CHAPTER THREE
THE HYPOCRISY OF PROOF
1
The hypnotic aroma of the fresh baked cherry pie wafted through Guardian Administrator Cain’s kitchen as it cooled off on the windowsill with the sweet fragrance waking up his taste buds by way of the olfactory canal. Delivered a few minutes earlier by express service, at the behest of Warren Stacy to get it there still warm from the oven, Alexander Cain V considered victory to be very sweet and tasty, too.
Unfortunately, it would end up being a short-lived one, leaving behind a sour tang.
The GAC wanted to just kickback and bask in triumph over those who would stand in the way of progress. He did not believe Ricardo acted on his own volition, even though he fully confessed to it being solely his idea to plant the evidence. It had to be someone else’s master plan. Ricardo was only a foot soldier following orders, a cog in the wheel, not someone with the initiative to draft, implement, and execute the deceptive deed, which did not benefit him to take such risks. Unless, he was acting under the impression someone would make it worth his while.
Atera walked into the kitchen as Alexander was preparing to cut a slice and serve her up a nice piece of humble pie. As one of the only individuals who could have enabled him to work covertly, it wasn’t too hard to figure out who Ricardo’s benefactor was. Atera hardly bothered trying to conceal her involvement after the trial, exuding a steadfast commitment to her cause, which bothered him even more than if things had gone the other way. She remained way too self-confident. The real question he needed answered was why.
“I do not understand how you can let them off on the unlawful physical conduct charge, when they are obviously guilty of the offence. Then you go and justify their behavior by announcing this ludicrous reformation project of yours. How can you destroy everything those who came before you worked so hard to correct?”
The GAC showed no reaction to Atera. He just cut her a slice of cherry pie.
“I think I am going to have a little vanilla ice cream on top of mine. Would you like some on yours, too?”
“Is that all you have to say to me? You are not taking this seriously, and if you’re not careful, you will end up at the mercy of your enemies.”
“Oh, I will have plenty to say when the time is right, but the only thing I am seriously considering at the moment is how delicious this pie is going to taste. As you know, cherry is my favorite, and Warren makes the best pies in the country. Now, how can I deny the good citizens of New America such a lovely treat?”
Heading over to the refrigerator, Alexander Cain felt his old bones creek as he retrieved a tub of vanilla ice cream from the freezer. Sucking up the stinging pain shooting throughout his joints, he refused to show his wife any sign of weakness she could use against him. Digging out a scoopful of rich, creamy vanilla and placing it on top of his still warm slice, causing the ice cream to melt right off as he went in for another scoop.
“Since you have not made up your mind, I will just put a scoop on the side of yours.”
“I tried to tell you if you give these people an inch, they are going to want a foot, and if you do not give it to them, they will try and take everything. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Atera predicted before walking out of the room.
With a slight headshake noting disappointment in his wife’s attitude, Alexander cut into his slice using the side of his fork. He scooped up a good-size portion with a bit of ice cream hanging on the edge, thinking he would deal with her later, right now, he just wanted to enjoy his pie. A moment after swallowing the first bite, in the time it took to cut out another forkful, the GAC realized something had gone terribly wrong. Gasping for breath while clutching at his chest, his body convulsed in writhing pain as he held onto the kitchen countertop for support. Simultaneously losing consciousness and grip, Alexander Cain V, Guardian Administrator of the land, stalwart partisan in the quest to keep progressive thinking alive, and possibly the last best hope for justice to prevail, fell defenselessly to the floor with a heavy, inert thud.
2
In the passing hours, the evening showers washed away yesterday’s sorrows with a cleansing rain of freedom falling down upon the heads of those closest to the heir of the legendary Prophet Warrior. Walking out of their old residence and into the rainy night, Michael and Jacob, along with Eve and Hanna, embraced the wet chilly air with spread out, open arms welcoming the purifying sprinkle splashing down on their faces.
From the fifth floor kitchen window of their condo, Warren had a good view of his friends standing in the parking lot soaking up the rejuvenating rain, understanding how they could give into the irresistible urge.
“Hey, check it out.” Warren motioned to Owen with a gentle jab of his elbow and a chin nudge out the window as they washed and dried the dishes together.
“I can definitely relate,” Owen replied after peering down. “I have never felt so free in my entire life.”
“Me, too,” Warren agreed, adding. “I think I will do a special show on romantic dinner recipes for any occasion. People will soon be able to date on their own terms, and they are going to need a good dinner menu to pull off the perfect evening.”
