David Dun - The Black Silent

Morrison stepped back, in order to let Farley advance in the cramped quarters. The tall man's face was a mask of sympathy and regret. "Well, Dr. Anderson, I'm afraid I have to decline. We have some handcuffs here and we're going to put them on you, one way or another."

"I told you to go after Sam." Prick's veins were bulging in his neck, but Crew refused to budge.

Sam had disappeared out the door seconds ago.

"Follow him, Officer, and put him in the car," Frick said to Crew. "That's an order."

"Please stay," Haley said.

"With all respect I think I should stay here," Crew said to Frick.

"With all respect," Frick mocked, "get your ass after him. Your career is dead if you refuse a direct order from the officer in charge."

At that moment Detective Ranken came in.

"Ranken here will stay with me and Ms. Walther until Crew gets 'Mr. Multiple Names' handcuffed and in his cruiser."

Crew looked worried. "I'll go check on him."

"You go with him and make sure he does it," Frick said to Ranken. "And run a check on Mr. Robert Chase."

"I thought you already did that," Ranken said. "And I thought I was staying here."

"I ran the NCIC database, not WATCH. Run the state. That's an order."

Ranken didn't hide his resentment, but he walked out the door.

The instant Ranken was gone, Frick turned to Haley, who took an instinctive step away from him.

"We have this little rubber room over at the jail and tonight, in the middle of the night, it's gonna be just you and me in that room," Frick whispered. "You don't want to be in that room with me."

"I don't want to be anywhere with you."

"That smart mouth won't last the night."

Frick grabbed Haley's wrist, threw her to the ground, and twisted her arm behind her back. As she knelt in incredible pain, he got down on his haunches behind her, close to her ear, and applied more pressure on her arm. With his other hand on the back of her head, he shoved her face into the carpet. Pain turned to bursts of electrical agony from her twisting nerves and burning skin.

Suddenly Frick released her and she heard an animal groan. Haley flipped to the side and saw Sam with his right hand like a claw burrowing into Frick's shoulder at the base of his neck. Frick contorted his face, unable to make a sound now, merely gasping as Sam pinned his gun in its holster with his left hand. Frick managed to take a swing and connect with Sam's jaw, prompting Sam to pull Frick's gun.

"I'm gonna have to ask you to stop that," Crew said, back in the room, his gun aimed at Sam.

"Sure." Sam stood down while Frick, looking crippled in the right arm, began swearing in long strings and massaging his clavicle area.

"You're under arrest for assault," Frick said through gritted teeth. "Both of you."

Haley scrambled to her feet, her arm still in pain.

"Your fellow officer is abusing Haley," Sam said to Crew. "He's violating her rights and hurting her. What are you going to do about it?"

"Stay right here," Crew said, sounding determined.

"I will resume my questioning." Frick began trying to speak through the pain as if nothing had happened. "Take Mr. Chase here to the car. He's under arrest."

"I'm not saying a word," Haley said.

Crew lowered his gun. "I believe that ends the questioning."

Ben rode on the flybridge of the Alice B. with his hands cuffed behind his back. Farley, the bigger fellow, and Morrison wore equally grim expressions, saying nothing.

Although this was a drab morning that had brought dire circumstances, the small islands in this inland sea had not lost their unending charm. They had an aura of the wild and the naturally beautiful; the churning, flowing blue salt water running with the tides; the sheer, angled rocks plunging nearly vertically into the sea; the gnarled, old Rocky Mountain junipers and tall stately firs; the incomparable wildflowers and marvelous creatures both in the sea and out; all of it magnificent for Ben.

With the ease of a practiced mariner, Farley activated the next waypoint on a route that would take them past the Wasp Islands. In the distance the isles looked like a flotilla of dark boats on opening day of yachting season.

If he kept them on this route, they would travel on the inside of Jones Island and in about thirty-five minutes arrive in President Channel. Their apparent knowledge of Ben's secret world was eerie, and Ben had no explanation for it.

Ditto his dealings with the government. He wondered what else these men knew, and who might have told them.

After a moment's private discussion they turned to him.

"We want you to tell us two things: First, exactly where is the gathering place? Second, where are the ARCLES files, including the formulas for the Arc regimen?"

It shook him to the core that they even knew enough to ask the second question. These were no more government men than Frick was an archangel. Ben wondered why they'd even bothered with the lie.

"I'm not going to answer," Ben said. "Question one or two."

Morrison turned around, muttered something, and pulled out a semiautomatic pistol.

With matter-of-fact assurance he put the cold steel barrel to Ben's forehead.

"If you don't answer the question, you're of no use to us."

Ben closed his eyes and pondered the implications of any disclosure. They could actually be agents-agents of a foreign government. More likely they were with Sanker.

Or, God help him, American Bayou Technologies. Or they could represent someone else altogether.

"Shoot me."

Crew escorted Sam and Haley to the patrol car.

"I have to put handcuffs on you," Crew said, "and to advise you of your rights. But I promise I won't leave you alone until we find the undersheriff."

"Get real," Haley said, as if she were chiding a brother.

"Do you really think Haley conspired to kill Ben Anderson?" Sam asked.

"I don't have a choice," Crew said. "I'm doing what Sergeant Frick ordered."

"You might ask him what his probable cause is," Sam responded. "And then you might ask him about the crime he's here to commit."

Crew sighed. "Here's how I'm trying to think about it: I'm asking for your cooperation to assist us in an investigation."

Neither Sam nor Haley bothered to respond.

Crew fingered the cuffs. "Let me try the undersheriff again."

Sam heard something behind them. He turned and saw Frick walking up the path. Sam supposed he'd never been far behind. Frick had his own pistol holstered and Sam's gun in his hand.

"This is not a tea party, Deputy. Cuff them."

"That's not a good idea," Sam said. "It's an illegal arrest."

"It's a simple job," Frick said quickly. "Taking the suspects to the station. Can you handle that job, Crew?"

Crew looked ready to cry. "I was wondering about probable cause, because-"

"She attacked me when you were out of the room," Frick cut in, "and he's obstructing the investigation. She got the criminals in the building. Is that enough for you? I'm the one arresting them, Crew; you're just taking them in. Stop tormenting yourself."

"That's a lie," Haley said. "You attacked me." She looked like she might attack Frick for real. Sam grabbed her arm. "I would never hurt Ben," she said more quietly.

When Sam nodded, she set her jaw and stopped talking.

"I can handle it," Crew said.

"See that you do."

Crew asked Sam to turn around and place his hands on the car. Instead of complying, Sam turned and walked toward Frick.

"Floating a badge on a cesspool is unseemly," Sam said, deliberately provoking Frick.

Frick squared on him and raised Sam's gun slightly. "I don't need to listen to-"

In a fluid motion Sam grabbed Frick's gun hand and struck a palm-up blow to Frick's nose, staggering him. At the instant of the blow Frick discharged Sam's Glock, the direction of the shot, which went wild, controlled by Sam's hand on the wrist. They struggled a moment and Sam twisted Frick's hand so that the gun dropped to the ground.