Chapters 50 though 52

Chapter Fifty

Wanda and I took a walk together.  Slow.  Down the street and around the corner from the F.B.I. office.  

Pleasant day.  A little breeze.  Not many cars.  For a change no one was honking their horn.  Unusual.  Just walking.  We had never done anything like that before.  We were quiet.  I once again thought of how comfortable I was in her company.  Nothing was going on between us at the moment. We were just together, trying to get a handle on what we both now knew.

“You know I have enough for a case right now.  Against them all.”

“I don’t know,” she replied.  She paused in our walk for a moment.  She reached over and broke a small twig off the bottom branch of a tree.  She resumed her walk, and she unconsciously broke the twig into ever-smaller sticks as she walked.

“See we don’t know everything.  We are at out limits.  I’m just a cop.  You’re a small-town lawyer.”  I looked up at her.

She smiled.  “No offense.  You’re good. Everybody says so.  You’re smart.  I’ve seen that.  But this is big.  It’s bigger than what we are used to.  We’re not prepared for this.  There is so much here that escapes us.  That we don’t understand.”

“And I doubt we ever will,” I added.

“Precisely.  And this is something that started a long time ago.  Those reports you read.  This started in Germany with experiments on those poor prisoners.  And this Vuitch.  It was her, wasn’t it?  The one at the women’s prison camps?”

I nodded my head.  “It has to be.  She must have been remade too.  Once upon a time. I wonder from who?”  

“So how can we ever hope to resolve anything like this in court?  The justice system isn’t up to this either.  It’s screwed up already.  Can’t even handle the stuff that goes in there now.”

She was articulating what I, comfortably ensconced on a bar stool at one of my many favorite watering holes, had thought about many times,.   

My mind would wander from the game on the T. V. behind the bar to my profession.  I would swirl the ice in my third or fourth drink; a little celebration after winning a trial and getting some small-time crook off or pleading him out and watching him being handcuffed for transportation to a human warehouse for the imperfect among us.  

In those moments I would admit to myself “The Justice System” was not that magical.  And, despite all we had been taught, it was almost never noble.  Hell, it was barely functional.  Rarely was it adequate to its most basic task of governing relationships or their dissolution.

“Well, I guess . . . well, I’ll tell you the conclusion I always come up with” I said, “I’ll share with you Nick Easley’s good citizen’s guide to an easy life in the law.  We are a just a little part of a system.  You do what you can.  Do your little part.  Keep the engine going.  Try not to let it break down in your little corner of the legal universe.  You know, just get through.”

God, I needed a drink.

I wanted to advance the conversation to the point where retiring to the nearest bar might actually be justifiable, so I made a suggestion.

“Let’s just call the Feds in.  Tell them to do whatever they want, do whatever it is they do, and if they need us to handle part of it, so be it, call us, if not, so be it, don’t call us.”

She was shaking her head.  Her big shoulders were tensed up again.

“Nick.  You can’t trust them.  Remember what I said.  I still think they were involved.  

Arnold and some of those others were military.  They had the training, the bearing.  I just know the government is there in the background somewhere. They always are. I mean, what is Vuitch even doing here?  That report said she was going to be hanged.”

“And it also said, she was in touch with the Americans.  And here she is.  What does that tell you?”

“We brought her here.  And they know all about this.  Just another experiment?”

“Well, fuck it then,” I said.  “Let’s just get out of the whole thing.  It’s too big for us. You said it yourself.  So, let’s leave it alone.  Leave it to someone else.”  

The low alcohol content in my blood stream was making me irritable.  

I went on with my rant.  “You go back to solving your lousy Saturday night fights of some drunken husband and wife that turn into murder and I go do some incorporation papers for would be entrepreneurs, write a few wills, create a living trust or two, plead some hapless drunks to DUI, collect my fees, file the bankruptcy papers for the entrepreneur when he goes belly up. Then we meet at Barney’s and have a few cocktails.  Laugh a little.  What’s wrong with that?  Hell, you could tell the police department good riddance and come over and join me. Be my partner. Do civil investigations.  Plenty of slip and fall cases, car wrecks.  Good money in those.  I’d split those fees with you.  Fifty-fifty.  We both could do worse you know.”

She kept walking.  

