish the 2-7 for you- a pitiful excuse of a man."

   Mike slammed her pencil holder on her desk, sending her pencils scattering on the floor. By now,
   everyone was interested in their conversation. She can tell that she had pushed him. Whispering
   sweetly in his ear as he stared at her, Cassi said, "I'll report to you if and when I find something out.
   That is all the contact I want from you Mike Logan." She calmly walked out of the room and waited
   to she hit the bathroom to shake violently.
 

   As she tried to control her breathing in a stall of the ladies's restroom, Cassi heard heavy footsteps.

   "Cassi? Cassi, where the hell are you?"

   Groaning inwardly, she came out and came face to face with Mike.

   "What the hell was that about, back there? I want to know what's going on? YOu have no right to
   treat me this way!" Cassi was now used to his explosions and they no longer impressed her.

   "I have no right? Mike Logan you are so full of it, it's unreal. This is so absurd, it's laughable. I just
   have to ask you one question: why did you and Cait get divorced?"

   Suddenly, Mike felt like he lost ground. Uneasy about the subject of Cait, he remained quiet.

   "Why is it such a secret, Mike? Is it because, you don't me to know you screwed around on Cait? Is
   it because of Faith?"

   The mention of that name calmed Mike down. In fact, Mike was speechless.

   "Yes, I can answer one question that is looming aroundin that huge ego-sized brain of yours; yes I did
   talk to Cait. She told me what I needed to know. And what gets me, is that you're such a gutless
   bastard, you couldn't even tell me. You let me blame everything on Cait. Poor misunderstood Mikey.
   You are such a miserable wretch. I can't believe I let you touch me, let alone screw me." She
   laughed. To her ears, it had a hollow ring.

   "Cassi, I-- look circumstances were different.."

   "No excuses, Mike. We end it here and now. Now I said I'll help you investigate and I will. But
   know now, that I never want to see you around again after this matter clears up." Feeling very
   empowered, she left Mike for the last time. She knew she would never see him again.
 

Part 6