A Long Way to Fall - Chapter 9
Part Nine
Edgeworth stared at his reflection in the mirror, his cheeks smarting from the cold water he splashed onto them. His face was wan, his mouth a tense thin line, his brows drawn low over his eyes. The reflection gazed back impassively, disguising the turmoil Edgeworth felt roiling beneath the surface.
How could he have been so stupid?
Maybe it's that lawyer. Got a savior complex?
Banks had suspected, hadn't he? The text had been buried in a mound of other messages and threats, forgotten amidst the phone calls and pictures and compromised accounts. Just a single line, but... Edgeworth cursed at himself; if he had been thinking logically, he never would have stayed with or endangered Wright.
Never would have learned Wright's taste. Never have kissed Phoenix.
He groaned as his forehead met the mirror, his mind warring between distraction and reason. His skin warmed at the memory of Phoenix against him, mouth open and eager, eyes shining. He could still hear his voice, thrilled and wanting, still feel his lips at his neck.
Edgeworth leaned back and craned his head to the side, fingers tracing the red mark near his shoulder. Chagrined, he recalled Maya in his office, her voice carefully nonchalant as she recommended a Kurain herb to help heal it. He hadn't realized Wright left such a mark, and if he weren't so distressed about the man's safety he would have been utterly mortified.
Maya, thankfully, had left the topic alone.
With a heavy sigh, he adjusted his collar to hide the mark and exited the twelfth floor restroom. He avoided eye-contact with the police officer acting as his lavatory escort on the short walk back to his office-cum-holding cell; though necessary, such accompaniment made him feel more like a toddler than a grown man.
The whole floor was covered in officers, one posted at every corner and at the elevator and stairwell entrances. Any attempts to abduct Edgeworth would be met with great resistance - though the police presence also rendered the prosecutor unable to assist in the recovery efforts. Agent Chase had put him under lock and key in his office, as the arrangement with Wright had backfired so spectacularly.
The security guard rejoined his partner posted outside Edgeworth's door. As the prosecutor slipped back inside the two of them tried to peer behind him, their eyes lit up, to get a better look at the young woman in purple robes resting on his sofa. The light from the setting sun slanting through the window gave her a mysterious, almost ethereal appearance. The guards' tongues were practically wagging as they leered at her.
His sour mood firmly entrenched, Edgeworth took some small pleasure in slamming the door in their faces.
He avoided Maya's startled look as he returned to his desk. By this point she had ceased her attempts to engage him in conversation or to distract him. Perhaps she sensed that the only way he could maintain his stoicism, keep his emotions under control, was to try to find Wright as quickly as possible, even with his limited means. While she meditated on the sofa, tossing him the occasional worried glance, Edgeworth did the only thing he could: he threw himself into the paperwork on Banks.
His secretary had procured a copy of the police report he had filed with Gumshoe, which took up the majority of his desk space along with his own personal notes. He had combed through every scrap, memorized every detail - and despaired at the lack of pieces to figure out Banks's plan. There had to be something, some clue that would point him toward where Christopher had taken Phoenix.
The day's only interruption came from Agent Chase, stopping by to inform them on the case's progress. She gave him a profile of Banks; the words 'narcissism' and 'psychopathy' jumped out. He already knew he would spend the night obsessing over the report to find some connection between Banks's personality, motives, and actions.
At Maya's questioning, Agent Chase had disclosed their timeframe: "The strongest chance to recover a kidnapping victim is within the first seventy-two hours of their abduction. That's the window we're aiming for."
Three days. Three days to recover Phoenix, before…
Agent Chase also returned Wright's blue jacket. Forensics had found traces of gravel on it. While the samples were being analyzed, the jacket should have been retained in evidence storage. Its return was a gesture of kindness, Edgeworth realized, as well as a promise from Agent Chase: that Wright would be found, and that he would wear it again. As he stared at the coat, a torrent of emotion washed over Edgeworth like tributaries crashing into an ocean: fear, hope, and something brighter and deeper, something much more than longing, that made his chest ache and his pulse race and his breath come up short.
Maya slept on his office sofa that night, with Wright's coat wrapped around her.
In the small hours of the morning Edgeworth leaned over Maya's sleeping form and unpinned Wright's badge from the buttonhole in the lapel, and slipped it into his pocket next to his own prosecutor's pin.
"Miles Edgeworth!"