“Tempting, believe me, I’m so tempted.  But we can’t right now. I’ll tell you one thing’s wrong with that. It’s that big hateful room. It still exists.  Where they had me; where they did that stuff to me; where they made the other Wanda.  And, Nick, where those other people still are.  They can’t get out.  You heard their voices on the screen.  That was bad enough.  But I saw them.  I can’t quit thinking about them.  We need to get them out.  I can’t just walk away.  I just know there are other Arnolds in this.  They need the Arnolds to make this all work.  And I can’t leave those poor people to someone like that; leave them at the mercy of the Arnolds.  Kids Nick. There are children there. I don’t know where it is or how to get there, but I want to find it and get them out.”

“Hey, that’s has to be shut down by now.  They must have shut it down.”

She was shaking her head.   

“You don’t think it’s shut down?  You don’t think it got shut down when we got all these conspirators locked up?”

She reached over with a big arm, wrapped it around my neck and pulled me in close.  My face was inches away from her bosom.  I looked up into her eyes. They were solemn.  I wondered out loud, “Where did the fun go?”

Her glare informed me she wasn’t happy with my untimely wit.

“There’s something else that bothers me.”

“Something else?  More than what we know already?  That’s enough for me.”

“Yeah, Nick.  Have you thought of who else might have got away or been sent out into society?  Just think of it.  We know how successful the members of that one group, her nerds, became.  What if there are others?  Went into the law, the medical profession?  Become leaders in business.  Good Lord, what if they got into politics?  Wouldn’t just be at the town level, either.  They would have the skills to rise to the top. Nationally. Internationally.”

I remembered Old Lady Vuitch’s description about the rise of the leaders of Germany and Russia.  I shook my head.  I felt overloaded and underprepared.    

“Okay,” I said, pushing away from her a little.  “I have an idea.  Let’s get to Big Donnie.  He’s a key and I never liked that asshole anyway.  Can we get to him?  Even though he’s in their custody.  If you can get him, we can make him take us there.  I know what makes him tick.  Well, I think I do.”

“Leave that part to me.  I’ll get him.  You use your persuadable powers to make him take us back there.  To that warehouse.”

“I’ll have you know, ‘Little Girl’, my powers of persuasion are considerable.”

“Who you calling, “Little Girl.”  Here take that.”  And she violently pulled my face into her bosom and cut off my air to teach me another pleasant lesson about being appropriately and timely disciplined.

Chapter Fifty-One

I went back to my office.  Wanda had called Maurice and they had agreed she was to meet him back at the Sheriff’s office and hatch a plan.  I wasn’t exactly sure what, but I was envisioning them forming a plot to abduct Donny from Federal Custody.  Lord knows how they intended to accomplish that little task.  

Before she left though Wanda had given me strict orders to stay sober and sharp a little while longer.  She was getting pushy in that regard.  I would have to take that matter up at some future time.  A bit of dominance I had surprisingly found welcome.  But context was all.  My having a bit of the old Jack was different.  When did one get to be on top as it were?

She said she would call me when they had things set up.  She said I might have to meet with F.B.I. guys.  I figured she was setting up a diversion of some kind.  It was rather rude of her to use her erstwhile lover as bait in her scheme.  Another matter I would be taking up soon with the overly bossy Detective Darling.  

Marta seemed strangely calm as I strode through the entry way into my professional abode.  No expletives were dripping from her mouth generously interspersed with my name as the subject matter.  She even, to my shock, smiled and greeted me with “Good Afternoon, Mr. Easley.”

Now I knew something was up.  It occurred to me I should audit the client trust account to determine if funds had been purloined by my trusted aide, perhaps in revenge for my neglect of my duties, my frequently late payment of her salary, my desultory habits in general or perhaps she had just finally flipped her lid.  Whatever, she was covering up something.

Thinking these ignoble thoughts, I returned the greeting, passed by her into my office, closed the door behind me and took my chair. I looked forlornly at the stack of message slips left by the phone.  I felt it would be more comforting to continue contemplating my suspicions of embezzlement or palace intrigue than deal with the mundane maters the messages represented.  From sad experience I knew if I picked up one message, I would be picking up a problem to solve.  Such is the lawyer’s lot.  I didn’t feel much like being a lawyer.  I felt instead like a little hair of the dog.  And in my lower right drawer, I knew, back behind the last file was a flask of emergency whiskey.  Just one wouldn’t hurt.

Stealthily, I bent to pull the drawer quietly out when Marta came busily swishing through the door.  Miss Good Mood!  Drat!

“Nick, Wanda called and said I should remind you that we all have to be at the top of our game this evening. You should know that I removed your flask from the bottom drawer as well as the rest from your other three other little stashes.”   

This control thing was getting completely out of hand.