“I must confess, I have been feeling a bit philanthropic, myself. There are going to be a lot of sports figures and athletes needing a spokesperson to help them adjust to the new freedoms they will be able to enjoy.” Owen bravely volunteered his services.
“Oh yeah, and how would you know which athletes and sports’ figures are playing for the other side?”
“It’s not like I have any personal knowledge, but it isn’t too hard to figure out. I mean, take one look at tennis star Nancy Lee, if she is not a lesbian, than I don’t know who is.”
“You got a good point, there,” Warren agreed as he thought of another famous-athlete who might be in the closet. “I bet figure skater Robin Perry is light in the loafers. No straight man can be that graceful.”
“I guess that explains why you are such a big fan of figure skating.”
Warren looked over at Owen with a hand-in-the-cookie-jar, caught in the act gaze. After a moment of vocal silence, with the only sound coming from the running kitchen faucet, both of them gave into the laughter breaking through building smirks. Experiencing the same hopeful, unbridled freedom as their friends, Warren and Owen were not the only ones planning for better tomorrows.
3
Rubbing each other’s bodies dry from their spontaneous rain shower soaking, Michael and Eve stood naked in the comfort of their bedroom, wrapped in each other’s loving arms with damp towels draped over their shoulders. Shuffling over to the bed, they let the towels fall to the floor and jumped under the covers. Fighting off the night chill building in their bones, they cuddled close together, warmly caressing each other. The moment their lips came together, they found themselves overcome with the insatiable need to satisfy their desire for wanton carnal pleasure.
Rolling off of Michael’s drained, prone body, Eve flopped down beside him in exhausted ecstasy, silently wondering if they might have planted a seed for future generations to grow on. It sure felt like a beautiful moment of creative bliss taking place, however, not all inspirational feelings bear fruit. Eve’s paternal thoughts were more than likely born out of no longer feeling pressured by the FWF to conceive as quickly as possible. The news spread of the revelatory announcement made by the GAC at Warren’s and Owen’s trial, sending a shockwave of hope throughout the fringe group and causing everyone to take a step back to contemplate the unexpected, comforting news of being freely granted everything they fought so hard to achieve over many long years.
It seemed too good to be true. Jean informed Eve the leaders of the FWF were more optimistic than skeptical, and believed there would soon be true equality for all. Jean could not bring herself to join in celebrating the premature victory, knowing Max was still their scapegoat for the stadium bombing, and would probably now have the blame shifted to him for the Caesar’s Palace bombing. Even though she believed Gua
rdian Administrator Cain sincere, Jean told Eve there were those who would do anything to prevent it from happening. People were capable of committing horrendous acts when desperate enough.
Eve took Jean’s warning to heart, knowing how hard it was for her to remain positive when her one true love had to live in constant fear of exposure. Except Eve wanted to hold onto the good vibe she felt growing inside her.
“I do not know how to tell you this, or why I am so sure, but I do believe one of your little swimmers made it to shore this trip.”
Turning his head toward Eve with a wrinkled forehead and a raised eyebrow, Michael’s doubtful look faded away as he gazed into her genuinely earnest eyes.
“You do know it is impossible to tell so soon after.” Michael reminded her.
“I am well aware of the facts of life, but that doesn’t mean it is not true.” Eve insisted.
Michael rolled onto his side as she followed suit. Lying nose to nose, they stared into each other’s eyes with an unbreakable love no one could ever destroy.
“You want to know something, I believe you.” Michael agreed after placing his hand on her still flat belly. “I can definitely feel life inside you.”
“Maybe now our child won’t have to live with the pressure of being born to be some kind of warrior prophet savoir. It must have been hard enough for you to comprehend the truth about yourself. I cannot imagine the strain it would put on a child.”
“I have to admit, it is a bit of a mind blower. I do not feel any different. Sometimes I think it is all some big mistake. Somebody hit the wrong button or accidentally switched charts. It is kind of a moot point now, though. We could just keep it a secret. There is no reason to make a big deal about it anymore. Besides, I don’t know what they expected from me in the first place.”
“Well, you do not have to worry about the FWF blowing your cover. As far as they know, you are still in the dark about your hereditary lineage. I wish there was something we could do for poor Max. He rarely gets to see Jean, except for an occasional message drop, knowing how any direct contact would put her in danger of being exposed.” Eve explained Max’s precarious situation, which caused her to remember something else.
“Oh my, I almost forgot. Max left an urgent message for Jean to meet him at one of their pre-arranged safe spots.”
