The Not So Secret Agent Ch 12

Chapter 12: Arthur's Good Luck

Arthur settled down on the comfortable side of a tree trunk and leaned back with notebook and pen in hand. The sun had already set but there was time to write his sister before it got completely dark.

Tee,

I've been bouncing back and forth all spring, Mr. Jakt doesn't have enough work to hire me all the time so every two or three weeks I go to work for the MNR. So I'm working up by the lake again. They apparently don't clean their stables while I'm gone. Right now I'm staying in a park building with twenty-three other residents- well, okay... they're horses.

One of the park rangers sometimes lets me go over to the main office after work and watch television. Strangely, this spring is the first time I've had a chance to watch Danubian TV, now I realize why so few homes have televisions. Who ever made these shows didn't do anything right.

I watched an episode of a cop show, with police partners on a stakeout. They spot the suspect sneaking down the street at night- only a mask and a cape would've made this guy look more suspicious. The police partners tail the man, who is always nervously glancing over his shoulder but never manages to spot the police hiding behind tree trunks, phone booths, or shrubbery.

Then they catch him red-handed in the act of committing a crime. Dramatic music starts up and the cops move in with guns-drawn and arrest the suspect for the crime of (I shit you not) vandalism. The show ends with the criminal making a tearful apology for his sinful ways, and the policeman lecturing viewers at home about how it's wrong to spray paint other people's property. As a criminal, I've never been so offended! And that was one of the better shows; it's too painful to describe what the sitcoms are like.

The newspapers aren't much better; the headlines all week were about new irrigation ditches. It had color graphics and everything. Most of the general population is wound up about the opportunities that will come from building it; of course, free people don't have to do the backbreaking work. It said in the paper that over 2800 criminals are available to work on the project.

I got my notice during lunch break. I was leaning back on a tree eating a bowl of potatoes and bread and watching a couple women exercising (naked) down by the campground. Don't you judge me! Watching girls stretch or go for a run is the only good thing about being here, but unfortunately I was rudely interrupted by the delivery of an official looking envelope.

Inside was an invitation from Public Works. I'll see Samantha when they send me back to Rika Chorna tomorrow. I don't know if she's been assigned to the project or not.

Samantha has been a little down since she found out that Laura was leaving Rika Chorna. Laura's boyfriend completed his sentence last month and he wanted her to go back to his home in Danube City with him. He promised her better living conditions and an easier life in the capital. For Samantha it was like being left alone since I'm hardly ever around. They're supposed to keep in touch but people do move on with their lives, I doubt I ever see Laura again.

I continue to attend church when I'm back in the city. The clergy treat me pretty well; one priestess in particular has made me into her special project. She's doing her best to turn me into a full-fledged member of the Danubian Church. Let me tell you, it's not easy; every time I see her she has more reading material for me to learn. Like a child on a road trip I ask: "How much longer?" She just smiles, tells me to be patient and assigns me some other task. I have a new appreciation for the efficiency of American televangelists, send money and you're in!

You're the only one from back home who writes me. In the past two years I haven't received a single letter from any of my friends. Now that I think about it, I really don't give a shit about them either. What exactly would we talk about anyway, the thickness of the calluses on my hands?

I suppose I'm just in a bad mood. I'm tired and it's time to head back to my cot before they come to check on me.

Hate you more than ever,

Arthur

He walked back through the stables, past all the horse stalls on the right and saddles hanging on the opposite wall, to a square windowless room at the west end of the building. Arthur put the notebook beside him on the cot. He didn't want to forget it; it contained three letters that he wanted to mail when he got back to Rika Chorna. And he knew with certainty that the Ministry of Justice would be sure to have him back at Spokesman Ralkliv's office first thing in the morning.

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It was still dark when the newest ranger on staff, a young man fresh out of college, came to get the criminal up. He didn't know that Arthur was awake already and sitting on the edge of the horse pen. Arthur jumped down behind the ranger. "Good morning sir!"

The ranger took a sharp breath, whirled around like he was under attack, and shined a flashlight in Arthur's face. "Oh!" He exclaimed, clutching his pounding chest. "You... you trying to scare me to death? You've got to be the worst criminal I've ever worked with."

"But sir," Arthur coolly pointed out, "I'm the only criminal you've ever worked with."

