Cigarettes & Mirrors - Chapter Twelve

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 3^rd 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…