4
Despite the fact, Jacob found great satisfaction in living out his dream of being a big trial lawyer defending justice and winning an extremely important case, he had one equally important, unanswered question preventing his victory over Ricardo from being a complete success. It was the same question that had been worrying the GAC, right before taking a bite of cherry pie, and made Max risk getting caught passing on pertinent information.
Standing under a hot, steaming shower with the spray of water pelting down on him from having it fully turned up, Jacob wanted to burn away the dark thoughts haunting his mind with the prophecy of a stinging loss on his horizon.
Finding himself in the difficult position of trying to protect his friends from becoming targets because of his actions, Jacob also did not want to tip his hand to whoever was the main architect behind these Machiavellian plots and conspiratorial schemes. He needed to go on investigating uninhibited to solve the conundrum of who and why.
So lost in thought, he didn’t notice Hanna step into the shower until she put her hands on his shoulders. The welcoming touch of her gently caressing his neck and back gave Jacob a moment’s reprieve, helping him to relax for a minute. The last thing he wanted to do was give her anything to worry about, but felt secure in knowing the GAC had his back.
Except Hanna knew how fickle the public could be, remembering how quickly they turned against Warren and Owen.
“Damn, Jacob, are you trying to scorch your skin off?” Hanna asked as she reached past him and turned up the cold water, quickly taking away the scolding steam.
“I didn’t notice,” Jacob replied with only a slight bit of truth in his words. “Lost in thought, I guess. But my mind is much clearer now that you are here.”
“I don’t understand why you are so tense. You won.”
“Despite winning numerous battlefield victories, many wars have been lost long after the fighting was over. The only way to know for sure who won or lost is to wait and see who writes its history. Then the ultimate winner will be known, whether based on fact or legend.”
“Well, to hell with war, I would rather make love.” Hanna changed the subject to one more suitable for their current state of dress. Wrapping her arms around his neck in a loving embrace, she gave him a sensually passionate kiss as they spontaneously came to the decision not to wait any longer to consummate their relationship.
Lying in bed after making love under the shower, Jacob and Hanna cuddled under the covers with him on his back and her head resting on his chest. She listened to his calmly beating heart, wishing for it to continue humming its peaceful tune in the dark days ahead.
“Somebody certainly seems more comfortably laidback and relaxed now. I can feel your heart beating in tune with mine, pulsing together as one.”
“I do not think I ever felt mine truly beat until the day I met you. I used to think I was so complete, but never knew how wrong I could be. It wasn’t until the day we met I realized I was missing the most vital part of myself, and that you had been holding onto it for safekeeping.”
“So you better take good care of it, because it still belongs to me and works in harmony with mine. If you break one, you break the other.” Hanna pointed out their shared vulnerability.
Rushing into their bedroom unannounced with an urgent message forcing him to forgo the customary decorum of knocking before entering, GP Sally’s abrupt entrance made the young couple’s hearts simultaneously jump in startled recognition of what must be a serious situation. Something his somber words quickly confirmed.
“There has been an attempt on Guardian Administrator Cain’s life.”
“What? When? How?” Jacob shot straight up, almost tossing Hanna off the bed.
“Oh, no,” Hanna said after catching herself from falling.
“He is alive, but in a coma, supposedly brought on by some unknown poison.” Harvey informed them of the pertinent information given to him. Pausing a moment, he appeared to be reluctant to pass on the rest of his instructed message.
“Come on, Harvey, out with it. What else did they say?” Jacob asked as he got out of bed. “I have to get over there right away. I need to know what is going on.”
Hanna remained in bed with the covers pulled up over her knees, her arms wrapped around her legs, and held close to her chest. GP Sally’s hesitation frightened her more than the tragic news, knowing how Harvey was not a man to worry over nothing.
“That is the only other thing they told me. I should take you over there, a.s.a.p.”
As Jacob quickly got dressed, he could sense Harvey was holding something back. It could only mean one thing. He felt this new assignment might conflict with his primary directive of protection, which took precedent over any countermanding or opposing orders.
“Don’t go, Jacob. I am afraid if you walk out that door I may never see you again.” Hanna pleaded with him, noting GP Sally did not raise any objection.
Also taking note of Harvey abstaining, Jacob spoke for him.
“There is no need to worry about me. I got Harvey watching my back.” Jacob said trying to convince her he was perfectly safe. “I have to go and see what happened. Besides, acting like I have something to hide will only succeed in making them think that I do.”
