A Long Way to Fall - Chapter 10
Part Ten
Gumshoe parked behind the police station and led them inside through the rear entrance. Policemen scurried around them, the department in a state of near-chaos. Some of the uniforms were slightly different, the officers on loan from the surrounding suburbs. Among the standard police, several people whom Edgeworth didn't recognize bustled from desk to desk. Some of them wore suits, others dark jackets with 'FBI' in bright yellow letters on the back. It appeared Agent Chase had secured reinforcements.
As they approached the homicide division, a sharp voice rang out over the crowd like a shattering crystal glass.
"Miles Edgeworth, you stupid, foolish fool!"
Franziska stormed toward them, radiating fury. Officers dove out of her way on either side, an ocean of uniforms parting in biblical fashion.
Behind her he caught a glimpse of Maya Fey, her conversation with his sister abruptly paused. She gave him a shrug and a small, helpless grin.
Emerging from the sea of police, Agent Chase joined his sister in time to help her corner them against the wall. Edgeworth was startled at how quickly the two women coordinated their actions.
"Prosecutor. Please tell me you have a damn good reason for sneaking out of your office. And that you've been surrounded by security officers. Or I might have to kill you myself and save Banks the trouble."
Agent Chase sounded remarkably calm despite her death threat. There was an undercurrent of profound frustration in her tone, one that made him wonder whether she wanted to make good on that promise. Franziska scoffed, her disdain toward him evident in the noise.
Edgeworth squared back his shoulders. "A new source of information was needed on Banks." Before either of them could respond, he forged ahead. "And now we have a lead."
The tired lines near Agent Chase's eyes had grown a little deeper since she last spoke with him. A case like this, with a crime ring and a kidnapping, possible murder, people being safe-guarded and subsequently escaping custody - it could wear down even the most enthusiastic of investigators. She wore her indigo suit once more, recycling her limited wardrobe, and it bore the tell-tale wrinkles of an all-nighter. But despite her exhaustion, her eyes lit up at the mention of a lead.
Gumshoe chose that moment to chime in. "That's right! Leave it to Mister Edgeworth to get what we need."
The corner of Agent Chase's mouth twitched up as she glanced over at the detective. "Well, at least he had you with him."
Gumshoe grinned, puffing out his chest proudly. "Always ready to help, Sir!"
Agent Chase tilted her head, leaning her weight to one side. "Why do you call me 'Sir'?"
Franziska cut in before Gumshoe could respond. "Because that is the correct form of address for a superior. Right, Scruffy?" Her hand was on her hip, threatening.
The detective instinctively jumped back, dodging a whip crack that never came. "That's right, Sir!"
With a bemused look on her face, Agent Chase turned her attention back to Edgeworth. "Well, Prosecutor. You'd better have something good."
He handed her the slip of paper. "This is Christopher Banks's whereabouts. I don't yet know what it means."
"Do I want to know how you got this information?"
His silence was answer enough.
While Franziska grumbled about foolish risks, Agent Chase scanned the number on the paper. That wolfish, predator-like grin appeared again. "Right. Finally. Something new."
As they followed Agent Chase to the back of the department, Maya Fey stole through the throng and sidled up next to Edgeworth. "Did she give you anything?" she asked, voice low so that only he could hear.
"A code."
He slipped his hand into his pocket, fingers passing over Wright's badge, and retrieved her red Master's talisman. He cupped it in his palm and passed it back to her, discreetly; she tucked it into her robes, no one the wiser about its use. Maya raised her brows at him, questioning. He nodded slightly, just a small incline of his head. Yes, it helped. You helped.
With a clear view of the whole area, Agent Chase cleared her throat to get the attention of the officers nearby. A low murmur rippled through the room until all assembled watched her, waiting.
Her voice rang out clearly. "Prosecutor Edgeworth received a tip earlier this afternoon. Anonymous."
