After
retiring from the Royal Air Force in 2015, Mr. Silas immigrated to the United
States with his pension and found work as an accountant in Newark. After doing
that for a short time, he became a private investigator downtown. But he soon
grew tired of that as well, and left the business in 2019. Around this time he
reignited his boyhood passion for theater and quickly became an accomplished
stage actor at the Performing Arts Center in Newark. After his masterfully
crafted performances brought a much-needed infusion of revenue to the Center,
they were more than happy to grant him a small amount of office and living space
in the backstage area. Rent was deducted from his paychecks for the living
arrangements, and the executives of the Center asked no questions. He was rather
happy with the arrangement. He came into the information broker business by
chance one night, providing the police information on several actors and
stagehands that had some less than savory habits. He relished the thrill of
collecting information, and soon made it his side profession. Now he had
contacts throughout the city in all walks of life.
Mr. Silas was
currently seated at the desk in his office, poring over a book of Edgar Allen
Poe writings. He looked up when he heard the five quick knocks, and three short
knocks on the stage door. “Suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently
rapping, rapping at my chamber door…” he said to himself quietly with a small
grin. He stood up and smoothed the front of his shirt as he walked to the door.
He unlocked the triple deadbolt, and opened it a crack to see his visitor.
“Ah,
dearest Carla. Come inside love.” He said, smiling widely now. He slid back the
chain lock and swung the door wide, letting her into his office.
“How’re
things with you tonight love?” He said, closing the door behind her. She
settled into the chair in front of his desk, and sighed. Something was amiss.
“Is everything okay?” He asked, looking over his glasses with concern.
“Unfortunately,
no, everything is not okay. You remember my friend Erich, right?”
“The chap
with the shaved head and the angry disposition? Indeed. What’s he done now?”
“I’m not
entirely sure. He sent me a text saying he was getting arrested about an hour
ago, I don’t know what he did, or where they took him, but I need to get him
out. He asked me for help.”
Mr. Silas sat
behind his desk and steepled his fingers for a few moments, looking pensive.
“I might be
able to find out for you love, however…”
“Yes, the
matter of your payment. I have it right here.”
She pulled
the bottle of Carphedon from her bag and set it gently on his desk, tapping the
lid with her finger as she set it down. Mr. Silas grinned, and swept the bottle
into a drawer.
“Thank you dear.
Now, let’s see where your friend has gotten himself swept off to.”
He turned to
his computer and worked quietly for a few minutes, his brow furrowed as he rapidly
typed information into several different windows. Carla lit another cigarette,
smoking it rapidly, her feet tapping up and down with anxiety.
I woke up in
quite a lot of discomfort. I opened my eyes and immediately closed them again. Fuck! Bright fluorescent lights lined the ceiling, instantly blinding me. The light
was like needles, stabbing directly into the lobes of my brain. I opened my
eyes again and blinked several times, clearing my vision. My entire body was
sore, and I had a searing pain in my bottom lip. I gingerly sat up, and wished
I hadn’t. My lower back screamed in protest as I sat up, and I nearly screamed
myself. My spine felt like a piece of $2.00 steak that had the shit hammered
out of it to make it palatable. I tried to stand up, unsteadily wobbling as I got to my feet,
falling against the wall with a groan of pain. My back screamed in agony again, nearly making me collapse. Where
the fuck am I? I looked around at my surroundings as I slowly worked the soreness
out of my joints. Bare concrete walls, a steel door, a camera in the corner.
Oh, right, the cops beat the fucking shit out of me. I looked around and sat
down on a low steel bench, groaning in pain again. I looked down and noticed a small pool of drying blood on the floor. I reached up to my face,
and felt the ragged hole in my lower lip. Hm, must be where my tooth had gone through. I swept my
hands over the top of my head and felt a long gash there. Must have been from
getting pistol whipped. I leaned backwards slowly, resting the back of my head
against the cool concrete.
