Justice Ch. 05: And Justice For All

"Reckon so," Eli said. "You have a question for me. Ask it."

"Alright, Mr. Jones," John said. "What is your interest with Acme UK?"

"Justice," Eli said.

"I... don't understand," John said after a few moments. "For what?"

"For taking something that didn't belong to them. For tearing apart something God himself put together," Eli said.

"What authority are you operating under?" Roisin asked. Eli looked at her and his eyes flashed briefly.

"The highest authority, ma'am," he said. "The same one that spoke light into existence. The same one that saw your father's sperm fertilize your mother's egg. The same one that knew you even before you were formed in your mother's womb."

"Are you some kind of an angel?" Mike asked.

"No," Eli said.

"A ghost, maybe?" Roisin asked.

"Hardly," Eli said.

"So, why are you concerned about Derek Smith?" Mike asked.

"Because I asked him to," another voice said. They looked and saw the form of another man appear next to Eli. This man was a bit shorter, stocky, black, with gray hair and a gray goatee, wearing a suit that dated to the early 20th century.

"And who are you?" John asked.

"William Carney of Massachusetts, at your service, sir," the man said with a slight smile. "Formerly Sgt. William Carney of the 54th Massachusetts Colored Infantry Regiment," he added. As they looked, the man changed in front of their eyes. He was now much younger, much thinner, his hair a jet black. He wore the distinctive dark blue uniform of a Union soldier, his broad chevrons prominently displayed on his sleeves. A medal adorned his chest.

"Sgt. Carney was the first of his kind to receive the Medal of Honor," Eli said. "He nearly died during his unit's charge against Fort Wagner in 1863, but he held the colors up and they never touched the ground, despite his wounds."

"His kind? What do you mean?" John asked.

"What you call African-Americans," Eli said. "You know, only 88 African-Americans have ever received that medal out of the nearly 3,500 awarded. Hardly fair, given what they've contributed, the blood they've shed for this country. Don't you agree?"

"What is Derek Smith to you?" Mike asked. The black man appeared as he did before, the young soldier gone.

"Derek's ancestors and mine were related," he said. "They were split up in the early 1800s, before your country abolished slavery in 1833. That happened a lot in those days. My ancestors were taken to Virginia, where I was born in 1840 -- as a slave. Derek's remained in the Caribbean until the 1950s. My family was eventually granted freedom and moved to Massachusetts."

"Does Derek know any of this?" Mike asked. William shook his head.

"Not to my knowledge," he said.

"So you see, I very well couldn't refuse a request of a Medal of Honor recipient," Eli said. "The problem now is that Derek's life is in danger. You see, Acme hasn't learned a thing. They expect him to be a willing cuckold while they use his wife as a whore for their executives. He refuses to submit. And unless something is done, he could end up dead."

"So, now that you know, what are you going to do?" William asked.

"It's not that easy, I'm afraid," Roisin said. "There's procedures to be followed. The right authorities need to be called. We can't just go in with guns blazing."

"In other words, nothing," William said. "Seems nothing ever really changes, does it?" Eli's face changed, and he briefly looked up to the ceiling. He glanced down at William before speaking.

"We've got to go, now," he said. The two of them vanished from the room, leaving the four visitors stunned. Amos and Danni didn't seem to be too surprised by anything that had happened.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" Roisin asked. Amos laughed.

"Welcome to my world," he said. John, Houston, Mike and Roisin slowly sat down, their minds slowly absorbing the events of the last few minutes. How in the hell am I going to report this, John asked himself. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Roisin's mobile buzzed.

"Callahan," she said when she answered the call. "What? When? Are you sure about that? Alright, we're just finishing up here in Texas. We'll be on the first flight back." She ended the call and looked at the others.

"That was Ross," she said. "There's just been a major accident on the M1, south of Sheffield. A lorry seems to have lost control and went down an embankment. An Acme lorry."

"Who was the driver?" Mike asked.

"Derek Smith was the one who signed it out, but..."

"But what?" John asked.

"There was no one in it," she said.

...

Derek opened his eyes and looked around the room, trying to figure out where he was. The last thing he remembered was trying to keep his lorry on the road, but nothing he did seemed to help. Before the vehicle went over the embankment, though, something grabbed him and he became unconscious.

He tried to make out his surroundings, but nothing made any sense to him. Was this some kind of hospital? If it was, it certainly looked as if it was designed with a retro decor. The bed he was in was comfortable enough, but the walls had some kind of old wallpaper design he had never seen before.

