CHAPTER 9
The journey to the Homicide Prison on an average day took five minutes. Locke did it in three. It took him down a hallway still under construction since before Hamilton murdered the first Agent. Due to be finished years ago, Locke heard Offenders had caused the completion date to be pushed back several times.
Most of the ceiling panels were out, exposing electrical conduits and water pipes. Fluorescent lights did their best to light his way, but half were missing. A straight shot, two sets of fire doors were the only barriers between the offices and the prison area.
He had no intentions of talking to Hamilton. He just wanted to see the murderer one last time. Over and over he recited to himself. Do not talk to him. Do not provoke him. Do not engage him in any way.
Closing the last set of doors, Locke saw Ned, the Prison Guard on duty. They knew each other, though they hadn’t seen each other in two years.
Tall and lanky, blond and in his mid-twenties, Ned read his OWG Monthly behind a counter.
“Hey, Ned,” Locke said to him, waving.
The younger male hadn’t heard him approach and almost fell off his stool.
“Detective Locke?” Ned squinted. “Hey, where have you been? I have not seen you in forever.”
Locke leaned against the counter. “Been working on this.” He whipped out his Govicide Badge.
“Is that? No . . .” Ned came from behind the counter to get a closer look. “That is a--”
“A Govicide Badge. Got it yesterday. Director Stallings gave it to me.”
The Guard’s eyes rotated back and forth from Locke’s face to the badge. “You are kidding me. That is not supposed to be possible. Going from a Detective . . .” His voice trailed off.
“To an Agent? But here I am. That’s the OWG truth.”
Ned’s eyes narrowed then he snapped his fingers. “The Hamilton case. He is still in the cell here. Catching him is what did it, right?”
“Yep,” Locke nodded, putting his badge away.
“I guess I should bow.” The Guard retreated two steps and lowered his head.
Locke grabbed the younger male’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Are you sure?” Ned asked, freezing his motion.
“We’ve known each other a while, Ned. Don’t bother.”
Ned stepped back up on to his stool. “Congratulations to you, Govicide Agent Locke.”
“Ned, please. Just call me what you’ve always called me.” Locke knew the mandates but he saw no need for a subject he knew for so long to call him by the official title.
“Okay. Locke it is,” Ned answered, looking like he finally believed Locke wasn’t testing him. “How do you like it so far?”
“So far so good.” Locke took a peek down the prison corridor. “So, Hamilton’s still here.”
Ned peered down in Hamilton’s direction as well. “You heard correctly. I am surprised by it but hey, that is a decision way above my work assignment.”
“I’d like to see him.” Locke took three side steps, putting one hand on the prison door.
Ned lowered his voice. “You know that is un-mandated.”
“Did you forget already?” Locke pulled out his badge again.
Seeing the badge, Ned leaned back. “The Director said absolutely no Govicide Agents are allowed to go near him.”
“Ned, I’m not even going to talk to him. I spent two years trying to catch him. I want to get one last look at him so I can close this chapter of my life.”
“I . . . ” The Guard’s indecisive eyes shifted to the corridor.
“Look at this.” Locke pointed at his badge. “It would be nice to have this on your side, wouldn’t it? In case you broke a mandate.”
The badge drew Ned in, his attention fixated on it then on Locke. “I see you are already getting used to your new-found power.”
“I’m self-taught.”
“Okay, Govicide A-, I mean, Locke. But I will go with you.” The young Prison Guard slid off his stool.
“I don’t think so. Give me the keys.”
The Security Guard held no advantage in the matter. He could not oppose a Govicide Agent. Ned reached under his counter, grabbed the keys and handed them to Locke.
“Thanks, Ned.” He unlocked the two doors separating the Guard area from the cells.
All of the murderers housed here possessed no more than a couple of kills. This made Hamilton’s such an interesting case. Not only did he manage to kill Govicide Agents but killed so many. He took on the best, bravest, and brightest the OWG offered and murdered them one by one.
Every prisoner eyed Locke as he passed, their attention shifting from the OWG Manuals provided to them. They were dressed in red jump suits, as was the mandate for murderers. None of them would wear the jumpsuit for long, though. Once the OWG believed the victim’s family recovered from their loss, these prisoners would be let out to go about their OWG work once again. The maximum sentence was under five years. No need to use up more credits than was necessary to house them.
