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The courthouse was packed when a sleek black van pulled up to a loading zone. Nathan Ford turned from the passenger seat. “You all know the play?”
“Mm, yup,” Parker said, clipping a badge to her blazer pocket. “The Boston skip.”
“It’s not the Boston Skip,” Hardison snapped, fussing with his tie..
“You’re just grumpy because you have to play the lawyer again.” Eliot smirked.
“Hey, you said only if it comes to a cross examine, I did my job, if you all do your jobs right and it doesn’t come to that,” Hardison’s voice pitched upwards.
“If?” Sophie put on the emergency break. “If? Hardison, I’m hurt.”
“Soph,” Nate sighed. “Let it go.”
“For now. We’re having words later,” Sophie insisted.
“Can we just get this over with?” Eliot asked, maneuvering to take the driver’s seat. “ you know I don’t like us splitting up like this.”
“It’ll only be for a bit,” Parker said, squeezing his hand. “ We’ll be fine.”
They left the van in twos, first Parker and Hardison, briefcase and extraneous computer in hand, and a minute or two later Sophie and Nate followed-- and Nate with a plain folder tucked under his arm. Eliot drove in the direction of the police station, ready for the next phase of the plan.
They hadn’t exactly called ahead, but that wasn’t going to be much of a problem.
Cisco Ramon was the first to spot them. He goggled a bit.
“What are you doing here?” he asked as Hardison approached the bench where Team Flash had congregated. Hardison smiled, knowing the prosecutor was watching.
“I came to offer my services,” he said, sending a quick text with a thought. “ Where is Ms Horton?”
“Here,” the short woman said, her eyes cutting between the two as Cisco checked his phone. “ Who are you? Cisco, who is--”
Cisco looked up from the message--you didn’t see us coming?-- and relaxed slightly for the first time in weeks.
“I’m part of Mr. Allen’s legal team,” Hardison smiled wide.
“He’s ok, Cecile,” Cisco vouched. “ He and his, uh, coworkers have helped us in the past. With Z--wait, that was before you. Um.”
“My firm helped get Henry Allen some money, after that unfortunate mess. And we’re here to see justice through again.” He hesitated. “ Or pick up where it leaves off,” he said under his breath.
Cecile took in a sharp breath. “When did we hire you?”
“Uh--”
“Cecile, it’s really ok,” Caitlin joined the cluster. “They know about STAR. And apparently about the recent… developments.”
“You think we don’t keep tabs on your crazy city? Now, Ms. Horton, as your co-lawyer, we need to discuss strategy. I’ve got some character witnesses I’d like to introduce, some crucial evidence that needs to be submitted, is there an office we might use?” He steered her away, nodding to Parker, deep in conversation with the prosecutor.
“You let that jerk stick around?” Iris jumped when she heard the voice in her ear. Turning she sighed with recognition.
“ Lilli--Sophie?”
“In the flesh.” She smiled. “I can’t stay long, but Eliot wanted me to ask.”
Iris sighed. “If it’s Eliot asking, I guess you mean Harry. He’s been a lot better since Eliot kicked his ass, that’s for sure. And he has been helpful.”
“I’m sure,” Sophie sounded anything but sure. “Listen, we’ve got this pretty well handled, but you and your friends may wish to be ready in case of reprisals. Have you upgraded security lately?”
“Cisco’s worked on it,” Iris confirmed.
“Good. Hardison would love to take a look, later. We’re probably going to be in the area, we’ve had word something’s fishy at that prison of yours.”
When Iris opened her mouth Sophie shook her head. “Iron Heights. Point is, we’ll be around should you need anything.”
“Thank you for the offer,” Iris said. She shook her head. “ These people are smart, Sophie. Dangerous.”
“Not compared to my team,” Sophie smiled. “Save your worry. Look, see? Hardison’s in place, and Parker’s in the wings. I’ve got to go take care of my part. If you see your husband, let him know, will you?”
“I-- sure,” Iris said, and she watched as Sophie stood and walked into a crowd.
An entirely different person made her way past a bailiff and into the Juror’s box, leaning over to the man beside her and nodding in the direction of the door Barry Allen had just been escorted through.
As Iris stood to take his hand across the gap between his seat and the benches, Sophie gave a little nod to the two of them. “It is strange,” the man said. “But I don’t think we’re meant to discuss the case until we’re in the back.”
“Of course not,” Sophie said. “I was just thinking about it, is all. If it were a scene in a mystery novel, I’d call it too obvious.”
“You do have a point,” the man agreed. “I’m actually a novelist myself.”