I looked
around as the steel door opened, and a very pale officer stuck his head in, a
serious look on his face. I just stared back at him. “What the fuck are you
looking at, piggy?” I said, spitting on the floor. He let out a barking laugh and
shut the door again, locking it with a hard clunk sound. Fuckers. Trying to
psyche me out. I looked around the room again. No windows, no discernible
features. Just white painted concrete walls, a steel shitter, the bare steel
bench, and a camera in the corner watching my every move. I smirked and gave
the camera the finger as I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.
“Got it. I
found him my dear.” Mr. Silas said, leaning backwards in his chair. Carla
exhaled slowly, a look of relief on her face. She stood up and came around the desk, looking at the screen.
“Where is he?”
“According to
this, he’s in holding cell F at 3rd Precinct headquarters, on Market
Street.”
“How the hell
are we going to get him out of there?”
Mr. Silas
just smiled.
“I have a
friend among the men there, a Mr. O’Brien. He owes me a favor from a few years
back when I saved him from a bollixed up misunderstanding with the lads in
Internal Affairs once upon a time.”
“Will he be
able to get Erich out?”
“He ought to
be able to help, since I just fiddled with their servers and wiped his records out. Let me
make a call to an attorney friend of mine, and we’ll get this little plan in
motion.”
A short phone
call later, and Mr. Silas replaced the phone in the hook. He looked at Carla
with a smile, and steepled his fingers again.
“I don’t much
care for attorneys, but Maxwell isn’t just any attorney. We were in the RAF
together, he immigrated here a short time after I did to set up his practice.
He works miracles, this Mr. Loeb does. Your Erich has nothing to worry about.”
Carla stood
up and smiled at Mr. Silas. It wasn’t just an upturning in the corners of her
mouth, it was a full smile that came from her eyes.
“Thank you,
Mr. Silas. I owe you a debt of gratitude, truly.”
Mr. Silas
smiled and waved his hand dismissively as he stood.
“Nonsense my
dear. I’ve simply played my part. Good luck to you.”
Carla walked
to the stage door and opened it, walking out into the parking lot and closing
the door behind her with a snap.
“I’m sorry,
but who are you again?” the officer asked. He had only been on shift for 15
minutes, and this attorney had just appeared out of nowhere. His coffee wasn’t
even finished yet.
“My name is
Maxwell Loeb, of Loeb and Falken, Attorneys at Law. I represent the man that
you currently are holding on suspicion of murder, a Mr. Erich Black? Check your
records and I think you’ll find something very interesting there. I’ll be happy
to wait.”
The cop at
the desk arched an eyebrow and sighed, turning to his computer to pull up the
records. His brow furrowed a she examined the screen. What the hell? Where did the warrant go? Where did the records go?
The officer looked up at Loeb and narrowed his eyes.
“The warrant
is missing. There isn't even an Erich Black listed.”
“How very
interesting. If there was no warrant issued, then you are holding that man
unlawfully, and I know for a FACT that he was brought here. I demand you release my client from custody and remand him to me
immediately or I’ll have you all brought up on false arrest and unlawful
imprisonment charges. You’ll all be working security at a bloody McDonalds when
I’ve had my say.”
The desk
officer sighed and leaned back in his chair. He knew when to yield. The watch
commander was going to rip him a new one when he found out. He lifted his phone
and spoke into it for a few moments, then set it back onto the hook.
“I’m having
him brought out to you in a few minutes. You’ll have to sign his release
papers.”
“Seeing as
how he was illegally held with no charge, you’re all in a quandary aren’t you?
I could bring those papers to Judge Clark in the morning. He’d have a right fit
and then you’d all be bollixed.”
The cop
sighed again and sipped at his coffee.
“Right, fine.
Black will be out momentarily. You can take a seat on the bench.”
