by Ryan Garner
“I don't know his name.” she said then adding. “He's never told me.”
“Did you report this to anyone?” Samantha gave John an exasperated look before laughing sarcastically.
“And who am I gonna tell? If I turned in one of my clients I would have my ass beat by my procurer.” Samantha used a less obvious term then pimp to try to minimize the emotional impact on herself.
John felt the anger within him growing. He knew Samantha was right, at least partially. While the police would not arrest her for prostitution upon seeing the beating she had received from her client (it would be a victim's rights advocate PR nightmare for the city if they were to do this), but they certainly would not be able to constantly protect her from her pimp. If Samantha was unable to be taken in by one of the various woman’s shelters scattered about the city due to overcrowding or if she were to flat out refuse to go then the police were helpless. John found this to be an extremely disturbing situation and he experienced what he could only describe as helpless rage come over him. Whereas just a few days ago he could have acted as a police officer and sought out the person who had hurt Samantha, now he was powerless to do anything about it. John tightened his grip around the steering wheel and heard the slip and stick sound of the leather as his skin pulled against it.
There was no worse feeling to him than that of helplessness. One of the key reasons why he had gone into law enforcement was to defend those that could not protect themselves and to never again have to experience the sense of being completely powerless to stop evil. And yet here he was reliving the exact same eviscerating feeling again.
The cab of the pickup truck was eerily quiet as John's anger continued to grow. It only added fuel to his fire to realize that with the recent outbreak of riots even calling the police to have them investigate an assault would be virtually useless. Given Samantha's profession, unless her client decided to walk right up to the police station and give a full confession and ask to be arrested it would be months before the case was even investigated. This would give Samantha's aggressive client more than enough time to disappear, especially since she did not even know his name.
Grasping at straws John finally asked, “Where does he stay at?” Samantha gave him a confused look.
“The man that did this to you, where does he stay at...or where do you meet him?” Samantha hesitated, unsure if she should even say anything. What would John do if she told him? At an impasse Samantha decided to take a chance.
“At the Days Inn, just up the road.” She said quietly and then immediately regretted her decision realizing that John was already headed in that direction.
….
Chris sat quietly in the squad room located inside the District 2 station house waiting for Sergeant Gelman to arrive and give their pre-shift briefing. Even though it was almost noon he and the rest of the officers that were seated around him were obviously tired. After getting off of their regularly scheduled night shift they had only been allowed to sleep a few hours before Chris and half of his squad had been called back to duty to the outbreak of riots.
While the state's national guard had already been on standby thanks to the massive civil disturbances in Raleigh, the state’s capital and Charlotte, the state's largest city it would still take hours before they were fully mobilized and ready to deploy in Wilmington. Until then even with the assistance of the New Hanover County Sheriff's Office and limited backup from the North Carolina Highway Patrol the Wilmington Police Department was outnumbered and virtually for all intents and purposes on their own. There were some rumors that the National Governing Police might also offer some assistance, but that had yet to be confirmed or denied. Chris believed it was doubtful that the NGP would offer much assistance beyond minor support roles. It made sense to him that they would concentrate their efforts on bigger and more “important” problems and locations.
Further complicating the emotional complexity of the situation was Chris's new found knowledge that the NGP had conducted a raid last night on a dispatcher's apartment...Karina Cherry's residence to be precise. While he had never met the woman, he knew that she and John were very close. John's sudden termination due to Jennifer's apparent meddling and then the sudden assault on John’s best friend's residence where her roommate had been killed seemed a bit too related to be mere coincidence. In a bizarre way it appeared as if there was a much larger pattern of events unfolding around Jennifer, John, and Karina, he just couldn’t figure out what it was. Chris also could not shake the feeling that his relationship with Jennifer had somehow contributed to the downturn in the situation.
Looking back he found it odd that Jennifer seemed so interested in the relationship between John and Karina. He had not picked up on it at the time, but now he found Jennifer's higher than average curiosity in the pair unusual. His suspicions were further raised because Jennifer had virtually dropped off the face of the earth since their night together. He knew during their rendezvous that it was probably just a fling, but the timing along with everything else now had him wondering if Jennifer had merely been using him to obtain the information she needed. He suspected the answer to that question might be yes.
As strange and suspicious events continued to unfold around him, Chris sensed that pieces of a much grander scheme were falling into place. Unfortunately he did not even know what the final picture of this particular puzzle would be, but he suspected that things would get much worse before they even had any hope of getting better. He glanced over at the empty chair where John usually sat during the squad meetings and a morose feeling consumed him.
….