I counted in my head.  There was a fourth. But where did I leave that one?  I was tipsy when I hid it.  I would have to think about that a little.

It was time to take charge of my life again.

“Marta, I would remind you that I run this office.  This is my shop.  Wanda has no authority here and it is inappropriate for you to be carrying out her instructions especially as they relate to my private pursuits.   I hope I’ve made myself clear.”

Her smile was indulgent.  She picked up the messages and started relating their contents to me.  I was evidently losing all control over my life.  And I liked my life.  Pretty much anyway.  Who did these women think they were?

As I sulked and half listened to Marta’s summary of the present state of my law practice, I wondered how Wanda and Maurice were doing.  I had no idea what they thought they could do.

The phone in the outer office rang.  Marta reached over on my desk and picked up the receiver, pushed the button for the line on her desk and announced.  “Law Office of Nick Easley, how may I help you?”  

Nicely done I thought.  I guessed that little interaction confirmed that we were still in business.  She continued to smile so I speculated the person on the other end of the line was not a creditor.

She handed the receiver to me.  I put it to my ear.  It was Wanda. Already?

Without anything approaching a preliminary greeting she started in.  

“Call Special Agent Flannigan. Tell him you would like to meet with him.  And tell him you will need to interview Donnie Babcock.  Keep it low key.  Make it seem that you meeting with the agent first is the important part. And that while you are there you need to meet with Donnie.  Tell him I will be there and Maurice as your investigators.  Be super casual about that part, but don’t forget it.  Come up with a reason.”

“Well, that’s easy enough.  I can’t interview a suspect alone. It would be against professional ethics.  As long as he doesn’t volunteer himself for the job.”

I thought a moment and then continued.

“He won’t,” I said. “He’s been careful not to leave his fingerprints on anything so far.”

“When you get it set up, tell Marta where and when.  She knows how to get in touch with me.”

I had evidently lost all control over the operations of my office and the conduct of my loyal employees.  Well, employee.  Well, if not exactly loyal, at least she used to ask me what I wanted done next.

“What is going to happen?”

“We can’t talk about that over the phone.  Just get it done, Nick.”

She hung up.  Bossy Bitch!  I wasn’t going to put up with this much longer.  

“You want me to put in a call to Agent Flannigan?” Marta asked.

Now how the hell did she know that?

Without waiting for an answer, she punched in the numbers and handed the receiver to me.  She stood there listening in to the conversation.  She definitely no longer knew her place. 

Agent Flannigan came on the line.

“What can I do for you Counselor?”

It was time to be a lawyer again.  I needed to throw around some serious legal bullshit.  I was good at that.  And these pretentious women couldn’t do that part.  I felt I was in charge again.  

Well, kind of in charge. 

Well, almost in charge.

Chapter Fifty-Two

I was back in the same conference room where I had first met Agent Flannigan and Special Agent Lee.  They seemed comfortable with the meeting.  

They evidently bought my story about witness corroboration.  

I used the ole’ Corpus Delicti Rule.  It was a simple concept, not really appreciated by non-lawyers.  Nor for that matter lawyers whose practice seldom led them to attend to matters in actual courtrooms.  In these days of plea bargains and mediations that was a percentage south of a majority.  That I preferred trials, felt faintly dirty when I “settled” a case, was another reason why in the legal field I was considered an anachronism. 

The Corpus Delicti rule required some evidence be produced in a trial other than an admission or confession.  Didn’t have to be much.  But enough so I could use the rule to argue I needed more evidence than I had.  With most of my witness’s dead or unavailable I could maintain I needed another witness to get past the rule.  Plus “Corpus Delicti” was an impressive phrase.  Made me appear to be a real lawyerly type.  

I took the chair they offered and sat down.  While the F.B.I. guys listened attentively, I told them I wanted to see about turning one of the others.  That way I wouldn’t have any trouble with the Rule.  And I would have some “corroboration” for the police chief’s testimony.  Another nice trial lawyer word to toss into the mix.  Though I didn’t believe anything of the kind, I told them I felt Donnie Babcock, my old high school buddy, was the most likely to take the deal and turn on the others. 

After I finished, I was somewhat surprised that it seemed more than okay with them.  In fact, they embraced the idea.  Almost like it made them relax a might. From their discussion I picked up the distinct impression it was solving a problem they had.  I perceived it could have something to do with Donny’s political influence.  If he was in the fold, on the side of good and order, then his followers out there who might be contemplating a troublesome call to their congressman would be co-opted.  Maybe, I thought, the calls had already started.  