The room almost looked like something he might see in an old movie. There was a kerosene lantern on the table next to him and he saw nothing electronic in the room whatsoever -- no television, radio, nothing. Not even a light switch on the wall. Then it hit him.

"I'm dead," he said to no one in particular. "Maybe this is heaven." The door opened and he saw the strange cowboy poke his head into the room. He walked in when he saw Derek was awake, and there was another man with him -- a black man with gray hair and old-style clothing.

"Well, ah see yer finally awake," Eli said.

"Where am I?" Derek asked.

"Hard Rock, Texas, circa 1855," Eli said.

"1855?" Derek asked, shocked. "How did I get here?"

"We brought ya," Eli said. "Don't worry, no one will find ya here. Yer safe as a bug in a rug here. By the way, this here's a friend of mine. The one ah tol' ya about. Name's William Carney. William, this is Derek." William extended a hand and Derek shook it as he looked in the older man's face, somewhat perplexed. Something about him seemed familiar, but he couldn't place it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, William," Derek said. "You look... familiar to me for some reason."

"Ah see you've noticed the family resemblance," Eli said. "William here is what you might call a long-lost cousin. William, would you mind too much looking after Derek here while I go back and tidy things up?"

"Not at all, Eli," William said. "And... thank you, my friend." Eli smiled as he shook William's hand.

"It's my pleasure. And thank YOU," Eli said.

"Uh, excuse me, but is there a loo around here somewhere?" Derek asked.

"A what?" William asked.

"A loo. I really need to take a piss. Bad," Derek said. Eli and William looked at each other and smiled. "What's so funny?" Derek asked.

"I'll let William explain it to ya," Eli said. "See ya around, pardner."

...

The day after the accident, Graeme Barton watched the news and smiled. His boys had come through just as he asked them to. The lorry had exploded in flames after the driver lost control and burned so bad that no remains could be identified. And now, the troublesome lorry driver wouldn't bother them anymore.

His widow would collect Derek's insurance, but due to her... issues... wouldn't be able to put any of the money to use. Which was why he had her sign a document giving him control of her assets. Of course, she signed it after he had already given her the drug, but that was immaterial to him.

He laughed as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. His celebration didn't last very long, however. When he turned back to his desk, he found himself facing a tall, lanky man dressed like a cowboy out of an old American western.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" he demanded. Remembering the old Webley Mk VI revolver in his desk drawer, he slowly opened the drawer and pulled it out. The cowboy smiled as he held the pistol up.

"Justice," the cowboy said.

"What?" Graeme asked.

"Justice. That's who ah am. Justice O. Peace. And ah'm here ta take you in," the cowboy said.

"Stop right there or I'll shoot," Graeme said. The cowboy laughed.

"Go ahead. Ah'm already dead. Besides, haven't you heard? Ain't no man in the wrong can stand up to a feller in the right that keeps on a-comin'."

"What?" Graeme asked.

"Go ahead. Shoot." Eli took a step toward him and he pulled the trigger. He saw the bullet tear through the man's shirt and strike the opposite wall, but the cowboy still stood there with a grim smile on his face. His eyes wide with fear, he pulled the trigger two more times with the same result.

"Reckon ah'm gonna have ta get me a new shirt now," Eli said as he came closer to Graeme. By now, Graeme's hand was shaking and he couldn't keep the pistol trained on Eli. Eli grabbed his hand and looked down to see that Graeme had pissed his pants.

"Drop it," Eli heard from behind him. He glanced back and saw Roisin and Mike come through the door, their weapons drawn. When they saw Eli, they lowered their pistols and came forward. Mike pulled out a set of handcuffs and slapped them on Graeme.

"How did you get here?" Roisin asked. Eli smiled.

"Trade secret," he said. They saw the bullet holes in the back of his shirt and looked at him, confused.

"Are you okay?" Mike asked.

"Reckon ah am. But ah'm gonna have ta get me a new shirt," Eli said. "Lizzy's gonna be pretty upset. This was her favorite."

"Lizzy?" Roisin asked.

"Mah wife," Eli said. "She stitched this shirt up for me herself years ago."

"Ah," Roisin said. Just then, Houston ran into the room.

"I think we found Cynthia Smith," she said.

"Is she okay?" Roisin asked. Houston shook her head.

"She looks like they used the same stuff on her they used against John," Houston said. Roisin turned back to Graeme.