"Still..." The ranger breathed heavy. "We don't have much time; we've got to go soon... I'm driving you down to Rika Chorna."

Arthur followed the ranger toward the garage. "You're driving me? You mean you got your license sir?"

"Last Friday I took the driving section and passed." The ranger proudly proclaimed: "It was only my second try."

"Impressive sir," Arthur said. "So did you drive a little car with an automatic transmission?"

The ranger opened the side door of the garage to fetch the keys, he scoffed: "That's for girls, real men drive stick!" He headed for one of the trucks and threw Arthur a towel for the seat.

The ranger climbed behind the wheel and Arthur jumped in the passenger side. Just as the key was put in the ignition the young man stopped. "Wait... oh no... my gun!"

"Your gun?" Arthur squinted at the ranger.

"For transporting criminals I have to be armed..." He threw open the door. "I forgot to check one out yesterday. I don't have time to go back now... um maybe there's something in the shop."

Arthur waited for a minute. Then the ranger jumped back in the truck and something hit Arthur's shoulder. The cab's lights illuminated enough to see a long hunting rifle resting diagonally in between them with the barrel pointed at the back glass. Arthur looked quizzically at the young ranger.

The ranger shrugged. "It's a gun, and besides, the regulations don't say anything about what sort."

"Uh... yes sir... but could you perhaps scoot it away from me some before we get to Rika Chorna?" Arthur couldn't help but laugh. "The police are a little touchy about me and guns."

"Alright... alright." Arthur ducked and the ranger rotated the rifle around to set it across his lap with the barrel pointing down.

"Oh... I can't believe this!" The ranger swore and pounded his fists on the steering wheel. "I forgot the handcuffs too! My boss... is going... to kill me, he's absolutely going to kill me!"

"You have to handcuff me, sir?"

"YES!" The distraught young ranger yelled. "He gave me clear instructions yesterday... said you were dangerous, didn't want to take any chances... said to put you in restraints."

Arthur shrugged. "I'm really more difficult than dangerous."

"I know, I know, but he gives the orders. If I go back to get handcuffs I'll be late and he will kill me; but if he finds out I transported you without restraints he's going to skin me alive!"

"Restraints... hmm." Arthur threw open the door and climbed into the bed of the truck. "Can I borrow your knife sir?"

The ranger shined his flashlight out the back glass. "I guess... what do you need..."

Arthur showed a length of rope that was tied on an eyebolt set in the bed of the truck. "You could tie me up with this..."

The ranger paused for a couple seconds. "Um... rope could be considered a restraint, I guess... alright." He handed Criminal # 88588 his pocket knife.

Criminal number 88588 put his hands out and the ranger made a clumsy attempt to tie up Arthur's wrists. "Oh, I don't know..." The ranger grumbled. "I never was any good at knots."

Arthur offered: "I could tie myself up... on the way."

"You don't mind?" The ranger jumped back into the cab.

"No sir, glad to help. I wouldn't want you to be late." Arthur sat and started wrapping the cord around each wrist while tugging on the loose end with his teeth.

The young ranger grinned with great enthusiasm as he fired up the engine. "Now we go... hang on!" He released the clutch quickly, the engine began to stall and the ranger pushed the accelerator to the floor. Horses ran in all directions.

Twenty-seven terrifying minutes later Arthur untied his own wrists and stepped out onto the sidewalk in Rika Chorna. Next time, Arthur would consider fashioning a blindfold as well.

The ranger got out and frantically checked the pockets of his jacket and trousers. "Uh... let's see... um." The ranger cringed: "I must have... uh misplaced my notes. There's some kind of order I'm supposed to give."

Arthur scratched at the back of his head. "Uh... I think I know the basics of it." Arthur looked up as he recalled. "Sir, I think you're supposed to tell me that my custody is now officially transferred from the MNR to the Ministry of Justice, and then you need to order me to report directly to Spokesman Ralkliv's office."

"Um... yeah, that's it." With just a little help the ranger repeated the order.

Arthur waited for a few seconds but the young ranger didn't do anything. "Sir... I'm going to need the paperwork to give to my spokesman."

The ranger breathed a sigh of relief when he found a folded-up paper in his shirt pocket. "Here, here you go..." He climbed back in the cab of the pickup. "Um... have a good day Criminal #88588."

