Revolution: Luthecker, #3

by Keith Domingue

  Kirby took a deep breath. He was losing the Coalition Properties CEO for a second time. He felt sweat pouring down his back. Kirby began to realize that more than being a bad negotiator, he was just plain bad with people. He carefully gathered his thoughts before he spoke. If there was a time to be direct, it was now.

  “Perhaps I should start with my goals and work backwards from that,” Kirby began. “That might make things easier to understand.”

  “Make it quick.”

  “I am primarily concerned with one thing: survival of the species.”

  “Oh. Your extinction theory.”

  “It’s not a theory. It’s a mathematical certainty.

  “The valued members of the species will survive.”

  “Maybe, but in what manner? Because the state does not exist without the people.”

  “There will be enough who survive to service the needs of the upper classes.”

  “I don’t agree. There will be chaos. Savage chaos that benefits no one, unless we intervene and steer things in a manner that benefits what you consider the more valued members of the species.”

  “What does Alex Luthecker have to do with all of this?”

  “If he’s capable of what I think he’s capable of, we need him to step in and use his influence. We need to convince him to save the world on our behalf.”

  “The world will be just fine. This isn’t a comic book, doctor.”

  “Comic book or not, things are about to come to a savage end, and we need to convince him to help stop it.”

  “Why? To what end?

  “To set the stage for a glorious future. A rebirth of mankind.”

  Turner no longer thought about having Kirby killed. He thought about having Kirby committed to a Coalition asylum. “That sounds just a bit unrealistic,” he finally replied.

  “It’s the only way that Coalition Properties stays on top. Has anything to stay on top of.”

  “And exactly how does Coalition Properties benefit from your ideas on saving the world?”

  “That’s the best part. We part ways with the climate deniers and get in front of the problem. We kill the golden goose.”

  “The golden goose?”

  “Oil. We reestablish the Coalition as a leader, but not just in weapons and energy, but in world-saving technology. We clean up our image, along with the planet. We do so aggressively. And all the while, we monetize it. We own it all, lock, stock, and empty oil barrel.”

  Kirby could see that he finally had Turner’s attention. “Our core businesses do not change. Our core ownership structure does not change. And we patent and make proprietary all the technology necessary to save the world from itself.”

  “I’m not going to get rid of our oil interests. That’s ludicrous.”

  “I’m not saying get rid of it. I’m saying stop protecting it. Let it die a natural free-market death, and be the leader in what naturally replaces it. And if in the process it starts the world along a path that prevents the next extinction all the better. And you can profit from all of it.”

  Turner thought over Kirby’s words.

  “The Coalition ends up owning the world, not just now, but in the future. But here’s the important part. This is all your idea. It’s in your head, not mine, a very important distinction when it comes to dealing with Alex Luthecker specifically. Neither of us wants him running around inside our heads. So focus on your goals, monetizing the survival, and I’ll focus on mine, getting him on board. Trust me, and I’ll trust you. Then we both win.”

  Turner examined Kirby for several seconds. He thought the man was a bit of a kook, but the Coalition CEO decided to play along with Kirby and see where he was leading.

  “So how does Alex Luthecker fit into the Coalition?” Turner asked.

  “First, we stop defining him as either an asset or a threat. We stop defining him in any way. More importantly, we stop being afraid of him. We stop thinking about him at all. The Coalition literally stops all efforts to chase him, bring him in, or hunt him down. And I mean that.”

  “And then what?”

  “I find him and convince him to come in and join us voluntarily. I involve him in the problem I want to solve: saving the planet from certain doom. I put his massive memory capacity and ability to influence others to work—and I am completely, one hundred percent sincere about it.”

  “When you say ‘I,’ you really mean the Coalition.”

  “No, I mean I.” But I remember who I work for. And you do what you have to, and you keep me out of the loop. See how that works?”

  Turner mulled over Kirby’s proposition. “I’m not interested in meeting him,” Turner said.

  “You can’t. In fact, no one from Coalition Properties outside of myself should ever deal with him again. And after this meeting, we can never speak again. Not until it’s done, and he’s on our—my team.”

  “But— ”

  “Say no more, Mr. Turner, for your own safety. Considering whom we’re dealing with here, it’s important that we strictly compartmentalize our thoughts. And it’s important that you understand one more thing: I am one hundred percent sincere in my desire to save the species. And that is my only desire. There is literally nothing else on my mind. I will convey that goal and the sincerity behind it to Alex Luthecker. Because I also believe, without a doubt, that he’s the only one who can help me.”

  Turner understood what Kirby had in mind. He had to admit that it was clever. It was also a fool’s errand, but Turner saw no immediate downside. And it might inadvertently lead to Luthecker’s whereabouts, which was information that Turner, despite his reluctance to even recognize Luthecker’s existence, would need in order to keep the problematic soothsayer in check, should the necessity to do so arise.

  “Okay, I’ll let you run with this. For now. But I want to know as soon as you make contact with him,” Turner said as he got to his feet.

