To Cross a Wasteland

by Phillip D Granath

  “How does the defendant plead?” Rincone asked solemnly.

  “Fuck me,” was all Coal could say. He had heard about Rincone’s little kangaroo courts but never in a million years did he ever dream that he would be called in to stand before one. That would require the Black Jackets to attempt to detain him, something he had a hard time imagining ending well for all involved.

  “Enter a plea Coal,” Rincone prompted.

  “Is this about that little dust-up on the stairs? That wasn’t anything,” Coal replied.

  “Enter a fucking plea and take my word for it, the court does not take kindly to lying under oath,” anger had started to creep into Rincone’s judicial tone.

  “Oh fine, fine, Guilty. I hit him, but he fucking started it!” Coal admitted.

  Rincone shook his head but grinned. “Probably True. However, the court accepts your guilty plea on all charges. Taking in to account your record as a sometimes civil servant and your willingness to cooperate with these proceedings, this court fines you five chits for striking a policing officer,” Rincone paused and looked pointedly at Coal.

  “Fine,” Coal grumbled and reaching into the inner pocket of his duster came out with a handful of Tears. He dropped them unceremoniously into a pile on the desktop. Then pushed five of them across the table to the Chief. Rincone using his “gavel” pushed them into the open desk drawer without a second thought.

  “Excellent and the court fines you another three chits for disturbing my peace,” Rincone added.

  Coal scowled and then begrudgingly pushed three more chits across the table, these too ended up the desk drawer.

  “Hell of a shakedown you got here, your honor. Anything else you want to fine me for? Looks like I got about 17 chits left on me. I’m sure you can come up with some more charges,” Coal chided.

  BAM-BAM-BAM

  Rincone banged down with his gavel-mallet hard on the desk, not even bothering with the coaster. Then lowered the magnum, cocking it and pointing it directly at Coal’s head with one fluid motion.

  “A fucking scam? You think this is a game Coal? This is the fucking law or at least as close to the fucking law as we got left. One more comment like that and I’ll rule you contemptuous of this court. Believe you me, that penalty will cost you a hell of a lot more than 17 fucking chits!” Rincone was shouting and if that didn’t convince Coal the man was serious the magnum did.

  “Easy now your honor, I uh, simply misspoke. I would like to uh, withdraw my objection,” Coal replied. He realized not only had these proceedings cost him eight chits, but if he managed to piss off Rincone before even mentioning the City Council, the whole visit might be wasted.

  The Chief raised the revolver again, pointing it at the ceiling, decoking it in the same smooth motion.

  “Well in that case, then the court here by closes…well, this case… and court is now dismissed,” With that Rincone banged the gavel down three times and then dropped it into the drawer, and slamming it shut.

  “Well, now that we have that matter all cleared up, what can I do for you Coal?” Rincone leaned back in his chair, his voice friendly. Coal had noticed however that the magnum hadn’t gone back into the drawer with the gavel, it was still in Rincone’s hand, now somewhere below the desk.

  “Chief, I’m here because I wanted to talk to you about this little matter with the Council,” Coal began cautiously.

  “Oh, I see. The Council sent you,” Rincone replied nodding his head.

  “No, no they didn’t chief. I’m here on my own, as a concerned citizen I guess you could say,” Coal said.

  “Not too many of those left,” Rincone pointed out.

  “That’s true, we are a dying breed,” Coal replied.

  “Aren’t we all? But if the council didn’t send you directly, they must have at least told you of our little… falling out,” as the Chief spoke he opened another drawer on his desk and removed a nearly empty whiskey bottle.

  “It was kind of obvious once I noticed the lack of Black Jackets guarding the city council building,” Coal replied as he watched Rincone carefully pour the remaining whiskey into two separate glasses.

  Rincone nodded, he pushed one of the glasses across the desk to Coal and asked. “Then why are you here?”

  “I just want to know why Chief. Why give up this life of public service? Obviously, your court system is alive and well,” Coal asked and took a tentative sip of his whiskey. It was better stuff than what he usually drank.