An enormous whiteboard stood next to her, covered in an impressive collage of information on Banks and the counterfeiting ring. She grabbed a marker, cleared away a section, and wrote RBCU2678438 in large, bright red letters.
At one end of the crowd, Edgeworth noticed the chief of police staring at him and Gumshoe. He pointed an accusatory finger at them, interrupting Agent Chase. "What're they doing here?"
"They're with me." The authoritative tone in Agent Chase's voice pre-emptively shut down any argument. She resumed pointing at the board. "This code has something to do with where Christopher Banks is hiding. Let's figure out what it means."
Every available officer and agent in the room broke apart, some by themselves and others in small groups. The air started buzzing with the sounds of pens scratching on papers, fingers typing frantically on keyboards, the work of dozens trying to guess the code's meaning.
"Maybe it's a geo-location tag."
"Are the digits a phone number?"
"Could it be a substitution cipher?"
"RBCU might stand for a book and the numbers certain pages."
"Looks like a tracking code? Like for Internet shopping?"
Edgeworth moved amongst the crowd, letting the noise wash over him, filtering out the probable code explanations from the more ludicrous speculations. Gumshoe followed close behind him. Agent Chase and Franziska flitted from one group to another, monitoring progress. Eventually he slipped into a side room and seated himself at an empty table, mulling over the code. Maya and Gumshoe took chairs on either side of him after a while, lost in their own thoughts and guesses. After some time Franziska also joined them, and finally Agent Chase.
Enough time had passed for the code to truly sink into his subconscious, the digits seared across the front of his mind. Something about the code was familiar to him, but he couldn't quite identify what it was. He had latched on to the tracking code comment, turning it around over and over, trying to remember where he had seen a similar configuration of numbers and letters.
As they pooled their ideas, Maya's gaze focused on the window, staring at the buildings outside.
"I hope Pearly's all right," she said during a lull, a wistful expression on her face. "She doesn't know Nick is gone. I don't know what I'm going to tell her." She cast her eyes down into her lap. "I bet she's worried. If she doesn't hear from me soon, she'll board the first train here before any of the acolytes can stop her."
And just like that, Edgeworth felt something click inside his head, pieces falling into place. The dull fluorescent lights seemed bright, the stale air crisped, and the answer to the riddle became clear.
Franziska drew in a sharp gasp; apparently she had figured it out, too. "Master Maya Fey," she said, a victorious grin spreading across her cheeks, "you are-"
"-Remarkable," Edgeworth finished, eyes shining. He pushed to his feet.
"What is it?" Agent Chase sounded cautiously optimistic.
Edgeworth's words were clipped, rushed, as he explained. "It's an identifier. A tracking number for a shipping container. The kind you see on trains and semi-trucks and ocean-going ships."
Agent Chase was floored. "How on earth did you realize that?"
"You've never visited Germany," Franziska flatly stated.
"Railways everywhere," Edgeworth finished. "And international shipping uses a standardized code."
Agent Chase nodded sharply. "So if we find the shipping container…"
"We find Wright."
Things moved quickly. A team of coordinated officers tracked down and pinpointed the last known location of the shipping crate. Old records showed that the container had been tucked away at the Los Angeles Harbor. Finally, they had a destination.
Officers and federal agents lined up in front of Agent Chase and the chief of police. The two of them began explaining a detailed search-and-rescue plan to the assembled mass, dividing everyone into teams and barking out orders. The entire room was awash in nervous energy, the air filled with anticipation. Heavy weaponry was distributed, including automatic rifles and riot shields. If the entirety of the Los Angeles police was going to storm a harbor, apprehend a murder suspect, and possibly bring down a well-coordinated crime ring, they were taking no chances.
Amidst the preparations, Edgeworth found himself staring at the whiteboard on Christopher Banks, an uneasy feeling in his stomach. A map of the city was pinned to one side with little red markers dotted all over the city. His gaze flitted over the harbor, and his brows drew down in thought.
Franziska joined him, her voice quiet. "You are not pleased, little brother." She stared at the white board with him and did not ask for an explanation, waiting expectantly.
