by Estes, Danny
As for anything else possible, it would have to await another time, for when he glanced up at Jill, he saw her glaring at him to move it, or she was going to beat the shit out of him.
Acknowledging her need to leave, Randolph eliminated any foot prints of his own work and with Jill’s help, rearranged the room to appear as if Mr. Hilden had an argument with his staff.
The ruse, of course, would fool no one, but as the over taxed courts liked things simple, he would aid them to follow the simple assumption.
Randolph then gathered up all chips and disks, dumped all in his bag, and pulled out his homemade DNA scrambler. Activating the timer while Jill reinserted herself back into her restricting clothing by force of will, he drew up his own remaining clothing and steered Jill to the security room. After disabling all active measures and eliminating all video feeds and sound files of their night’s work, he made certain no one was about watching the place at five in the morning. Gaining the front porch, and gathering up Jill’s little deterrents, they both heard Randolph’s little toys go off throughout the home. Only then did the couple walk out the front gate, arm in arm, across the street and right on through the park, looking very much like any other loving couple out for an early morning stroll.
Upon clearing the city limits two hours later, driving a brand-new Arjentay air-car, the latest model with all luxuries included, Randolph had to smile, picturing Mr. Hilden’s face when told by the hospital he held no insurance to cover the cost of reattaching his arms.
Still smiling with the knowledge he now held all the names of the people who screwed him and his brother, he remove his eyes from the road momentarily to admire how lovely Jill looked in the brand new dress she’d purchased while he paid for the car.
Jill saw him looking and smiled as well, but shortly became serious. “So how do we rescind the orders to have us killed?”
“That’ll be handled on its own when the stock market opens in a few minutes.” When Jill’s face bore puzzlement, which was only natural for one uninformed with the financial world, Randolph went on to explain, “All the dealing I preformed a few hours ago will be tallied up in the accounting firms precisely at 8:00 a.m. when the markets open. You see, although all corporations work 24 hours a day, there’s a down time between 3:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m. every morning so all financial programs can tally up the day’s activities for tax purposes. It was during this window of opportunity I sold off and hocked everything Mr. Hilden owns. Thus the programming will automatically tally all the activity to post on yesterday’s board, this morning at 8:00 a.m.”
“So how does that stop an assassin if he’s already taken the job?”
A rather pertinent question unless you have knowledge of the beast, Randolph reminded himself before answering her. “If the man’s a pro, he’ll check the stock market at eight to make certain Mr. Hilden can pay the fee. If he’s not, there’s nothing I can do about it, save to say I tried.” As Jill mulled this news over, Randolph decided it was time she remedied his concern of her antics back in Mr. Hilden’s home. But being tactful, he asked her in a mild but curious tone, “Jill, I’m still puzzled over what happened to you in Mr. Hilden’s home and why you let your other self out at such a time?”
Jill looked sideways at him as if debating whether to tell him or not, but after only a moment of silence, she said, “That jerk was right about those pheromones he used, and it hitting the black market.” She bit her lip, as though remembering something awful. But then she took a deep breath and confided in him. “I was a sophomore in school when some rich joker put several bottles of that concoction in the air circulation unit one hot and rainy day. It wasn’t till the trial I learned he was horny as hell for his history teacher and hoped it would make her horny enough to screw him. It also came out that he hadn’t been given instructions on how much to use and had done no research into whether the unit moved air throughout the school.”
“You don’t mean?” Randolph asked in shock.
“Yep. Within a half hour, three thousand girls along with one hundred and sixty-two women teachers and supporting members were affected. And the closer they were to the originating source, the worse it was for both sexes.”
“I take it you were in school that day?”
“I was in the same damn room as the teacher he wanted to screw,” Jill admitted with remembered feelings, turning her head away, too embarrass to face Randolph while she bitterly recalled the event. “At that time, me and my other self were still working out our personalities, and as there was two of us within one skull feeling the effects, it took twice as much sex to alleviate the fire.”
Jill sat awhile without talking, her shoulders shaking as if she were silently crying.
Believing it might help her to heal, Randolph prompted her gently, “And this happened all over the school?”
Jill glanced his way after wiping her eyes then busied her hands by brushing out her dress. “In verifying degrees, of course; there was hardly a boy or girl not affected in some way.” Jill paused yet again and seemed to debate on continuing her tale that would reopen the old wound further, but then confessed, “Randolph, when you guessed I’d gone to see my family, I really went to see my daughter.”
Randolph turned to look at her with an Oh? He wished he could have gathered her into his arms, but his mind and hands were needed to guide their air-car through the highway of daily commuters. Still, Randolph wanted to show her some support by words if nothing else, but before he could, Jill went on.
