Secrets

This story is part of an ongoing series.

The chronological order of my stories is listed in WifeWatchman's biography.

Feedback and

constructive

criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

***

Part 1 - Dream or Reality?

"Oh, won't you stay for awhile?

I'll take you on a ride if you can keep a secret.

Oh, won't you stay for awhile?

Show me darkness, baby, show me deepness..."

--- Tiesto with KSHMR, 'Secrets'

It was 5:00am. I was in the kitchen, making coffee as the shower ran upstairs. When silence replaced the flow of water, I went back upstairs.

Gloria Searles was getting dressed in the bedroom, in the same beige dress she'd been wearing the night before a the bar, and the off-white high heel sandals that shaped her magnificent legs to perfection.

"There you are." she said as I handed her a cup of coffee in a styrofoam cup. She drank from it and said "Mmmm, that's really good." Then she lifted her face and I bent over to kiss her mouth deeply. Mmmm, was right. The taste of her kiss was the best I'd ever experienced.

"Stay a while?" I offered.

"Wish I could." Gloria replied, wrapping her arm around me and pulling me to her for another deep kiss as I wrapped my arms around her waist. "But I've got to get back up to Town."

I was trying to remember what happened. I'd been at the bar when she'd come in and made a beeline for the seat next to me. I'd bought her drink and we'd chatted. Gloria was a Professor of Psychology at the University and was on Staff at University Hospital, which was in the northwest corner of the State. Her husband was a cardiologist on Staff at the same hospital. She came home with me and... and...

And then I realized I could not remember the sex. Damn... the hottest woman I'd been with in possibly forever, and I couldn't remember it? Was I that drunk?

"Hey, you were great." Gloria said. "I'd love to see you again, and let you fuck my brains out like you did last night. You've got my number; if you're up in my Town, give me a call."

"What about your husband?" I asked between warm, delicious kisses, still trying to remember the sex, and failing.

"Him?" Gloria asked, her voice nearly a snarl. "I told you last night, we're separated. So don't worry about it."

"I'll have to make an excuse to go up there, just to see you." I said.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I walked Gloria to her car in the driveway, an expensive BMW, admiring her legs as she got into the car. She rolled down the window for one more kiss, then backed out into the road and drove away.

I looked around the neighborhood in the earliest gloaming of dawn. The sun would soon be rising behind my house. I looked up at it, seeing the window to the sitting room up above, which always reminded me of Melina. My ex-wife had loved that room.

(

Author's special note: If you are confused right now, stop reading this and go read 'Dream Weaver', then come back here.

)

I went inside and poured some coffee, and for reasons I couldn't fathom it all started coming to my mind. I was being tortured by Dr. Laura Fredricson, Jack Muscone, my nephew Ned, and other Officers of the CIA at The Asylum, and was near death. I remember hearing the screams and shouts, then the staccato bursts of gunfire. Then the SBI Agents rushed in, to find the room empty but for myself.

My lower back had been broken; I remembered being picked up and then dropped onto the thigh of one of the orderlies, who had been a tall and very muscular man. They had left me lying on the floor, where the SBI Agents had found me. I was evacuated to University Hospital.

It had taken a month to recover from the ordeal and the surgeries to save my life and my back, then six more months of hard rehab to be able to walk again. The doctors had told me I was very lucky to have regained the use of my legs. Lucky me: the pain in my back was now my constant companion.

*BRING!* *BRING!* *BRING!* *BRING!*

I answered my cellphone. "This is Gor-don." said the voice on the other end. "Come to my office at 9:00am. We've got some stuff to go over."

"Okay." I said. "What's it about?----" But the call had already disconnected.

Gor-don was a lawyer for Chase, Lynch & Berry, P.C. They'd been my legal representation against the State and Federal Governments for my imprisonment and abuse. Gor-don was a snotty little bastard and I couldn't stand him. I didn't understand why he dated some really hot women until I heard he had a huge cock and knew how to use it to bring those hot beauties intense sexual pleasure.

He also was a devastating lawyer in Court, and like his law firm he just loved to sock it to Law Enforcement. He soon had the Government begging to make a plea deal. I was awarded a total of six million dollars, to be paid in 360 monthly installments from the Federal Government, and a lump sum from the State. Gor-don and his law firm got four of those millions in fees. And nearly all of the State money went to my medical bills..