John walked quickly down the open air breezeway on the second floor of the Days Inn. It was almost noon and the air around him was already hot and humid. Casually dressed, he wore khaki shorts and a t-shirt, certainly not as intimidating as a uniform, though he did have his Glock 22 concealed under his shirt. However, now that he was no longer an officer and with all level III and concealed carry permits being revoked this was illegal. Then again, not being an officer afforded him more latitude in his decision making process, especially since he would not be going through anymore Truth Verification Tests, or at least not anytime soon.
John wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do, he just knew he was tired of being a bystander to the horrible events that were going on around him. After he had managed to convince Samantha to give him her assailant's room number he had left her in his vehicle without giving much thought as to what he would actually do when he confronted the man. He assumed Samantha must have been more terrified of her client then she had originally let on, otherwise she never would have surrendered his location. John firmly believed that calling the police was no longer an option for either one of them; not because he was concerned that they might arrest Samantha for prostitution, but given all the events that were unfolding around Wilmington the police probably would not have the time or man power to do anything at all. At the very least it would certainly take a beat officer hours to respond to the call; that was if an officer was even sent.
As the city wide riots continued to grow worse an assault on an unknown prostitute would rank relatively low on the dispatch log. So instead, John had decided to take matters into his own hands. At the very least confronting the male and letting him know that someone outside of Samantha and her pimp knew what he had done and how to get to him might at least make him think twice before assaulting another woman. It might even scare him into leaving the city. Not the most optimal of outcomes, but a better one then having the brute continue to pummel Samantha while John sat idly by doing nothing. He could already hear the “voices” of what his superior officers would have said to him if he still belonged to the police department, “This is completely unprofessional, dangerous, and unethical...We might have a lawsuit on our hands if you confront a suspect like that...You should have called an on duty officer to handle this...What were you doing speaking with an underage prostitute while not on duty?...This all might result in crimin
al charges against you!...Internal Affairs will be speaking with you about this!...”
The list of responses went on and on and John could not help, but smirk at the thought that he would not have to listen to any of those absurd statements again. It also gave him an odd sense of relief to realize he no longer had to worry about answering to those arrogant jackasses. He chuckled slightly under his breath at that last thought.
Suddenly, John saw something that shocked him and he immediately ducked into a side hallway as quickly as he could. Emerging from the stairwell on the opposite side of the building and walking down the breezeway was Darren Siegal, Karina's boyfriend. He knew Darren would love to catch him here since he would have no readily identifiable reason for being present at this location. Plus, this particular hotel was known for its unsavory atmosphere and clientele.
What's he doing here? John thought to himself as he peeked around the corner watching Darren walk closer towards him. Dressed in stylish slacks and a polo shirt over his muscular upper body, Darren exhibited his usual arrogant persona with each step he took. John was becoming concerned that he might be discovered until he saw Darren stop at one of the hotel room doors. He reached out and knocked on the door and was eventually allowed entry.
John remained hidden for a few seconds before emerging from the hallway. He slowly made his way over to the door where Darren had disappeared and immediately discovered something very strange. It was the exact same room that Samantha had told him her assailant occupied.
Could it be possible that Darren was running some sort of prostitution ring? John doubted it. From what he knew about Darren he would most certainly believe that, that type of “business” was far below him. But, then what was Darren doing here? John could hear muffled voices inside, but couldn't quite make out what they were talking about. Rather than risk discovery he slowly backed away from the door and returned to his truck and Samantha. He would have to speak with her further about this.
….
“Our strategy seems to have worked even better than we could have expected.” Darren stated as he glanced over at the TV sitting on the dresser of Kamil's cramped and dirty hotel room. Currently, it was showing a local news broadcast of the riots that had begun just hours earlier. Helicopters filming the incidents hovered over the top of the crowds displaying video images of several areas that were being affected by the civil disturbances. The news reiterated that a state of emergency had already been declared and curfews were going to be enforced during the night time hours. The municipal government was requesting that all non-essential businesses and facilities close for the day and in order to better protect children, schools would soon close. However, with some parents not able to get home in time and with quite a few others actually being involved with the riots themselves many school aged children would have no one to go home to. Due to the increased danger school bus drivers were given additional instructions to drop children off directly in front of their homes instead of their regular drop of points. If certain areas could not be reached due to the riots the passengers would be brought back to the school until other arrangements could be made.
“Yes...” Kamil responded glancing over at the television with his cold, dead eyes. “I was confident that we would be able to count on the greediness of Americas and their anger at the idea of having to work for their living.”
Darren smirked; Occupy Congress's anarchical blitz within the Wilmington area had indeed been even more successful than he had hoped. Within just days of spreading the rumor that severe cuts to government assistance programs were about to be imposed, many residents who were already extremely angry sought out a way to exact what they believed to be retribution. With nowhere to turn and no way to properly vent their rage they instead chose to take their anger to the streets and began to tear the city apart. Not surprisingly, Darren had noticed that social media had played the largest part in spreading his false “news.” The local and national scenes were already powder kegs waiting to explode; anarchy was the side effect of his false information “spark” and for the time being their plan was working extremely well and that was all that mattered.
