Calm footsteps. Door opens.
“May I help you, sir?” the maid inquired.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m here with a package for Mrs. Rachel Haufensehn.”
“Oh, I’ll see that she gets it,” replied the maid, extending forward her hand in a routine fashion.
“Pardon me, ma’am, but it can only be delivered to Mrs. Haufensehn herself. She’ll have to sign for it,” the tall, moustached man replied with benevolent firmness.
“Sarah, who’s that at the door?” inquired a somewhat haughty voice.
“Pardon me, miss. He says you must sign for the package.” Sarah looked low to the ground as if expecting a beating.
“Why, I don’t know why anyone bothers having servants anymore,” the voice said, as its owner’s footsteps began rapidly approaching the doorway.
When she reached the doorway, she looked the man over from his face down to his toes and then back up with the studious contempt of a connoisseur who has determined the object in question is of inferior quality.
“Sir, are you aware of the purpose of having servants? Don’t bother guessing. It is to save one the mundane tasks that plague the commoner.” But before elaborating further on the subject, she reached forward to snatch the extended ink pen held in the man’s hand.
Before she could grab it, he grabbed her wrist with a vice-like grip, spun her around, and charged into the house, immediately followed by four individuals who had been hiding near the doorway amidst several large bushes.
The moustached man held a damp cloth to her mouth before she had the chance to let out what would have surely been a dreadful scream, and seconds later she fell limp to the ground. While the four men closed the door and kept watch for any surprise arrivals, the moustached man held a knife to the quivering maid’s throat.
“Shhhhhh,” he said calmly. “This can all end without so much as a scratch on your body if you just answer a couple questions.”
The maid nodded her head up and down, her lips stretched back in apprehensive horror.
“Where is the boy, and are there any guards in the house?”
“No guards,” she whispered.
“And the boy?”
The maid hesitated.
The moustached man put a little pressure against her throat with the knife. She flinched and began to cry.
“We won’t hurt him. You have my word,” the man assured her.
Whether consciously or unconsciously it was unclear, but she suddenly looked in the direction of the upstairs.
“Now that’s a good girl,” the man said and then put a damp rag over her nose and mouth. Seconds later she slumped over, by which point the four assistants were already most of the way up the stairs.
As he tied the maid up, he heard a brief cry from upstairs and then rapid footsteps coming his way. Just as he finished tying her to the stairwell, the four men appeared with a sleeping child.
They looked at the moustached man, he nodded, and then they proceeded quickly outside. The moustached man then set the package next to the door, stood Mrs. Haufensehn up, and walked outside with his arm around her. He leaned her against the outside wall of the house briefly while he then put a large metal pole between the floor and the door handle to make it more difficult for anyone to open it from the outside.
He then quickly proceeded towards the street. A carriage was calmly taking off, while another stood there waiting for him, a well-dressed footman in front holding the door open.
The moustached man walked Mrs. Haufensehn into the carriage, and then as the carriage calmly took off, the moustached man secured his passenger to ensure she did not suddenly awake and become frantic, necessitating that he employ violence, something he was instructed only to do as a last resort.
Chapter 21
As Judge Haufensehn made his way home that evening, his stomach growled ferociously as his mind devoured the various meals he imagined might be ready for him. He could have his pick any day of the week, but he usually preferred to leave it to the maid’s, his wife’s, or his child’s whim, as that created a certain degree of unpredictability and heightened his anticipation.
He was imagining a superbly roasted turkey with fresh bread and mashed potatoes as he made his way towards the front door of his handsome abode. His good cheer was put to the test when he found the door refusing to open in spite of the fact he had heard the lock slide and the handle was compressing as it should.
A sullen wave of grumpiness crashed down on him, as he began to push, first insistently and then violently, against the door.
“Shall I be barred from my own home?!!” he shouted, red-faced, to no one in particular, and then let fly a string of epitaphs that would have been earned praise from a longshoreman. Now madder than hell fire, he paced around to the back of his house, in the process acquiring more exercise than he usually did in a day.
He opened the back door and walked through the kitchen. His fury redoubled as he saw no meal was prepared in the kitchen. The eerie silence of the house made no impression upon him, as his irascible temper was stoked by the contemplation of a cold supper after his long day’s work.
“Rachel!!” he shouted out with such vehemence that she likely would have considered her kidnapping fortuitous had she heard it. He was fit to be tied. He had visions of Rachel, Sarah, and Timmy out amusing themselves somewhere, while he faced a kitchen as empty as his stomach.
Then, he saw what looked like movement near the stairwell.
“Sarah?” he said, with genuine concern, as he saw her struggling body kicking frantically, as if animated by the sound of his voice.
He went springing towards the stairwell, where he found her gagged and well tied up. For a moment he felt genuine pity and concern, but his fury returned with a vengeance when five minutes saw him make not a shred of progress in extricating her from her bonds. Even the gag around her mouth was tied so skillfully that his pudgy fingers were no match against the artful knots.