Except for Hamilton, of course. He would never leave Homicide or Govicide custody alive.
The cell bloc reminded Locke of a Gambling City alleyway. Dark with just a hint of an echo for anyone who walked through it.
He passed the seventh of the ten cells. A voice, quiet but distinct, joined the tapping of his footsteps. For an instant, he thought Ned followed him into the bloc. Slowing down, Locke peeked over his shoulder but no one trailed him.
At half his previous pace, he continued. The voice got louder.
The eighth cell was empty.
He reduced his tempo further, reaching the ninth cell. The prisoner in it appeared asleep.
Locke, almost to the point of standing still, stopped for a moment between each step. The voice hovered right at talking volume. But the speech pattern didn’t resemble that of a subject talking to anyone. It sounded more like a subject talking to himself. No pauses. No inflection of the voice. Just a steady stream of words.
And only one cell remained.
Hamilton’s.
Locke tiptoed up to the final cell, keeping himself out of Hamilton’s sight. Leaning forward, he peered inside. The cot didn’t look slept in. The white pillow fluffed with no wrinkles. Blanket and sheet tucked in under the mattress.
Hamilton sat on a chair in the middle of the room, still clothed in his black Govicide jumpsuit, facing the rear of the tiny room. His back arrow straight, hands in his lap, and feet flat on the floor. Knees and elbows bent in right angles, it seemed like an uncomfortable sitting position.
Locke had experience listening. In fact, listening was the thing Homicide Detectives did more than anything else. Listening to other detectives. Listening to witnesses. Listening to suspects. Listening to experts.
And he listened now. What he heard was not what he expected.
“ . . . To properly understand political power and trace its origins, we must consider the state that all people are in naturally.”
The language was OWG and these were words Locke heard before, but their combination was unfamiliar.
“That is a state of perfect freedom of acting and disposing of their own possessions and persons as they think fit within the bounds of the law of nature.”
Locke jerked back. Law? Persons? People? All words un-mandated by the OWG. Freedom, a word similar to free, as in Free Enterprisers, but what did the “dom” mean when added to it? Probably nothing good.
The utterance of those words under any circumstances meant automatic prison time and credit deductions for a subject or Agent. Subjects were known to turn each other in if they heard those words spouted.
Yet, Locke never entertained the thought. No thought of calling out to Hamilton for him to stop saying those words. No desire to yell at Hamilton for ignoring mandates. No need to protect the OWG language from such un-mandated, ugly words.
Not even a thirst to call in other Agents so they could all torture Hamilton for his language transgressions.
But, the reason he refrained wasn’t because it would reveal Locke came to see Hamilton against the Director’s mandate.
He remained standing there because he decided his curiosity was more important. His curiosity demanded he stand there and hear every word out of Hamilton’s mouth, no matter if the words were unmandated or not. Hamilton needed to be heard. The OWG would have to wait.
Locke’s spine rippled, the nerves inside it trying to reject the unmandated thought coming from his mind. His stomach reacted by spewing acid into his throat. His legs tried to shuffle him back away from the cell but his feet would not obey.
Instead, against everything Locke learned in the OWG, he leaned forward, exposing the top half of his body.
With one quick spin, Hamilton might see him. But not an ounce of worry weighed Locke down. The prospect mattered little compared to his interest in every one of Hamilton’s words.
The words had to mean something, more than just their OWG definitions. They were a key to understanding this killer. They could unlock what made Hamilton tick.
“People in this state do not have to ask permission to act or depend on the will of others to arrange matters on their behalf. The natural state is also one of equality in which all power and jurisdiction is reciprocal and no one has more than another.”
Hamilton said out the words without hesitation. It sounded as though Hamilton was reading from a book. But the prisoner held nothing in his hands, nothing written on the wall he faced.
“It is evident that all human beings-- as creatures belonging to the same species and rank and born indiscriminately with all the same natural advantages and faculties-- are equal amongst themselves.”
