by Aiden Bates
Luke turned to Allen. "What about that new guy he's been seeing?"
Allen grimaced. "They split up."
"What new guy?" Gupta pinched the bridge of his nose.
"It's not a thing." Allen glared at him. "Remember? We weren't really together anyway?" He bit the inside of his cheek. "I wonder if that's got something to do with it?"
Delancey's eyes widened. "How? I mean they can't—You broke up, as far as anyone else is concerned. You don't have to stay with someone forever, for crying out loud."
Gupta's nose twitched. "Yeah, well, it was these two agents who practically forced Allen and Brantley to move in together. Who knows what they think these guys see as false evidence?"
Allen cleared his throat. "Well, if they decide that's false evidence, I can prove in court that the relationship was real."
Gupta eyed him. "You going to drop another used sheet off with the judge? Because I've got to tell you, that's not going to go over so well."
"Better." Allen put his hand on his belly. "Brantley doesn't know. Not many people do."
Gupta's eyes bulged. "You see? This— his is why I don't encourage people to fake relationships for ICE. Everything gets stupidly complicated, and you don't have to make it complicated. You could leave the lawyer work to the lawyer, but no. Now you're pregnant, and—and—" He threw his hands up in the air.
Delancey shook his head. "Calm down, Rohan. It's two people who had sex. It does happen sometimes. I mean Brantley should know about it, sure, but whatever. That's neither here nor there right now. Let's focus on getting them to a point where they can share that information with each other and maybe worry less about how they got that way, hm?" He clapped his hands together. "Which one of us gets to call up and be a dick about a bleeding doctor getting dragged through a hospital, and which one of us gets to hunt Brantley down and try to get him freed?"
Gupta's eyes softened, just a little. "It's your hospital, you make a stink about it. Attack from the perspective of hospitals being safe places for everyone, regardless of immigration status. Get the mayor involved if you have to. Syracuse is a sanctuary city. She'll want to make a scene about that.
"I'll go look for Brantley. Allen, Luke, you hang out here. I'll call when I have news." Gupta headed out the door again. His phone was already glued to his ear.
Allen hunkered down in his seat and looked up at Luke. Delancey was already leaving his office. "Want me to call Carter?" Luke offered, and took his hand.
Allen considered, and then he nodded. He could use all the help he could get right now.
Carter showed up ten minutes later. He wrapped his arms around Allen. "I'm so sorry. I know you're not together anymore, but this is still hard for you."
Allen buried his face in Carter's shoulder. Carter knew him too well. "Thanks, man. You're the best."
They settled in to wait. Allen had no idea what to expect from any of this. Every once in a while, one of his patients would have trouble with the law, but between the legal department and hospital security, the hospital itself remained a haven. His only experience with the police came from having dated a cop once, years ago.
Steve had been okay, out of uniform. Would he have punched an innocent doctor in the face and dragged him bleeding through the hospital where he worked? That remained to be seen, he guessed.
He got his first text from Gupta an hour later. Found Brantley. He's at Justice Center. Can't get in to see him.
Allen read the message out loud. "That doesn't seem legal. How can they not let his lawyer in to see him?"
"I have no idea. It's ICE. Maybe the rules are different for them?" Luke scratched his head.
"Gupta would know that." Allen stood up and paced. He texted Gupta back. How is that legal?
It isn't. The reply came back within seconds. Still happening.
Allen forwarded the text to Delancey. He didn't know if it would help, but Delancey had made a lot of friends in the Syracuse Police Department during that mess with the cult during the spring. Maybe he knew someone who could help. It wouldn't help with federal charges, if any existed, but it might help cut through whatever mess was keeping Brantley from his legal right to counsel.
He paced some more. An hour passed, and then another. Allen's mother walked in. "I just heard," she said. "Allen, I hate the man for what he's done to you, but that doesn't mean he deserves to suffer like that. Tell me what I can do, son."
Allen couldn't tell if he was about to laugh or cry. "I love you, Mom."
At quitting time, they still didn't have any news. Allen had learned some excellent new curse words in Hindi, but that didn't help. The team adjourned to Allen's house, where they could coordinate together and support one another as they waited for news.
The Delanceys brought their son. Allen wasn't going to pretend he wasn't happy to see Caleb, who re-familiarized himself with all of the toys in Allen's house and happily showered Sadie with affection. Finn Riley hadn't ever been to Allen's house before, but he showed himself to be remarkably free from snobbery as he sat back and drank some of Brantley's leftover Jamaican beer.
At nine o'clock, Gupta showed up at the house. He was polite to Allen's mother, but his frustration and exhaustion were plain on his face. "I haven't gotten in to see him, but thanks to Jason I do know what the charges are. He's charged with obstructing a federal investigation. They say he lied about being involved with you, Allen, in order to deceive federal investigators and remain in the country."
Mom gasped. "Allen!" she said, turning to her son. "What have you gotten yourself involved with?"
Allen's gorge rose, but he ignored his mother. "We're fighting this, of course."