“I give you my word of honor, Mrs. Rose. I will not let any harm come to him, and no one can circumvent my standing orders, except the GAC,” Harvey stated his irrevocable obligation to duty. It was a code of honor to uphold, especially under ambiguously hazardous circumstances during times of questionable leadership.
Hanna took more comfort in being called Mrs. Rose than either Jacob’s or Harvey’s reassuring words, e
ven if they weren’t married.
“Hanna can you give Michael and Eve a call for me, and let them know what has happened?” Jacob asked her while getting ready to leave. “I need to keep Michael in the loop. His input might prove handy in figuring out our next move once I learn where we stand.”
“If you promise to call and let me know you are all right after you get there.”
Leaning over and giving her a gentle, loving kiss on the lips and forehead, Jacob left with one last attempt to assuage her nervous apprehension.
“I will, and don’t worry about me. According to the GAC, up front and center is the safest place for me to be.”
5
Ricardo knew there were certain risks he would be willing to take in order to achieve his desired goal. Always prepared to face the consequences of his actions if exposed, he just never thought it would actually happen.
What bothered him the most was the hurtful look of disappointment he saw in Samantha’s eyes. Everything he did was so they could be together, and now she appeared ashamed and embarrassed by his dirty deeds.
Sitting in his cell for the last several hours, Ricardo had not given up hope of finding a way to wrench a victory out of defeat. Just because he was out of game, it did not mean those he worked for were going to give up. As it turned out, he only had to spend six hours in the can before they thought of a way he could be useful again.
An electronic beeping sounded out just before releasing the locking mechanism on the cell door as it automatically slid back on its own. Ricardo heard the familiar sound of the guard’s patent leather shoes echoing off the linoleum floor, followed by another click-clacking sound he also knew well. Remaining seated on the edge of his cot, Ricardo cut a rigidly focused presence as he waited for his time to shine again.
“Ricardo Danielle,” a big, burly guard said as he stepped up to the open cell door. “By a special decree from the acting Guardian Administrator, you are hereby released forthwith so that you may freely serve your country.”
“What do you mean by acting Guardian Administrator? What has happened?”
“I’m sorry, sir. But I do not have that information. You will have to ask your assignment officer to fill you in on the details.”
As the guard headed back to other duties, Samantha stepped in front of his open cell door with a computer notepad in her hand that had a classified folder downloaded onto it.
“What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you can no longer handle being free out in the big, bad world? We do not have time to lament your jailhouse memories.”
Standing up, Ricardo stepped over, took the classified folder from her, and pulled up his assignment using a special access code she also gave him. After a quick read, a sinister grin drew a line of satisfaction across his face.
“Let’s go preserve our future tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir, Chief Magistrate Danielle,” Samantha addressed him by his new title.
6
How long had he been lying on the kitchen floor? Was it one hour, two hours? He lost perception of time almost from the moment he hit the floor, along with a total loss of sensation of movement. Unable to twitch a muscle, blink an eye, or even shut one, he could see what was in front of him and hear sounds from a dripping tap, the low hum of the electric refrigerator motor, and distant footsteps. Except he could swear some of the footsteps were coming from right outside the room, mixed in with hushed voices.
From his ground level view, the GAC did not have much of visual perspective, with only chair and table legs in his line of sight. He thought Atera must have gone to bed. But if so, who did he hear talking and moving around out there?
The hushed voices and footsteps grew louder, becoming clearer and more distinct, moving into closer proximity of him, but still out of view. He could hear what they were saying, but the words only confused him with their nonsensical meaning.
“It’s about that time.”
“I will go make the call.”
“Good, I’ll check on Alex.”
The bewildered mind of the GAC raced around in frenzied wonderment over how he wound up here, and why no one had come to his aid, while also trying to discern the meaning of the conflicting words. Upon gaining a clear perspective from an unimpeachable source of the reason for his awakened nightmare reality, the clarity he received only served to escalate his dire situation from personal health problems to concern for those he cared about the most.
Atera’s bare feet stepped up and stopped directly in front of him. As his wife knelt down, she had a self-indulgent justification beaming from her eyes.
“I am real sorry about this, Alex. But you see, it is for your own good, and it will preserve our son’s future. You did not leave me much choice. I had to resort to extreme measures to ensure the stability of what we built here. You got soft, Alex, and the world is a hard place.
“I know you can hear and see me. Do not worry. It is not permanent. It is my own special concoction, a powerful paralytic that induces a comatose state by affecting certain areas of the cerebral cortex, bringing on a complete paralysis of the muscles, including those in the speech center. Oh yeah, and the best part is, it does this without any impairment or damage to the cardiovascular or pulmonary systems.”