Under normal conditions and with no script, if a subject was just talking off the top of his head, he would stumble, change his words, go off on tangents unrelated to the topic, and not speak in a logical way. There would be “uh’s” and “um’s” and “you know’s” and “like’s.”
But Hamilton spoke as if reciting from a teleprompter, like the OWG Media Reporter did every night. Full sentences. Nouns and verbs together.
It occurred to Locke: Those word were not coming off the top of Hamilton’s head. They were written down somewhere. And he had memorized them. There was no other answer.
“They have no relationship of subordination or subjection unless God, the lord and master of them all, had clearly set one person above another and conferred on him an undoubted right to dominion and sovereignty.”
God? He’d never heard the word.
Master? The OWG was the only master.
No one has more power than another? No OWG document or book would dare say that. The Exalted Ruler possessed all the power. The Govicide Director had all the power. The OWG had all the power.
Hamilton’s words, treasonous or not, lured Locke. He lifted his foot to step closer, but a sound stopped him. An uneven click, click, click, on the cell bloc floor. He eased himself back around the corner. The killer continued his recitation.
Locke turned to see an older male, short in stature and wide in girth, approaching him. A combover did its best to disguise his bare, reddish scalp. Yet, a goatee dangled from the male’s chin. The two didn’t seem to go together.
The male’s stride was uneven due to a limp. Click, click . . . click, click . . . click, click.
But this stranger’s black suit was impeccable, shiny and creased, rivaling the Director’s. His tie and shirt, also black, matched black shoes.
A Govicide Agent?
Couldn’t be.
From forty feet away, Locke pinned his eyes on the approaching male’s puffy face. It looked scrunched, causing even more wrinkles around his eyes.
Putting a few feet between himself and Hamilton’s cell, Locke approached the male.
Who was he? Only Govicide was mandated to wear black. Locke thought he’d better have a pretty good story why he was outside Hamilton’s cell or this would be the shortest stint as an Agent ever.
“Can I help you?” Locke spoke in the softest voice possible.
“Are you Govicide Agent Michael Locke?” The stranger answered about a hundred decibels higher.
They stood a few feet from each other.
“Yes, yes I am.” Locke had one ear on this conversation and the other on Hamilton.
“Govicide Agent Locke, I am Govicide Agent Alex Hiss. You are my new partner.” He put out his right arm and Locke shook it.
“My new partner?” Locke answered, hoping his right hand didn’t reveal the stress rising within him. “I didn’t—“
“Why are you so close to Hamilton’s cell?” Hiss didn’t let go of Locke’s hand. Instead, he squeezed, not enough to hurt but enough to make his next point sink in. “Do you not know that the Director has mandated no Govicide Agents are supposed to be anywhere near Hamilton?”
What to say? What to say? What to say?
What lie would work?
Locke wrenched his dry mouth open. “Yes, I know, I know. Well . . .” As he replied, Locke couldn’t keep his eyes from going to Hiss’ grip. “You know, when I’m inside these walls, I still feel like a detective. You know what I mean? I was one for twelve years. You’ve been a distinguished--” Locke accented it not knowing if it was true or not. A little flattery couldn’t hurt at this crucial moment, “--Agent your whole working life. You know what I mean. We’re in uncharted territory here with me becoming an Agent, right? And I’m telling you, it takes a while to change your mindset. I mean, look at me. I’m standing here reliving Hamilton’s case.” Locke yanked his hand away and wiped it on his pants.
Hiss eyed Locke, a unmanicured eyebrow raised almost meeting a forehead wrinkle.
Locke shifted from one foot to the other, his teeth forming a grin but it was as shallow as a child’s pool. He wiped the other hand on his pants, sweat pouring off it like a waterfall. Hiss needed to believe him or this was the end.
“You are correct. I am a distinguished Agent,” Hiss responded. “How did you know?”
“I just figured because the Director told me you were on a project. He made it sound like it was special. They’d only give a case like that to someone who knows what’s going on.” His face hurt from faking the smile so long. But, if it meant getting out of this, Locke could fake it for hours.
At once, Hiss’ demeanor changed, the eyebrow descended and a few wrinkles disappeared. Locke noted it happened when he mentioned the Director.
“So, he told you about this case I am working?” Hiss asked, his chest thrusting out.