“It was for my daughter that I joined the corps. You see, Mother and I were on the poor side after Daddy ran off with his busty secretary. And not having the credits for an abortion, it was the only thing I could do to lower my mother’s financial burdens for any hospital bills accrued in my birthing her.”
“But, but surely the courts made the prankster’s parents pay for all medical bills? After all, you did say he was rich.”
“No, I said his parents were rich. Once the lawsuits started piling up in the courts, his parents disowned him, only spending enough credits on a high class lawyer to get him out of serving time, which the slick-talking bastard did,” Jill said hotly.
Randolph heard the words law suits with a capital S. Sensing where this was going, he still asked the obvious. “You weren’t the only one hurt…”
“Seventeen girls, one teacher and two boys committed suicide,” Jill began, reciting the numbers as if it happened yesterday. “Two hundred and sixty-three girls, twenty-five teachers, six supporting faculty members and twenty-two boys were institutionalized, of which seventeen will never leave. Two hundred and five girls, twelve teachers and supporting members tested pregnant, along with a thousand or so miscellaneous medical bills for injuries and psychiatric treatments.”
As the traffic thinned enough for Randolph to pull over, he pulled to the side and gathered Jill into his arms while her tears ran unashamed down her cheeks. After some minutes of her body heaving with pent-up emotions, Jill regained some control and pushed from Randolph’s comforting embrace.
“My mother and daughter think I’m dead.” Jill sniffed, with eyes downcast. “And as much as I want to hold Miranda in my arms, and ask for my mother’s forgiveness, I know I could never do so without causing them both any more pain.”
“Well, once I sort out some of these chips and disks, I’m sure we’ll have enough for Senator Sterling to proceed on his promise of clearing your name.”
Jill allowed a small smile to touch her lips, which seemed to slow her tears.
When it appeared she was in better control of herself, Randolph gave her a hug before shifting to get them back into the flow of traffic, and on their way.
“Randolph, as this unemployed prankster pays no money to anyone as the courts directed, and his parents pick up all his bills, keeping him in the luxury he was born into, do you think you could persuade them into making some amends for his deed?”
Randolph smiled, then chuckled, and gave her one more reassuring
hug before moving out onto the road, promising, “My love, it would give me the greatest of pleasures to redirect all his parents’ holding and liquid revenue into his name, so the court’s can seize and disperse all credits obtained to all victims named in this deviants sexual adventures.”
Upon hearing her lover’s commitment to force this well-to-do family into making restitution to those whose lives had been forever changed by their pampered son, Jill leaned in and kissed Randolph’s cheek before she snuggled up as close as the vehicle would allow. But before she allowed exhaustion to carry her away into the land of dreams, she curled her lips into a content smile, knowing full well her lovely paranoid thief was even now involved in running down the list of normal items they would both need for this new collaboration.
END
About the Author
Born in Tennessee and raised in California, Danny Estes graduated high school in 1977 and entered the working field with rudimentary skills in reading and writing. In 1978, Danny was introduced to fantasy role gaming, and enjoyed hours socializing with people whose imaginations needed more than the norm. These gamers acquainted Danny with his imaginative days of old. With their inspiration, he began reading fantasy novels, and although his communication skills were barely adequate, he began writing fantasy stories. Then Word came to computers, and with this tool, Danny reinvented himself in writings.
Enjoying years of gaming and allowing his mind to run free, he met Patricia, a crafter of many arts with a passion to create. With her diligence in craftsmanship and urgings, Danny took the plunge and created full-fledged novels, developing stories to entertain in the science fiction and fantasy realms.
Between these stories, Danny has a normal domestic life and a regular mundane job in North Carolina. However, during off hours, Danny rubs his hands together, smiles maliciously, and settles before his computer to ventures forth into his mind and create fun and exciting adventures which he hopes will reacquaint you, the reader, with your own imagination.
You can email Danny with your questions and comments at [email protected].
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The Paranoid Thief is published by Word Branch Publishing, an independent publisher located in Marble, North Carolina. If you have a finished, or near-finished, book, we would like to hear about it. Word Branch Publishing believes that everyone has something important to say. http://wordbranch.com
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Copyright © 2014 Word Branch Publishing
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
First Edition 2014
Printed in Charleston, SC USA
Cover illustration © 2014 Julian Norwood
Permission can be obtained for re-use of portions of material by writing to the address below. Some permission requests can be granted free of charge, others carry a fee.
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Marble, NC 28905
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Library of Congress Control Number: On file
ISBN-13: 978-0615936949 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0615936946