by Howard, Paul
“Bon appetite!”
He walked away calmly and began to whistle as if nothing had happened. Some said it sounded like “Dixie”, others thought they heard “Kashmir”.
The LAPD’s worst nightmare had just come true.
Eighty-eight stories overhead, the winds were whipping the air around inside the empty office where White lay dead on the floor. It made a soft, sad howling noise in the emptiness. Sam kneeled down next to his partner, the tears streaming down his cheeks. He never felt more utterly helpless.
The braver members of the office staff were standing in the hallway door watching him. He looked up at them and back down at White. The sight of them standing in the door so uselessly filled him with anger and frustration.
“Call 911.” he said, choking back his tears, “Get away from that fucking door!”
They moved back into the outer office as the secretary went to make the call. Sam looked back at White and holstered his gun. He put a hand in his coat pocket and felt the envelope White had given him. He pulled it out and looked at it.
“Aw, goddammit, Lenny. Goddamned to hell!”
Chapter Seventeen: Free Fall
Everything that the authorities feared had now come to pass. The dreadful events at Beijing Plaza made headlines all over the world. The LAPD now faced the most serious situation it been confronted with in over a century. Officially, there was enough trouble to go around for all.
The Governor had ordered an immediate inquiry into the conduct of the D.O.C., specifically of Imprompt Corporation and all of its prison operations. The City Council demanded an immediate review of the Police Department. Two county supervisors had called for the Chief of Police to resign. Even at the Nation’s Capital in Tacoma, there were calls for congressional hearings into the matter.
Phoenix, a company that had never been confronted with image or security concerns, now found itself besieged with criticism and endless questions. Their agents had no recourse but to grant unheard-of press conferences, and were even forced to pull their advertising and web servers down.
The world felt panicked by the horrible, shocking news of a homicidal, indestructible monster running amok in Los Angeles.
The press, always hungry for a sensational story to whip up hysteria with, was having a field day of salacious descriptions and uninsightful commentary on all the news channels. Comparisons to Frankenstein and Terminators were being commonly used. Any theatrical cheap shot that could fill air time to sell diet pills, male enhancement and crooked insurance schemes, was now being used.
The atmosphere in the office at Central was one of palpable fear; the Mayor was now breathing down the backs of the entire chain of command.
But Fred Brawly’s mind was elsewhere.
In spite of screens filled with images of the news all around him, his thoughts focused on the shield of a dead cop lying on the desk in front of him. He had lost more than just one of his best police inspectors. A trusted friend of twenty-two years was gone. He found it hard to get his mind around that.
He couldn’t help but think of White’s warnings of the night before. How many other badges would end up on his desk before this was over? He looked up at the plainclothes officers gathered at his office. He was at a loss to know what he should say now. The words just came.
“He was a damn good cop!” he said. “The best.”
He reached into his coat and pulled out his service revolver, holding it aloft. “He’s dead because he relied on one of these. Guns are useless against this guy.” He sat his revolver down on the desk and stared at them. One detective spoke up.
“Well, what do we do then?”
“I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do,” Brawly replied, “We’re going to take our police work to a whole new level. We are going to work in pairs and nobody ever takes his eye off of his partner. Even in the toilet, there is to be constant radio communication at all times when on duty. If I hear any of you have been left alone there is going to be holy hell to pay, and I’m not kidding.”
“What about off-duty?” asked another.
“I don’t think we have a problem there,” Brawly explained, “He seems to be interested in the people involved in his case, and we’re putting them on leave until this business is sorted out.”
Sam stepped forward and shook his head, but Brawly held up his hand to silence him.
“Now you report to your duty officers and get your orders,” he said, “Keep in mind what I told you. This department is in deep shit, and you’re all gonna catch flack, but I want you to keep cool and stay alive. Now, move out.”
The others left the office, but Sam stayed behind, just as Brawly knew he would. Before Sam could speak, Brawly cut him off.