"Where's the antidote?" she asked. He said nothing, so she shook him and put her face close to his. "Where's the feckin' antidote?" she screamed. He glanced at his desk and she went to it, opening the drawers until she found a syringe with something in it.

"Is this the antidote?" she asked, holding up the syringe. He nodded his head. "It better be, or I'm going to let this Yank feed you to the dogs. Literally. Understand me?" He nodded his head and Roisin took off with Houston close by. Eli held Graeme by the collar and looked him in the eye.

"You'd better hope that woman lives," he said. He glanced at Mike.

"Don't worry. We got him," he said. "He's not going anywhere." Eli nodded his head, then turned to find Roisin and Houston. He found them in another room of the mansion, standing next to a bed. On the bed was a young, white, red-haired woman. She was naked and strapped to the bedposts. Her eyes were wide and she was moaning something he couldn't understand.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked.

"She's been given a very potent psychotropic compound," Roisin said.

"What's that?" Eli asked.

"It's a drug that attacks the nervous system," she said. "If she's on it for any length of time, she could have permanent brain damage. We've been working on a counteragent for this ever since we first saw it last year." As they watched for any reaction to what Graeme said was the antidote, John came into the room with a uniformed police officer and two medics.

Roisin explained what Cynthia had been hit with, and gave them the syringe with the antidote. The medics checked her vitals and loaded her on a gurney for transport to the hospital. Two more uniformed police officers took Graeme away.

"You got here pretty quick," John said. "Where's Derek?"

"He's somewhere safe," Eli said as Roisin and Mike came into the room. "We got him out before the lorry crashed and exploded. I'll go ahead and bring him back if you say there's no more danger."

"I'd give it another day or two, just so we can make sure," Roisin said. "Graeme had help sabotaging that lorry and I wouldn't be surprised if Cynthia had a hand in it as well. Call it a gut feeling."

"Alright. What about Graeme? What happens to him now?" Eli asked.

"He'll be tried for his crimes, and if he's found guilty, will be sent to prison for a very, very long time," Roisin said. Eli nodded his head.

"Ah hope so," he said.

"As for you," Roisin added, "I think we may have been a bit... premature... in our initial assessment, despite the very uncanny resemblance to a couple of old photographs. Of course, there's no way a U.S. Civil War veteran could possibly be alive and walking around these days, let alone drinking a beer in Sheffield. Right?"

"Well, that makes sense to me," Eli said.

"I'm sure both our superiors will be relieved to hear that," she said. "Don't you agree, John?"

"Yeah, I agree. We have enough to deal with as it is," he said.

"And I'm glad to hear that," Eli said, his accent dropping for a moment.

"So, are we friends now?" Roisin asked.

"Ah reckon so," Eli said, holding out his hand. Roisin accepted it as did John.

"Do you think you'd be available to maybe help us out from time to time?" she asked.

"Of course," Eli told her. "Jes' ask fer Justice. I'll be there."

"Thank you," she said. Eli tipped his hat, then turned and walked away. A few moments later, they heard a faint, "Heyah!" followed by the sound of hoof-beats.

...

Epilogue:

Eli walked into the saloon to see Derek and William at a table, playing checkers. Each of them had a mug of beer next to them on the table. They looked like they were having a good time.

"Well, ah see you two are getting' along jes' fine," Eli said.

"Hey, Eli," Derek said. "William here is kicking my arse, but yeah, we're having a great time."

"Glad to hear that," Eli said. "Are you ready to git home yet?"

"I suppose so," Derek said. "After two days, I could use a shower and I'd love to be able to use a proper toilet for a change." William laughed as he nodded his head.

"I need to get back as well, Eli," he said.

"Yes, you do," Eli said.

"Listen, Derek, remember, you got a whole bunch of us looking out for you. Don't ever forget that," William said.

"I won't, William. And thank you," Derek said as the two men shook hands. "It was a real honor meeting you."

"And you as well... cousin. Don't worry. I have a feeling we'll be meeting again," William said with a smile. With that, William got up and left the saloon.

"You ready?" Eli asked.

"Yeah," Derek said, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"So, what did the two of you talk about for two days?" Eli asked.

"William told me his life's story," Derek said. "What it was like back then. His time in the Army, fighting at Fort Wagner. He went through Hell, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did," Eli said.

"We've come a long ways, haven't we, Eli?"

"Reckon so," Eli said. "Seems to me we have a ways yet to go, though. But we're getting' there."

"Makes ya think about things, you know?" Derek asked.

"What are you thinking?" Eli asked.