The L.A. Harbor was the busiest port in the nation, and one of the busiest in the world. It housed commercial cruise liners and an extensive tourist waterfront, and saw thousands of employees and visitors every day. The place was a bustling center of commerce, full of people.
Agent Chase appeared at his side along with Gumshoe. "I'm afraid that you'll need to wait here while the operation is underway. I've assigned a small team of officers to guard you-"
"Something is not right."
She blinked at Edgeworth's interruption. "What?"
"The harbor is not the correct location."
She narrowed her eyes, not suspicious, but considering. "The records show the crate with your code on it was last seen there. And there's precedent for Banks involving ships in his schemes."
He rounded on her. "And those records are outdated and the information may be incorrect. Think about your profile on Banks. Think about the locations of his previous victims: an abandoned apartment, a junkyard, a decommissioned boat. All isolated places. Different places each time. The harbor is both a populated area and filled with watercraft. It fails to match the pattern in two distinct ways."
Agent Chase stiffened. "Prosecutor, we're about to launch a major operation. Where else could the container be?"
Edgeworth's mind raced, one thought rapidly following on the trail of another, the chain of logic forming at lightning speed. Everything depended on finding the right location - or Phoenix was lost.
Banks wouldn't lower himself any repeats; he'd stay away from the boats and the people. He might have found the container elsewhere, away from the public's prying eyes. How would the crate be moved from the harbor if not by ship? Two possibilities: a commercial trailer, or - or as freight.
With Maya's comment about trains still fresh in his mind, Edgeworth followed the Union Pacific and the Southern Pacific rail lines on the map. The latter led away from the harbor into the heart of the city, along the Los Angeles River and into a deserted freight switching yard for commercial trains. If the crate had been abandoned there… and the location made it more likely that one of the Cadaverinis had spotted Banks…
He jabbed his finger at the map. "There. Banks is in the abandoned train yard." Never before had he been so certain.
A sharp voice spoke up behind them, the chief of police startling them all. "It's more likely that a crime ring would operate from a larger location - lots of unregistered shipping containers to call home."
Edgeworth bristled. "We're not looking for the whole ring right now, we're trying to find where Banks has taken Wright!"
The police chief glowered, taking offense at Edgeworth's outburst. "Everything you've said is just conjecture! The evidence points to the harbor, so we're going there."
Gumshoe, with as stubborn an expression as Edgeworth had ever seen him wear, stepped into the chief's personal space. "Sir, I think it's best to listen to Mister-"
"You are suspended, Detective! You don't even have a right to be here!" the chief snapped.
They were drawing a small crowd. It was clear the chief of police was not going to bend. Despite Edgeworth's protest, the force was heading for the harbor. Heading for the wrong location.
Edgeworth turned toward the only person who could help, voice quiet, steady, and hard as steel. "Agent Chase. If I'm wrong, then one of the officers will find Wright at the harbor. But if I'm right, and if we don't go to the train yard, Banks will get away and Phoenix will die."
Her expression flickered as she caught his inadvertent use of Wright's given name. She glanced between his face, the map, and the assembled force.
"I'm probably going to regret this," she muttered softly. To the police chief she ordered, "Take your force and go to the harbor. Comb every inch of the port." With a final glance at the map, her expression grew more determined. "I'm going to the train yard."
"You can't be serious, surely." The chief looked nothing short of flabbergasted.
Agent Chase folded her arms, face locked in a stony stare. "I am."
"And don't call her Shirley." Nearly forgotten, Maya Fey peeked out from behind Gumshoe. As all eyes fell on her, she tried to smile and diffuse the tension. "It's - It's a joke." She didn't succeed.
The chief threw up his hands in resignation. "Do what you want. We're going where the paper trail leads."
As Edgeworth watched him return to the gathered officers, he felt a sudden sense of panic grip him, clinching around his chest like a vise. What if he was wrong? What if the container was at the harbor, with Phoenix locked inside? Who on the force would make sure he was all right? Who could he trust?