"Well, I need to talk to Brantley first, obviously, but that is my intention." Gupta snorted. "I can't see him hanging you out to dry, for one thing. I've got an appointment to see him tomorrow. I'm hoping you'll all be supportive."
"We'll contribute whatever's necessary toward bail." Riley's voice was a deep rumble of thunder from the other end of the room. Alaina fussed in her cradle. "We're not going to let our best oncologist go without a fight. And, Jason, how are we on legal grounds in terms of suing the agents who walked in and beat up one of our employees?"
"It's worth pursuing, even if we don't win." Jason shrugged. "I think it sends a good message to our patients and our employees."
"Excellent. I want that to be your top priority. File that lawsuit tomorrow." Riley's smile showed teeth. "Silver Oak Medical Center isn't some doormat facility."
Allen's mother had hated the crew from Regent ever since negotiations began for their acquisition of Silver Oak. Now, she smiled at their CEO, just a little. Riley would win them over, one by one.
"How far are you willing to go to save Brantley here, Allen?" Gupta turned to face him. "Are you willing to testify in open court?"
Allen nodded. "Of course. I've always been."
"Even though…" Gupta tugged at his collar.
"Even though. I love him." Allen lowered his gaze. "I didn't always. It's true. But I do now. And it's important to me that his life not be wasted because those Neanderthals had a grudge. I will defend Brantley, even though we're not together, and I'll fight for him." He put his hand on his belly. "I can't do anything else."
***
There wasn't any way to mark the time in the little cell. The lights went out at one point, and Brantley lay down on his bunk. There wasn't a blanket. There wasn't a mattress. He supposed he should be grateful he wasn't in worse conditions. Right now, though, he felt very sorry for himself indeed.
He fell asleep, in spite of his fears. He dreamed of Allen. He dreamed of the big bed they'd shared during the summer. He dreamed of happy evenings spent together, just chatting and taking care of Alaina. He dreamed of Jamaica, of the fresh scent of island air and the warm rain that fell on summer days.
He dreamed of Fabian, of a family he'd never met.
He didn't wake when the lights came back on, but when a guard came to roust him, he jumped
right up. "What is it, what's wrong?" His surroundings came back to him after a moment. "Oh."
The guard snickered. "Yeah. Oh. We don't usually let you animals sleep, but you looked like you could use it. Come on. Rise and shine. You've got a visitor."
Brantley looked around for any sign of his nemeses. He saw none. "Who would come to see me?"
The guard rolled his eyes and cuffed Brantley. He cuffed Brantley's hands in front of him, instead of behind him. "I don't know, brain trust. Maybe your lawyer?"
That made sense. He didn't know what had taken Gupta so long. "Thank God."
The guard side-eyed Brantley. "What are you in for, anyway?"
"I have no idea." Brantley didn't resist as the guard marched him down the corridor.
"Oh come on. No one winds up in here without some clue how they got here. At the very least they tell you when they arrest you." The guard sniggered. "What was it? Ganja?"
"No. I don't touch that stuff, man. Too much of a stereotype, plus every time they pull you over ,they look for it." He shook his head. No, they didn't tell me anything when they arrested me. I asked what I was being arrested for and they punched me in the face." Brantley knew he shouldn't be so open. The guard was not there to be his friend. He'd been alone for who knew how long, maybe twenty-four hours, maybe days. He hadn't heard another voice since then. He had to talk.
The guard, to his credit, at least feigned shock. "That's not right, man. That's definitely something to talk about with your lawyer." He shook his head. "I don't know, I mean they are the feds and we have to trust they know what they're doing, but that sounds messed up to me."
They passed through a series of corridors, all with lines painted on the floors, until they got to a brighter and cleaner part of the jail. Brantley's guard escorted him into a gray room and told him to sit down. He looked Brantley over, and then he gestured at a mirror bolted to the wall. "We can't legally listen in or record anything you're saying," he told Brantley. "Those agents, though, they are watching. I don't know who you are, or who they think you are, but just be aware. Okay?"
"Thanks, sir." Brantley wasn't usually in the habit of calling people sir, but this wasn't his turf. He had to play by other rules right now. "I'll be on my best behavior."
"Good man." The guard clapped him on the shoulder and headed out.
Gupta was escorted in after ten minutes. His narrow dark eyes blazed with fury. "Someone, somewhere, is going to pay for this," he vowed.
Brantley jerked his head toward the mirror. "Walls have ears."
Gupta sat down on the other metal bench. It was bolted to the floor. "Lovely. There are so many legal violations in your case already that I could probably retire just on fees from the lawsuit. You understand that, right? Everything they're doing to you is illegal."
Brantley quirked up half a smile. It was all his sore mouth would allow. "That doesn't seem to be stopping them."
"No. It doesn't." Gupta glowered at the mirror again. "Do you know why you're here?"
Brantley snorted and told the story of his arrest. "I'm lucky I got to send that text to you. Otherwise I don't think anyone would know, or care, where I'd gone."