Still, there was some good that came of it. I had the money to fight Jack Burke and my now ex-wife Melina for the house here in Midtown, and I won. Seeing how viciously I intended to fight, and knowing I had the video of Jack fucking Melina in his office, they conceded... but only after stringing it out as long as they could to financially drain me. Nevertheless, I now owned the house free and clear, and part of the plea deal with the State Government was that they paid the taxes on it every year. My bankruptcy had been discharged, so I had no more debt from my now-defunct security devices business.

Still, I needed employment. And that was harder to come by. No labs were hiring, be they hospital labs, environmental labs, manufacturing and production labs, or research labs. After winning my case against the State, I was blackballed from being hired by any State Crime Lab. I applied for Police work, having been an M.P. in the Army Reserve, but a 30-year-old man with a badly damaged back was not as strong a candidate as the younger, healthier men and women coming out of the military.

"Why don't you go back to school?" said Town & County Police Officer Peter M. Feeley, who had visited me at University Hospital, one of only three persons that had done so. "You can get a student loan, get your teaching certificate, or get an advanced degree."

"That's not a bad idea." I said.

"You could also apply to join the SBI." said TCPD Captain Angela Harlan, the second person to visit me in the hospital. "They need help. Lots of help."

"They did a pretty good job rescuing me." I said. "How did they find out I was there?"

"All I'm going to say," Angela had said, "is that the SBI and FBI are just about at all-out war, some of it over jurisdictional issues, and more over trades of accusations of corruption. Someone found out you'd been spotted being brought to The Asylum... which is now closed completely... and contacted the SBI. They took the chance to embarrass the FBI, and boy! did they ever do it. They're still having hearings in Congress about the CIA and FBI's domestic rendition programs..."

"You could become a private investigator." said Detective Tanya Perlman, who'd worked with me as I went through rehab, and earned the name 'Drill Sergeant Perlman' for her brutally tough motivational techniques. Still, thanks in no small part to her, I was walking again.

"Yes, that's something I could do." I said. And, in fact, that is something I did. I got my concealed carry license and incorporated myself as an LLC, which is what gets Private Investigator licenses in this State. I figured I could get work investigating insurance fraud, maybe hunting down bail-jumpers, working for lawyers to get information on adulterers and such.

Alas, I never could latch on with anyone, or get any steady work. It reminded me of the days when I'd refused to sell the CIA security equipment, and suddenly no one would do business with me, at least none of the insurance companies or lawyers that used P.I.s.

My mind came back to the present. As I got ready for my meeting with Gor-don, I turned on the news.

"This is Meredith Peller, Fox News Midtown!" said the attractive blonde, showing off her legs as she sat in the Fox Midtown studios. "With me as always is Alison McFarland. Hello, Allison."

"Good morning, Meredith." said Alison, also an attractive thirtysomething blonde. "Here's the news. There are no new leads in the murder of City Police Detective Bunson McGinty three days ago, and the City Police have called in the State Bureau of Investigation to help. Captain Richard Ferrell of the SBI says that evidence points to Detective McGinty being murdered by Federal Agents. Roll tape."

Tape rolled, showing Dick Ferrell, unmistakeable with his droopy mustache and 'lumpy' houndstooth sportscoat, saying "Detective McGinty was tortured in a very similar manner to the way a citizen was tortured two years ago by the Federal Government at The Asylum. We are pursuing leads that the FBI was involved in the torture and murder of Detective McGinty, and we share the City Police Department's pain over the loss of one of their best Officers."

The name McGinty was vaguely familiar to me, but I didn't dwell on it as I got dressed. Then I heard a name that was much more familiar to me, as Meredith said "And Burke Enterprises CEO Jack Burke has thrown his hat into the ring for Governor!"

I looked up, to see the video rolling. Jack Burke was at the podium on a stage. Next to him was his wife Melina, looking at her husband adoringly as she held their one-year-old daughter, and her belly bump showing that she was pregnant with their second child.