“Nothing specific. I just got a feeling he thought you were doing good work.” Locke kept his facial expressions glued in place. When in doubt, keep buttering, Locke told himself.
“Is that right?” Hiss smiled, exposing a missing bottom tooth.
“Uh-huh. He also told me I could learn a lot from you.” Locke kept piling it on. “Since I was merely a detective.”
“Yes, I think you will learn a lot from me,” Hiss nodded.
On the outside, Locke retained his demeanor. Inside, though, he let the good feelings flow. With that sentence, Hiss was already planning how he could help Locke become the perfect Agent. A very good sign.
So, not even a seasoned Agent could resist the power of adulation? Locke stashed the information in his mental backpocket for future reference.
“Well, then, the first thing you can learn from me is to never ignore a Director’s mandate again. I will let you slide because I understand you are still a detective up here.” Hiss pointed to his head. “Did you talk to Hamilton?”
Locke laughed, “Talk to him? Of course not. I was just listening. He didn’t even see me. He was reciting something in there. I’m not sure what it is but it kind of caught my interest.”
“He was talking to himself?” Hiss looked over Locke’s shoulder.
“Yeah.”
“I am sure it was nothing important. He killed my partner. But you already knew that.”
Not waiting for a response, Hiss walked back toward the Guard’s station. Locke stood there watching him. If Hiss had only been a few minutes later. Locke had been so close to getting to know Hamilton better. Now, that wouldn’t happen.
Yet, as much as Locke attempted to be angry about not hearing more of Hamilton’s words, the happiness of escaping the sticky situation eclipsed it. He’d dodged a big problem. If he and Jade could dodge the pregnancy problem as well, they would be out of danger forever.
He fixated on the cell one more time. He listened for a few seconds but couldn’t hear Hamilton. Maybe the murderer was done talking to himself for the day.
With a deep sigh, Locke followed Hiss, catching up to him at the first door.
“How did you know I was down there?” Locke asked, unlocking the door for Hiss.
“The Security Guard told me. He had an extra set of keys and unlocked the doors for me.”
A new source of stress rose in Locke. Ned might be in trouble for letting him into the prison. “Youknow, Ned tried to remind me of the Director’s mandate.”
“Yeah, me too,” Hiss smirked. “Like some Guard can keep us doing from what we want.”
“Right.” Locke responded, happy Ned would avoid any repercussions.
Once they were through, Locke tossed the keys back to Ned. “Thanks, Ned.”
“No problem, Locke.”
Hiss stopped in his tracks. “Security Guard, how dare you call this Govicide Agent by only his last name? And bow to him while you are at it.” Pointing at him, Hiss shouted as if Ned was a hundred feet away. “He has earned his title and you are to refer to him as such.”
Locke had never seen the Guard move so fast. Ned slid from behind the counter and bowed before Locke had time to blink.
“I am . . . sorry . . . Govicide Agent Locke.” Ned stuttered, facing the ground.
“And?” This word was even louder. Hamilton could probably hear it from his cell.
“Thank you for returning the keys, Govicide Agent Locke.”
“Good. Do not let it happen again, subject.” Hiss headed out of the prison wing.
Ned rose from his bow. Locke shrugged his shoulders. Embarrassed, Locke patted Ned on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry about it, Ned,” Locke whispered. “You’re doing good work for the OWG.”
The Guard nodded but his face looked like he’d just lost a month’s worth of credits.
Locke disliked what happened, and although he’d joked with Ned a few minutes before about bowing, the new Govicide Agent realized Hiss was correct. Mandates were mandates.
. . . unless an old Govicide Agent liked being flattered by a new Govicide Agent, of course. Then, the mandates could be bent. Seemingly.
Locke caught up to Hiss. “Was that really called for back there?”
“What do you mean?” Hiss sounded a bit surprised.
“Ned’s a good subject. He didn’t need to be treated like that. He knows how he’s supposed to treat Govicide Agents. We used to work together. He still kind of sees me as a Detective. That’s how we talk.”
“Govicide Agent Locke, you have a lot to learn. Without us, he would have nothing. And that deserves respect. Not to mention it is in the OWG Manual. Chapter one, section two. The proper way to treat a Govicide Agent.Have you read it?” His tone sounded more like a parent than a partner.
