by Ray Verola
Tracey’s upper lip trembled. “Are you going to kill me?”
Shane folded his hands behind his head and laughed in a way he hoped would come off as scary. “No, that would be too messy. Murder, except for the homeless variety, is the one crime that’s hard to get away with in this society. Not impossible, but hard to get away with.” He tapped a button on his desk telescreen. “You, my dear, will be detained.” Two large RW security guards entered the office. “You’ll be going with these two gentlemen. Goodbye.”
The guards each grabbed Tracey by an arm and lifted her out of her seat. “Where are you taking me?” Tracey cried.
The guards and Shane were silent.
In an instant, the guards and Tracey were out the office back door.
46
On the third day of his imprisonment, Taylor was escorted from his cell to the same windowless, poorly lit meeting room where he’d seen Austin and Sophia on his first full day in jail. The large, stern male guard who walked him to the room didn’t say a word on the short trip. The guard communicated only by pointing his riot baton to where he wanted Taylor to go. Taylor thought about asking the guard if he had the ability to speak but decided not to. No need to create more potential problems for himself.
Seated at the table where the guard pointed was a young, thin man with short black hair, an aquiline nose, and intense black eyes. He wore a gray business suit with a white shirt and red tie. The man rose as Taylor entered and extended his hand. Taylor took the offered hand and then sat down.
“Hello,” the man said, “I’m Noah Glazer. Your friend, Austin O’Connor, sent me. If you’re okay with it, I’m going to represent you.”
“Are you any good?” Taylor asked.
“The lawyers I cross swords with in court would say so, and I was salutatorian of my law school class.”
“Maybe I ought to get the valedictorian?”
“He’s unavailable. Died in a house fire three years ago. Tragic. He was a good friend.”
Taylor shook his head. “Sorry to hear about your friend. But beggars can’t be choosers. I guess I’ll have to settle for the salutatorian.” Taylor suppressed a laugh as he remembered thinking the beggars line at the Aguilar dinner on the fateful night they almost killed him. He wondered if this attorney, whom he didn’t know from a hole in the wall, would be able to help him beat the phony murder charge. There was also the residue of doubt he still had about Austin after the “Hello, Austin” moment with Sophia. If Austin was not on his side, this attorney would most certainly not be.
“I have no money,” Taylor said. “You might not want to undertake a job for which you won’t be paid.” Taylor looked him right in the eyes. “If you don’t mind, I have some questions before I accept you as my representative.”
“Ask away.”
“First off, how do you expect to be paid?”
“I will do this legal work gratis, pro bono. But I promise you, I’ll do a first-rate job.”
“What kind of a lawyer works for free?”
“Austin O’Connor is my uncle, on my mother’s side. That accounts for the last name difference, as I’m sure you figured out. It’s a shame what’s happened to my uncle. It’s a shame what’s happened to a lot of people in this society. My uncle is one of my favorite people in the world. I’ve offered to help him out of his current circumstance, but he refuses every time. I think it’s because he’s too proud to accept help. He was so good to me when I was a kid. Anyway, Uncle Austin contacted my parents. Asked for a favor. He thinks defending you is a top priority. If it’s his top priority, then it’s also mine. That’s why I’m here.”
As he’d been doing more frequently, Taylor checked in with George. The answer came immediately. Go with this guy. Taylor extended his hand to Noah Glazer. They shook hands for the second time. “Okay, you’re hired.”
“We have a procedural hearing before a new judge this afternoon,” Glazer said. “I wanted to meet you before then.” Glazer’s eyelids almost closed. He lowered his voice and said, “This is a fast-track death penalty case. We can’t make a false step.”
***
Later that day, Taylor, wearing a standard red prison jumpsuit, was ushered to the defendant’s table by the silent, pointing guard. Noah Glazer was seated at the table. Glazer rose and they greeted each other. “Red is not your color,” Glazer said. They both sat. At the other table was Anna Conti. She kept her head down, focusing on a mini-telescreen in her hands.