"Franziska." She inclined her head, still eyeing the police chief as Edgeworth spoke haltingly. "If- I am wrong, then-"
"Then I will rescue Phoenix Wright at the harbor." She looked at him, confident and self-assured, and offered him a tight smile. "I will make sure he's fit to face me in court, little brother."
Breathing a subtle sigh of relief, Edgeworth gave her a small bow. She moved to stand beside the police chief, silencing his protests with a quick crack of her whip.
After the brief exchange with his sister, Gumshoe offered to join them at the train yard. "Since I'm suspended, I can't go with the others anyway," he said, smiling broadly. Agent Chase attempted to persuade Edgeworth to remain at the station; either his assurances of familiarity with criminals and danger made her relent, or his glare. She instead transferred the officers she'd assigned to guard him over to Maya.
Once more Maya hugged him tightly, hugged Gumshoe too, and nodded at Agent Chase. "Go get Nick," she stated, voice trembling but full of faith.
Edgeworth, Gumshoe, and Agent Chase piled into the detective's vehicle. For the first time since Phoenix had been taken, Edgeworth felt a glimmer of hope.
Gumshoe pulled into one end of the abandoned train yard and shifted into park. The low sunlight glinted off the river nearby, casting the area in a subdued late-afternoon light. It had been surprisingly easy to enter the area. No one in the city was quite sure who was in charge of the yard anymore, with the assets divided among so many different owners. Security was non-existent, allowing them to roll directly into the freight area.
The yard was devoid of any outward activity. If the counterfeiting ring had headquartered themselves here, then they had an uncanny knack for camouflage and concealment. Letting his eyes drift over the area, Edgeworth felt more certain that Banks was hidden here - Banks, and hopefully none of his associates.
The heaps of abandoned shipping containers rotted in the yard. The flat metal holders beneath some of them, anchoring them to the tracks, had turned a muddy reddish brown with rust. A couple of the containers maintained their structural integrity, but most had holes of varying sizes decayed through their walls and their interiors open to the sky. All of them looked like they'd sat unused for years. Edgeworth felt his pulse quicken. Banks had to be in one of these containers. And he hoped, beyond anything he had ever foolishly wished for, that Phoenix was alive inside as well. They just had to find the right one, the one bearing the code Miss Cadaverini had given him.
Agent Chase, in the front passenger seat, turned toward Edgeworth in the back.
"We split into two teams," she said firmly. "Detective Gumshoe will stay with you and cover this end of the yard. I'll move ahead and scout the other side."
Gumshoe reached down to the floorboard behind him. After a few moments, shuffling his hands over various debris, he pulled out a few earpieces and a pair of short-range radios. "We can keep in contact with these," he stated, handing earpieces to Agent Chase and Edgeworth and slipping another over his own ears. He tuned the radios and handed one to Agent Chase, and clipped the other to his belt.
Once the plans were set they spread out from Gumshoe's car. Gravel crunched beneath Edgeworth's feet. His conviction that Wright was here heightened as he remembered the gravel found on Phoenix's jacket, left folded neatly in his office.
The air felt still, as if the yard itself was holding its breath. Only the distant hum of traffic disrupted the silence. Agent Chase gave them a quick nod and sprinted to the opposite end of the yard. For an instant Edgeworth marveled at how she barely made any noise on the rocky ground.
"Stay behind me, Sir," Gumshoe said, ushering Edgeworth to keep at his back. He kept his arm on his weapon holster, ready to draw in a hurry. Of all the detectives who could have accompanied him to the yard, Edgeworth was grateful to have Gumshoe with him again. He made a note to increase the man's salary substantially for his commitment and courage - once he could officially revoke the suspension.
One in front of the other, the pair of them crept across their half of the train yard, staying as quiet as possible. They moved from one container to another, checking the shipping numbers on each of them. The corroded metal walls loomed above them: eerie, silent landmarks in a maze of abandoned tracks.