  “Is that what those self-righteous sons of bitches told you? That we were striking out on our own? That I was taking the Black Jackets and going for profit now?” Rincone demanded, outrage clear in his voice.

  Coal paused for a moment, trying to remember what exactly the Council had said and what he had assumed. Had he been too quick to judge Rincone’s actions?

  “That fact of the matter is Coal, I put your beloved City Council on notice. I told them the Black Jackets would no longer collect taxes from the traders and blindly hand them over an unelected government. I told them if they wanted us to keep policing then two things needed to happen,” Rincone paused and took a drink before continuing.

  “First off, there needs to be a free election for City Council. That group of bastards wasn’t appointed for life. It’s about time the townspeople either reaffirmed their positions or replaced them. That can only happen with a vote, and I won’t hand over the taxes we collect until it does,” Rincone said, his voice full of conviction.

  Coal just nodded not exactly sure how to reply. That must have gone over like the proverbial turd in the punch bowl with the Council.

  “Secondly, the people also need to elect a Judge. Someone to establish and oversee a court system. The City Council tasked me and the Black Jackets with the job years ago. But that’s just it, they don’t have the authority. The law is supposed to govern all men, even those in office, it means they can’t appoint those that enforce them. The City Council itself isn’t above the law,” the Chief paused taking another sip of his whiskey.

  “Wait just a damn minute. Did you just argue that the court, that you run, the one that not five minutes ago fined me eight chits, is complete bullshit?” Coal demanded.

  Rincone chuckled. “That I did and you could have argued that point during your trial. But you didn’t, you chose to plead guilty, and that case has been closed.”

  Coal shook his head; this was not at all what Coal had thought it was. Nor was Rincone for that matter. He had always considered the Black Jackets to be just another scam, a protection racket with a good cover story. The Chief of Policing seemed to adamantly believe they could be more, that he was taking the first steps in reestablishing some kind of law and order. Coal didn’t know if he bought that himself, but it was obvious Rincone did.

  “The last demand I made on the council, well it concerns you rather directly Coal," Rincone paused as if unsure how to proceed.

  “Ok," Coal prompted.

  “The City Council will no longer have the right to issue bounties. In fact, they never should have,” Rincone said.

  “Wait, wait, I did bounty work for you, I know you remember that. I put the heads right here on your fucking desk,” Coal said rapping the desktop with his knuckle to emphasise the point.

  “That you did, but that was a warrant commissioned by the recognized court system, not by a private panel of citizens working way beyond their charter. Really the argument could be made that you have really been acting as a professional hitman for all these years,” Rincone replied.

  Coal had to admit the title “Hitman” sounded way cooler than simply “Bounty Hunter.” He couldn’t even imagine what that would do for his reputation. But he still didn’t like the idea that he had been on the wrong side of the law all of these years. Which again struck him as odd, how many years had it been since he had considered things in the terms of legal and illegal? He really needed to hang out with the Chief less, though he did have good booze.

  “Why now Chief?
Why after what, 10 plus years of doing this job, why question the legality of it all now?” Coal asked just grasping for anything now.

  “This,” Rincone replied simply and pulling a book from the same drawer that had contained the whiskey dropped it on the desk in front of Coal.

  “What is this?” Coal asked a little stunned.

  “It’s a book Coal. A book about the law. It was written by an Englishman named Blackstone a long ass time ago,” Rincone explained, his voice taking on an almost reverent tone. “It’s had me thinking a lot about the way we have been doing things around here.”

  Coal picked up the heavy leather-bound tome. He couldn’t remember the last time he had held a book; he had never been much for reading even before the fall. He idly opened it, flipping through the pages at random. Several pages had been dog-eared and Coal turned to one of those. A whole paragraph had been underlined in yellow highlighter.

  One line, in particular, caught Coal’s eye. “..Herein indeed consists the excellence of the English government, that all parts of it form a mutual check upon each other.”