Taylor turned to the gallery, expecting to see Austin. The gallery was empty.
The judge, a middle-aged female with long, straight brown hair entered and sat on the bench. “Ms. Conti, I understand you have something to say on behalf of the state?”
Conti stood and said, “Yes, your honor. It seems we’ve found that the telescreen tape used in the preliminary hearing to show probable cause to hold Mr. Morris and also Ms. Troward as an accessory was . . . unreliable. Unreliable mainly because we were unable to uncover footage of Mr. Morris actually performing any harmful act on either of the Aguilars. Therefore, the state is recommending the charges against Mr. Morris and Ms. Troward be dismissed with prejudice.”
Taylor leaned over to Glazer. “The with prejudice thing. Is that good or bad?”
“Good,” Glazer said. “It means these charges can never be brought against you or Ms. Troward again on this issue.”
“Very well,” the judge said. She turned to Taylor. “Mr. Morris, after we process you out, you are free to go. Ms. Troward will be released within the hour.” The judge looked to Glazer and then back to Conti. “If there’s nothing else, our business here is done. Mr. Morris is discharged. Case dismissed.” She pounded the gavel and exited out a side door.
Anna Conti grabbed a white plastic bag on the side of her desk and walked over to Glazer. In a monotone, she said, “These are Mr. Morris’s clothes and personal effects taken at the time of his arrest.” She set the bag down in front of Glazer without making eye contact with him or Taylor. She quickly left the courtroom.
Taylor leaned over to Noah Glazer. “I guess you’re as good as you said you were.”
“It wasn’t me,” Glazer said. “I didn’t do a thing. Quite frankly, I’m shocked. This is a rarity. Can’t explain it.”
“So what happens next?” Taylor asked.
“You’re free to go, that’s what happens. You’ll be taken to a room where you’ll be processed out and can change into your own clothes.” Glazer stood and they shook hands. “I’ve got another hearing in a half hour. I’m going to stay here and review my notes.”
“Nice doing business with you,” Taylor said with a smile.
Less than ten minutes after the judge had dismissed the case, Taylor walked out the automatic double doors of the court—and standing no more than twenty feet in front of him was Austin.
Austin recoiled. “Am I seeing a ghost? What are you doing out here?” Austin said with a confused expression.
“I’m free,” Taylor replied.
“Unbelievable. I arrived a minute ago and decided to wait here. I was expecting my nephew Noah to come out after the hearing to give me an update. You were the last person I thought I’d see.”
“The government dropped the case. A problem with their doctored tape, the prosecutor said.”
“I still don’t believe it.”
“I’m going to use the restroom to freshen up. Then we’ll go to the women’s wing of the jail. Roz is supposed to be released within the hour.” Taylor checked with George about Austin and got a true-blue response. His concern about Austin was fading.
47
Taylor and Austin made the short walk across the street and arrived at the door of the women’s jail just as Roz exited, wearing her own clothes and carrying a white plastic personal effects bag in her hand.
Taylor and Roz embraced and kissed each other on the lips.
“What happened to your forehead?” Roz asked.
“A minor prison fight,” Taylor said. “I won. No big deal.”
With a smile, Austin said, “Oh, how I love being a third wheel.”
As Roz hugged Austin, Taylor said, “You’re never a third wheel to us.”
Later that afternoon, the three had a small celebration featuring ice cream cake and coffee in Taylor’s apartment. Taylor and Austin updated Roz on the developments since she was incarcerated, including the information that Austin had worked at RobotWorld. The talk turned to what to do next.
Taylor said, “Even though Roz and I have dodged a legal bullet, we still have problems. Individual problems and society-wide problems. The first question in my mind is whether we stand and fight to make our society better or whether we flee this madness and try to make a better life outside Capital City, and maybe far away from the Northeast Sector. I must tell you, I’ve never been a quitter. Leaving would not only be quitting but it also might be a problem given government travel restrictions. And we’ll be abandoning our fellow humans.” Taylor looked to Austin, then to Roz. “I guess I’m answering my own question. I say we stay and fight for a better society. But if we do leave, I’d like other humans to have the same opportunity.”
