Dream Weaver Ch. 02

He continued: "What I'm getting at, Don, is that whoever I hire into this Police Force, I have to know that you are going to be loyal to this Police Force. You're going to stand by your fellow Officers, you're going to have their backs as they'll have yours. I have to know that you're going to follow lawful orders, as the lives of your fellow Officers might depend on your obeying those orders swiftly. We're a very thin Blue Line here, very thin, and for some of us, each other is all we have."

I didn't really know what to say, so I said "You can count on me, Chief."

"This Force is like any other." said Malone. "There's small stuff, like being offered free cups of coffee, maybe sandwiches. We don't sweat the small stuff. Obviously taking bribes is not tolerated, participating in crimes is not tolerated... but there will be times when you'll be told who is right and who is wrong in a situation... and you'll be expected to understand what's in the best interest of the Police Force."

"Yes sir." I said, not sure just which way he was testing my integrity.

He peered at me for a long moment, then said "Okay, here's the deal. If you're accepted, you'll have to go to the six-week Police Academy, which fortunately is up here on State Property next to the University. You may be sent there before November 1st, but the 1st will be your official start date. And there'll be a customary three-month probation period."

"I understand." I said.

"All right, that's it." said the Chief. We shook hands and I left. Pete Feeley was waiting for me in the anteroom and took me to Angela Harlan's office.

"Okay, Don," she said, "I hope to be giving you good news soon. If it were up to me, I'd hire you on the spot, but we've got hoops and layers to go through."

"I understand." I said. "And I appreciate it."

As she walked me down the hall to the Duty Desk, I happened to see inside the Vice Room. Detectives Ikea and Croyle were talking to a relatively fat man in a trenchcoat.

Part 8 - Inquisition

As I exited the Police Headquarters building, I realized I was hungry and it was nearly noon. I decided to leave my car in the parking lot and walk over to the area known as Courthouse Square, and have lunch at a bistro there.

As I finished my lunch, a shadow suddenly darkened my table. Looking up, I saw FBI Agents Jack Muscone and Martin Nash standing there.

"Lawyer." I said.

"You can call one at our office." said Muscone.

"Am I under arrest?" I asked.

"If you want to do it that way, yes." said Nash. "We can handcuff you and force you into our car in front of all these people, or you can come with us quietly."

"Creating a scene won't do much for your job prospects in this Town." said Muscone, as a direct threat.

"Where's your warrant to arrest me?" I asked, not getting up out of my chair.

"Don't need one." said Muscone. "Probable cause. You're a flight risk, too."

"Even with probable cause, you need a warrant to arrest me." I said. "Produce it."

"Go fuck yourself." said Muscone. "Now get up."

"Lawyer." I said, remaining seated. With that, Muscone moved with surprising swiftness and threw me out of the chair and to the ground. He cuffed my hands behind me and he and Nash half dragged me to a nearby car as I yelled "POLICE BRUTALITY! POLICE BRUTALITY!" as loudly as I could, hoping as many people as possible would see us.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The ride in the car wasn't far; it was to the back parking lot of the Federal Building on the north side of Courthouse Square. I was again roughly handled as I was taken inside, then down an elevator to the basement, escorted by four more FBI Agents that I'd never seen before.

I was taken into a small room with a table and chair, a light overhead. Quintessential interrogation room. Nash took off my handcuffs, then pushed me into a chair. Muscone sat down on the opposite side.

"Let's watch some TV." he said, using a remote to turn on a TV on the side wall. "Here you are in Midtown, taping firecrackers to door handles... here you are going into the building and up the elevator, then looking into the door of the offices of Jack Burke. What were you doing there?"

"Lawyer." I said, staring at Muscone.

"Buddy, you better start answering my questions." said Muscone. "Nobody knows you're here. If you disappear of the face of the earth, no one will notice, and nobody will give a damn."

"Lawyer." I said. Muscone flew around the table, grabbed my by my shirt collars and rammed me into the back wall. I made sure not to hit him back in any way, lest I be charged with a crime.

"Listen, you little fucking piece of shit!" Muscone growled. "You ain't getting a goddamned lawyer until you answer my fucking questions! You better get your head out of your ass!" With that, he drew back his right fist and threw a punch at my face. I moved my head to the side and his fist hit the wall, going through the drywall.

"POLICE BRUTALITY! POLICE BRUTALITY!" I yelled again and again. Muscone was about to try to hit me again, when Nash intervened.

"Jack!" Nash yelled, "Don't do it!" After a pause, Muscone tore himself out of Nash's grip, and left the room.

"Sit down." said Nash, forcing me back into the chair. He came around to the other side and said quietly "Look, he's right about one thing. We're not playing around. No one is coming to help you. You need to answer our questions."

"Is this the 'good cop, bad cop' routine?" I asked. "Listen carefully: I want a lawyer."

"Okay," said Nash, "let me paint the picture for you. You tried to access an FBI account, and to us it looks like you were trying to acquire classified data with intent to commit treason. You left Midtown and the State without letting us know, after you were told not to. Don't even try any shit about not being under arrest; the FBI told you to not leave town and you still did."