I felt the bitter anger and jealousy as I always did upon seeing Jack Burke and Melina together. But today I felt something else: sadness. I was remembering that I'd dreamed that I had children, a wonderful daughter and son.

No, it was just a dream, I realized. Instead, in reality, Jack Burke had the beautiful family that I'd always wanted, while I was alone with a bad back and a weak sperm count; the chemicals used on me during my torture had damaged my testicles and their ability to make virile sperm. It was unlikely that I would ever have children of my own.

And as I watched Burke announce his candidacy for Governor, and talking heads predicting he would have an easy path to victory, it occurred to me that Jack Burke might have been the one that had held my P.I. 'career' back, that he'd used his tremendous influence to keep me from getting work. Hating the other guy after he'd won the girl... but why?

Part 2 - The Inexorable Path

"Here you go." said Gor-don as he extended a rectangular piece of paper to me. As I took it, I saw that it was a check for $100,000.00!

"The Federal Government advanced it from what they owe you." Gor-don said. I'd been getting monthly payments, and nowhere near this amount. He continued: "They paid us, too, so you owe us no additional fees."

"Cool beans." I said, surprised that Gor-don wasn't trying to claw out every penny he could out of me, but more surprised that the Feds were paying me this.

"Do the Feds want something from you, Mr. Troy?" Gor-don asked.

"Not that I know of." I said. "Why?"

"Because they made that advance payment." Gor-don replied. "I'd guess they want something in return for what they will say is their 'generosity'. Whatever it is, don't give it to 'em. Let me know. I just love shoving crowbars up the FBI's and the Police's asses."

"I like revenge, too." I said. "So is this it?"

"For now." said Gor-don. "But keep your phone nearby. I have a client that wants to talk to you, but he can't today. I don't know what it's about, except that he mentioned P.I. work."

"Sure." I said. "Give me a call..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After depositing the check in my brokerage account and filling out the necessary paperwork, I went back home. As I drove my old Ford Explorer Sport, a once-popular SUV, I thought about getting a new car. This one was old and worn out, but it had been the vehicle whose "THEFT" light tracker and other things had been taken out to help me elude the FBI when I'd been up in Apple Grove, when my parents had died in that horrific fire that consumed my boyhood home.

*BRING!* *BRING!* *BRING!* *BRING!*

It was my cellphone. The number said 'BLOCKED'. For some reason, my curiosity was piqued, so I answered it.

"Hi, Don," said a husky feminine voice. "This is Captain Angela Harlan with the TCPD."

"Hi, Captain, what can I do for you?" I said.

"I was wondering if you can come up here Monday morning." said Angela. "Chief Malone asked me to call you and have you come up. We'll pay for gas and all that. He didn't say what it was about, but it might be about some work for you. If you don't have something else to do, can you come up?"

Like I have anything to do in my life, I thought acerbically. "Sure, I'll be there." I said.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was a beautiful Spring Sunday afternoon as I drove up the University Highway. I'd decided to come up early, so I made a reservation for Sunday night at the University Hotel.

I drove through Coltrane County below the speed limit, and with my car-cam on, which took my speed readings as well as videoed to the front or side. I saw three Police vehicles parked in a manner of setting speed traps. And sure enough, one of them turned on his blue lights and pulled me over.

It was the Coltrane County Sheriff himself, who was known to be dirty. He was the Sheriff that has pulled me over when I'd taken the road to the abandoned 'Vision' compound. He came slowly up to my vehicle, making observations of the back of it, then came warily to the window at an angle from behind.

"May I see your license and registration, please?" he said. I silently handed the documents to him. "Hmm, you're a long way from... Midtown, Mr. Troy." I said nothing. "Where are you going, Mr. Troy?"

"Personal business, Sheriff." I said. "

My

personal business." The Sheriff looked none too pleased at that remark.

"Do you know why I pulled you over, Mr. Troy?" the Sheriff asked, his voice smooth and oily, and belying his anger underneath.

"I know I was going below the speed limit," I replied, "and that all the lights in my car are not broken and are operating correctly. So no, I don't know why you pulled me over."

"I pulled you over," said the Sheriff, "because your vehicle does not have the proper identifying signal associated with your 'THEFT' light, and it's not old enough to be grandfathered in. Would you care to explain that, Mr. Troy?"