“You don’t say,” Sophie smiled. “Classic red herring, am I right? And what a story. Two men in the same family accused of nearly identical murders…”
She tapped her com, giving a quick signal. Nate was up.
“Ah, a quick word?” Nate stepped away from the wall, flagging down Mrs. DeVoe and her companion.
“No,” she snapped, putting on what Nate could see was a reasonably convincing mask of Grieving Widow. Convincing to a mark, maybe. But the Mako was right--you can’t con a conman. “Vultures, all of you.”
“Oh, I’m not a reporter.” Nate said easily. He nodded to the tall man at Marlize’s Elbow. “Mr. DeVoe, I’m sure you’ll want to hear what I have to say.” He was pleased to see shock cross the face of Dominic Lanse.
The man grabbed him by the arm, yanking him into an empty room. Mrs. DeVoe followed, locking it behind her.
“Just so you are aware, there is video footage of you dragging me in here,” Nate said in his most helpful voice. “In case you decide to kill me here, probably not your smartest move.” he glanced around. “Private, though. Good.” He gave his signature infuriating grin.
“Make this quick,” Clifford said in Dominic’s voice. “Court begins soon.”
“Right, well, that’s going to be your problem.” Nate shrugged. “ Let’s skip the pleasantries. I know everything, about your plan at least. Your computer banks! Normal people couldn’t even find them, so you’ve got that going for you, though the security is lacking once you get past that, so B+. I am not Normal People. I have the best hacker in the multiverse, though, so,” he clicked his tongue in mock dismay, “like I said, my team and I --I’m sure you’re trying to think of who we are right now--know everything.”
Marlize glanced at her silent watch, frowning.
“Oh, no, no, I’m not a meta.” Nate shook his head. “But the thing is, I don’t have to be to destroy you.”
“What--”
“Again. I know everything, Thinker. Your basement prison, your hidden files, what you want with that satellite… you really shouldn’t have written everything down… twice even.” He fished a small book out of his pocket, and let them see the plain cover. Clifford’s eyes darkened.
“That’s mine.”
“Yeah, well, I also have the multiverse’s greatest thief.”
“Our home is under police protection and surveillance. There are officers--”
“There right now, I’m aware.”
Eliot Spencer, clutching a cup of coffee in one hand, flashed a badge at the pair of officers standing by a door. “Any trouble?”
“Nope. She just left for the courthouse. Some work, huh? Just standing here.”
“Hmm.“ Eliot agreed. “Though I guess if something did happen, the Flash would swoop in.”
“Nine times out of ten,” the first officer agreed. “Or one of his buddies. “
“Maybe 8 times,” the second officer shrugged. “ You new?”
“Just transferred from Keystone.” Eliot said. “Not so much nonsense there.”
“I hear that. Good to have the backup though.”
Eliot nodded. “ You do a walk through?”
“Uh, no…. Like I said, no trouble, officer--
“Ted Crichton,” Eliot interrupted. “You haven’t walked through? What if someone’s in there, waiting to assault Mrs. DeVoe when she gets back?”
“Well, uh, we don’t have a warrant--”
“For crying out loud--” Eliot pulled a paper from his pocket. “See? Now let's go. You stay out here. Who has the back-- does no one have the back door? “
The officers hurried inside.
“Don’t forget to check the closets,” Eliot called. --
“ Like I said. Best thief. Best hacker. Now, honestly--and you can run the numbers-- your best bet would be to cut your losses right here, right now. You’re already lying on the stand, so say you were coerced into implicating Mr. Allen--if you need someone to blame I do have a list of patsys that really need the jail time. You do that, put your little plan,” he waggled the book “ back in the box or write it up as the next dystopian best seller for High School English classes to dissect for decades to come, and you can walk away from this.”
A laugh. “No one will believe anything you say. That book can’t be traced to me, and even if it could be, it doesn’t prove anything. So someone thinks I’m a supervillain. I’m dead. You have nothing that proves Mr. Allen innocent. You’re out of your mind, Mr. Ford.”
“Oh good, you know who I am. Think a little harder.”
“As threats go, it’s half baked,” Marlize challenged. “What are you going to do if we refuse? Break Allen out of jail so he can be a fugitive? He’d never go along with it. And the Flash can’t stop us.”
“I’d run those numbers again, you’ve left out quite a few variables. But no.”
“No?”
“If you refuse, if you keep up your little game, lie on the stand, sell that sob story, maybe you're right and the Flash can’t stop you. But he doesn’t need to. I’ll destroy you.”
“You.” It was not a question.