Roz nodded.
Austin said, “I told you that you’d do great things one day. I’m with you.”
“I’m with both of you,” said Roz.
“I wonder,” Austin said, “if the issue of safety for the two of you, and maybe me, is still a concern?”
“I suspect it might be,” Taylor said. “We’ll deal with it, as needed.”
“Sounds good,” Roz said.
Austin said to Taylor, “Well, despite your earlier remark, it’s no fun being a third wheel.” He grinned. “Plus, I need to tell Errol and Max that you two are free. They’ve been worried.” Austin got up from the table. “See you both tomorrow. I’ll let myself out.”
Taylor looked at Roz. They smiled at each other and both blushed.
“Well,” Taylor said, “alone at last.”
“What do we do now?” Roz asked.
“I still have some prison dust on my body,” Taylor said. “I need a good shower.”
“Funny you mention prison dust,” Roz said. “I’ve got some on me as well.”
“Should I use the shower first? Or do you want to? Or . . .”
She said, “No law against us . . .” She arched her eyebrows and seemed to purposely not complete her sentence.
He completed it for her. “. . . Using it together.”
They rose from the table and began losing articles of clothing while laughing. They were both naked by the time they stepped into the shower. They continued laughing like kids as they washed themselves and each other. They kissed several times.
“You are so beautiful, so wonderful,” he said.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” she told him.
He said, “You know that I love you.”
“I’ve loved you from the first time I saw you,” she said. She displayed a serious expression. “Well, almost the first time. You were dressed like a dork the first time I saw you.”
“A dork? Who uses such antiquated words?”
They laughed some more.
After only five minutes, they exited the shower and dried each other with oversize towels while giggling like teenagers.
He lifted her and carried her to the bedroom. They tumbled onto the bed.
They embraced and kissed. A lyric from “Livin’” popped into his head. Good times are here with a girl like you.
He said, “I’m a little out of practice. Especially with real women.”
“I’m out of practice too,” she said. “But you know what? It doesn’t matter.”
And she was right.
48
The next day, Errol and Max each carried a large plastic bag containing food from Lee’s China Garden restaurant into Taylor’s apartment. They had been sent by Roz to obtain the food.
“Finally,” Taylor said. “We can take a lunch break.”
Taylor was seated at the dining room table. Austin was stretched out on the couch. He got up to join Taylor.
As Errol and Max set the bags on the table, Taylor’s gaze lingered on the Lee’s China Garden logo, an ancient three-story, curving green-roofed pagoda surrounded by a solid red circle. He remembered the several times he and Jennifer had ordered food from Lee’s, which had come in the same type of bag. His mind flashed back to the time when Jennifer had prepared an outstanding Chinese meal based on food they’d ordered from Lee’s—and had him try Serenity for the first time. It seemed so long ago. He had to stifle a laugh when he realized that in the past such a memory—minus the introduction to Serenity—would have caused him to experience a wave of longing for bygone days. Now, with Roz in his life, there was no such feeling at all.
As she set out paper plates around the table, Roz said, “Taylor, stop staring into space. Time to eat.”
He smiled. “Got it, hon.”
As they passed around containers of beef with broccoli, chicken chow mein, and shrimp with lobster sauce, Taylor said, “So what do you all think of my plan?”
“Do we have to talk about business while we eat?” Roz asked.
Taylor said, “How about for the first five minutes?” He smiled at Roz. “Then we can talk about anything you want to talk about.”
“So, how well do you know this media guy?” Austin asked.
“Real well. Merrill Eason. I knew him in college. We stayed in touch. He’s a good guy. I’ve had some preliminary contact with him regarding my plan.”
“Can he be trusted?” Austin asked. “That’s the big question.”