He awoke at his desk, where he had passed out from exhaustion, to the crack of a whip hitting and scattering the papers near his cheek.
Instantly, irrevocably alert, he glanced up and found his sister scowling at him, a perfect picture of poise and smug satisfaction.
"Franziska?"
"Only a foolish fool would sleep foolishly at his desk when there is a criminal to be caught."
Edgeworth rubbed at his temples, stifling a sigh. Her repetition of 'fool' in all its variations was a sure-fire sign that she was riled up. He half-suspected the guards outside his door had been whipped unconscious from her enthusiasm.
"Why aren't you in Germany?"
She settled the whip at her hip. "If you must know, I wished to see Miss Adrian Andrews. And between the idiocy of this country's bureaucracy and your own foolish actions, I thought it prudent to assist you as well."
Franziska gestured toward Maya, who watched them from the sofa. The channeler had an expression on her face somewhere between amusement and fear.
His sister smirked. "Master Maya Fey has informed me of the pertinent details while you foolishly slumbered away. But you can cease your worry. Since Scruffy has been relieved of his position, I will aid the federal agent in his place."
The news of Gumshoe's suspension was startling, but not wholly surprising. As she explained, Edgeworth felt a stab of guilt: Gumshoe had taken the fall for his poor decision. He'd need to fix that.
Still: "You are not a police officer, Franziska."
"That does not matter!" She drummed her fingers against the whip handle, as though she longed to snap the end at him. To her credit, she refrained. "I will see to it myself that Phoenix Wright is rescued. He has yet to taste defeat from me, and he will not disappear before acknowledging his loss at my hands."
Of course - the prospect of losing her chance to lord it over Wright was enough to drag her away from courtrooms and Interpol. She was still a wild mare, chasing after her whims.
"Try to be effective while you are locked in here, little brother."
There was a lilt in her tone, mocking him for being forced away. Even in the midst of tragedy, sibling rivalry remained strong.
At the door she turned to face Maya, almost hesitant, before she spoke. "Tell the little one… If she wants to learn how to wield a whip, I will be pleased to instruct her."
Edgeworth and Maya exchanged a baffled look once she left. Maya opened her mouth, closed it, and finally grimaced. "If Pearly ever gets ahold of a whip, Nick will kill me."
Perhaps it was the image of Wright's terrified reaction, or the horrified look on Maya's face, or the absurd thought of a little girl wielding a whip three times as long as she was tall; perhaps it was lingering nervousness or an unexpected moment of levity; perhaps it was for all of these reasons that Edgeworth found himself laughing. After a moment Maya joined in, a cathartic release of all the worry and heart-wrenching fear they shared over Phoenix.
With renewed vigor, he stretched, pulled over another file, and began to work again.
Another day, another set of dead ends and restless waiting. Maya lingered at his shoulder, offering bits of advice now and then. She occupied herself with the books and memorabilia around his office, occasionally drawing him into silly, meaningless conversation; it was distracting, but it kept them from dwelling on thoughts of Phoenix in pain.
Much to his surprise, Maya's presence was a comfort.
Franziska brought him his personal effects in the evening as well as a bag for Maya, courtesy of Miss Andrews. However, Edgeworth felt little relief from finally washing up and putting on his familiar suit. The mark at his neck was fading. He ran his thumb over the ridges of Wright's badge as he stared into the bathroom mirror, unable to quell the thought that Phoenix's chances of survival were dimming along with it.
On the third day of Wright's kidnapping, Edgeworth's cloned cell phone rang.
He automatically checked the caller identification - Unknown Number - and felt his pulse spike in anticipation. He threw a wild look at Maya and pressed the button to answer.
Before he managed to speak he heard Christopher Banks's voice. The words were distant, directed away from the receiver. "Say goodbye to the prosecutor."
Edgeworth's breath froze, his heartbeat stopped entirely, as he realized who Banks was talking to. A familiar hoarse voice, weak, cracking and struggling to be heard: "Edgeworth - Edgeworth I'm-"
The line abruptly went dead.
"Wright!"
The world spun, the moment stretched into an eternity of fear and unabated fury.
"Phoenix!"
But there was no answer.
His fist clenched around the phone, tight enough to almost crack the plastic case. The temptation to throw it against the wall and scream was strong. He collapsed at his desk, his head held in his hands. He'd seen Wright make the same pose, on the brink of despair, but there was no miracle to save them now.