Every so often Gumshoe muttered into his radio, giving their estimated distance from his car and a description of the container nearest to them: "One hundred yards in. By a blue crate with no doors. Clear." After each update Agent Chase responded in kind. The voices sounded tinny and detached in Edgeworth's ear.
They rounded a dilapidated crate, halfway through their section, and Edgeworth spotted a dark vehicle parked close to a container some two- to three-hundred feet away. It was nestled into the heart of the yard, tucked away from the outside. Feeling his heart lurch from a cocktail of fear and anticipation, eagerness and deep anxiety all at once, Edgeworth followed Gumshoe toward it. This had to be the container. It must be…
With agonizing slowness, they approached the shipping crate and the car, pressed against the metal husks, staying hidden from view. Once Gumshoe realized the car was empty, he allowed them to increase their pace slightly and move more openly. The container was painted dark red, somewhat faded from exposure, and Edgeworth was reminded of Banks's eyes: once striking, now tainted. All the entrances were welded shut save for the end nearest the car, unlocked. He checked above the metal door and, in perfunctory white letters and numbers, he found the code he'd been searching for: RBCU2678438.
The container was here - he'd been right. Was Banks inside? Was Phoenix? What would they find? Blood thrumming hot and fast, stomach dropping precipitously, Edgeworth waited while Gumshoe alerted Agent Chase. The majority of the police were scouring the harbor; how long would it take them to get here?
Gumshoe finished speaking, and the resuming quiet was interrupted by a loud thump from inside the container, like something heavy hitting the floor. An anguished noise followed, a male voice crying out in pain.
Eyes widening, Edgeworth was tempted to yank open the door to investigate; but instead Gumshoe roughly shoved him back, putting himself in front of him and keeping them both flush against the metal walls next to the entrance. Edgeworth watched him draw his firearm, arms raised high and ready to aim. A silent count to three, and Gumshoe drew in a breath and heaved open the metal door one-handed.
"Freeze!"
The detective slid into the open space of the entryway, gun trained in front of him. He remained there for only a moment: Edgeworth heard the crack of a pistol firing - and Gumshoe staggered back. He made a strangled noise as Gumshoe let out a howl of pain and fell to his knees.
This was wrong. This had gone so terribly wrong in an instant.
Gumshoe lost hold of his gun and fell to his side, a bright red splotch blossoming against his shoulder. Edgeworth grabbed the detective's closest arm - and fortunately it was the one not connected to the gunshot wound - and with a surge of strength he dragged him away from the exposed entrance. He maneuvered him into a sitting position, propping him against the container wall to the side of the door.
Blood dripped down the detective's shirt and added to the stains on his coat. Gumshoe grimaced, breathing hard, cursing. Even if the bullet had missed vital organs, the wound non-fatal, it likely hurt like hell.
Edgeworth hovered over Gumshoe, feeling helpless, and a voice called out from inside the container.
"Whoever else is out there, let me see you. No weapons."
Banks. Edgeworth would know that voice until his dying breath, to his unending regret. He froze: hands stilled, breath halted, eyes locked on Gumshoe.
A moment later: "Someone moved that body. Either show yourself or the lawyer's next."
Edgeworth clenched his jaw. Well. If Banks gave him no choice…
He rose, heart pounding, and moved to the open metal door.
The image inside was horrifying.
Banks stood in the center of the container, suit wrinkled, hair a disheveled mess. He pointed a pistol in front of him, the black metal held casually, almost carelessly. His eyes were blown wide, mouth pulled back in a grimace of barely-controlled panic. Any sign of the smooth seducer, all charm and innuendo and elegance, had vanished, leaving behind a desperate, unhinged man.
More alarming was the figure braced against Banks, held unsteadily in place by Banks's free arm: Phoenix. He was nearly naked, bruises on his torso, wilted hair, wrists raw and bleeding in the handcuffs in front of him, ankles chained together. He wobbled on his feet, barely able to stand, and his head drooped down with fading consciousness, eyes glassy and unfocused.