"I'm not aware of any reason I need to." I said. "It's not illegal. Sheriff, am I under arrest?"

The Sheriff looked like he wanted to shoot me, but he said "No, but I strongly advise you to either get that device fixed, or don't come through my county again. You understand me, boy?"

"So I'm free to go?" I asked. "May I have my license and registration back, please?" The Sheriff pretty much hurled the documents back into the car.

"I'm letting you go with a verbal warning, boy." the Sheriff said. "But if I catch you driving in this County again, I will arrest you, and you'll never see the right side of a jail cell ever again. And remember to obey all speed limits and turn signal regulations." As he stalked back to his car, I started my car and got moving. The Sheriff began following me up the highway. I set the cruise control on my car to make sure I did not exceed the speed limit.

I began realizing something was strange when I did not see the 'No Stopping for Five Miles' sign that denoted the area around The Asylum. And then as I came up to it, I was totally shocked to see that The Asylum had been razed to the ground! Where once had been a set of forbidding buildings, there was now only a vast cleared space!

Driving north, I saw the left turn that would take me to "The Vision" compound. I was resolved to not make the mistake of taking that road again, but I couldn't have anyway... the area was fenced in, and a gate crossed the roadway. Signs were posted that warned that it was a U.S. Government installation, and that lethal force was authorized to terminally stop any trespassers.

I crossed the County line, seeing in my rear-view mirror the Coltrane County Sheriff turn around and return to his own jurisdiction. I continued up the road as it turned into University Avenue. As I got to the University Hotel, I looked up at the mountain finger overlooking the Campus. And I got a huge shock.

There was a huge cell tower on top of the mountain at the end of the finger. And it was not just a vertical tower, but one of the trapezoidal ones, painted red and white, with huge microwave dishes and transmitters on it in every direction. That bespoke to me that it was a

Government

communications device. And it was butt-ugly, an eyesore as it hovered over the Town like Snoopy in '

Peanuts

' acting like a vulture.

I remembered that an old Cabin that had belonged to a Mr. Bonniker had been cleared, and that there had been a Court case over putting a cell tower there. Obviously, I thought to myself, the Government had won.

Curious, I went up the road and turned at the football stadium and went up the mountainside. As I got near the location, I saw a Police cruiser parked at the gravel driveway to the tower above me. The road continuing around the mountain to the other side was blocked off. There was a double layer of fencing at the side of the road protecting the cell tower and the hill upon which it was perched, with those U.S. Government signs warning that lethal force was authorized to repel intruders.

"Hi." I said to the Police Officer that had gotten out of his car upon my approach. "You're Patrolman Hicks, aren't you?"

"Have we met?" asked Hicks. "And may I see your identification, please."

"You were at the Duty Desk when I came to the Police Station a couple of years ago." I said as I handed him my drivers license. "You probably don't remember me."

"Oh, Troy." said Hicks, reading my ID. "I do remember you. You were the one the SBI rescued from the Asylum. They said you were in bad shape, near death. I'm glad you recovered, but what are you doing up here?"

"Oh, I noticed that cell tower when I drove into Town." I said. "I was curious about it. But why does it have Police protection?"

"Right after you were rescued," said Hicks, "the Government took the land by eminent domain. They paid Town Councilman Thomas P. Cook a lot more than the land was worth in what most of us know was a sweetheart deal, then leased it to BigCommunicationsCorp, who built the tower."

Hicks continued: "An environmentalist group called the PCGW had filed suit to stop the tower from being completed, but they were crushed in Court. So when it went into operation, they did what eco-terrorist groups do: they resorted to open violence. They set the equipment building on fire, did some damage to the tower structure. Then they chained themselves to the tower."

Hicks: "Mr. Cook and BigCommo sent their Security in, and the Security people shot dead twelve protesters. The protesters were chained to the tower and couldn't run, and the Security people just shot them down like it was the St. Valentine's Day Massacre. After it was all over they built the fencing around it, but the Environmentalist Wackos attacked again, and four more of them were shot. So we closed the road around the mountain to the other side, and it can't be accessed from there anymore. And you'll have to turn around and go back; this area is off limits to all traffic."