'Have a good day' was a very peculiar thing to say to someone who was about to report to the police headquarters for judicial punishment. Arthur waved: "You too, sir."

Arthur watched as the young ranger backed his front wheels off the curb and then, reluctantly, Arthur turned toward the Police Headquarters, all the while wondering what it takes to fail a Danubian driver's test.

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Ralkliv stood in the outer office drinking coffee and talking to a receptionist. Arthur got down on the floor and did the standard criminal to spokesman greeting.

"Please stand." Ralkliv said. "I am pleased you came in early Criminal number 88588; there is someone here to see you. The man seated in my office; do you recognize this man?"

There was a glass panel in the middle of the office door. Arthur took a long look at the man. Probably mid-thirties, his hair was clipped very short, blue dress shirt, a walking cane was across his knees. "No sir, I don't."

"Arthur that is Officer Detynik Andreis. He came to me yesterday and said he wanted to meet with you; as a victim of crime it is his right."

Arthur felt a panic. "But... what does he want? I mean... I don't understand sir. He came to witness the punishment?"

"No," Ralkliv said. "He wanted to speak with you in private, beyond that I cannot say. Arthur you must not keep him waiting."

Arthur took a deep breath, opened the door, and nervously stepped into the office. He started to kneel.

"There is no need." Andreis spoke softly and slurred his words slightly. "I am no longer on the force. Please have a seat Criminal # 88588."

"Yes sir." Arthur sat. He noticed the long curved scar above Andreis's right ear, from surgery, perhaps.

Andreis twisted the cane in his lap. He sat, looking at the floor, gathering his thoughts. "I... did not tell my wife I was planning to meet you today; she would not understand." Andreis looked hard at Arthur, started to say something, paused and then sighed. "Now that I am here, I do not know, maybe she is right... she's always saying how I see things how I want to see them, not the way they are."

Arthur sat uncomfortably, waiting, unsure of what the man was getting at.

Andreis's gray eyes focused on Arthur. "The fact is that I hated you for a very long time."

Arthur nodded slightly. "That is... understandable sir."

"It was two years ago yesterday, that shooting." Andreis continued. "It seems like a much longer time."

"It does." Arthur said quietly.

Andreis looked more comfortable now. "In the last year I have spent much time visiting my priest; I understand that you also are under the guidance of the Church."

"Yes sir," Arthur said. "A priestess has been teaching me about the Faith; besides counseling she's helped me learn the language better, reading and writing mostly. She's been very patient."

Andreis almost laughed. "Clergy have to be, especially when dealing with... hmm... difficult persons, don't you think?"

"Yes sir."

Andreis sat still for a moment, thinking. "My oldest boy is seven. He plays soccer on one of the school's youth leagues. He's very fast, one of the top players; plays so hard, he's a fighter!" Andreis paused to chuckle and shake his head. "But... he's not the least bit gracious in defeat, if he loses you best get out of the way... he's the worst loser you've ever seen. Calling the other team names, crying and punching and kicking, oh... one of the parents brought the team some cakes to last week's game, when my boy found out they were going to share with the winning team he dumped the pan on the ground. I was so embarrassed, it was a mess!

I have spent so much time apologizing for his outbursts that his coach finishes my sentences for me. I've got to be patient with the boy though. He just wants to win so bad, it is understandable that it would upset him when a victory is taken from him.

So I talk to him... after he has calmed down. I tell him that it's natural to feel upset, but all the fighting and screaming does no good, the game is over already.

Of course, an impulsive little boy doesn't see it that way; it is always somebody else's fault you know." Andreis shrugged. "I just have to trust that as he gets older he learns to accept the bad with the good, and deal with his anger in a more constructive way."

Andreis looked Criminal # 88588 in the eyes. "It is not good to be filled with hate. Perhaps I need to be a better example to my kids," Andreis laughed. "Or I could just blame his bad behavior on my wife; she was always the hot tempered one!"

Arthur interjected: "Sometimes anger is justified though."

"Surely, but to achieve a purpose, once the situation is rectified it is time to move on... at least that is the way I see it." Andreis smiled crookedly. "But, as my wife often points out, I'm not always a practical or realistic man." Andreis leaned on his cane and stood. He put out his right hand.