“Forget it, Sam. The FBI wants you in protective custody and so do I. That’s final.”
“No way! I want him!” Sam snapped back.
“So I can have a mate to this?” Brawly pointed to White’s shield. “No, thank you. When you carry a badge you follow orders. You’re out, Sam! I’ll see you at the funeral.”
Sam shook his head and reached into his pocket. He pulled out the envelope White gave him and handed it to the Captain.
“There isn’t going to be a funeral, Captain.” he replied. Brawly opened the note and read it:
SAM,
IF YOU ARE READING THIS I AM NOW DEAD. I WANT YOU TO SEND MY BODY ON TO PHOENIX FOR IMMEDIATE INFUSION, WITH OR WITHOUT THE DEPARTMENT’S CONSENT. DR. BELL TOLD ME THAT THE ONLY ONE WHO COULD STOP A SPOOK LIKE MORRISON WOULD BE ANOTHER SPOOK. THAT IS GOING TO HAVE TO BE ME NOW. I’M COUNTING ON YOU, SAM. YOU’VE BEEN A GREAT PARTNER AND A TRUSTED FRIEND. GOOD-BYE.
LENNY
Brawly was upset when he read the letter. He looked up at Sam and shook his head.
“If he wants to be a spook, it’s his business,” Brawly said at length, “But he can’t help us. The department doesn’t hire spooks. Why didn’t you show me this note before?”
“You might have objected,” Sam explained, “I would have had to disobey orders and send him anyway.” Brawly’s mouth dropped open.
“You mean he’s gone?” he asked. Sam took the note and folded it back up.
“The shuttle left an hour ago.” Sam replied. Brawly’s face grew sad and his tone softened. He nodded his head with resignation, picked up White’s shield, and stared at it.
“May God give him peace.”
*****
The infusion experience is traumatic for every soul that has ever experienced it, but the memories that came from the purple flash were very different for Leonard White than they had been for John Morrison. His had been a childhood of kindness, compassion, and love.
Crying voices were all around him. Images began to emerge from the purple fog.
He looked up at his Father, removing his police hat as he moved into the front door. He looked down and his eyes lit up.
“There he is!” Daddy said. “How’s my little Trooper today? Huh?” The image blurred into another place, a covered body was lying on the ground. He approached it and turned to see his Daddy staring down at it. He looked at Lenny and frowned. He was very upset to see him there.
“This is no place for you. Go home!” he snapped.
“But, Daddy....” Lenny said. His father took his hand and led him away. He had never seen him this angry before.
“I said Go! Now!”
The purple gave way to ripples on the surface of the water. Two fishing lines were side-by-side in the lake. As the ripples settled, he looked up into his father’s face. He was almost twelve at that time.
“Promise me one thing, Lenny,” his father said softly, “That you’ll go to college and become something, anything, but a cop.”
“But I want to be like you, Dad.” Lenny said. His father stared into the water and shook his head.
“No you don’t!” his father replied. “It’s a shit-job! Your Mother doesn’t want that for you, and neither do I!”
“But you do good for people!
” Lenny said. “That’s a good job...” His father put his arm around his son and spoke softly.
“That’s why I got into it; to help,” his father replied, “But it ain’t that easy, son. Promise me...”
The purple haze filled his mind again, all this time, although he hadn’t noticed it, the crying had been going on. Now it was so loud that it filled his ears, the haze cleared.
He was walking up the sidewalk to the front of his parent’s house; neighbors were standing around, giving him sorrowful, sympathetic looks. He pushed past them, and a cop smiled sadly, patting Lenny on the head. As he stepped aside, Lenny could see his mother and sister weeping at a table.
His mother saw him and opened her arms to comfort him. He turned and saw a coffin over his shoulder. As he approached, he could see his father lying inside. He turned around and saw a line of uniformed officers with black bands over their shields looking down at him.