Phoenix was hurt. Phoenix had suffered, was on the verge of death. Banks had wrecked Edgeworth's affairs, caused him emotional turmoil, shot Gumshoe, tortured Phoenix. Edgeworth seethed, a hot, consuming mixture of fury, fear, hatred surging through his veins. The impulse to run forward and catch Wright in his arms and drag him away was eclipsed only by the urge to do something incredibly violent to Banks.
Who was laughing. The sound echoed off the metal walls, pitched low and slightly crazed. Those maroon eyes, the ones he once considered handsome, had grown even wider in disbelief. Banks gripped his pistol and pointed it at Edgeworth, and the prosecutor halted just inside the entrance.
"You." Banks's voice dripped with derision, an unsettling smile on his face. "This is because of you, you arrogant whore."
"Let him go." Edgeworth's voice was low, dangerous.
"Are you sure? The poor man's been on his knees so much lately. You don't want them to bruise any more, do you?" Banks grinned.
The words hit Edgeworth like - well, like a train, an intense punch to his gut that left him sickened and disgusted. If Banks had - if he forced Phoenix in any way…
He started forward, but Banks shook the gun slightly in his hand.
"Stay right there, Miles. Don't come any closer."
Edgeworth forced himself to keep still, glaring Banks with no small amount of rage. He was used to his anger feeling cold and cutting; now he felt nothing but fire. "If you think this is the first time someone's pointed a gun at me, Banks, you're quite wrong."
"I thought I told you to call me Christopher?"
Banks gave him a disappointed look, finally sobering. "After all we've been through, have we grown so far apart?" He sighed, and fixed Edgeworth with an answering glare of pure loathing. "Well, if you don't fear a gun pointed at you…"
Several things happened at once.
Banks hauled Phoenix part-way in front of him. He looped the arm that still held the gun around Phoenix's back and pointed it to the attorney's temple.
Outside, Gumshoe knocked his head back against the metal wall, letting out an agonized - and exaggerated - groan, catching Edgeworth's attention.
And a winded, out-of-breath voice whispered through Edgeworth's earpiece: "I'm here."
Though his heart nearly leapt to his throat as he saw the gun pointed at Phoenix's head, Gumshoe's commotion caused Edgeworth to look to his side. Past the doorway, Agent Chase stood only a foot or so away from him, pressed up against the container wall and concealed from the open entry. Her pistol was drawn, much like Gumshoe had held his earlier, ready to spring into action. Behind her the detective leaned against the wall, looking pained but able to flash an unsteady grin.
"Your dogsbody's not dead yet?"
Banks sounded almost cheerful, mistaking Gumshoe's groan for a sound of dying distress.
Agent Chase's voice was low and urgent, heard only by Edgeworth through his earpiece. "I need you to get out of the way, Prosecutor."
Caught in the doorway, Edgeworth was obstructing Agent Chase. He tried to step closer again, to get to the side of the entrance, but Banks just pressed the pistol barrel more tightly to Phoenix's skin and made a disapproving, warning noise. Phoenix let out a low moan, pained and confused.
If he moved, Banks would kill Wright. As his insides did a nauseating flip, Edgeworth realized that even if Agent Chase had managed to call for backup, no one else could get here in time to help.
Eyes lingering on Phoenix, he attempted to bluff. "What are you expecting to do, Banks? Walk out of here, past all the police, and get away?"
Banks made that disapproving noise again. "We both know there's no one else out there. The police blared it on all their channels: all units to the Los Angeles harbor, priority on shipping containers. They think they found me. Why do you think I tried to get out of here?"
The incompetence of the department knew no bounds. As Edgeworth silently railed at them, something pushed at his attention, something in Banks's statement that didn't quite match up.
"Not just you. You're trying to take Wright with you. You've killed your prisoners in the past, so why the change?"