Nash went on: "While in Apple Grove, you were seen talking with known members of White Supremacy groups, dedicated to overthrowing the U.S. Government. You had the GPS and tracking devices of your vehicle disabled by one of those Supremacists, obviously with the intent to deceive the FBI."

"In addition, you were found attempting to trespass on Government property in Coltrane County, attempting to access a Federal installation without authorization, and the Coltrane County Sheriff stopped you on the road. Then we have this crap with Jack Burke's offices, and then a false burglary report to the Midtown Police after you and your wife conspired to move out. Looks like you're going defraud the insurance company."

"My boss, Agent Muscone," said Nash, "he thinks you're a traitor. He thinks you're dirty, and he'd just as soon as kill you as look at you. I'd strongly suggest you start explaining some of this stuff. If it's legit, why play around with the Constitutional bullshit? Just explain yourself. Or we just keep it up until we find something on you, and then you'll be executed for treason."

I wanted to deny these ridiculous charges, but I knew I couldn't speak; though I had not said so, by demanding a lawyer, I was essentially invoking my right to silence. To talk now could be construed by a corrupt Court as waiving my rights. And I could see that there was some serious Federal corruption in my face right now.

"I. Want. A. Lawyer." I said simply.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

An hour later, Special Agent Muscone came back. "Bring this piece of dog shit upstairs."

On the first floor, I found that a lawyer was jawing with Federal agents. "Mr. Troy," he said, "my name is Charles Roland, and I'm with the law firm of Gresham & Mason, P.C. I'm serving as your attorney right now. Have these agents violated your rights?"

"Yes." I said. "And physically assaulted me, as well."

"Gentlemen," said Roland, "you have ten seconds to produce the warrant to be holding this man. Otherwise, he walks out of here with me, and the lawsuit over his treatment begins."

"Go ahead." said Muscone. "Take him out of here. We know where to find him again. He'll never get away from us, and he's going to answer for his crimes... eventually."

Once outside, Roland said to me "Mr. Troy, you need to get back home to Midtown. You need to watch your back. Here's my card in case you get into trouble again. I'm not sure what's going on, but they are really gunning for your ass. Keep your head on a swivel and eyes in the back of your head."

"Okay, thanks." I said. Roland drove me to Headquarters and to my vehicle. As he pulled away, I realized I didn't have my keys, wallet, or cellphone. Then I saw the keys in the ignition of my car, and my wallet on the seat. But no cellphone.

With hits on my credit, I knew I couldn't get a new account. I'd have to buy a phone and have my old account restored in Midtown. As I got into my vehicle, I wondered if things could get any worse...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Meanwhile...

"All right," said Chief Malone to the assembled group in the Main Conference Room. "We have four candidates: Claire Michaels, Donald Troy, Lorena Rose, and Leonard Sharples. Let's talk Michaels first."

"She's good, she's experienced." said Julie Newton. "But she's from the L.A.P.D., and she has no family here. I don't understand why she's wanting to move here. At the least, she'll be bored here. At worst, there's something going on with her that I don't trust."

"You have a point." said Malone. "Okay, Lorena Rose. Speaks Spanish, so she can go undercover in the Hispanic community."

"She's a firecracker." said Tanya Perlman. "She might be good in Vice, but I don't know if she has the disposition for MCD."

"True." said Angela Harlan. "But I think she would be good in Vice, and hiring her would help our minority issues with the U.S.D.O.J."

"Goddamn Federal Government." breathed Chief Harold Malone. "All right, Don Troy."

"I like him." Tanya said enthusiastically. "I think he'd be great in MCD."

"I agree." said Hugh Hewitt. "Cool guy, ex-military, good head on his shoulders. He'd be an asset."

"I don't agree. At all." said Steven Ikea. "He's an ass."

"Takes one to know one." Tanya said. Hugh and Angela laughed. Ikea, Croyle and Malone looked at her darkly.

"He's all wrong. He's not loyal, Chief." said Ikea. "Bringing him in would be a problem. He could become a cancer to us."

"Afraid he'll make you look bad, Ikea?" asked Angela Harlan. Ikea glared at her.

"Cap-tain..." admonished Chief Malone, protecting his 'boy' Ikea. "Okay, Harlan, tell me what you think about Troy."

"He's sharp, good with people." said Angela. "He spotted that autopsy issue right away. I think he'd be great in MCD."

"Newton?" asked Malone, trying to keep his eyes from smoldering as he looked at his mistress, Julie Newton.

"He's starting to have financial and credit issues." said Newton. "I think he's in a position where his loyalties could be tested, and he could be turned away from us. He's a red flag, Chief."

Malone nodded. "Croyle?"

"Sir, my opinion on these four candidates does not matter." said Teresa. "But I don't want to work with Don Troy. Chief, have you forgotten that his nephew drove drunk and killed two of our Officers?"

"He didn't drive drunk." said Angela. "We're proving that now. And Don lost a family member, so this was bad for him, too." Teresa scowled as only she could.

"Other than that family issue," said Tanya, "what did you think of Don as a potential MCD Detective, Teresa?" asked Tanya.