The purple returned and cleared, as he looked at himself in his brand-new uniform at the Police Academy. Somebody was administering an oath in the background, accompanied by a chorus of sobs.
Another purple flash crossed his mind. He saw the fleeting image of a naked woman floating in a pool.
Flash!
Another fleeting image of a kid in a pool of blood on a sidewalk being covered.
Flash!
A decomposed body in a shallow grave. He could hear Sam speaking.
“My god! I’m gonna be sick!”
Flash!
They are dragging Morrison away to jail down a long cement corridor that stretched off into infinity. What was he saying? It was a blur now. Yes, it sounded like: “You ain’t seen the last of me!”
Flash!
Morrison was holding his own gun on him. Over his shoulder, Lenny could see his father, still in uniform, and all in illumination, sobbing uncontrollably as he was witnessing the murder of his own son.
The son that didn’t listen to him.
Morrison spoke.
“I planned on settling the score with you a little bit later, but I’ll settle for you being the first...being the first...” It kept repeating until a gun went off…
Darkness. Cold and darkness.
*****
A soft glow appeared out of the darkness. He opened his eyes and felt a burst of painful light. Someone was there… “Soft…a face…must concentrate…”
The face came into focus, it seemed familiar. A voice was speaking; he had heard it before in the cold and dark.
It was Dr. Bell, of course! He recognized him.
“Inspector White? Can you hear me?” Bell asked softly. White answered weakly.
“I’ll see you in Hell...” he said. Bell spoke, unperturbed.
“Inspector White! Snap out of it! You’re at Phoenix. You were shot, remember?”
White looked around disoriented. He was in some kind of hospital room. No, it wasn’t a hospital at all. It was Phoenix. Morrison killed him! After a moment, he came out of it and sat up suddenly.
“He’s going to kill them!” White declared. Bell guided him back to a reclining position.
“Shhh. Not now,” Bell said, “You need rest.”
“Listen!” White said clearly. “He said I was first. I know what he’s gonna do. I don’t have time...” Bell smiled warmly and placed his hand on White’s shoulder.
“You have plenty of time,” Bell explained, “46.3 years, to be exact.” White studied Bell’s face and relaxed. He looked quite normal, like any other person. A far cry from their last encounter.
“Dr. Bell, I presume?” White said and smiled.
“We meet again.” Bell smiled.
“You were in remission...” Bell leaned back and sighed.
“Yes. I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t in any condition to help you then.” White sat up suddenly again and grabbed his arm. He looked directly into his eyes.
“You can help now. Get me to a shuttle!” Bell shook his head and tried to pull free, but White held on to him. “You said a spook could stop him. I’m that spook...”
“You need to rest!” Bell insisted. White shook his head.
“Every minute brings him one step closer to another murder, Doctor,” White said, “Help me. I promise to rest on the shuttle. Get me a wheelchair before you have another shuttle stolen, and I really mean it!” Bell assumed a droll smile and pressed a button near the bed. He nodded his head in agreement.
“That would break me!” he joked. “Two shuttles in one week.”
He raised a finger and stared at White in a fatherly manner. “You are going to rest on the shuttle. I will personally see to it.” This surprised White and he looked at Bell curiously.
“You’re coming?” he asked. Bell stood up.
“You asked for help, didn’t you?” he replied. “You also asked if I care. You see, I do remember our conversation, in spite of everything.” White smiled and shivered from the memory. “Well, I do care, and I’ve been thinking about how to stop him.”
He smiled and offered White his hand. The new ecto leaned forward and they shook on it. He would return to Earth, but not alone.
Chapter Eighteen: Retribution
While most of the City’s landmarks and public buildings had changed, the old County Courthouse looked almost the same as it had for almost two centuries. Like the product it produced, it stoically stood as a reminder of continuity in the midst of change.