Was that another taunt? Or had Banks just… Was Phoenix…
After some time, a touch at his upper arm brought him out of his white-faced misery. Unclenching his jaw, Edgeworth looked at Maya Fey holding on to him. Her expression was a study in fearful realization: sorrow and anger, her lower lip trembling as though she wanted to sob, her eyes bright with tears. He was vividly reminded of the first and only time he encountered her sister in court; the same look was on Mia Fey's face as she realized her client had swallowed poison on the stand.
"That was Nick, wasn't it?"
He nodded; his voice was too shaky to properly speak.
Later in the day Agent Chase burst inside his office along with Franziska and a pack of policemen, though as soon as she saw his stricken face she ordered the officers out. With Maya at his side, Edgeworth composed himself and faced the unavoidable questions. The four of them reviewed every conceivable aspect of the phone call. By the time they had finished, a cold, sick feeling had settled into Edgeworth's stomach. Wright was hurt. Wright was suffering. Phoenix might now be dead, because of him.
Maya offered to switch places with him that evening, to let him rest on the sofa while she took his office chair. She patted the cushion on the sofa next to her, and waited for him to settle onto it before facing him.
"I know it's difficult to feel helpless. But we have to be strong for Nick."
Edgeworth could feel a biting remark on the tip of his tongue, but he held it in check. He remembered Maya standing beside Phoenix in court, cheering for him, helping him however she could without any legal knowledge. He thought of the village she had to lead despite her youth and inexperience; of her smiling at her cousin even though her own mother had died; her acting in contempt of court during his trial in a desperate move to prolong it. How she had endured during her own kidnapping. Perhaps more than any other person he knew, Maya Fey understood the feeling of helplessness and how to persevere through it.
Maya unclasped the red talisman from around her neck, and with a quick twist it opened.
"My mother kept a picture of Sis and me in here, so that we'd always be with her."
She withdrew and unfolded a piece of paper from the talisman and passed it over. He recognized one of Larry's drawings, commissioned and signed.
"This is everyone I keep with me - everyone I care about."
His felt his heart lurch at the echo of Phoenix's words - "Because I care about you, Miles!" Ignoring the pain, he studied the picture.
It was a collection of images, portraits of people he recognized. Wright was in the center, looking content. On one side of him Maya's cousin Pearl beamed up at the viewer; then her sister Mia, smiling proudly; Diego Armando, white-haired and masked, his arm wrapped around Mia; and an older woman in dark robes, Maya's mother. To the other side of Wright he saw Gumshoe with a goofy grin; Ms. Byrde hovering next to the detective; and Franziska drawn at the end. Larry had lavished detail on his sister's figure. He wondered if Maya had requested Franziska's inclusion, or if Larry had let his idiotic desires guide his brush.
Most curious, Edgeworth saw an image of himself standing next to Phoenix. As much as he hated to admit it, it was a good likeness of them both. It made his chest tighten, his stomach churn painfully as he stared at the two of them on the paper, close enough to touch. Once more the memory of Phoenix in his arms threatened to derail his thoughts completely.
He lifted his eyes and found Maya studying him.
"I know you don't put much stock in the occult, but there are some things you don't have to be psychic to know. Nick - he's crazy about you. Ever since I've known him."
She pulled the drawing out of his hands and folded it back into the talisman. "So you can't give up on him. We have to be strong. Especially since he means even more to you now."
He opened his mouth, instinct pushing him to refute her words, but she cut him off with a cheeky grin. "You can't deny it, not when there's proof."
She pointed at the fading mark on his neck. "And you bet I'm going to squeeze all the juicy details about that out of Nick. That's what I'm going to do when we find him. I'm gonna make him get all fidgety and red-faced and buy me ten thousand hamburgers just to get me to leave him alone about it."
Edgeworth felt a hot blush threaten to embarrass him further, though he said nothing in his own defense. Maya just shifted closer and curled an arm around his waist, and leaned her head on his shoulder. After quite a bit of hesitation he relented and rested his head on top of hers, silently acknowledging her words and the sentiment. Was this how she always acted with Wright? Childish and insightful and somehow able to get around long-standing emotional barriers?
She eventually let go and moved to take her place at his desk. "You should think about what you're going to do with Nick too. When we find him." A moment later: "Just don't get too detailed till I'm asleep."