“I’m confident he can be,” Taylor said. In addition to his “own” positive feeling about Eason, Taylor had consulted with George and gotten a resounding yes. “And I’ll get paid for doing the broadcast. Not much. But it’ll be good to get back to working for money.”
“The plan, then, is to see if you can do a radio show over the common airwaves,” Roz said. “To what end? Expose the government?”
“To give the people a voice,” Taylor said. “I proposed the idea of a pirate telescreen broadcast to Merrill. But he was certain such a broadcast would be pretty much impossible to bring off. Therefore, a radio show is the best way to go. I know there has to be an untapped groundswell out there of dissatisfaction with the status quo. Despite all the Serenity, despite all the mind-numbing, intimidating machinations of the government, there has to be a large group of people out there just hungering for the truth.” He forked some beef with broccoli onto his plate. “Just hungering for someone to point the way to a way out.”
“But what about the danger of doing such a program?” Roz asked. She looked sternly at Taylor. “The danger to you? The danger to all of us? Meaning you, me, Austin, Errol, and Max. One of the main issues after we beat that trumped-up murder rap was how to keep you—and all of us—safe. If you do some kind of anti-government criticism radio show, you’ll be putting a bull’s-eye right over your heart, and maybe on the rest of us too. You’ll be inviting the government to make us disappear.”
“I’m not so sure,” Taylor said. “If I’m high profile, will the government come after me? And those associated with me? If they made us disappear, that would prove my point. Perhaps with me being a high-profile critic, we’ll all be safer.”
In between bites of chicken chow mein, Austin said, “The government wouldn’t care. They’d dispose of you without a moment’s thought to whether you’re high profile or low profile. In some ways, they’d benefit by making an example out of you. And the rest of us could be in increased danger for our association with you. I’m not buying your high-profile argument.”
Roz nodded. “There you go.”
In a
clipped tone, Taylor said, “Austin’s point is right on target, I’ll admit.” He took a deep breath and purposely moderated his voice. “But I want to change things—or at least try to change things. To get us off this destructive path we’re on. To expose the government-RobotWorld connection, and how laws are being broken, and how the people suffer for it. I want to do this. I’ll go it alone if I must. The last thing I want is getting you all in hot water. Maybe there’s a way to disassociate you all from me. But as far as I’m concerned, thinking big but acting small is the same as thinking small. As I told you before, Austin, if I have to pay a price, then so be it.”
Everyone around the table stared at their food. There was a silence lasting for an uncomfortable fifteen seconds or so, until Taylor said, “How about this great weather we’re having, huh?”
Errol and Max laughed. Roz and Austin didn’t.
49
Roz was the first to break the uncomfortable silence. She looked at Taylor. “You don’t expect us to let you go it alone, do you? Wherever you go, I’m following.”
“Me too,” Austin said.
“Me three,” said Errol.
“Me four,” Max said.
They all laughed.
“You’re all the best,” Taylor said.
***
Shane barged into Sophia’s office and sat down across the desk from her. “I am not happy,” he said. “First, the plan to have Taylor Morris killed in a prison fight failed. Yet another Hart fiasco. I’m beginning to come over to your opinion, Sophia, on his competence to get nonmedia-related tasks accomplished. Second, Morris and his girlfriend are now free, out of custody. How the hell could this happen?”
Sophia shook her head.
“I guess I’ll have to answer my own question,” Shane continued. “I can make an educated guess on how it happened. They got a bleeding-heart judge. Then one of our hand-picked prosecutors, a newbie named Conti without much experience and who insists on wearing vanity eyeglasses, panicked at the prospect that our tampered-with telescreen tape couldn’t establish Morris as a murderer. I can’t contact her directly to verify this sad situation because of the risk involved, but reliable sources seem to confirm my theory. We thought Conti was ready for the big time. Wrong! We thought she was strong, reliable, and a team player. Wrong! Her career is finished.”
