Frank Klus - Azaleas Don't Bloom Here

“We have to assume they’re looking for us,” he said. “At the murder scene, did you remember to clean up the empty shells?”

“No. I’m sorry, Ray. I wanted to get out of there fast.”

“Cassie, you just don’t use your head. You did everything wrong. With their tracker on, they have Gene at the scene of the murders, they have shells from your gun—a Berretta nine. They stopped selling them to the general public years ago. Blues are the only ones that have them. They’ll compile a list of suspects, throw out most of them, and you know who that’ll leave?”

Cassandra’s face turned red as she began to frown.

Ray drove on in silence for a while and then took a deep breath. “Poor little Jimmy,” he said, more to himself.

“What?”

“I always hated that name—Bog. You never knew him before he changed. I did. He was one of the good guys. I’ve known him since he was six years old. He’s the son of James Ruggiano—Big Jim. I used to play catch with him in the back yard after the last baseball field was converted to a parking lot. He was a good kid; a really good kid. I got him into the Squad before Casimir destroyed it. I always believed he’d be a Blue someday. Then Big Jim got killed in a shootout with the RAC. It didn’t change Jimmy, though. He was still a good guy until that day when that asshole driver tried to kill him. I don’t know; maybe it was a combination of being burned and his father killed that….”

“Oh Ray, I didn’t really know all that. I know you told me he used to be an all right guy, but I didn’t know you had such a relationship with him.”

“I remember being in that burn unit at the hospital. He was pretty bitter; didn’t want to talk much. He went back to work only six months later. Everyone applauded when he climbed back on a chopper. He was a real hero in my book. But the people….” Ray just quieted.

“What about the people?”

“That’s when they started calling him ‘death’ and ‘bog’. They’d make fun of him. Even people that he knew laughed when some jerk called him that name.”

Tears moistened Cassandra’s cheeks as she blushed.

“It’s the country, Cass; this dead world we live in. It changes everybody. Jimmy changed and became mean. Eugene is changing too. That boss he works for was backed by a NOGOV member—some billionaire. He pressured Congress to pass a law legalizing drugs, prostitution, and gambling; then financed the guy to start his business. That business is setting up these operations for his clients. Corruption is everywhere, Cass. Humanity is the biggest casualty. That’s why it’s so important that we take every advantage we can to overthrow this whole rotted thing.”

“I know. Where are we going now?”

“Sean’s house.”

“Not Sean,” she said almost laughing.

“He’s kind of on the wild side but he’s a good guy. No one but me knows where he lives.”

“We’re going to need our stuff. Why can’t we just pull into a motel?”

“Are you kidding? Even though Casimir doesn’t know anything about running an army he has enough experienced people to know to send scouts to every motel, hotel, B&B, hostel, or inn in a hundred mile radius. No, Sean’s the safest place for us. The Squad doesn’t know where he lives.”

“Do you think he can get our stuff for us?”

“If I know Sean, he’ll insist on it.”

“Won’t the squad follow him?”

“We’ll have to assume so but Sean knows how to get away.”

“What if they catch Gene, and he goes to a Squad jail; and that lawyer can’t get him out?”

Ray glanced over to her with a matter-of-fact expression on his face. “He’ll be executed.”

“Well, well. If it isn’t Mr. Sulke,” the assistant warden said. “Stay behind the line.” Eugene stopped. Another officer ordered him to empty his pockets and dump the contents in a large manila envelope.

“Take off your clothes—all of them,” the assistant warden said.

Eugene was incredulous. “What?”

“Take your clothes off.” Gene did as he was told, but he was given no prison garb to put on. The interrogation began.

“You were tracked to a triple murder scene. Did you kill three Squad soldiers?”

“No.”

“Do you deny being there?”

“No.”

“So you admit you were there?”

“Yes, but I didn’t do anything.”

“Who did?”

Gene was silent.

“Who did?” the AW said a little louder. Again, Eugene didn’t answer. He nodded to one of the officers, who caned his buttocks. Gene yelped and leaped forward.

“Stay behind the line,” barked the AW. He then repeated the question, but Gene remained silent. Time after time the AW asked the same question, and time after time Eugene remained silent, taking a caning each time.

The interrogation went on for an hour. Eugene refused to answer and was continually caned. Finally, Eugene collapsed to the floor, bleeding. The officer, administering the punishment began kicking at Gene, yelling for him to get up until he broke.

“Cassandra.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sulke. See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He motioned to another officer to bring him his prison clothes. “Put them on.” Eugene did so and was led to his cell. There was no attempt to treat his wounds.

As Eugene listened to the jail door slam shut, he looked at the bunk beds with another inmate sitting on the lower bunk. He motioned Eugene to the top one. He slowly climbed up, but he was too sore to make it on his own, so his cellmate helped him.

“They beat you up?”

Eugene said nothing.

“What’d you do?” his cellmate asked, but Eugene remained silent. “My name is Fernando.”

“Eugene.”

Neither said a word for a while and then Eugene spoke up. “I didn’t do anything.”

His cellmate didn’t laugh. “I didn’t do anything except run away.”

“Run from what?”

“From work.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They don’t pay you much for work anymore. There used to be welfare and other stuff they call hand-outs. Some of that still exists, but if you don’t qualify and need money the company you work for loans it to you. You have to pay it back with your next paycheck—with interest. If you can’t pay it back, they let the loan ride with a penalty charge. You can’t leave the company until you pay back the loan or they throw you in jail. You’re charged with embezzlement. What a joke. I didn’t embezzle any money, but that’s what I was charged with.”

Eugene knew that was going on. He even recommended the loan program to many of his clients. He didn’t know or want to know that they charged you with embezzlement, or that they put you in jail for failing to pay back the loan. He assumed, and was led to believe, that they just took the money back out of one’s next paycheck.

“There’s a lot of shit going down they don’t want anyone knowing about.” Fernando looked downcast. He didn’t say anything for a while, and then he saw a few drops of blood on the floor. “You’re still bleeding.”

Fernando got up. “Guard! Guard!”

“What do you want?”

“Don’t you got something for Eugene? He’s bleeding from the beating.”

“Shit! All right.” The guard opened the cell door and ordered Eugene down. He handcuffed him and led him away.

“Mr. Casimir, Alberto Martinez is on Line One,” Judy, the personal secretary, said to Jaydan Casimir, Commandant of the Lightning Squad at Command Headquarters in Old Chicago, Illinois.

“Alberto, this is a pleasant surprise.”