He ran towards the kitchen and grabbed the first knife he could find, which happened to be a large butcher knife. Sarah’s eyes grew the size of saucers when she saw his furious person approaching her with an instrument that could just as easily murder her as extricate her.
But he calmed himself as he attacked the bonds of his servant and showed sufficient care so that within the span of six minutes she was free of her bonds and without having suffered a scratch in the process.
“Have they stolen much?” inquired the judge, his mind turning at once towards his hidden, yet occasionally bragged about, collection of gold coins.
“Not stolen, kidnapped,” said Sarah, who was a Dachwaldian by birth and had only come to Selegania out of desperation after warfare had left her a desperate widow.
“Kidnapped?!” the judge shouted out in horror, his selfish anger in an instant banished from his mind.
Sarah nodded her head, sobbing.
He then noticed the steel pole wedged against the door, which had caused the beginning of his ordeal. He kicked it aside angrily and was about to sprint outside and tell his footman to head at full speed to the local constable’s office, but then he noticed a mysterious package next to the pole.
URGENT CASE MATERIALS IN THE MATTER
OF SELEGANIA V. STEPHENSON
TO BE OPENED BY JUDGE HAUFENSEHN ONLY
“They leave there,” Sarah said, fully aware of the interest the package had stimulated in her master.
Judge Haufensehn immediately tore open the package to discover a letter:
Esteemed Judge Haufensehn:
It is with grave solemnity that we have taken this step. We are not terrorists or criminals. We are barbers, grocers, leatherworkers, bankers, and blacksmiths. In brief, we are your fellow countrymen. We are united by a singular desire to rid this country once and for all of the scourge of so-called “Smokeless Green,” or, as we think it more properly termed, “Poisonous Green”!
We have stood by long enough watching politicians and policemen tiptoe
around the issue while this poison permeates our society, but the district judge’s decision in the case of Selegania v. Stephenson was the last straw for us. Beyond you, lies only the Supreme Court, and if you think we are going to stake the safety and wellbeing of our children and our FUTURE on the gutless arbitrariness of men in black robes, then you are hereby undeceived!
The district judge has emboldened both the criminal entrepreneurs who peddle this poison and the addicts who consume it, leaving honest society in the crossfire of these verminous criminals.
Enough is enough!!
If you convince your fellow justices to uphold SISA, your wife and son will be returned in good health. If you fail our republic by intellectual pretension and claim the Constitution forbids SISA, we will return your wife and son to you in pieces, which will represent the devastation you have thereby wrought on this republic’s future.
It would be most unwise to tell anyone of this letter or your family’s abrupt departure. If we sought publicity, we would have delivered this letter to the press. Efforts via the police will be futile and severely harmful to your family’s health. Failure to keep both this letter and your family’s disappearance absolutely secret will be treated the same as failure to uphold SISA.
Oral arguments for this case begin soon, so be of good cheer!—if you act wisely you will be reunited with your family and do a great service to this republic.
Sincerely,
Guardians of Selegania’s Future
Judge Haufensehn crumpled up the letter and threw it across the floor. Then, he began to weep bitterly and hugged Sarah for comfort, who cried with him, fearful both for the wife’s and the son’s lives and her future, but she found room in her thoughts to worry about whether this would negatively affect her employment.
Chapter 22
JUSTICES TO STAND FIRM DESPITE
THREATS FROM DRUG KINGPINS
Judge Haufensehn couldn’t help but notice the headline glaring at him from where he sat inside his carriage. He whistled to the driver, who stopped immediately, and Judge Haufensehn hopped out of the carriage with the alacrity of a schoolboy, paid the young man for a newspaper, and then hopped back into the carriage, closing the door behind him firmly.
“Inside sources have informed the Gazette that one or more justices of the District of Selgen Circuit have received threats warning them it would be in their corporeal interest to find SISA unconstitutional and fatal for them to find otherwise. Nonetheless, per our sources, the justices insist they will not be bullied by such ignominious criminals, and one even reportedly said that he laments not being a trial court judge, as he would savor the opportunity to send these villains on a well-earned trip to the gallows.
“Some are scratching their heads, wondering why the drug lords want SISA invalidated. After all, it is no secret that a new criminal class is emerging that makes the crime lords of yesteryear seem like filthy paupers, and they have the illegality of SISA to thank, since previously Smokeless Green sold at a scintilla of the price.
“Some speculate the reason may be that drug lords are beginning to look outside Selegania’s borders, where Smokeless Green is also illegal and where there is no strong corollary to Article 8 to threaten its illegal status. Some think the drug lords wish to turn Selegania into a safe haven from which they can then export the drug to places where it is illegal, earning unthinkable profit margins in the process.”