  I’ll have Kirby followed from now on, Turner thought. And he had his own agenda he would pursue.

  “Fair enough,” Kirby replied as he got up from his seat.

  He was surprised when the Coalition CEO offered his hand. Kirby shook it vigorously, pleased to finally be a respected part of the team. At the very least, he had bought himself a little more time. Kirby had sold an idea to Glen Turner without the Coalition CEO seeing the opportunity he had to play both sides against each other.

  It was ironic, because what Kirby was planning would be something that Alex Luthecker could probably see before Kirby spoke a word. Knowing this, Kirby decided he would have to craft his argument with Luthecker differently. It was a challenge Kirby looked forward to. Because only then would Kirby get the recognition he truly deserved.

  In Kirby’s mind, only he could save the world. And when it was all over, Luthecker, Glen Turner, the Coalition, indeed the whole world, would finally see what Doctor Mark Kirby was truly capable of.

  10

  Blue Curtain

  Young LAPD Officer Dino Rodriguez sat quietly outside his commander’s office and glanced around the room. It was dated ‘80s architecture and furniture, but it was clean and well kept.

  Rodriguez checked his phone. It was 10:26 a.m. His performance review had been scheduled for 10:00 a.m., sharp. He shifted his weight in the uncomfortable wooden chair, took a deep breath, and did his best to calm his nerves.

  Normally it would be the captain, not the commander, who would be giving Rodriguez his review. But the bombings on 108th street in Watts and also the old Metro 417 train station below Hill Street downtown, the latter of which resulted in the loss of his partner, Officer Glen Coleman, had put his promotion to Senior Lead Officer in jeopardy. It was because of these recent events that Rodriguez’s commander and not his captain would be conducting the performance review.

  There had been an Internal Affairs investigation into the series of incidents, which included Rodriguez’s involvement in something known as “Safe Block,” a zone in East Los Angeles that had harbored refugees an
d illegal immigrants. Several buildings had been destroyed, and Russian mobsters had been identified as the culprits.

  Homeland Security became involved, and things had quickly become territorial between rival agencies. The press inadvertently helped Rodriguez’s case by reducing a complex situation into a conspiracy theory that had its roots in history, that the militarization of the police force targeting minorities was to blame, and it had to be stopped.

  Internal affairs brushed back Homeland in what was reduced to a Federal vs. State dispute, and with some surprise pressure by the state’s largest employer, Coalition Properties, the Feds backed down.

  The LAPD promised community outreach programs as a solution, and the matter quietly slipped into the past.

  It helped that the officers that were part of the alleged “Blue Curtain” had stuck together. They spoke as one when they claimed to be helping the local community. The one thing that was understood but never acknowledged was that Officer Dino Rodriguez was the de facto leader of the Blue Curtain.

  “He’ll see you now.”

  Rodriguez looked up at the secretary, nodded, and got to his feet. He straightened out his crisp blue uniform, checked his badge, and walked into the commander’s office.

  “Your captain came out against your promotion,” Commander Tom Bruno said. Bruno, a large framed black man in his early sixties, waited for a reaction.

  For the first time in a long time, Rodriguez felt the butterflies of nervousness in his stomach. “I was cleared of any charges of misconduct, sir.”

  “I understand. But your…extracurricular activities have put a bit of a spotlight on your unit. Something that he doesn’t care for.”

  “I look out for the most vulnerable members of the community, sir.”

  “I understand. What you have to understand is that Captain Vanhelter is by the book.”

  “You saw what happened. What those people had been subjected to…”

  “I’ve seen worse. Believe me.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I forgot who I was talking to.”

  Rodriguez knew his commander’s history—from a teenager during the Watt’s riots, to an officer on duty during the Rodney King riots, Commander Bruno understood Los Angeles better than anyone.

  “I’m going to promote you,” Bruno said.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “But with some advice.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Keep doing what you’re doing, but don’t break the law. And be mindful of the optics. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Because I’m going to put it on you to keep things smooth with your captain.”

  “I will, sir. Thank you.”

  “You earned it. At the end of the day, you helped save those people—illegal or not. You’ll be getting a new partner starting today. Captain Vanhelter will fill you in on the details.”

  The commander stood up and held out his hand. Rodriguez got to his feet and shook it.

  “I won’t let you down, sir,” Rodriguez said.

  “I know you won’t. But watch your back, son.”

  Rodriguez nodded before turning toward the door. He exited the commander’s office and breathed a sigh of relief. The pay boost that comes with the promotion will come in handy, he thought to himself.

  But the biggest question on his mind was whom Vanhelter was going to assign as his new partner. Rodriguez had one specific officer in mind. One he knew would be supportive of his efforts on Safe Block.

  “You need to report any activity regarding illegal immigrants directly to me,” Captain John Vanhelter said to newly-promoted Senior Lead Officer Dino Rodriguez.

  “Yes, sir,” Rodriguez replied. He stood at attention across from the captain’s desk.