"My mum was the first in our family to go to university. She always wanted me to have it better than she did. But here I am, just a lorry driver," he said. "I did some thinking. I ran the numbers, and I think if I'm careful, maybe get a student loan, I just might make it through university myself."

"What do you want to do?" Eli asked.

"I'd like something that would make my mum proud," Derek said. "Maybe law. Or medicine."

"Ah think yer momma would be proud no matter what you choose, Derek. That's jes' the way they are," he added with a smile and a wink.

"What's the word on Cynthia?" Derek asked.

"Well, she's come out of whatever it was Barton gave her," Eli said. "No permanent damage from what the sawbones said. At least not yet. That could change, though."

"Huh? Sawbones?"

"Sorry, doctor," Eli said. "Anyway, the police have been interviewing her and Barton extensively since she came to. It doesn't look good."

"What do you mean?"

"Seems they were in cahoots. Wanted you out of the way. Permanently. Came up with the idea of having someone sabotage your truck -- sorry, lorry -- so you'd end up in a fatal accident. A couple of Barton's boys at your yard messed with the front end or whatever they call it so you'd lose control and get into an accident.

"Then Barton decided to incapacitate yer wife. Reckon he was afraid she might get cold feet and testify against him. And he wanted control of whatever she might get from your death. So he used some drug on her that causes brain damage. They're both being charged with attempted murder and conspiracy. Ah suppose it was just a miracle that you got out of that wreck when you did," Eli said with a wry smile. "What are yer plans regarding yer wife?"

"Oh, I'm divorcing the bitch," Derek said. Eli nodded his head and pulled a card out of his pocket.

"Here's the name of a good solicitor," he said. "I'm told he's one of the best."

"Thank you," Derek said. "Did you really live here once upon a time?"

"Yep. Actually, about seven miles out that way," Eli said, pointing away from the town. "Place is a historic landmark now. You ever get there, go check it out."

"I just might do that," Derek said.

"Jes' mind yer Ps and Qs if you do. Ah hear the sheriff there is a real hardass," Eli said with a smile.

"I'll keep that in mind," Derek said. "What do you say we go grab a beer? My treat."

"Yer on, pardner," Eli said with a smile.

...

Amos answered the door when he heard the knock. Opening it, he found Eli standing there with a small pack of four beer bottles, a brand he had never seen before.

"Ah heard a rumor they make pretty good beer in that Sheffield place," Eli said. "Reckon we could see if there's any truth to that rumor."

"Of course," Amos said. "Come on in."

"Thought if you don't mind I might put mah feet up here tonight and take the kids out fishing tomorrow," Eli said as he came in.

"The kids would love that, Grandpa," Amos said, taking the beer. He was surprised that it was already nice and cold, so he handed one to Eli, grabbed one for himself and put the rest in the refrigerator. "Let's head out back," he said, grabbing the cigarettes off the mantel. They settled in their chairs and lit up, enjoying the beer and the cigarettes. As they relaxed, they caught up on recent events.

"That actually tastes pretty good, Grandpa," Amos said after taking a swallow of the beer.

"Yes, it does," Eli said. By then, Danni joined them on the deck.

"So, tell me, Grandpa, why'd you let the Brits keep Barton and Cynthia?" Amos asked. "That's not like you."

"Well, it's like this, son," Eli said. "I have it on pretty good authority that Barton's ticker ain't doing too well. Ah reckon he'll last maybe another couple years, but that's it. Then he'll answer to a much higher judge."

"And the woman?" Amos asked.

"Well, that psycho drug Barton gave her is gonna give her a lot of trouble later on. They jes' don't know it yet. She'll spend some time behind bars, but the rest of her life is gonna be miserable."

"What about Acme?" Danni asked.

"They're gonna be up to their armpits in alligators fer a long time. I doubt they'll survive. The bottom line is that justice won. It always does in the long run."

...

The trial went fairly fast. Working with Roisin's team, the local police did a good job of putting the evidence against Barton and Cynthia together and the Crown Prosecutor presented an airtight case. Derek stood tall and proud in the witness box as he testified, looking the attorneys straight in the eye as he answered, even when the defense tried to belittle or goad him.

Cynthia claimed she didn't know Barton and his goons were out to kill Derek, but the prosecutor quickly and effortlessly tore that argument to shreds. Even if she didn't know the murderous intent of her lover as she claimed, the prosecutor said, she knew they sought to do great bodily harm and still refused to inform anyone, making her an accomplice.