He spent the night staring at his office ceiling, wondering how long Phoenix had been 'crazy' about him, how long he had returned those affections, and how he could have been such a fool.
Despite her words and her brave demeanor, in the darkness he heard Maya crying.
Edgeworth stared into the bathroom mirror again. The mark on his neck was almost gone. His mood had sunk to abysmal levels. More than three days had passed; the chances of finding Phoenix alive were slipping away, if he wasn't already dead.
When he returned he found Maya with her legs crossed on the floor, her head wobbling slightly. Her eyes were closed, lips moving silently, oblivious to the world. He watched her, curiosity getting the better of him.
After a few moments she opened her eyes. She focused on him and then quickly lowered her gaze. "I thought you would be gone longer."
He raised an eyebrow in a silent question, waiting.
"I was…" She looked aside, suddenly ashamed. "It's the one thing I can do, so I- I had to know for sure."
"Know what?"
"If Nick was still alive."
Edgeworth swallowed hard, putting two-and-two together. "You were attempting to channel Wright?!" He wasn't sure which emotion was boiling over more: incredulity or anger.
"He's starting to die."
Her voice was a low, somber note that stopped his outrage short.
"W-What?"
She ducked her head, steeling herself. "Nick. I couldn't channel him, so that means he's still alive, but he's… He's getting really weak."
The hope that Wright was alive, the desperate thought that kept him focused, suddenly soured.
Edgeworth spun away from her and stood at his window, staring at the skyline. His hands balled into tight fists, pulse hammering, head spinning. Alive - starting to die. How cruel it was that the sun was shining and brilliant.
He heard Maya seat herself at his desk. Half-turning, he saw her pull a folded letter out of her clothes, written on his own stationery. She began loosening the sash on her robe, and Edgeworth quickly diverted his gaze back to the window.
"What are you doing, Miss Fey?"
His voice was still harsh, and she didn't answer him. That was fine; he needed to compose himself, to reign in his emotions again. He took long, deep breaths, deliberately avoiding any thoughts of Phoenix dying or being channeled.
Wright's badge was going to leave a permanent imprint on his palm.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, and with a weary sigh he turned. "Miss Fey, I apologize for- "
Except Maya Fey was not looking back at him.
"Hello again, Mister Edgeworth."
His breath hitched, caught in a choked noise. The woman in front of him looked like some amalgam of both Maya and her late sister: she had Maya's dark hair and wore her clothes - though the spacious robes fit much more snugly - but her face undoubtedly belonged to Mia Fey.
He blinked dumbly, stunned by the spectacle of dead woman speaking to him. Mia gave him a worried look, and he cleared his throat and adjusted his cravat in an attempt to appear nonplussed.
"Ms. Fey. It has been… some time."
She smiled. "Maya's kept me informed; she's told me everything that's happened." She removed her hand from him to gesture at the letter on her desk. "But she's feeling a bit overwhelmed, and she thought you could use the advice of someone with more experience in spiritual matters."
Immediately his eyes narrowed, his expression darkened. "Maya attempted to- She tried to channel-"
All of the stress, all of the anger and sense of helplessness and the relentless, unceasing fear that had grown and twisted inside him over the last few days reached their peak. His throat closed up in a choked noise, his chest constricted painfully, and he felt a sharp prickling at his eyes. He grabbed onto his elbow, letting his nails dig into his flesh to steady himself amidst all the unwelcome emotions. He ducked his head, shielding his eyes behind his bangs.
Once more he felt hands at his shoulders, Mia bracing him at arms' length. "Edgeworth, I know you're worried sick about Phoenix. Maya is too. Phoenix is strong, you know how strong he is. But what Maya told you is the truth. He doesn't have much longer."
Mia waited for him to meet her eye. She folded her arms beneath her chest, fixing him with a steady gaze. "Time is running out. If you want to find Phoenix, then you can't stay here anymore."
"How am I supposed to get past the guards? And even if I were to leave, where would I go?" Edgeworth, eyes wide, swept his hand out, encompassing all the useless paperwork in his office. "There's nothing in here that gives me any indication where Banks has taken Wright."
"Then it sounds like you need a new source of information."
She stated it so easily, so plainly.
"And where would I find some magical friend to give me the details I need?" The words came out more biting than he intended, frustration sharpening them into rudeness.
"Who says it needs to be a friend?" Mia tilted her head, her hand at her chin in contemplation.