“For someone claiming to be the smartest man in the world, I’m a bit worried about your memory. I said it already--I’m not here alone. But be my guest. Tell your lies. Right about now the Jury is thinking about what an embarrassment to the city Henry Allen’s trial was and how closely this resembles it… the similarities, the way the timelines don’t quite match up… “
“Really? You’re trying to convince the jury to ignore evidence and go with their hearts? A pathos appeal? That’s not going to work. There’s less than a 3% chance of that even ending in a mistrial, much less acquittal.”
“I’m sure that’s what your numbers said,” Nate smiled yet again, this time sharklike. “Cute. I bet you think it’s difficult to get assigned jury duty. “
“It-- we checked all the names. We know--”
“You know who they are, yes, yes. But you don’t know who we are. Another sloppy mistake. Now, the jury’s, you're right, not a total slam dunk. So, what's happening right now is the prosecutor is getting word of some new evidence from a very well respected FBI agent about how helpful the Flash and Mr. Allen have both been in assisting with a case against a known human trafficker--you know her, Ammunet Black. The one you bought your puppet from. FBI picked her up…mmm, ten minutes ago? And she had some very interesting things to say. You can guess what they were. Add to that the evidence--”
“What evidence?”
“The wire transfers between you and Ms. Black. In December and a few days ago. We didn’t even have to fake that first one, but even if the second one looks a little fishy, the fact that--”
“Nate, we got him,” crackled Eliot’s voice in his ear.
“--the police just found a metahuman locked in your hall closet--Weeper, I think is what Ms. Black called him-- should make things clear. He wasn’t thrilled about having to stick around much longer but your basement is pretty hard for normal people to find so we had to nudge that a bit. But hey, you’re all for planting evidence. Anyways, court’s starting in five minutes…. but the police will be arresting you in about three, if my math’s right-- care to check?-- so I can make this very quick. We have video of you threatening the Flash, holding him prisoner the same night as that wire transfer, proof of Dominic’s powers and sale--my hacker thanks you for all those cameras and bugs, by the way, made his job much easier-- and you add that all up and it sure looks like you got upset at the Flash and Allen for poking into your meta trafficking and decided a frame up was in order.” Nate hefted the folder, “and then there’s this.”
“And what,” Marlize asked, shaking with rage, “ is that?”
“A copy of files that will be delivered to the FBI, NSA and Dean of Husdson University if you don’t admit to the frame up.” Nate said, thumbing through them. “Proof that you, Mrs. DeVoe, fed information to certain entities across Africa and the Middle East where you were doing your research and aid work to assist in their terror attacks and human trafficking--ties in quite nicely to your work with Ammunet, if I do say so myself. And proof that the “late” Mr. DeVoe plagiarized his thesis, his dissertation, even the syllabi for his classes.”
“Lies. No one will believe any of--”
“Oh, it’s all very well forged. Except for the bit about the Syllabi. For shame.” Nate tutted. “And part of the dissertation. Can they take away a PH.d posthumously? Anyways, even if it wasn’t, do you really think that no one would believe that of a man who thinks that giving everyone on the planet late stage Alzheimer’s is going to solve famine and illness? What kind of legitimate history teacher doesn’t know about cholera or the effects of the agricultural revolution? Every lie has a kernel of truth to it.” Nate glanced at the clock on the wall. “Well, that certainly was enlightening. And before you decide to simply kill me, run your little calculations with one more variable: Eliot Spencer.”
DeVoe’s brow furrowed and what little color he had drained from his face.
“That’s what I thought. Three.. Two.. one.” Nate raised his voice. “ Help! I’m in here!”
The door crashed from its hinges.
“The Gloat is the best part,” Parker, FBI badge swinging, put an arm over Barry’s shoulders. He stood with Iris next to her and Eliot as the DeVoes were hauled away.
“You know, I think I might have to agree,” Iris said, squeezing Barry’s hand. “Or second best, at least,” she added meaningfully.
“So… what now?” Joe asked. “I mean, there’s still… the red tape, but… do we need to be worried? Don’t they still have--”
“Oh, that sick chair and computer set up?” Hardison asked with a smirk.
“I want it.” Harry announced.
“When did you get here?” Hardison asked, affronted.
-- Parker held up her badge as she pushed the crate up a ramp into Lucille.
“Special Agent Hagen! Let me help you with that,” Agent McSweeten said, taking the dolley handle from her.
Parker beamed, patting the side, careful not to dislodge the panel on the side. “Thanks!” --
“Anyways, you can’t just call dibs. You’re too late,” Hardison added, giving Parker a fistbump. “We stole it.”