The newspaper was The Republic’s Gazette, a very small newspaper. To the best of Judge Haufensehn’s knowledge, its only journalist was its owner, Stephen Randalls. The office was located only a few miles from his home.
This news left his head spinning. First, he had been threatened by a vigilante group that he must not only find SISA constitutional but also convince the other two circuit justices to do the same. Now, he was learning that one or both of them was being threatened to come to the opposite conclusion.
His bowels groaned and his heart ached, as he thought of the weakening prospects of ever seeing his wife and son alive again, and the dilemma of whether to risk going to the authorities weighed heavily upon his soul.
When he arrived at the courthouse, it was 8 a.m., and oral arguments were scheduled to begin at 10 a.m. His worry over his wife and son relegated his interest in the newspaper article to an inferior position, and when he walked into the conference room to meet with the other justices, it quickly caught the eye of Chief Justice Revdel, who said, “May I?” while grabbing the newspaper from Haufensehn before receiving an answer.
“This is outrageous! I’ve received no such threats. Judge Beckle?”
Justice Beckle shook his head.
“It’s settled then. I’ll file suit against this two-bit newspaper tomorrow for calumny. Hmphhh! This journalist is trying to make a name for himself by printing a foundationless, sensationalist story!”
“But how can you prove a negative?” Beckle asked.
“Simple, I will call you two as my witnesses, and I myself will testify. With all three justices swearing under oath that no such threats have been received by this office, we’ll easily clear the preponderance of the evidence standard!”
“But it paints us in a rather positive light. Even if the story is false, what would the damages be?”
“My dear Justice Beckle, you should brush up on more antiquated case law in your spare time. Rodville v. The Seleganian Post held that, when it is knowingly and falsely published that a judge or officeholder has been subjected to a threat or a bribe offer, this in and of itself causes damage to the judge or officeholder because even if the publication states the threat or bribe offer was ignored it can create suspicion about the integrity of that judge’s, or officeholder’s, future decisions or acts.”
Judge Beckle mostly managed to hide the baleful look he gave to the chief justice, but it did not escape Judge Haufensehn’s hawk-like attention. Chief Justice Revdel had an encyclopedic memory of cases, which was at times inspiring and other times vexing.
“It’s a lose-lose proposition,” Judge Haufensehn said, immediately drawing a curious, yet unmistakably reproachful glare from the chief justice. “If we failed to meet our burden, we would not only give this upstart journalist an unhealthy amount of unwarranted attention—which, of course, is his ultimate aim, you understand—but would also validate his wild claims. And even if we were to prevail, he would still acquire his sought-after limelight and probably even acquire a martyr’s sympathy. We would then appear as conspirators who succeeded in covering up the truth due to the collegial bias the trial court judge had for his fellow wearers of the black robe.”
“You’ve had your coffee this morning,” Justice Haufensehn. “I can’t say I see a flaw in your logic—cynical and cold though it is. But I won’t suffer another calumny such as this. The next time, I will file suit, with or without the assistance of my appellate colleagues!” the chief justice said with a bit of annoyance.
“Well, calumnies and future lawsuits aside, let us talk about the legal case at hand,” the chief justice resumed. “Do either of you care to state a position on this matter now, or have you entered with an open mind ready to be dazzled by the rhetorical skills of a senator-slash-attorney versus a crack team of the district attorney’s best litigators?”
“Constitutional, without a doubt!” Haufensehn said, with far more enthusiasm than he intended.
“I agree!” said Justice Beckle, whose countenance also immediately suggested he had intended less passion to be evident in his voice.
“Well, why waste time on oral argument then?” said the chief justice. “You two walked in with your mind made up!” he added acerbically. “I thought the two of you remembered what it was like to spend a hundred hours preparing a speech for men you hoped to impress and whose favor you badly needed for the sake of your client!” he finished with a self-righteous, yet sincere, tone.
It was at this moment that Justice Haufensehn realized he had given the actual legal merits of the case far less attention than he
ought to. Truth be told, he had given them next to no attention whatsoever. Images of his wife bound and being subjected to Kasani only knew what kind of degrading treatment somehow seemed to consistently acquire the dominance of his thoughts.
Seeking to save face, he said, “You’re right, Chief Justice. I think I should hear the oral arguments before making up my mind for certain. Perhaps I spoke too quickly just to make it clear I’m not going to kowtow to criminal threats!” This time the enthusiasm he showed was intentional, and it was genuine, but its ostensible source was not.
“Well, that’s more like it,” Chief Justice Revdel replied. “Remember, this is probably going to the Supreme Court no matter what we decide, so if you two want to just decide this thing based off of gut instinct rather than proper legal analysis, have fun watching your opinion get cut to shreds by the Supreme Court, while my concurring or dissenting opinion gets accolades throughout the world of jurisprudence,” he finished with paramount self-satisfaction.
The Republic of Selegania Boxed Set: Volumes One through Four Page 69