  “We have very specific protocol we must follow. Going outside the protocol is not only grounds for termination, it allows for potential terrorists to come into our country,” Vanhelter continued. “And I will not have terrorists ushered into this country with the help and support of the LAPD.”

  Vanhelter was a barrel-chested man in his mid-thirties. He had short-cropped hair of dark-brown offset by a thick mustache with streaks of gray. Vanhelter believed that violent offenders streamed through porous borders and often found himself at philosophical odds with his officers, particularly those of Mexican-American heritage.

  Still, Vanhelter was by the book and made few if any errors. Political beliefs aside, he stood by his officers and reprimanded them hard if they crossed the line, which was why Rodriguez’s activities had gotten Vanhelter hot under the collar.

  “Bruno promoted you, and it’s no secret that I recommended differently. So understand, I’m watching. And if I get any sense you’re working with that group moving illegals again, I’ll have your badge. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Rodriguez replied but didn’t move.

  “Good. Your new partner is Officer Ellen Levy. She’s waiting for you at the motor pool.”

  Ellen Levy put her signature on the time sheet, grabbed the keys, and walked across the concrete floor of the garage toward the parking lot.

  At twenty-six, Levy had been on the police force for just over two years. Her parents, immigrants from Israel and both physicians, had hoped she would follow in their footsteps and go into the medical profession. But an attack on campus during Ellen’s senior year at college changed everything.

  Walking home from a party at 2:00 a.m, she had been assaulted from behind by a large male assailant. His breath smelled of alcohol, and to this day Ellen could no longer stand the scent of liquor; it brought her back to that horrific moment. She had found herself face down in the grass, the man tearing at her clothes. She tried to scream, and that was the last thing she remembered until a sharp pain in the back of her head.

  She woke up in the back of an ambulance. The EMTs told her she had been lucky. Two other male students happened on the scene and the assailant had fled. One of the male students had given chase, but the assailant out ran him. The attacker was never identified.

  Ellen had escaped serious injury. Considering the circumstances, she had indeed been very lucky. But what had changed Ellen the most was the response she got from both the university authorities and the police.

  She had reported the attack to both parties, but nothing had ever come of it. Not only was no suspect ever found or arrested, she was strongly advised to let it go.

  Everywhere she went, she was turned away. It was at that point she decided not to let it go. She was going to investigate, not only her own case but similar unsolved assault cases. And what she found had shocked her.

  Once she started speaking to fellow students, both male and female, along with concerned police officers, the number of assaults had proven startling.

  Beyond the officers, students, and administrators who demonstrated little concern, there were others who did express concern but did little. They suffered from what Ellen called “compassion fatigue,” a dullness in perception and compassion that set in over time. It seemed that many had simply lost the capacity to care, their emotional capabilities buried among the numbers, creating a sense of normalcy with violence.

  And the number of assaults on women, particularly on campus, were huge. It made Ellen angry. Unsure what to do with her anger, she had turned to her father, Dr. Sheldon Levy, for counsel. Ellen adored her father and viewed him as the strongest, kindest man she had ever known.

  And Sheldon, who had survived his own encounters with violence during his youth in Israel, knew from the first conversation with his daughter that she would not follow the family profession. He knew that his daughter, known for her fiery temper as a child, would not let this incident stand. And much to the disappointment of Ellen’s mother, he was supportive of his daughter’s choice to join the Police Academy.

  Ellen agreed to finish her Bachelor’s degree in psychology before applying to the Academy, with a specialty in criminal behavior. She remembered her first
day at the academy like it were yesterday, when she witnessed the pride behind the crisp-blue uniforms and listened to lectures on honor, protecting and serving. She knew, even before her orientation was over, she’d found her purpose.

  “I thought junior officers drove,” Officer Levy said as she sat in the passenger seat of the LAPD Crown Victoria prowler.

  She watched the streets and sidewalks of Wilshire Boulevard, eyeing the strip malls with nail salons, Korean barbeque joints, and 7-Elevens as they drove past. She turned to Rodriguez for an answer.

  “Not today,” he replied.

  They drove in silence for several minutes.

  “So you knew my former partner Glen Coleman,” Rodriguez said.

  He pulled the Crown Vic up to a red light and waited.

  “He was a good man. Told me all about you,” Levy replied. “And all about Safe Block,” she added.

  “And Vanhelter? What do you think of him?”

  The radio squawked as the light turned green, and Rodriguez rolled the Crown Vic through the intersection.

  “He’s a desk hound,” Levy said. “Sees everything through rule sets, not human dynamics. An administrative skill set.”

  “And if things step outside of the rule set out here?”

  “Have you seen my file?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then let’s cut the bullshit because I’ve seen your file too. I asked for this assignment. And I know you were hoping for me. I know what you’re up to. And I’m in. One hundred percent.”

  “One hundred percent in on what?”

  “Are we gonna keep fucking around with the back and forth, or are you going to take me to the Block?”

  Rodriguez chuckled. “I heard you were blunt and to the point. There are some people I want you to meet first. And then, yeah, we’ll go to the Block.”

  11

  The Barbarian