The corners of Gupta's mouth softened, just a little bit. "I wouldn't go that far. You underestimate the power of gossip and the speed with which it travels. When your friends decided to try to publicly humiliate and shame you, they set off a reaction. You'd been gone for perhaps fifteen minutes before Luke Delancey was in Allen Frye's office."
Brantley bowed his head. "And he cared?"
Gupta growled. "You might have broken up," he said, emphasizing the last two words, "but he still loves you. And he called me, immediately. Luke called Delancey. There are a lot of people on the outside right now working for your release."
Brantley narrowed his eyes at Gupta. He got that Allen's friends and family were busybodies, who thought they knew what was best for him. Gupta, though—he was different. "You think he loves me?"
"I know he does. He told me himself. The two of you have a lot of talking to do, and when you get out of here—if I can get you out of here — I'm probably going to have to tie you down and force you to do it." He threw his hands up into the air.
Brantley held up his manacled hands. "I'm feeling a little iffy about the whole 'tied down' thing just now," he pointed out.
"If I were you," Gupta told him, in a very slow voice, "I would not say that where he could hear you. Now. You're being charged with falsifying your relationship with Allen, so as to deliberately mislead federal investigators. This is obvious and utter horse crap, so you're going to plead not guilty should we ever get you in front of a judge."
Brantley clutched at his chest. "What do you mean, if we ever get me in front of a judge?"
"I mean, and I plan to pursue this as far as I can, that Gottlieb and Parris seem determined to remove you, specifically, from the country using fair means or foul. They are willing to bet that others are either ignorant of the law, or are willing to go around the law, where you are concerned. Does this scare you?" Gupta laid his hands on the table. "Good. It scares me. Neither one of those people should have a badge or a gun. They shouldn't have a toy badge they got in a cereal box, never mind the authority of the federal government behind them."
"Why me?" Brantley sat back in his seat. He would process Gupta's words later. Right now, he had to simply listen. "I'm a doctor. I save lives. I have a higher five-year survival rate than any other medical oncologist this side of the Mississippi. I'm here legally. I pay my taxes. I don't even speed, for crying out loud."
Gupta showed no sympathy. "Who knows? What I can tell you is that Gottlieb has made a career, and a long one, out of denying asylum cases. I've done some digging, and he was on record as vocally unhappy when sexual orientation became grounds for granting asylum back in the 1990s. So I can only guess that has something to do with it. Or, and this might be a stretch, his brother is a member of several white nationalist groups. So maybe that's where he's coming from. It doesn't matter."
Brantley wanted to shout, but he didn't dare show any visual signs that he was emotionally compromised. He didn't want to bring the cavalry. "How the hell can it not matter? Of course it matters. I'm going to die."
"It doesn't matter, because it doesn't affect how we proceed going forward." Gupta pressed his lips together and met Brantley's eyes. "You can't control him. You can only control you. So control you. Let me worry about him. If they take you into an interrogation room, do not open your mouth without me. You can say one word—lawyer. That's it. Nothing else. I don't care what they do or how they do it. Do you understand me?"
"Lawyer." Brantley took a deep breath and met Gupta's eyes. "I've got it."
"Good. Now don't go off script. Have they given you food since you've been here?"
"No."
"Water?"
Brantley blinked. "No," he admitted. "There's a sink in my cell, but no cups."
Gupta set his jaw and made a note. "Have you checked to see if the facilities work?"
"No." Brantley hung his head. "I should have, I'm sorry."
Gupta closed his eyes. "I'm not angry with you, Brantley. They're trying to wear you down, make you more suggestible. It's illegal. And I'm going to have a field day with it. But first things first. Remember one word."
"Lawyer." Brantley forced a little smile.
"Remember one more thing." Gupta glanced at his watch. "They're not going to give me much more time, and I've got a scene I need to make before I go. Remember. Allen is out there. He's fighting for you. He loves you. How do you feel about him?"
"Well I love him, of course, but do you really think he—"
"He told me so, Brantley. Now hold onto that. Remember it." Gupta stood up. "Guards!" he shouted.
Brantley's guard came to the door immediately. Gottlieb and Parris weren't far behind, so Brantley could tell they'd been listening in. Damn it, that was illegal. "Can I help you?"
"My client has been held for twenty four
hours, with injuries, with no food and no water. This is blatantly illegal. I will not move from this spot until he's received food and water."
The guard turned to Gottlieb and Parris with an angry glower. He picked up his walkie-talkie. "This is Simmons. Can we get a tray sent up to the visitors’ room, please? Something light." He turned back to Gupta. "The Agents told us he was refusing food and water, sir. My apologies."
Gottlieb's face could have killed a man. Fortunately, Simmons seemed to be made of sterner stuff than that.
Gupta's shoulders unclenched, just a little. "Thank you, Officer. I hope I can count on you to keep my client safe while he's in your custody."
"Absolutely." Simmons' eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze back to the agents. "We have a tight ship to run here. We don't employ torture."