“Yes, I have.”
“You are aware treating a Govicide Agent improperly is punishable by deductions of credits and prison time?”
The two moved at a brisk pace due to Hiss’ strides. They sailed through one set of double doors like they were swinging gates.
“I’m aware of that.”
“Then, he got off easy.”
“Alex, I don’t--”
Hiss stopped so abruptly, his shiny shoes squeaked on the tiled floor. “Now, there you go. How did I refer to you when we first met?”
Locke stopped a few feet ahead.“You called me Govicide Agent Michael Locke.”
“Precisely. I did not call you Michael. I did not call you Locke. I did not call you Homicide Detective Locke.” Hiss counted the different labels off on his left hand. “No, even though you have not been an Agent for twenty-four hours yet, I referred to you by the proper title because the Manual mandates it. Is that not what it says?”
“Yes, that’s what it says.”
“Then, that is how you will refer to me. Govicide Agent Hiss is my position. I have earned it.”
Hiss had only passed a test, while Locke followed a killer around the world for two years. Locke wanted to ask: Who earned what exactly?
He couldn’t say it, of course. If any thought or statement was un-mandated in the OWG, it was that one.
“Of course, Govicide Agent Hiss, you have earned it. I apologize.”
Locke got the idea Hiss was intimidated by him in some way. The handshake, the tone, the treatment of Ned. It was less about proper procedure but more about Hiss getting the upper hand. Looking back, Locke now understood why flattering Hiss worked so well. It fed right into Hiss’ mental makeup. He needed to berate others to feel superior.
Which meant he felt inferior when no one was around.
“Good.” Hiss dipped his head then raised it again, drawing in a huge breath, his body swelling. “I see all the Masses taking shortcuts when it comes to Govicide. We are out here working for the OWG, and the Masses try to call us by our first names.”Hiss shook his head. “I waited around at your desk for a few minutes. One of the Detectives came in with a bag of OWG Donuts. He asked two other Detectives if they wanted one. I pointed out to him he would have to file the proper paperwork to share them. I reminded all three of them of the penalties for sharing. The Detective told the others he decided to eat them himself and to nevermind. I entered them all into the System anyway. Their deductions start immediately. He actually believed those OWG Donuts were his. They were made by OWG workers. An OWG worker delivered them. How could he think he could do whatever he wanted with them?”
Locke was not around for the last two years but he knew they sometimes broke the mandates. It was a by-product of being viewed as unimportant in the OWG.
Hiss continued, “He thinks those credits used to get those OWG Donuts were his. They are not. It has never been that way and never will. Just because credits go into your account, or my account, or that Detective’s account, does not mean anything. Those credits are just a way to show appreciation for our work for the OWG. It is not because we earned them. We are supposed to work for the OWG anyway. And whatever we get we should be happy with, even if those credits only stay in our account for a month and then get taken back.”
“You’re right, Govicide Agent Hiss,” Locke agreed. If subjects started to think they deserved credits for their work, the OWG would fall apart and then nobody would get anything. Then, everyone would die.
“Who does that Detective think he is? A Free Enterpriser? Pretty soon he is going to expect those other detectives to give him a couple credits for each donut. Then what?”
“Shortcuts are being taken, Govicide Agent Hiss.” Locke nodded. “No doubt about it.”
“And that is why we are here.” The old Agent pointed to himself with his thumb against his barrel chest. Any harder and it would have penetrated. “To stop the Masses, even ourselves, from getting around the OWG. Never forget that.”
With each passing second, Locke felt his partner would be no help in getting him out of the pregnancy problem. But, no sense of panic combusted in him. Locke would be patient and search for the perfect moment to spring it on Hiss.
Of more immediate importance, Locke believed if he didn’t do something soon Hiss would go on all day about how the Masses didn’t give the OWG enough respect. “What’s this project you’re on?”
The old Agent smiled again. This time when Locke saw the missing tooth he thought of Hamilton’s perfect teeth.
Hamilton. Again.
Hiss brushed by Locke, almost knocking him over. “My automobile is out front. I want to show you something.”