“Well, let’s be honest, we only bent the truth as to what the rich elite already planned to do. Given the chance they would take as much as they could and leave the less fortunate to fend for themselves.” Darren responded in a haughty tone. “My people are almost ready for our final course of events. Will you still be able to hold up your end of the bargain?” Kamil shot Darren a disdainful look for even insinuating that he and his associates might not be ready.
“Of course...” he said in a low and somewhat angry voice. “All of my people are in place and ready.” Kamil hesitated briefly before continuing, “By the time we are finished this city will have experienced a level of chaos and terror the likes of which this country has never before seen. The horror they will endure will be unparalleled.” He then added in a maniacal tone.
And in the end our holy Jihad will be successful. This country and its people will beg to accept Islam as their one true religion...or they will die.” Kamil quietly thought to himself before remembering Mohammed’s statement, “Surely, the gates of Paradise are under the shadows of the swords...”
Darren turned his head and rolled his eyes. He knew Kamil was planning to double cross him, but this did not concern him. The man’s theatrics, asinine religion, and holy war were ridiculous, but working with him did allow for some advantages; a certain package being one of them. Even if it meant putting up with this psychotic Arab and the NGP from time to time it would all be worth it. In the end it was a minor sacrifice for a greater cause. America would soon embrace the true freedom of anarchism and long before it would turn to yet another extremist religion.
“Americans foolishly believe there are neutral targets that Allah would never allow us to touch. They do not have the stomach for conflict and war.” Kamil stated in a low and evil voice.
And once they see what we are capable of they will beg us to give them Islam and the words of the Prophet Mohammad. If they do not, the blood of their children will continue to flow, and they will have nowhere to bring their sick or injured. They will cry out in horror and no one will be able to help them. Before this is over they will know what true fear is. We will rain the terror of Allah down upon them and they will experience one hundred fold the persecution the Muslim people have endured for thousands of years. He thought to himself as he envisioned the suffering and death of countless infidels.
“Did your people have any trouble obtaining the RPG's?” Darren asked referring to Rocket Propelled Grenades. Kamil was momentarily put off by Darren's interruption to his thoughts, but he did not allow it to cause him much concern.
“No...” he said, “They were brought across the Mexican border a week ago.”
Border?! Darren chuckled to himself. The US Mexican border was a practical free for all. With funding cuts and forced “political correctness” the US Border Patrol had been crushed into a virtual state of apathy in matters regarding illegal immigration and smuggling. If you wanted anything that was considered illegal in the US you could simply pay the right people and have the item flown into Mexico for easy transport across the border. Drugs, weapons, young female or male sex slaves, it didn't really matter. Anything could now be easily transported into the country. At times it was laughable to see just how many leaders within the federal government were so utterly clueless as to how all these occurrences could seemingly impact one another.
“More AK's were also brought in with them.” Kamil added referring to both AK-47's and AK-74's.
“Excellent...” Darren responded. “Everything will begin in a few hours will it not?”
“You are correct... My drivers are currently boarding the school buses now thanks to the early release, and I have also arranged for a small surprise for the local police department just to put them more on edge.”
Darren nodded his head. “This city has no idea what is about to hit it.” h
e said before adding, “These riots are the least of their worries and nothing compared to what is coming.” Kamil responded to his statement with an evil and wry smile.
You have no idea what is coming either... he then thought to himself.
….
“What in the hell is he involved in?” John asked as he quickly climbed back into the cab of his pickup. Samantha gave him a completely confused look.
“What is who involved in?” she asked.
“Your...your...” John had trouble trying to figure out exactly what he should call the man Samantha had become involved with. “Your client...what is he involved in?”
Samantha shook her head and shrugged her shoulders; the confused look remained on her face. “What do you mean?” she asked, “I don't know.”
“Why is he meeting with Darren Siegal?” John probed further pushing for an answer that was not there.
“I told you I don't know! I’ve never heard of a Darren Siegal! I just get paid to fuck him! Not talk to him about his day or his job.” Samantha snapped back. The confusion, shame, and annoyance had finally gotten the better of her. John felt himself recoil away from her upon hearing her angry response. He had not meant to be so cross with her, he was just trying to impart the seriousness of the situation as it was now readily apparent that there was something very, very wrong here.
Almost immediately after she had barked at him Samantha realized what she had done and her head dropped in disgrace.
“I'm sorry...” she said. “I didn't mean to...” her voice trailed off. She struggled for a moment to regain her composure before continuing.
“I really don't know anything about him...not even his name. When we met he barely said anything to me and the time I heard him talking on the phone it was in another language, Arabic I think.”