Judge Hansen’s courtroom was on the second floor in Division III. It had been a long, tiring day of pre-trial motions. The Judge didn’t mind the hearing, that was part of the process, but he was presiding over two young lawyers who were jockeying with each other all afternoon. For the last forty-five minutes, he had listened to an admissibility argument over a yellow handbag.
The prosecutor had wrapped up an argument over county statute 170.1, when the defense counsel rose to his feet.
“If it please the court, the argument…” he began, but the Judge cut him off.
“We’ve already heard you on this, Mr. Barry,” the Judge answered, “Sit down.” The attorney sat down as Hansen looked up at the clock.
“It’s nearly five and this is a good time for adjournment. I will take your arguments under advisement and render my decision tomorrow. With luck, we should get to jury selection before lunch.”
He put his hands together, as if in prayer.
“Please, gentlemen? The court stands adjourned until tomorrow morning at nine-thirty.”
He rose from his seat and tucked the briefs under his arm, moving slowly down the walk to the hallway door. Too tired to notice that the guard assigned to him was absent, he entered his chamber.
The room was dark. He tried the light switch but nothing happened. “Shit” he sighed, and activated the phone on his desk. “Give me maintenance...Hello?” He tried the buttons but they had no effect. The phone was dead.
“What the hell is this?” he snapped.
He switched off the phone and opened the blinds on the windows. No light came in from outside. He was becoming irritated by it. “What’s going on here?” he asked. An instant later, the door slammed shut and a bright spotlight came on, illuminating only him. He turned toward it and squinted to see who was doing it.
“Frank Hansen!” a voice called out. “You stand charged with callousness and a complete lack of compassion for those who come before you on trial. How do you plead?”
This outraged the Judge. He placed his hands upon his hips impatiently and glared at the darkness.
“I don’t know who you are,” he snapped, “But you have managed to get yourself into a lot of trouble. Turn off that light!”
“I think it only fair to warn you that anything you say may be taken down and used against you!” the voice replied. It seemed familiar to Judge Hansen but he couldn’t place it.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“I’m your Judge, your Jury, and your Executioner!” the voice answered. The Judge suddenly saw his peril and headed for t
he door.
“I’m not going to listen to any more of this…” he began, but a swift, unseen hand punched him in the face, throwing him violently back against the desk. A stream of blood trickled from his mouth. He grabbed the desk with both fists clenched tight, desperately looking around the darkness.
“You’re mad!” he shouted. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“The same thing you did to me, you son-of-a-bitch!” the voice snarled. “A string of psychiatrists testified that I was insane, but you ruled that it wasn’t enough to, how did you say it? ‘Establish the issue of insanity under the penal code.’ Remember?”
Hansen’s eyes narrowed, he was now truly frightened.
“Who are you?” he asked. The voice continued unfazed.
“It is obvious that you are unrepentant for your crimes. This Court has no choice therefore, but to find you guilty as charged! We now reach the penalty phase of your trial.”
“Let me go!” Hansen shouted. “Help! Somebody help me!”
“My very words,” the voice answered softly, “I shall give you the same answer you gave me. It is the sentence of this court that you be executed in the manner prescribed by law.”
A noose appeared out of the darkness above his head. He looked at it, horrified, and shook his head; fear had taken hold of him at last.
“Please,” he pleaded, “I’m sorry if I...if I did anything to make you hate me. But, there’s no harm done. We can commute your sentence. You don’t have to die!” The light suddenly came on revealing Morrison standing above him.
“It’s a little late for that, Your Honor,” he replied, “You’ve already killed me. But I’ve come back, just like I said I would. Maybe, with a little luck, you can have more success at the appeal than I did.”
His eyes never left the Judge as he pulled down the noose and held it above him.
“Unfortunately,” Morrison said softly, “It will have to be to a higher power than me!”
He quickly put the rope around the Judge’s neck and started strangling him with it. Hansen tried to pull free and move away. Morrison gave him a little rope and then jerked him back, causing him to fall to the floor.