Banks merely glared, and Edgeworth stared at him, unraveled, broken, and realized the truth. "You need a hostage, a bargaining chip. Because you're alone - the ring is not here to protect you."
Something wavered in Banks's expression, a flicker of uncertainty. "Your fault again. Why couldn't you have just…" He let out an exasperated growl. "No one ever denied me, you know. Not for long anyway."
Banks shifted and dragged Phoenix closer to him, almost hiding behind him. He glanced down at his prisoner, lip curled in contempt. "He never deserved you."
With equal revulsion, Edgeworth scowled at Banks. "No. I never deserved him."
Banks started laughing again, quiet, then building up to a howling cackle. Edgeworth felt something in his stomach plummet as Banks started shaking; he feared the gun might go off, Wright's life graphically snuffed out.
Agent Chase hissed in his ear: "Careful! Edgeworth, don't do anything stupid!"
And Phoenix - he jolted in Bank's hold, more alert. His eyes focused on Edgeworth, blinking rapidly, and his mouth opened though no words came out. Edgeworth had never been good at reading lips, but even he realized what Phoenix kept trying to say: Miles.
The laughter subsided, dying down into a deranged grin. "You're right - your little whore was going to be my hostage. But you're so much more valuable, aren't you Miles? I don't really need him anymore."
"No!" The cry slipped past Edgeworth's lips, terror propelling the word out at almost inhuman speed.
"What's that?"
Banks's question had a curious lilt, something altogether unnerving. Like a child pulling the wings off a captured fly. His head tilted slightly. "What did you say?"
"Don't- Don't hurt him."
"Why not?"
Banks clenched his arm around Phoenix's neck, not quite choking, holding him against his cheek. "What's he worth to you, Miles? He never gave me a good answer. Is he worth your life?" A hysterical bark of laughter. "Do you love him, Miles?"
Edgeworth looked at Phoenix, bruised, weakened, fighting for consciousness. Stared into those wide blue eyes. The answer had been growing for years, and it came out in a low, breathless whisper: "Yes."
"The so-called 'Demon Prosecutor,' duped by a stupid lawyer. It's almost funny." Banks's grin was all teeth, turning into a sneer. "I could kill him just to hurt you. Make you suffer."
Edgeworth remained silent. Anything he said might encourage Banks to act on his threat.
"Beg me for his life."
Phoenix tried to struggle, made a distressed noise as Banks just held on tighter. "M-Miles," he managed to choke out, dry like autumn leaves cracking and crumbling to dust.
Edgeworth found his voice. "Don't hurt him anymore. Let him go."
"Not good enough, Miles. Do it right. Get on your knees, and beg."
The metal floor was filthy, and he was wearing his court suit. The order was degrading, humiliating. Banks was laughing at him, laughing at the fallen prosecutor, demeaning him. Stripping him of his dignity and pride.
But Edgeworth fell to his knees without a second thought.
"Please. Don't hurt him."
That deranged grin spread across Banks's face, full of hatred and promise. "No."
Despair finally wrapped its icy fingers around Edgeworth's heart. He closed his eyes, looked away, unable to bear watching the light in Phoenix's eyes go out when Banks pulled the trigger.
And behind him, Agent Chase swung around the entry, her gun pointed straight in front of her, Edgeworth no longer blocking her shot.
The sound of a gunshot reverberated off the metal walls, and a ringing silence closed in.
Edgeworth slowly opened his eyes.
--
Author's Notes: I've been waiting so long to write this scene, it's hard to believe it really happened. This was the last chapter completed during the Big Bang. I wouldn't have gotten this far without all the support and encouragement from my beta fulldaysdrive/dragonkiri and my cheerleader Surrey. Surrey was also my fanartist, and she drew some amazing artwork for this scene - all based on just a rough description from me. I'm still blown away by it. Thank you Surrey!
Fantastic artwork by Surrey for the end of the chapter: Chapter 10. And some additional sketches of Agent Chase and Christopher Banks. Aaah, I love all of these!