The F.B.I. was as political an organization as any small-time county sheriff’s office.  They bent with the political winds like all others, it was just the winds had to be more substantial than little old Mrs. Kerns down at the corner grocery calling into the Sheriff’s county dispatch everyday about some vagrant or some wino who slept the night in her doorway.  

But consistent with Wanda’s plan, I needed to have some further discussions.  I needed to talk about something, anything, to make it seem this was there was another purpose to the meeting, other than to get at Big Donny.

“Agent, Flannigan.  When I read the files about Hans and that Ermelinda woman, there were a few details, important details missing.  I would like to clarify a few things if that’s okay.  You know things sometimes get more important the further a case progresses along than at the start.”

He nodded just once.  He tapped the end of his pencil on the table.  There was a slight air of impatience.  Agent Lee remained still, observing as usual. As non-committal and uncommunicative as ever.  They were waiting for me to continue.   I would have to keep talking.  Not a good sign. I needed to get them to respond. In my experience, it was easier to bullshit someone if the other party engaged.  They were more easily fooled too if you could get them listening to their own voice.

“There was nothing in the file about what happened to the experiments, you know the techniques.  Were those ever explored?  I know what the reports said, though I must admit, mostly it was way over my head, but I would imagine a scientist would be able to do something with them.   Replicate them.”

Agent Lee spoke up.  “You have seen some of the results already Mr. Easley, haven’t you?”

“Well, sure.  But I need to know how that got done.  I would be surprised it all came out right the first time.  I mean I wasn’t that good at Chemistry and subjects like that in school, but I remember all the talk about experimentation.  Have to fail a few times before something works, I mean testing the hypotheticals and all.”

“And what exactly are you looking for?”  It was Agent Flannigan

“Oh, documents.  Test papers.  That sort of thing.  I would like to study them in a little more depth.  And I would like to take a couple of the files with me.  It would make my case prep so much easier, you know, if I had the files.”  

I knew what the answer would be.  But I needed them to focus on the meeting we were in as more important than my next move or Wanda’s next move after the meeting was over.

“Well, as we said before, the files can’t leave the premises.  There are some major security concerns in doing so.  We will make an office available for you here to review.  Like the last time.  But nothing can be taken off site.”

“Fair enough.  Can we do that now?  And I would like to have the files with me when I talk to Donnie Babcock.  And my investigators.  With my investigators.  I think that would be critical to getting him to cross over to our side.”

There was silence while my request was considered.  I knew whoever spoke next was the one really in charge.  It was Agent Lee.

“We can do that.  It will take a little while to set up.  Meanwhile we could have a bite of lunch.”

“Sandwiches again?”  I thought my reply was saucy.  I remembered Agent Lee’s distaste for the “take out/bring in” sandwich makings at our last meeting. 

“No.  Let’s go next door.  Nice little Mexican place.  Excellent Red Pepper Rellenos.”  He rose as I did.  Agent Flannigan remained seated.

I turned to him.  “You’re not joining us?”

“No, not yet, you two go ahead. I’m going to make some arrangements for your two investigators.  They are downstairs, I was just told.  I’d like to say hi to that Detective Darling.  Got to know her a little after the rescue.  Pretty impressive.  Tough and smart.  I will be right over after I make them comfortable.”

Agent Lee and I left.  We evidently were going to take an exit out the other side of the building away from where I figured Wanda and Maurice were waiting for Agent Flannigan.

At the end of the hall Agent Lee went ahead of me. He opened the door, stood to one side, and held the door open for me to walk through.  I did.  He followed.  We had not ended up outside but rather in a room completely bare but for a desk and chair angled in one corner facing the middle of the room.  Behind the desk seated in the chair was Mrs. Vuitch. 

She smiled at me.  “Hello Nick.  I’ve been waiting for you.”  

I turned around to find Agent Lee holding a taser.  He jammed into my chest.  My heart seemed to explode. Then my brain.  The next thing I knew I was writhing in pain on the floor.  The door opened and two big guys came in and waited for me to quit twitching and convulsing.  Just as I felt control of my limbs returning, they bent down beside me and held my arms and legs still.  I lifted my eyes to see Mrs. Vuitch approach me with a hypodermic needle. It was a large one.  The last thing I remember thinking before she plunged it into the side of my neck was that Wanda had been right all along. 

The government.  

Of course.

For earlier chapters of The Alumnus and other writings by Phil Cline visit philcline.com