Arthur stood as well and grasped Andreis's hand. "It was good to meet you sir... and good luck with your boy."

Andreis smiled in a good-natured way. "Be well, Criminal number 88588."

Arthur watched him go. He felt relieved, the meeting went better that he could have hoped. Andreis was a good man and it's hard to be a good man, to do things right, to forgive people who hurt you. Arthur knew he had never been the forgiving type, but things can change. Proud, greedy, cruel, and selfish: that was the old Arthur Liggett.

He looked at the clock, it was 7:35. Officer Stashak and her partner wouldn't be by to pick him up for another 25 minutes at least. He sat down again in Ralkliv's office; there was time to think. What would the new Arthur Liggett do?

He thought about Samantha. She loved him. Why on Earth she did was a mystery, but she did. She was his best friend. He didn't want to be away from her. Was it time? Feeling extra sappy, the new and improved Arthur Liggett made his decision... it wasn't hard at all, in fact, he felt exuberant.

Spokesman Ralkliv casually chatted with his secretary, he took a sip of coffee, and then he noticed his American client standing in his office, cheerfully singing some fast paced American rap song. Criminal # 88588 came out the door laughing, happy as a lark. Arthur casually picked up the comics section of the newspaper.

Ralkliv sighed. Soon his client would be taken into one of the punishment rooms and beaten. Most of his clients were scared before a switching, they stayed nervously silent or prayed beforehand; some of the older ones were more somber, stoic, or contemplative. But Criminal number 88588 was just plain weird!

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Arthur raised up on his elbows enough to read through a letter sent by his sister Tee. She had taken a break from college and was living in Maryland with some guy that worked for the State Department. Arthur imagined his sister attending a formal dinner in flip-flops and cheap oversized jewelry.

He didn't notice Samantha enter. "You look like shit Arthur."

Arthur flinched in surprise and groaned from the pain that the sudden movement caused. He turned to see Samantha standing in the doorway with one hand on her hip.

"Uh... I suppose I could comb my hair a bit."

Samantha looked down at his swollen welt-covered skin and cringed. "It's the guy that gave you that haircut that should've been beaten."

"It was cheap at least." Arthur shrugged. "I didn't hear you come in. Where's Mr. Jakt? I usually hear you two flirting."

Samantha laughed. "He's out front working on that pile of junk he calls a pickup truck... naked. I just opened the gate and there he was... underneath the hood, on his hands and knees right up on top of the engine not wearing a stitch of clothes and covered in black grease."

Arthur nodded. "Ah... The timeless art of seduction. But to tell you the truth, I'm getting tired of all this sexual tension when you come over here. Why don't you two just make sweet love and get it over with already? I mean, Mr. Jakt's old; how much longer are you going to play hard to get?"

Samantha rolled her eyes. "Anyway, Mr. Jakt notices me closing the gate and he turns around, the front of the truck's facing the gate by the way... and he just turns around and starts talking to me like nothing out of the ordinary is happening."

"This is the most erotic story I've ever heard. Slow down. Give me the details. What happened next? Did he drop a wrench on the ground and ask you to pick it up for him? Was there any suggestive dialog? Did he ask you to touch his ball joints or look at his crank shaft?"

"Uh... no, but I don't think I'll ever get that image out of my head. There should be an age limit for running around naked outside."

"Now you're making me jealous." Arthur said. "I mean, how would you feel if I seduced your host? I can do it too, if I can just get the husband out of the house. You know all that kneeling's just a pretense to get a better look at my butt; she definitely wants some spy action- I bet the old man's just not doing it for her anymore."

"Don't you have enough women beating you already?"

"Now you sound jealous." Arthur decided to get up. He did his best to act like the burning throbbing pain on his buttocks, thighs, and shoulders didn't bother him. "I do seem to attract the wrong sort of attention; are you just off for lunch?"

"Yeah, I've got to go in ten minutes. Just wanted to come by and see if you were still in one piece." Samantha moved close for a kiss.

He pulled back, causing Samantha a temporary hurt look; then he jumped right in.

"Will you marry me?" Arthur would rather have had a more dignified way to bring up the subject than stinking of dried sweat and covered in welts, but time was not on his side, he would have to leave Rika Chorna in the morning and be gone for months at a time.

Samantha took in a sharp breath. "What?"