***
Peter Blanchard sat anxiously in the interrogation room and searched his memory for whatever Tweet or Facebook post that might have triggered his arrest. He thought he had covered his tracks thoroughly. Since the political takeover, he had towed the Corporate Government line impeccably, quickly realizing that right now survival was crucial if he were to fight another day. Because surely these maniacs wouldn’t be in charge forever? Their Civic Police force was made up of dim-witted thugs! Peter was smarter than them, but he had to lay low and wait for the next political wind change. Right now the lunatics were running the asylum–and they were dangerous!
The door opened and Peter looked up, forcing himself to appear calm. It was imperative that he didn’t show any signs of guilt. And why should he? It was the Corporate Government that should be held accountable for its actions, not him!
There was only one of them, dressed in the notorious black uniform of the Civic Police, and in spite of himself, Peter felt his stomach twist in fear. Then he looked up at the police officer’s face and his anxiety gave way to bewilderment and then recognition. Thomas Mosley! For some foolish reason Peter attempted a smile, but Mosley didn’t return it as he pulled up a chair and sat opposite him.
Now Peter could read his silver and black badge–Civic Police Captain Thomas Mosley. Res Publica–and his stomach knotted again.
“Hello, Peter. Do you remember me?”
The stalker. The chocolate milk kid. The locker room loser.
Trying to sound cordial, Peter said, “Yes, I do. Ellis College. It must be eight years. How are you, Thomas?”
“You will address me as Captain Mosley.”
Peter dropped his fake smile. He tried to think back. College seemed like such a long time ago and so much had happened since. This weirdo had developed an unhealthy crush on Charlotte. Peter hadn’t been too concerned. There had been plenty of boys chasing after Charlotte back then. But then Mosley’s obsession had gotten out of hand.
Mosley took out his phone and scrolled down the screen.
“You seem to have done well for yourself since college,” he said. “A best-selling book. Two awards for investigative journalism. A highly paid position at the City-State magazine. An expensive apartment overlooking the city. I’m impressed.”
Peter didn’t know if he should be flattered that Mosley had been following him–he had all but forgotten about this freak.
Mosley looked up at him. “And a beautiful wife–Charlotte Blanchard. Or Charlotte Dray, as she was known in college. A quite stunning young lady, as I recall. How is she these days?”
Recalling the ugly final scene in the locker room, Peter cautiously said, “She’s fine, thank you.”
“I was quite smitten by her for a while,” Mosley said.
That’s one way to describe it!
“But she made her choice,” Mosley sighed. “I guess she saw something in you–although I have no idea what.”
Peter bridled and despite his tenuous circumstances, he said, “Captain Mosley, can you please explain to me why I have been arrested?”
Mosley regarded him for a moment.
“You haven’t been charged with anything–yet. But some old subversive posts of yours have come to my attention, and–”
“Your attention?”
Now Mosley did smile. “That is correct. I requested your detainment while your online activities are being investigated. It might take a while.”
Peter felt his heart thumping.
“How long, exactly?”
“About two weeks.”
“Two weeks?”
Peter stood up.
“Sit down, Mr. Blanchard,” Mosley said.
Peter took a deep breath and calmed himself.
“That’s better,” Mosley said. “You should understand that you are here at my discretion. I am in charge of this investigation. Do you get that?”
Peter swallowed and nodded.
“Good,” said Mosley. “Now, we have plenty of time–so let’s talk about Charlotte.”
Chapter Two
She was sitting two rows in front of him. He had tried to get closer, but the back of the lecture hall was full. Thomas had switched classes after checking her schedule. Political Science. Totally boring, but it might turn out to be useful one day.
He had to keep leaning to one side to get a look at her because the stupid blonde bitch directly in front kept on moving her head. Thomas took the end off his ballpoint pen and removed the ink cartridge. Then he leaned forward and blew softly down the barrel onto the back of the blonde girl’s neck. Her hand came up and she looked left and right. Thomas blew again, a little harder, and this time she swiveled around.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she whispered.
“Me? Nothing!” Thomas said, hiding the pen under his desk.
She scowled and turned back around and Thomas waited a beat before blowing again.
The blonde spun around, red-faced, and said, “I’ll call campus security if you don’t stop!”
“Stop what?” Thomas said. “You’re nuts! Leave me alone, will you?”
The girl turned again, rubbing the back of her neck–and Thomas blew on it again.
“Fuck this!” she hissed.
The girl gathered up her books and found another seat near the front. Thomas quickly jumped over into her vacated seat–now he was right behind Charlotte.
He discreetly leaned forward and inhaled. She smelled of lavender soap. She had a small brown mole on her slender neck. He loved her hairstyle, all kind of mussed up as if she didn’t care about her appearance. But now Thomas was learning that this was all an act. The way she carried herself. He minimalist makeup. Her self-restraint. Everything was calculated. She was a Venus flytrap, luring men like helpless insects.
He could make out her black bra strap under her blouse and imagined himself unhooking it and then cupping her breasts in his hands. He wondered what color her nipples were. Sitting up in his seat, he could see her shapely ass under her tight jeans, the tops of her panties showing where her shirt had ridden up her back. They were black too, and he thought about what was under them, whether she shaved or just kept herself neatly trimmed. A girl like her certainly wouldn’t have an ugly, thick bush. Thomas realized that his dick was pushing up the crotch of his pants and he crossed his legs under the desk.
He took out his phone and sent a message to Luke.
***
Charlotte was going crazy in the apartment. After making dozens of frantic calls to family and friends, she had finally received a call from Peter’s lawyer who had warned her that under no circumstances was she to go to Civic Headquarters by herself. On the contrary, he had even suggested that she lay low at a friend’s place until details of Peter’s arrest became a little clearer. On an intellectual level, Charlotte knew this made sense. Nobody went to Civic Headquarters of their own volition. If a loved one was apprehended, you simply had to sit tight and hope they were released. A citizen no longer had any basic human rights in this city, and there was no realistic recourse to the law where the Civic Police were concerned. As everybody had pointed out, if Charlotte were to go asking questions, she would most likely be arrested herself!
But she needed to do something! She was unable to stop herself visualizing Peter being tortured in a dingy little cell and her helplessness was tearing her apart! There had to be somebody in this fucked up government who could help her! Right now, all that she needed to know was that Peter was still alive.