Michael Palmer - Oath of Office

This was a different voice from the one she had attributed to Double M. Her stomach dropped as if she had fallen off a roof. She glanced over at Kim, who looked curious but also apprehensive.

The man continued. “We’re not going to take the blindfold off you. If we do that, we’d have to kill you.”

Darlene gasped. The voice was calm and as clinical as a science teacher. Educated and probably middle aged, she thought. She wondered briefly about the technology being employed. Was the voice being transmitted, or was it actually held in the device itself?

“You can speak any time something isn’t clear to you. Understood?”

A stuttering woman’s voice-no, a girl’s-said, “Yes. I … understand.”

Darlene felt bile in her throat. In front of her, macabrely, the children continued their pristine hymn.

“All right, then. Let us review the role you have agreed to play. I need to be certain you understand it perfectly. Where are you going to meet Secretary Evans?”

“At the Motel Six on Georgia Avenue. I’ll take a cab and have it drop me off a block away.” The girl sounded less fearful now. There actually was some strength in her voice.

“How will you get the key?”

“Room twenty-four is registered to William Betancourt. I’ll show the front desk clerk my ID and tell him that I lost my key. The clerk will see that I’m on the room registration, and give me a replacement.”

“What time will you do this?”

“Three o’clock in the afternoon.”

“Good. What will you do inside the room?”

“I’m going to get undressed. And then I’ll wait.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“A man-Secretary Evans.”

“Can you describe him from the photographs we gave you?”

“He’s in his fifties. He’s not very fit. He has brown hair, but not a lot of it.”

“Good.”

“When he knocks on the door, what will you do?”

“I’ll drag him into the room. Then I’ll push him onto the bed.”

“You’ll straddle him?”

“Yes.”

“Kiss him?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“What else will you say?”

“I’ll tell him that he’s got me very excited. I’ll put his hands on me to show him just how much. I’ll tell him that I’m going to do it just the way he likes, really, really slowly. If he lets me, I’ll undress him.”

“If he fights you?”

“I’ll act as if it’s all part of the game he likes. I’ll keep straddling him. When he tries to get out from under me, I’ll make sure it looks like we’re playing. Getting physical.” Her tone had gotten even stronger.

“Good.”

“Once I’m off him, I’ll start screaming for him to get out.”

“What then?”

“I’ll wait twenty minutes. If the police don’t show up, I’ll call them myself.”

“What will you tell the police when they show up?”

“I’ll be crying. I’ll pretend to be scared. I’ll tell them that I’m a self-employed escort and that he was my client. A regular.”

“When they ask you if you know who your client is, what will you tell them?”

“I’ll say that his name is Russ Evans and he’s the Secretary of Agriculture. I’ll tell them I had decided to record us fucking. I’m going to use that word, too. I’ll tell them that the video camera was recording when he got rough with me after I told him to leave. Then I’ll show them where I hid the camera and tripod.”

“You’re very good at this,” the man said.

“When will I get paid?”

“Soon. Very soon. Half now, half when you’re done. You did terrific here. It will be a pleasure working with you.”

“Thank you.”

Darlene stared blankly ahead. Her hands were trembling and her breathing was shallow. A cold sweat had formed on the back of her neck and dripped unpleasantly down the inside of her blouse.

The voice of Double M returned. “If you want to help Secretary Evans, we must meet. There’s an alley behind the movie theater on Columbus Avenue. Eight P.M. tomorrow night. Come alone. Tell no one except Kim Hajjar about this recording. Lives are in danger.”

The children finished singing and were rewarded with rapturous applause. Darlene rose to her feet, applauding, though numbly. He legs were Jell-O.

“This is the end of the transmission,” Double M said. “It will loop for ten minutes more before-”

The recording went silent.

Despite knowing that Joey Alderson was in his mid-twenties, Lou had trouble not thinking of him as a boy-especially following the disaster at Millie’s. For much of the early drive from the hospital back to Kings Ridge, Joey stared contentedly out the window, making no attempt to initiate conversation. His thumb and hand, immobilized in plaster, were supported in a sling.

Over the two days before picking Joey up for the ride home, Lou had twice stopped by the hospital to see him. The first time, Joey was heavily medicated and barely able to put two words together. A day later, Lou managed to engage him in a brief conversation. Even though Joey was sweet and eager to respond, there was no question that he was, as Millie had said, limited. He had almost no insight as to why he had put his hand in harm’s way for the sake of getting at a piece of carrot.

“How you doing over there, buddy?” Lou asked, wishing he had had the time to clean out his Toyota before putting a post-op patient inside it.

Joey’s smile was engaging. “I’m doing fine,” he chirped. “How are you?”

“Doin’ okay, Joey. Doin’ okay. Listen, Joey, I don’t want to upset you any, but I wonder if you’ve had any more thoughts about what happened at the restaurant.”

“You mean with my thumb?”

Lou groaned inwardly. “Exactly. I’m still trying to figure out what you were thinking.”

Lou caught Joey’s shrug out of the corner of his eye. “All I could think about was how badly I wanted that carrot.”

The vapid response was no surprise.

“You didn’t think you might get hurt?”

This time, Joey turned and gazed across at him. His expression was blank-not deep in thought, not searching for an answer to Lou’s question, but seemingly disconnected from his mind. Lou realized he had seen a similar expression before. Carolyn Meacham stared at him without comprehension moments after she had abandoned her reckless pursuit of the sedan with a broken taillight.

A parody of Dylan’s classic crossed Lou’s mind.

The answer my friend is blowin’ in Kings Ridge.…

The answer is blowin’ in Kings Ridge.

Joey pointed out the window at a roadside exit sign. “Can you get off here?” he asked.

“Sure,” Lou replied, grateful to have anything approaching a meaningful exchange. “What for?”

“I’ve got to get to the pet store before I go home.”

“I didn’t know you had any pets,” Lou said.

Joey placed his left index finger to his lips, letting Lou know it was a secret. “You won’t tell Millie, now, will you? She doesn’t really allow any animals in the Dorms.”

Lou flashed on his discussion with Emily about bending rules. He didn’t feel he had been all that convincing, but at least she had left his apartment with a promise to give Steve a sporting chance.

“No problem, pal,” he said. “So what do you have? Dog? Cat?”

“You’ll see,” Joey replied mischievously.

Art’s Critters was a small storefront operation sandwiched between an optician and a cut-rate jeweler in a modest strip mall. Lou offered to get whatever was needed, but Joey refused. He fished a thin, tattered wallet from his jeans and strode excitedly into the store. A few minutes later, he emerged carrying a medium-sized brown paper bag.