"What?"
"Even if they're no friends to the police, there must people who dislike Christopher Banks or his associates. Who else could benefit from giving you information?"
He had heard stories from Wright about how Mia guided him in his unorthodox thinking. Was this one of her ploys? A way to help him see beyond the rules and regulations binding him as a prosecutor?
…Perhaps he could turn his thinking around. He had everything to lose, and desperate times called for new tactics.
He drew away from Mia, tapping his finger against his arm in thought. Who would gain some sort of advantage by giving away information on Banks or the counterfeiting ring? Captured associates. Insiders or moles. People looking for a reward. People who felt threatened.
His head snapped up, his eyes locked with Mia's as the thought emerged. "Are you referring to…?"
The counterfeiting ring had muscled into Los Angeles and scored a lucrative operation. Besides its victims, who else would feel threatened by a successful crime ring? Simple: people whose territory had been stepped on, whose arrangements had been disrupted, and who might see the ring as competition. Who would be the ring's competitor?
The organized crime syndicate that already existed in Los Angeles, led by Bruto Cadaverini.
Edgeworth drew in a long, startled breath. Would the Cadaverinis feel threatened enough to cooperate with law enforcement? The enemy of my enemy is my friend? Was he really considering asking for their help?
And if so, how could he contact them?
The memory of Wright's trial jumped to the front of his mind. Prosecutor Payne's review seemed so long ago. The details about the bank teller's case had seemed insignificant, yet now Wright's words were ringing like a bell: "She is in debt to the Tender Lender loan company… My assistant and I paid a visit to their offices…"
Viola Cadaverini: Bruto's granddaughter, proprietor of the Tender Lender - and an acquaintance of Wright and Maya.
Edgeworth was blinking rapidly; he could hardly believe the thoughts he was entertaining. He gaped at Mia, who nodded encouragingly, as though she understood his absurd plan. Her look sharpened for a moment: "Just think about how far you're willing to go for the information."
The memory of another trial, the first one he ever lost, abruptly surfaced. Mia knew about shady deals and blackmail and criminals. Knew that sometimes combing the unsavory elements was the only way to find the truth - even if the cost was great.
"I know what I need to do, Ms. Fey. But I believe your sister knows the way."
Mia nodded, a clever smile on her face. He could imagine what a force she would have been, and regretted that they had only faced each other in court once.
"When we first met, I directed some unkind words toward you. I was a fool." The words tumbled out, an apology more than seven years in the making. "Wright was fortunate to have you as a mentor."
She laughed, a deep rich sound. "There's something I never expected. I'll accept your apology on one condition." Mia leaned forward, and Edgeworth found himself drawing near. "Look after Phoenix, and make him happy."
He reared back, scandalized at how many Feys had deciphered the feelings he held toward Wright.
Once Maya returned to her own self, he laid out his plan.
Edgeworth ended the call on his cloned phone. "He's here." He had to move fast, before Agent Chase noticed the outgoing call.
Maya nodded. While he had completed arrangements with Detective Gumshoe, she made a few changes to her appearance. Edgeworth couldn't pinpoint everything she had done differently, though he noticed she had tightened her robe considerably against her hips and re-tied her hair into a messier, more unkempt knot, letting the strands fall around her neck and shoulders.
At his quizzical look, she merely shrugged. "Gotta use what you got. That's what Sis taught me."
After confirming the address, Maya rushed forward and threw her arms around his waist. "Good luck," she said, voice muffled against his chest. "You'll find Nick, I know it." Her hold tightened, as though she were transferring every ounce of her faith into him.
She drew back and gave him her best grin. "And remember - don't drink the tea."
Maya threw open his door, startling the guards flanking the entrance. As she moved past them, Edgeworth's eyes flew wide: he'd never seen Maya move like that. She usually ran or hopped around, a bundle of manic energy; this time she shimmied, her hips swaying noticeably.
Out in the hallway she turned back, one hand against her hip and the other crooking a finger at the officers staggered behind her. "Which one of you can take me to a vending machine? I'm staaaaarving." Her voice was loud and coy, her lips curved up in a bright smile.
Several guards' heads snapped up at sonic speeds, and they all began arguing over who should escort Wright's assistant. If that line was Maya's attempt at seduction… it was a rousing success. She looped her arms around two of the officers and they allowed her to drag them down the corridor, the rest happily trailing behind.