"I don't know. I'm not past that issue." said Teresa. "He might be the best Detective we ever had, but I don't want to have to see his face every day."

"One other thing not in his favor," said Chief Malone, "is that he'll have to go to the Police Academy, while the other three have already gone. Okay, Leonard Sharples..."

"That guy is weird." said Tanya. "Says his nickname is 'Sergeant'. He's been all over the place, but I don't get a sense of competence from him."

"Yeah," said Angela Harlan, "his history is strange. Vice to MCD, or Homicide or equivalent... then to a new Police Force... rinse, repeat. Strange."

"No issues with his past that I could find." said Julie Newton.

"Chief," said Steven Ikea, "I think Sergeant Sharples is what we're looking for. Experienced, has some good busts, but most of all... I think he's going to be loyal. I think he'll be a good member of the Team, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I agree." said the Chief. "Okay, guys, you can go. Captain, stay here." Everyone left.

"Final word from you before I tell you my decision." said Malone.

"Lorena Rose for Vice, Don Troy for MCD." said Angela. "He'll be awesome in there."

"The Vice guys don't like him. At all." said Malone.

"He won't be working in Vice." countered Harlan. "The MCD guys like him, and they're the one's he'll be working with. I like him, too. I think he'll do well.

"Yeah, but there's some baggage." said Malone. "I can overlook all of that, but there's one thing that has swayed me. Loyalty. Steven is right: we can count on Sharples's loyalty. I'm not confident I got that from Troy."

Angela grimaced as Malone pronounced the words: "I'm choosing Leonard Sharples over Don Troy."

Part 9 - Visions

I felt exhausted as I pulled out of the parking lot and onto College Avenue, going east towards University Avenue. I'd checked out of the University Hotel this morning, and I considered checking into a cheap hotel and getting some sleep.

Just then, I noticed a car pulling onto the street a distance in front of me. The car had Federal Government tags, and I realized that the occupants were Special Agents Jack Muscone and Martin Nash.

I half-humorously thought to myself that I could follow them for a while instead of them following me. They turned right (south) on University Avenue, and a moment later, I did also.

I wasn't driving very fast at all, so I figured they'd lose me pretty quickly. But as I got to the outskirts of Town, past Hotel Row and to Junction Station, I could still see them about a hundred yards ahead of me.

I followed them, pretty much at the speed limit, crossing the line into Coltrane County. I wasn't really paying attention to them at all, my mind on other matters... like the rest of my life, such as it was. I felt depressed, weak, tired...

Whoa, what was that!... I thought to myself. I saw the Federal Agents turn onto the road to the 'Vision' Headquarters!

The urge to follow them was irresistible. I remembered what someone had said, and this would be 'proof', such as it was, of the place being a Federal installation!

The gate was open when I got to it, but I did not drive through. I did not see the other car at all. I parked my vehicle in a copse of trees on the outside of the gate, where it couldn't be seen at all from a distance. Putting the keys on the back left tire, I went down the road and through the gate.

Going to the building, I went inside the unlocked front door. The building was empty, totally devoid of life. Panels in the walls were open, revealing hidden rooms, all of them empty. The elevator that in my dream went to Dr. Eckhart's office was open, but there was no electricity to it.

Walking to the left, past the various rooms, I felt like there was something strange... then I realized it... there were no spider webs, no cobwebs, no collections of dust... this place was totally empty, but totally clean!

I went down some stairs to what appeared to be a garage. There was an elevator there, open. To my surprise, this one had electricity. I went in it, and put my hand on the reader. Again, to my shock, it worked! The elevator closed and I felt myself descending.

When it opened, I was in a dimly lit corridor. I had no idea what was ahead, but I knew that a meaningless existence was behind me. I went forward, down the corridor, passing a couple of hallways that went left and right.

I got to a space that widened out, seeing an elevator to my front and stairs to each side. Suddenly, four armed men sprang out of the stairwell! They were heavily armed with M-4s, and were wearing full military combat gear.

"What are you doing here?" snarled one of them.

"I knocked at the front door." I said half jokingly, knowing I was in a world of shit right now. I felt the presence of other soldiers behind me, but tried to remain cool and calm.

*WHAM!*

Stars flashed before my eyes, and as I crumpled to the ground, I realized someone had hit me with the butt of his rifle to the back of my head. Then all went black...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I opened my eyes. I felt weak, very very weak. I felt pain all over my body, and I felt thirsty, desperately thirsty. And cold. So cold.

I tried to look around. I was in a bed, a hospital-like bed. My wrists were handcuffed to each side of the bed. The room was like a hospital room, but painted in that weird green. And I somehow realized where I was.

I'm in The Asylum!

Oh my God, they brought me to The Asylum. And there is no one on the outside who knows where I am. I am fucked.

The party was not stopping, however. A moment later, the door opened, and the psychiatrist turned on the lights, blinding me. She came up to me and I noticed the magnificent legs under the dress, the shapely body, the high heels shaping her ass perfectly, her breasts large and straining against the fabric of the dress.

"Well, I see the patient is awake." she said. I looked up, into the eyes of Dr. Laura Fredricson...

To be continued.