  A note had been made in the margin next to it, written in ink. It read “No person, is above the law. Especially not an elected official.”

  “Did you highlight these parts? Are these your notes?” Coal asked, completely baffled by the words Rincone had obviously taken to heart.

  “No, I didn’t,” Rincone said examining his empty glass.

  “Who did?” Coal asked.

  “No Idea, probably the last guy to own it before the world went to shit. I suspect he was a lawyer or maybe even a judge. A deep thinker at the very least,” Rincone said setting his empty glass down.

  Coal was out of his depth here, and he knew it. He could barely read, how could he expect to debate the Chief and convince him to at the very least to start protecting the Council again. Rincone’s arguments had even made sense to him, except that last part about the bounties, which was bullshit. He had expected to find a mole, maybe a fresh recruit or perhaps a pretty face that would be whispering in the Chief’s ear. Coaxing the man away from supporting the Council and encouraging him to get into bed with Murphy. Maybe Coal was giving the Kingpin to much credit. It just all seemed to work out a little too perfectly for Murphy. The City Council, his only real rival, stripped of their authority, not enough power to even protect themselves. Coal, the man he was trying to hire, suddenly forced to look somewhere else for the bounty work he lived for.

  “Anything else you wanted to talk about Coal?” Rincone asked.

  “This book, this is… really something,” Coal said holding it up, at a loss for what else to say.

  “It is,” Rincone agreed.

  “And it’s in really good shape. Where did you get it?” Coal asked.

  “One of my officers brought it back from patrol,” Rincone replied.

  “So, what, he just found it in a ruined building? It doesn’t look like it sat outside for 15 years, doesn’t even smell like smoke,” Coal realized now just thinking out loud.

  “I’m not really sure, I didn’t talk to him, he gave it to Benny,” the chief replied with an odd look.

  “Well, shouldn’t we find out where it came from? I mean if you are going to base some pretty big decisions for the town on what it says?” Coal asked.

  Rincone sat motionless for a moment. Then yelled. “Hey, Benny!”

  The office door flew open so quickly, Coal had no doubt the little man had been listening just on the other side.

  “Benny. Who brought this book in?” he asked simply holding up the tome.

  “Marko," Benny replied.

  “Go get Marko, bring him in here,” the Chief looked across the desk at Coal with cold eyes. Benny turned to leave.

  “Benny!” shouted Rincone.

  “Yes boss?” the little man replied sticking his head back into the office.

  “I want two Black Jackets to escort him up here,” the Chief added.

  Benny paused for two heartbeats and said, “Yes boss,” then the little man was gone again.

  Coal and the Chief sat awkwardly across from each other in the silence.

  “You know if…,” Coal began.

  “Shut up,” Rincone cut him off. “I’m going to question Marko, and you are going to sit there and continue to shut up while I do it,” Rincone’s voice held an edge, and his hand still held the revolver. Right or wrong Coal was apparently along for the ride, wherever this wild goose chase took them.

  Marko arrived a few minutes later in a t-shirt and shorts, he had apparently been awakened for the impromptu meeting. He was flanked by two guards both of which were wearing their leathers and carrying their nightsticks, none of them looked like they were very happy to be there. Benny followed into the room and shut the door behind them.

  “Marko, I’m sorry to have to call you up here like this,” the Chief began, keeping his voice even.

  Marko was maybe 25, but his eyes were wide and full of fear, it made him look much younger Coal thought.

  “Some questions have come up about this book you gave Benny. So I would like you to tell us, where did you get it?” Rincone asked simply.

  “I found it, out on patrol, I was working Main Street, just like I told Benny,” Marko replied quickly.

  “Where exactly did you find it? And don’t you dare fucking lie to me,” Rincone asked and then placed the revolver on the desktop to emphasise his point.

  The air left the room for a moment as every one of the Black Jackets present, especially Marko realized how serious Rincone was taking this.

  “It was given to me by a guy on the street,” Marko blurted out.

  “Who?” Rincone demanded as he jumped to his feet.