Atera repositioned herself on the floor so she could be face to face with him, real up close and personal.
“My sweet baby, I had to show you who truly knows best. I also have to thank you for providing me with the means to legally take power by enacting Executive Order Two-two-eight.”
Standing back up, Atera continued telling her debilitated husband how she would bring about a great change, pacing back and forth with an omnipotent stride.
“I am going to employ an iron fist of justice to wipe out this scourge affecting the people’s minds. With the power of authority granted to me, I will enact Marshall Law and enforce tighter restrictions with a zero tolerance against any offenders. While you, you were just going to condone their disturbing behavior, and let them become a part of everyday society.”
Moving back down in front of her prone husband, Atera wanted to make sure he could see her impart the last bit of disturbing news.
“Just so you know, as a reward for his loyalty, Ricardo Danielle has been given a full pardon and promoted to Chief Magistrate of the Land. He will use the authority of that power to arrest and prosecute any offender to the full extent of the law. As a matter of fact, he should be re-arresting Warren Stacy and Owen Sandy right about now. Oh, do not worry about your precious pet, though. I will keep him around as long as he behaves and remains housebroken. But if he insists on making a mess all over the place, I am going to have to put him in the doghouse, too.”
7
Lying awake in bed at five in the morning, Warren thought what a wonderful day it was going to be. A brand new day for a brand new way of life, a time to rejoice, and he could not just sleep through it. On the other hand, soundly snoring beside him, Owen partook in a different perspective view, more akin to a big bear hibernating for a long, hard winter, finally being able to relax.
If Warren had known the first night they slept in the same bed would also end up being their last, he wouldn’t have done anything different. Theirs was not a lustful relationship driven by sensual stimuli. People did not prioritize their lives merely seeking sexual gratification the way they once did when the advertising and entertainment industries used sex to sell everything. So when finally given the choice to express their emotions freely, without foreknowledge to fear repercussions for the act, Warren and Owen did not do anything other than spend the night discussing future plans. They sort of shared a natural affinity with the fictional characters of Felix and Oscar from the Odd Couple movie and television series. Warren helped Owen to get in touch with his sensitive side, and Owen showed Warren the occasional need to present your alpha dog so people knew you meant business. Though, Owen preferred the comparison of two older and more famous fictional characters, Sherlock Holmes and Dr.
Watson, or real life historical figures, Lewis and Clark or even Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
Peacefully thinking about their conversation from the night before, Warren’s hopeful future world exploded into a doomed present day reality as Ricardo barged into their bedroom with four armed DOS officers at his side, making him feel more akin to Bonnie and Clyde at that moment. Stunned into shocked silence by the sight of Ricardo dressed in an all-black, Gestapo-type outfit with a badge pinned to his chest, reading; Chief Magistrate of the Land and the Iron Fist of Justice. The words circled around a shield shaped badge with an un-blindfolded Lady Justice holding up her scales, standing on top of an iron fist.
“What is the meaning of this?” Owen demanded. “The GAC is going to hear about this. Who do you think you are? What gives you the right to break in here like this? And where on earth did you get that ridiculous uniform?”
Ricardo slapped Owen hard enough across the face that it sent him sprawling over a now very horrified Warren.
“How dare you speak the name of our beloved GAC after what you have done?” Ricardo screamed.
Struck by the realization something bad must have happened, Warren and Owen felt their happy future fading away.
“Warren Stacy and Owen Sandy, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Guardian Administrator Cain V from a poisoned cherry pie sent special delivery from this address.” Ricardo stated.
“That is not possible.” Warren said. “That cannot be true. You are a liar.”
“You better believe it. Because there is no one who can save you now. The GAC is in a coma, and Jacob is going to be too busy trying to save the rest of his friends to be concerned about you two degenerates.”
Noting Ricardo standing in front of their bed, Owen turned to Warren and gave him a big, passionate kiss on the lips, distracting the DOS officers with disgust.
“Goodbye, my love.”
Owen leapt up out of bed and blazingly charged at Ricardo in a desperate, ill-advised attempt to grab him by the throat and force him back through the bedroom window directly behind him, even if it meant he had to go with him.
Possessing lightning-quick, instinctive reactions, Ricardo sidestepped Owen’s rushed momentum and sent him flying through the fifth floor window with a hard forward shove thrusting him through the shattering glass.
Warren cried out in devastating anguish as Owen fell to his death.