Motherfucker
did I have one blinder of a headache. My back felt like tenderized meat, and my
lip had a fucking hole in it. Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful. Fucking pigs
really did a number on me. I spit a wad of blood and saliva on the floor and
let out a single bitter laugh at the whole situation. Fuck… I sighed and leaned back against the wall slowly, resting my
head against it again. The cool concrete blocks were a much-needed relief to
the searing pain throughout my body. Why
the hell did I have to roll that cop? Fucking dash cam saw it all…
I looked
around as the steel cell door opened again, and the same pale officer as before
walked in. He just stood there looking at me, a hand on his gun. I raised my
eyebrow at him and met his gaze, unblinkingly. We sat that way for nearly a
minute before he spoke.
“Black. My name is O'Brien. Your attorney is here. You’ll be released into his
custody.”
About fucking
time. I stood up and stretched very gingerly, and grinned at the officer.
“Lead the way
officer.”
The cop
turned around and walked into the hallway, then turned around waiting for me. I
walked into the hallway slowly, careful not to move my back or legs the wrong
way, lest I collapse screaming. The cop shut the cell door with a solid clunk
noise, and waved me forward. I made my way into a small office where a
lieutenant in a white shirt was seated at a desk, looking at me like I was a
hunk of dog shit on the bottom of his boot. The ghostly cop pointed to a low
wooden bench against the wall facing the desk. I took the hint and sat down
slowly, looking directly at the white shirted man. We both stared at the other
for several moments, before he turned to a printer and pulled several pages
from it, slapping them into a clipboard. He looked back over to me, and tossed
the clipboard to the floor in front of me.
“Sign your
release papers, punk.”
“I’d like to
see my lawyer before I sign anything.”
He just
stared at me, and hocked a loogie in his throat.
“Please.”
The
lieutenant kept staring at me for a few more moments, and nodded at the ghostly
officer. He walked out of the office and returned moments later with a balding
man in a subdued blue suit that I didn’t recognize.
“Ah, Mr.
Black. I’m Maxwell Loeb with Loeb & Falken. I’ve secured your release, and
you’ll be released to me tonight. Are these officers giving you a hard time?”
Huh, a Limey.
Interesting. I grinned slyly, shifting slightly to relieve some pressure on my
back.
“Actually,
they are Mr. Loeb. I do believe the lieutenant here was going to forcibly
attain my signature upon those forms on the floor.”
Loeb looked
down and retrieved the clipboard from the floor, glancing at them briefly,
before holding them to his side. The look he gave the lieutenant could have
peeled the paint from the hood of a car.
“Mr. Black
has been held here unlawfully and I will be bringing these papers to Judge
Clark in the morning. I warned your sergeant at the front desk about this. You’ll
all be brought up on unlawful arrest, unlawful imprisonment, and battery
charges. Good night.”
He gestured
to me and I stood up gingerly, my spine screaming in protest. The lieutenant
and the ghostly pale officer simply stared, sitting unmoving at their desks. I
followed Mr. Loeb from the office into the lobby, and out the front doors.
“So, Mr.
Loeb. To who do I owe the pleasure of this service?”
He grinned at
me as we walked down the steps of the building and onto the sidewalk, rummaging
in his pockets for his keys.
“You can have
your friend Carla to thank for that Mr. Black. A mutual friend of ours
contacted me and told me of this dreadful business. I owed him a favor, and
here I came to free you from your bonds. Here we are.”
We stopped
next to shiny black Lincoln parked at the curb. I slowly bent over and opened
the door, sliding very lightly into the front seat as Mr. Loeb got in on the
other side. Fucking hell did my spine
hurt…
He turned to me and looked me over, grimacing.
“You’re in a
right awful shape there boyo. Do you need to go to the hospital? I’m required
to attend to you until you return home.”
“You’re most
kind Mr. Loeb, but no thank you. I’d like to be taken home. Mulberry Street.”
Mr. Loeb
nodded and started the car, shifting it into gear and pulling out onto the
street. I rested my head on the cool glass and closed my eyes.
Free at last, free at last…