  “Just a guy I know, from around,” Marko stammered.

  “Who god damn it?” Rincone was shouting now.

  “Vincent, his name's Vincent. He’s just a guy,” Marko replied quickly.

  “Murphy has a bartender named Vincent,” Coal said.

  “What does this Vincent look like?” Rincone demanded of Marko, his face growing redder by the moment.

  “He’s big, he’s a big white guy, bald head,” Marko replied his voice little more than a whimper.

  “That’s him,” Coal said.

  “Shut up!” Rincone shouted at Coal and stormed around the table to stand before the cowering Marko. The two flanking Black Jackets grabbed both of the young man’s arms, it looked like he might faint.

  “What did he pay you, you fucking traitor?” Rincone shouted.

  “Nothing boss, I’m not on the take honest, please. You gotta believe me,” Marko was crying now, pleading through his tears.

  “Marko, lie to me again, and I’ll beat you to death myself. Right here, right now,” Rincone promised.

  “Now tell me the truth. This is your one last chance. What did he pay you?” Rincone asked in the most dangerous whisper Coal had ever heard.

  “10 chits, he gave me 10 chits. Said I should put the book directly into your hands, said that you would like it. I’m sorry boss, I figured what could it hurt?” Marko pleaded.

  Rincone punched the young man hard in the stomach. Marko folded in half, and the guards holding Marko just let him collapse to the floor. He noisily gasped for breath in between painful sobs.

  “Take him down stairs. Benny, I want everybody up and in uniform. If a Black Jacket isn’t out on patrol, I want them downstairs in the rec room, now. Marko goes on trial for treason in 15 minutes, he is going to need a jury of his peers.”

  The eyes of the two escorting guards went wide. The words brought a fresh gasp from Marko, but that was all he could muster as his fellow Black Jackets dragged him from the room.

  “I want to point out that I didn’t get a jury for my little trial earlier,” Coal volunteered once the two were alone again.

  “This is different. This is a capital offense. Marko is going on trial for his life,” The anger seemed to have drained from the Chief, and he sat down heavily in his cha
ir.

  “Murphy, that son of a bitch,” Rincone said shaking his head, staring down at the book.

  “He manipulated you, highlighted the book, wrote in the little notes and made sure it was hand delivered. He is a smart bastard, I mean this is some serious mastermind level of shit right here,” Coal said.

  “It is and unfortunately, it doesn’t change a damn thing,” Rincone said sounding tired.

  “What?” Coal demanded. “He just tricked the shit out of you, got you to stop protecting his rivals and withhold their income. Now you’re just going to do what he wanted you too. That’s some bullshit…your honor!”

  “It is, but no matter how I got the book, no matter its intent, truth is truth. This changes nothing. The council needs to hold elections,” Rincone said pounding his desk to emphasize the words.

  “Well, what do you think Murphy’s next move is? The only reason he hasn’t murdered the Council already is because he likes the idea of them sitting up there alone each night sweating it out, waiting for the knife. He is a sick bastard like that, he’ll kill them as soon as he grows tired of the game. That will be tomorrow morning once he hears about young Marko getting fingered. You know he is going to find out about that quick too, I doubt Marko was the only one taking chits,” Coal said.

  Rincone exhaled sharply, and it sounded almost like defeat. “I know, but tonight I’ll put the fear of god into the Black Jackets. Marko is fucked though. He’ll be made an example of tonight. I know my boys, they hate a turncoat and those on the take, they’ll be the ones screaming loudest for his blood. It’ll keep everybody walking the line, at least for a few months I would guess.”

  “Murphy will still find out,” Coal said.

  “He will. That’s why tonight, right after the trial I’ll send some men over to start guarding the council again,” Rincone replied.

  “And the taxes?” Coal asked.

  “No way, not until they hold elections,” Rincone replied quickly.

  “They still need to eat. It’s not like they can get day jobs with Murphy out gunning for them and planning an election right?” Coal pointed out.