As he slipped out of his office and raced down the no-longer-watched stairwell, Edgeworth made a mental note to dock the officers' salaries for incompetence.
Gumshoe was waiting for him in the alley behind the Prosecutors Building, next to his idling, run-down car.
"I guess this worked out after all, huh Mister Edgeworth?" The detective beamed as Edgeworth slid in the passenger seat, heedless of the prosecutor's dubious once-over of the vehicle.
"The whole force is working with Agent Chase now," Gumshoe said as he maneuvered down the narrow street. "She and Prosecutor von Karma are running the boys ragged trying to find Mister Wright. Boy, those two together are something else! I'd be there too except, well…" Gumshoe trailed off, and changed the subject to more upbeat news.
Edgeworth only half-listened as Gumshoe rambled, eager to provide updates on the precinct. For someone who had been suspended, he seemed well aware of the division's activities; but then, Gumshoe had always had plenty of friends on the force.
Eventually they turned into a small parking area near a park. A square, dull grey building sat at the end of the lot. Letters in a giant, intimidating orange font spelled out 'Tender Lender' in the window panes. It looked like any other quick-cash or loan center, but Maya had promised the lender was a genuine arm of the Cadaverini empire.
Edgeworth tried to quell the doubts intruding on his thoughts. This was a huge risk. Apart from his own vulnerability outside his guarded office, the plan was full of potential traps. If the Cadaverinis had bargained with the counterfeiters, he would be tipping them all off that the police were in a bind. Or the family might not wish to get involved in another organization's affairs, or to cooperate with law enforcement on principle. Perhaps worst of all, they might want compensation for their aid. In the back of Edgeworth's mind he catalogued what could reasonably be offered in trade for their information, even as he recoiled at the illegality of collaborating with criminals.
If he returned with nothing, Phoenix was as good as dead.
With Gumshoe trailing behind him, Edgeworth pushed open the doors.
Standing from behind a gleaming gold desk, a wisp of a woman with striking dark hair greeted the pair of them. She wore an expensive black dress, overly modest, and moved demurely. "Good afternoon… gentlemen," she said, smiling. Something in her soft tone sent a shiver creeping up Edgeworth's spine. "How can I… help you?"
Keenly aware of his limited time, Edgeworth opted for the direct approach. "Miss Cadaverini. I need information regarding a counterfeiting ring that has recently infiltrated Los Angeles - specifically the location of one of its operatives, Christopher Banks."
Gumshoe coughed behind him. The detective shuffled his weight on his feet and threw his shoulders back in an attempt to appear more menacing. Edgeworth got the impression that foregoing the niceties might cause offense, but he truly didn't care.
Miss Cadaverini ran her eyes up and down the two of them, appraising. "I think you misunderstand. We deal in monetary loans, not… information."
The woman's tendency toward halting speech was infuriating. Edgeworth fixed his most daunting glare on her, bristling. "I don't have time to engage in this play-act of legitimate business, Miss Cadaverini. I know your family connections. And given what is known about your family, the opportunity to help oust a rival is something to consider, is it not?"
The smile disappeared. There was something sharp and severe in her eye, like she was examining a choice piece of meat and deciding how best to cut and serve it.
"And what… authority… would you have to 'oust' someone, Mister…?"
"Edgeworth. Prosecutor." He gestured behind him - "And Detective Gumshoe."
There was no time for dissembling. Edgeworth spared a sideways glance at the detective, who puffed out his chest and maintained his intimidating stance. He remembered that Gumshoe had dealt with mafiosos in the past; should this path lead to trouble, Edgeworth was grateful to have him at his side. He wondered how many goons were watching from the shadows.
Miss Cadaverini shifted her gaze away, smiling to herself. "How… interesting." She folded her arms across her chest. "And what makes you think I can… trust you?"
Edgeworth was prepared for this: he removed Maya Fey's red talisman from his pocket. "I believe you are acquainted with Master Fey and Phoenix Wright. Here is proof of my intentions."
He remembered the times he had provided assistance to Wright and Maya, allowing them access to areas forbidden to them: while his own freedom was threatened, when Maya was in danger. Now that Wright's life was on the line, he hoped Maya's token would buy him the favor he needed.
"Wright is in trouble," he added, exhaustion and desperation making the words spill out before he could stop them.
Miss Cadaverini looked away. "Allow me a few moments," she stated, after a thoughtful silence. She moved toward a back room, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. "Help yourself to some… tea."
The minutes she spent away felt like an eon. Gumshoe availed himself at the drink stand; though Edgeworth felt obliged to pass on Miss Fey's warning about the tea, Gumshoe waved him off, guzzling several cups with great enthusiasm. Rooted in place, Edgeworth caught unintelligible snippets of Miss Cadaverini's end of a phone conversation. His finger tapped impatiently against his folded arm; how much time did Wright have left?
Finally she returned. "My grandfather passes on his… well wishes," she said, that eerie smile back in place. "If you are looking for Christopher Banks, we have information that could help you. But this is a business, Prosecutor Edgeworth. Something is needed… in exchange."
The worst trap had been sprung. Edgeworth narrowed his eyes, waiting for the conditions, weighing the ethics of the upcoming deal against Phoenix's life.
"You are a man of some… influence," she stated, letting the last word linger. "For this information, you must agree to never prosecute a Cadaverini in court." Miss Cadaverini smiled slightly, her face a serene mask. "Are the terms… agreeable?"
No. No the terms were not agreeable. Gumshoe nearly choked on his latest cup of tea. "That's- You can't ask for that!"
The police had been after the Cadaverinis for decades. If any of the family were brought to court, Edgeworth would most surely be assigned to prosecute; there were so few district attorneys who could be trusted with the task. Corruption ran deep, and the family had menaced the area for so long.
Edgeworth's mind, calculating costs and repercussions, remembering his promise to seek out justice, urged him to refuse. His heart, thudding rapidly with memories of Phoenix standing proudly in court, smiling at him on the sofa, lips and body pressed tight against him, calling him Miles, screamed at him to take the deal. He felt as though he would break into two, the no-win situation pitting him at war with himself.
So this was his choice? Trade the safety of the city for the safety of one man? Bargain away his integrity for a selfish desire? Could he really choose between his ideals and his rival-friend-something more? What would Wright say, if he jeopardized his career and innocent people to save him? Could he live with himself, truly live, if he refused the terms and let Wright die?
He felt Gumshoe's heavy arm on his shoulder, holding him steady. He could only imagine what rictus of misery must be etched on his face to cause such concern. Was this the despair Wright felt during that wretched Engarde trial? To choose between Maya's life or allowing an innocent woman be imprisoned? What did Phoenix decide?
He could almost hear Wright's voice inside his head. And deep down, Miles knew what his choice would be.
He drew in a long breath, bracing himself, when Miss Cadaverini interrupted his thoughts.
"Prosecutor Edgeworth… How is Furio Tigre?"
Edgeworth blinked, the question taking him completely off-guard. Why would she wonder about… Ah. The details came to him in a rush: her old lover, sent to prison by Wright, something about money and accidents and betrayal.
As a prosecutor, he was privy to details about penitentiary residents. Perhaps Miss Cadaverini was offering him an opportunity - information for information.
Edgeworth looked her in the eye as he answered, making certain she knew he spoke the truth. "He bullies some inmates and is a lackey to others. He occasionally causes some disturbance. He doesn't suffer, but neither does he win any favors. The structure of prison life seems to… suit him." He almost wished Tigre was something more than a petty thug, just so he would have a better story to report.
Miss Cadaverini looked down when he finished, considering. "I… never went to visit. I thought about it." She glanced up. "Mister Wright… showed me the truth about Don Tigre." Something in her expression almost made Edgeworth feel a twinge of sympathy; she looked grim and distant.
After a long, tense moment, she handed Edgeworth a folded slip of paper. "Our business is concluded… Prosecutor."
She returned to her desk and Gumshoe, sensing the dismissal, guided Edgeworth back to the parking lot. Whether due to a sense of obligation to Wright, or belief that the information on Tigre was equivalent, or perhaps out of some twisted sense of humanity, Miss Cadaverini had let him walk away with what he needed without agreeing to the terms. Whatever the reason, Edgeworth knew not to question it.
Inside the car, he examined the note. There was only a single line of text, its meaning unclear: RBCU2678438.
Edgeworth ignored Gumshoe's flagrant disregard for speed limits as they raced back to decipher the code.
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Author's Notes: Part 9 grew so big, I had to split it into two chapters. I quite enjoyed bringing the story full-circle to the trial at the very beginning. What served as an introduction just became a vital part of the story!